#✨shine brain✨ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

damselneedssaving · 2 months ago

Note

Love your writing! It's a bit heavy so no worries if you don't want to but I was wondering how the batboys™️ would react to the reader refusing to accept money from them even in a financial emergency because they're afraid of taking advantage of the fact their partner is rich asf (I'm a sucker for ✨polite✨ angst)

BATBOYS BUT THEY'RE DATING A POOR!F!READER WHO REFUSES TO TELL THEM AND ACCEPT THEIR HELP.

★ TAGS: older!damian wayne, older!duke thomas, angst, not poly, hurt/comfort, jason before he reformed, mentions of violence (not towards reader), small panic attack (not described in detail), anxiety, lots of comforting and love, it hurts them to see you struggle :(((

★ A/N: first ask, omg!! thank you for coming to save me 💞💞💞 i love angst, you are doing me a favour by requesting it, not to worry!! hope this is good enough <333 oh, and quick notice, but this is not at all meant to romanticise the situation depicted, please remember that not having much money is a real struggle that people go through and this work does not aim to diminish it

★ W/C: 3.5k (why is this so long—)

The paper on your door stares back at you blankly—no sympathy in its gaze, and certainly no mercy in its letters, all uppercase and practically shouting at you: EVICTION NOTICE.

You're sure the thud of your bag hitting the ground can be heard from multiple stories both above and below, but in that moment, staring at those two words with static ringing in your ears and the world closing in around you, it's hard to really care.

You think you spend a while standing there, just glaring at the door with no real thought behind your eyes, no real drive to your actions, just this void swallowing you whole.

It's almost hard to believe that just this morning, you were laughing and shoving the shoulder of your boyfriend as he teased you about something you can't even bother to remember. That just this morning, you were beaming and bright and shining all over as you joked without a care in the world.

And now...

Now this.

A light gasp coming from beside you snaps you out of your daze, tired eyes landing on a pair swimming in so much sympathy and pity that it makes you sick to your stomach, and before you even know it, the echo of your door slamming shut rings clear through the hall, paper all but gone from its wooden surface.

The next few days are a blur, spent either packing, or curled up in your bed with dry, crusty streaks coating your cheeks and a phone laying forgotten by your bedside table, arms too weak to pick it up and brain too tired to bother even trying.

This whole thing just came so fast, too fast, that you couldn't even bring yourself to keep the one thing you spent years trying to hide from your lover a secret anymore, not responding to his texts or calls to the point he shows up knocking at your door, and when you open it, his eyes aren't on you, but glued down.

Glued onto the piece of paper in his hands.

You take a second to quickly glance at your door, spotting another tape situated on it.

That motherfucker put up another notice.

Jaw clenched, you turn back to your boyfriend.

-> DICK GRAYSON <-

"Y'know..." he starts, tone soft with a hint of his usual playfulness, but, you notice, significantly watered down this time, "when I said you can come to me for anything, I meant it."

You part your lips to respond, but can't quite bring yourself to let any words actually escape, just like Dick can't seem to bring himself to lift his head up and meet your gaze.

(He doesn't because he feels like he failed you, staring at those two words without registering anything else as he wonders just how long this has been going on for, just how long has his girlfriend been suffering, while he sat there basking in riches and wealth?)

"I can help," he spits out almost too soon, almost too desperate, "I can wire you the money, pay off the—"

"No."

His head shoots up.

"No..?" he echoes, shoulders dropping and form all but kicked puppy. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean: no, Dick."

Your hand goes up, fingers pinching your nose and head shaking from side-to-side as you curse yourself for not even bothering to answer at least one text.

For even showing him where you live in the first place, really.

"Why not?"

"Because," you force out, the word tasting bitter on your tongue, "I refuse to do that to you."

"Do what to me?"

"That," you hiss, gesturing in front of you as though what you're talking about is actually, physically there. "The asking for money, the begging for funds—God, Dick, I can't. I can't take advantage of you like that. That's not why I dated you."

"Dated?" Dick stares at you, brows knitted and eyes pouring out all the hurt siphoned by his voice.

"That's..." you trail off, shaking your head. "That came out wrong."

Your lips pull down, eyes glazing over before he catches your hands and refocuses your hazy pools towards him.

"Hey," he calls, soft and sweet. "You know you wouldn't be taking advantage of me, right?"

You scoff, and immediately, he lifts a hand up to cup your chin, coaxing your averted eyes back to him.

"I mean it," he says, firmer, "I'm your boyfriend. Your partner. I'm here to help. Money or otherwise."

"I can't, Dick. I can't."

With a tug, you crash into him, hands planted firmly on his chest as his arms curl around you, the warmth like a hammer to your shell, a crack in your dam, and before you even know it, the tears that were glistening in your eyes just moments ago start to spill over.

Dick's arms secure you, grip not faltering even while you soak his shirt in your ugly tears and snot, even while you squeeze it tight enough to dig into his chest through the fabric, even while you admit to lying to him for years about a situation that pains him so.

"Stay with me for a while."

"Huh?" You sniff.

"You said you won't accept my money," he continues, and you crane your neck to find him already looking down at you, "so accept my hospitality instead."

"Dick..."

"Just until you can get back onto your feet again," he pleads. "Just let me help until you can get back up on your own."

"I..."

"Please, [Name], I can't let you live on the streets. I can't."

And he means it, staring at you with such heartbreak, the sob you've worked so hard to keep down climbs back up your throat, sending you crashing straight back into his chest.

And as you stand there, his arms around you and his nose buried in your hair, you think to yourself that, just this once, you'll allow yourself to reach out.

-> JASON TODD <-

"Always fucking hated that prick," he growls out, voice all sharp edges and nasty scowls. "He looks at you like you're some piece of meat and not an actual fucking human being."

"Yeah... I hate him too."

Jason's eyes flit up, gaze narrow and lips taut. "Then why the fuck did you never tell me about this?"

You purse your own lips, words lost on your tongue—

"I can kill him."

—until he says something like that, of course.

"What?" you can't help but scoff out, incredulous. "Jason, no."

The paper scrunches in his hands, bunching up like some petty inconvenience rather than the words that have quite literally decided your living situation for the next who-knows-how-long.

"Why the hell not?"

"Wha—? Are you hearing yourself right now?"

When he only lifts a brow in response, you try for a different approach.

"I thought you only killed criminals."

"He looks at you like a criminal," he quips back, sharp and quick. "That's enough."

"No. You are not killing someone just because I didn't pay my fucking rent on time."

You cross your arms over your chest, stance firm, rigid, as stubborn as your will as you eye him down with a look that promises consequence should he choose not to listen.

A beat passes without a word.

Then—

"Fine." His shoulders fall with a grunt, but the topic doesn't fall alongside them. "If you won't let me kill him, then I'll just pay for your new apartment instead."

"No. No way."

His eyes narrow. "I wasn't asking."

You return the look. "Neither was I."

The moment stretches, the two of you glaring at each other with steely gazes and tight jaws, each equally as unyielding as the other.

(Jason thinks to himself that your glare isn't as fierce as usual. Like it's lacking something. A will. A drive. A reason to continue pushing forward. When did his girlfriend start to look so tired?)

His gaze softens. "Doll..."

Just like that, like his look is made up of some sort of soothing magic, your shoulders fall, and he catches you before you can go spiralling in a pool of your own thoughts.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't do that to you, Jay." You shake your head into his chest, voice all but muffled. "I can't use you like that. Not you."

"You wouldn't be using me, [Name]."

"Yes, I would," you grit out, squinting your eyes shut to force the sting away. "I would..."

He goes to respond, but you beat him to it.

"You've already had to go from having everything to having nothing before." You heave a breath, chest tightening with the effort of holding that damn salty water back. "And now that you've got it back... I can't take that from you."

"You wouldn't be taking it from me, [Name]."

You go to echo your response before, but it's his turn to beat you to talking.

"No, you wouldn't." You can feel him shake his head above yours. "I choose how I spend that money, doll. It's my decision. And if I choose to spend it on you, then it'll be spent on you. There is no using one another. I love you."

Your breath hitches, head shooting up to find his own already facing you, and his eyes are so soft, so sincere, that you can't help the sob that lurches from your throat, arms looping around his neck and pulling him down until his lips slot perfectly against yours.

And as he stands there, kissing you even through all the salty water that coats your lips, you yield just a little more to the idea of getting some help from someone you love.

-> TIM DRAKE <-

"So that's why you weren't answering any of my texts." He lets out a chuckle, but it comes out dry and insincere.

(He stares at the page. All of a sudden, it all makes sense. The refusal to eat at places that aren't small cafes or local diners, the avoidance of high-spending activities like shopping at the mall or going to theme parks, the amount of dates spent just streaming movies at yours or walking around the same park a dozen times over. How did he not see before? How can he call himself a detective and not notice his own girlfriend's struggling financial situation?)

"Sorry..." You go to hug one arm, voice small and gaze smaller.

"Y'know you could've told me, right?" He glances up, brows knitted and tone soft, reassuring. "You can tell me anything."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you?"

You look up and wince, Tim's defeated expression stirring something within you, something small but no less significant than all your other emotions.

"You already have so much on your plate," you start, averting your gaze because the look in his eyes is just too much to handle. "I didn't wanna worry you."

"I'm always worried about you," he responds simply, "I'm worried about whether or not you get home safe. I'm worried about whether or not you ate, or got enough sleep. I'm worried that some day, somehow, you'll grow bored and leave me. I worry all the time.

"It's how I show I care."

"I know that..." you trail off.

"Then you also know that giving me one more thing to worry about wouldn't make much of a difference."

You stay quiet, and so Tim sighs, carefully going to reach for your hands and cup them with just gentle enough of a hold to give you room to pull away should you choose to.

You don't, of course.

"You know you don't have to go through this alone." Tim's thumbs rub gentle circles over your knuckles, his voice a grounding source that anchors you, keeps you from straying too far into the ocean. "I'm here for you, always."

He's always been good at that. Being there for you. Comforting you. Of all his brothers, Tim is probably the most emotionally aware. The most painfully empathetic. It's so easy to yield when he's the one talking to you.

It's why you kept it a secret in the first place. You knew you'd fold so easily the second he confronts you.

So you plead, "Please, Tim."

His brows knit.

"Don't do this. I can... I can fix this myself."

His lips pull down. "You know you can't."

You want to defend yourself, to tell him he's wrong, you can, but your lips wobble, and a lump blocks your throat, and your eyes just start to shake like a breaking water tank threatening to spill all its contents.

And Tim sees it all.

"Tell you what," he starts lightly, soothingly, "I'll help pay for a new apartment and keep track of how much. Then, when you earn enough, you can pay it all back. You won't be using me. It'll be like a loan."

He knew your reservations before you even told him them. Of course he did. He's Tim. Your Tim. Your sweet, kind, loving Tim.

"I don't deserve you," you say, and you mean it, so he pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on your head, rubbing up and down your arms in that way that just releases all tension from your shoulders.

And as you both stand there together, the only sound being your silent sobs against his skin, you think you can just about get behind this compromise.

-> DUKE THOMAS <-

He whispers your name, soft, betrayed, with a look about the eye that almost cracks your heart in two.

"Why didn't you say anything..?" he asks, and his gaze is all blue, all rain showers and stormy clouds. "Why didn't you tell me you were still struggling with money?"

When you don't respond, he chooses to continue.

"I thought we told each other everything. Ride or die, remember? We—we've been through it all, haven't we..?"

You wait for a beat to pass before finally saying something.

"You... you just looked so happy lately. For a while now, actually. Ever since the Waynes took you in...

"I—I didn't wanna ruin that."

Duke goes quiet.

(In his mind, he's wondering where he went wrong, where on earth you got the idea that his happiness trumps your own, that you weren't both in this together. Did he... did he somehow do something to make you feel that way..?)

A quiet settles over the two of you, a sombre atmosphere that even the most classical of musicians couldn't put into notes, that even the most tragic of tales couldn't spin into words.

In that moment, for the first time since both you and Duke were little, the silence is static, no understanding or connection cutting through, no seemingly telepathic words jumping from one mind to the other, just a void, empty feeling that holds you hostage and threatens your very relationship.

"Duke—"

"Let me help," he cuts you off. Then he lifts his head, and his eyes are narrowed, determined.

"Huh?"

"Let me help you. I can. I have the money now," he says with a will, like he knows his words will come true, like he's so sure he'll be able to do this for you.

"No," you shoot him down, "I can't do that to you."

"Do what?" he scoffs out, arms folding over his chest. "Accept my help?"

"Accept your money," you correct him, and almost as soon as you do, he loses the hard look, settling for something softer instead—gentle. "I can't use you like that."

"[Name]. Don't you think I know that?"

You raise a brow.

"How you feel right now: don't you think I know it?"

You purse your lips, and he keeps going.

"Did you forget already who I was before this..? Did our time together mean that little to you..?"

The accusation is enough to make your eyes widen, words tumbling out your mouth so fast, you can't even second-guess them.

"No, no of course not!"

"[Name]." He shakes his head, pulling you into his arms. "I know what it's like to feel like you're using someone for money. Fuck, I know better than anyone else." His brows scrunch, expression looking pained for a second before steeling once more. "That's why it took me so long to even accept Bruce's offer."

You rest your hands gently against his chest, and then also let your head rest against his own, those brown swirls drowning you.

"So trust me when I say that this isn't you taking advantage of me, or using me for money," he whispers softly. "It's you accepting my help. It's you letting me in."

You blink, lashes growing wet.

"You could never be a burden to me. Ride or die, remember?"

You do. You do remember.

God, you remember it all.

And as he holds you close, as he rests his head against your own in your once again, shared silence, you're sure you'll remember it for the rest of time.

-> DAMIAN WAYNE <-

"Tt. I'll have Pennyworth hire a moving agency and wire you enough money so that this is never a problem again."

Your eyes blow wide, brows shooting straight up to your head, and mouth opening to protest like your life depends on it.

But Damian is already moving away.

In fact, he's already got his phone out, finger swiping away at it with a speed that could rival the Flash himself as he takes step after step down the hall.

So you bound straight after him.

"No! Wait, Damian, wait!"

He stops, your hands planted firm on his chest as you take a moment to catch your breath, the lack of movement you've been doing the past few days making just that short sprint feel like too much.

Fucking hell.

Your chin is tilted up.

"Have you been crying?"

You flinch. "No..."

His fingers trace your cheeks, right over the crusty streaks you know are there, and you wince as you're reminded of just how filthy you must appear in front of him.

"You have," he observes, moving your head from side-to-side gently, "You haven't been eating either."

You purse your lips, choosing not to respond lest you risk another observation that will shake you to your core.

"Beloved"—there he goes again with that petname. The one your heart lurches in your throat for—"you haven't been caring for yourself."

(When?—he wonders—when did you stop partaking in the act of caring for your own health? And why did you not think to come to him, your boyfriend, for help in doing so?)

"I..."

His fingers leave your chin, and you almost drop it to chase the feeling of them before catching yourself and quickly withdrawing.

God, just how touch-starved are you?

"It seems as though I'll need to ask for a larger amount to be wired through than I initially thought."

Once more, you find your eyes turning into saucers.

"No!"

He raises a brow.

"No," you repeat, quieter, but still just as sure, "Damian don't, please."

"Why not?"

"Because"—you think you're shaking, but there's no breeze in the hall, and it's nowhere near winter—"I... I can't take your money like that."

"It's not my money," he responds simply, logically, "it's my father's."

"I know. And I can't use you to get to his money."

"Technically speaking," Damian starts, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side and his lips still the straight line that they were just moments ago, "it's not even my father's money, it's his parents', and both are deceased, so I see no problem in taking it."

When he goes to add more, he stops abruptly, brows furrowing, and for the first time since appearing at your door, lips pulling down.

"Beloved, you're shaking."

"I can't stop..." you whisper, and perhaps it's quiet enough for him not to hear, but you don't even think you're saying it to him. "I can't stop."

"Habibti." He gently squeezes your arms, and your pupils dart up. "Copy me."

His chest rises and falls. His breathing. Copy his breathing.

He means copy his breathing.

So you do.

When his chest rises, so too does yours. And when it falls, yours falls straight after.

It takes a couple of tries before you're in complete sync. But once you are, once you've finally matched the pace of your boyfriend, the ringing in your ears dies down, and the world around you starts to clear up again. You start to feel real again.

"Better?"

You hum.

He pulls you into his arms.

And your eyes flutter shut.

"Rest assured, if you don't wish me to this much, I will not wire you the money," he finally speaks after a long while of standing there with you in his arms, "but I will find a way to get you out of this situation through other means. Even if those means cost me everything."

And as you stand there, the warmth of his presence blanketing your form, hiding you from the world, you let yourself quietly sink into the comfort of his words.

#female reader #x reader #dc #dc x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #duke thomas x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #batfam #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #damsel writes ❤︎

2K notes · View notes

thealchemistbae · 2 months ago

Text

Fama Persona Chart: Rising Sign & Its' Degrees🤩

The Rising Sign in your Fama Persona Chart is SO important because it reveals the first impression of your fame energy. It's how the public perceives you, what kind of iconic image you radiate, and what draws people into your world of fame.

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at [email protected] or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

SIGNS:

🎆: Aries Rising -> Fame hits you fast and loud. You're known for going after what you want with zero hesitation. You're recognized for your courage and originality. People remember your confidence, style, and how you always seem one step ahead.

🎆: Taurus Rising -> You exude luxurious, grounded energy. Your fame comes from your beauty, voice, or consistency. You might be known for a signature look, a calming presence, or material success. Fame finds you slowly but sticks. You age like fine wine and may be a beauty or fashion icon.

🎆: Gemini Rising -> Famous for your voice, ideas, or versatility. You're the social butterfly, trend chaser, and smart mouth. Witty, multi-talented, and always booked. You may become well known for your interviews, public speaking, or playing multiple roles across different industries.

🎆: Cancer Rising -> You're adored for your softness, intuition, or emotional depth. People see you as relatable and nurturing. Your fame may start young or be tied to your vulnerability. You're known for emotional connection and maternal/family themes.

🎆: Leo Rising -> This is star quality incarnate. Big hair, big presence, big energy. You shine naturally and crave the spotlight, and people love to give it to you. You're instantly seen as a celebrity even before you're famous. People treat you like royalty.

🎆: Virgo Rising -> Famous for your brain. precision, and aesthetic. You give polished and practical. You may be known for attention to detail, beauty, and discipline. Quietly powerful, consistently respected.

🎆: Libra Rising -> This is the classic beauty/fame rising. You're known for grace, charm, and balance. People admire your looks and diplomatic vibes. You're famous for your appearance, relationships, or branding. You may be the face of a generation.

🎆: Scorpio Rising -> You're mysterious, magnetic, and unforgettable. You draw fame with your intensity. You gain fame from powerful transformations, a signature look, or emotional depth. People are obsessed with figuring you out.

🎆: Sagittarius Rising -> You're the wild card. Your fame is global, big, and full of personality. You're known for being free-spirited, adventurous, and unfiltered. Fame might come from travel, education, or just being you loudly.

🎆: Capricorn Rising -> You're a boss from day one. People recognize you as serious, iconic, and timeless. Your fame builds with age and respect. You're a legend in the making; classic, clean, and career driven.

🎆: Aquarius Rising -> You're famous for being different, futuristic, and innovative. You're iconic for breaking the mold. Fame may come through activism, uniqueness, or standing for something powerful.

🎆: Pisces Rising -> You exude ethereal, dreamlike energy. Fame often feels destined. You're known for your mystery, art, and emotion. People project fantasies onto you, and your presence feels otherworldly.

DEGREES:

✨: 0° -> Fresh, bold energy; fame often hits fast and strong. You're seen as a pioneer, known for starting new trends or movements.

✨: 1° -> Magnetic and noticeable; your public image has an undeniable pull. Fame comes through leadership or being first in your scene.

✨: 2° -> Creative and dramatic; your presence demands attention, and you're often known for your flair or performance style.

✨: 3° -> Ambitious and energetic; you're viewed as a hustler or go getter. Fame arises through visible hard work and determination.

✨: 4° -> Charming and diplomatic; people love your approachable vibe, which helps your fame grow steadily and warmly.

✨: 5° -> Social and communicative; you gain fame through your artistic talents, children, networking, or media presence. Leo degree - short term fame or fame as a kid/ surrounding children.

✨: 6° -> Balanced and stylish, you're known for grace and good taste, building fame through refinement and aesthetics.

✨: 7° -> Dynamic and expressive; your fame is linked to your ability to entertain and connect emotionally.

✨: 8° -> Bold and authoritative; you project power and command attention, often seen as a natural leader.

✨: 9° -> Optimistic and friendly; your public image is sunny and inviting, drawing people in effortlessly.

✨: 10° -> Polished and professional; you gain respect and fame in traditional or prestigious arenas.

✨: 11° -> Creative and inspiring; your fame is tied to original ideas or artistic vision.

✨: 12° -> Focused and intense; you're known for determination and depth; your fame often tied to serious or meaningful work.

✨: 13° -> Expressive and magnetic; your personality captivates crowds, giving you a strong public appeal.

✨: 14° -> Responsible and reliable; your fame builds slowly but surely, thanks to consistency.

✨: 15° -> Passionate and vibrant; you stand out in crowds for your energy and enthusiasm.

✨: 16° -> Mysterious and intriguing; your fame often has an enigmatic quality, drawing a devoted following.

✨: 17° -> Creative and intellectual; people admire your originality and wit, making your fame both thoughtful and engaging. Leo degree - long term fame.

✨: 18° -> Powerful and confident; your public persona commands respect and attention naturally.

✨: 19° -> Friendly and approachable; you're well liked and known for your warmth.

✨: 20° -> Authoritative and commanding; you project strong leadership, and your fame often relates to positions of power.

✨: 21° -> Optimistic and charismatic; your sunny disposition wins hearts and builds lasting fame.

✨: 22° -> Wise and experienced; you're respected as a mentor or elder figure, with a solid reputation.

✨: 23° -> Energetic and innovative; your fame is connected to new ideas and forward thinking.

✨: 24° -> Confident and regal; you carry yourself like royalty, and your fame is grand and noticeable.

✨: 25° -> Charming and balanced; your fame comes from your ability to connect with many different people.

✨: 26° -> Creative and passionate; your public image is colorful and inspiring.

✨: 27° -> Mysterious and intense; your fame often has depth, attracting a loyal niche audience.

✨: 28° -> Magnetic and legendary; people remember you for your unique presence and lasting impact. Household name.

✨: 29° -> Sophisticated and refined; your fame is timeless, marked by elegance and distinction.

What is your FPC rising sign and degree ? Mine is Taurus rising at 28 degrees. I am a beauty/fashion influencer on Instagram.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at [email protected] or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

✨

#astrology #astro observations #astro community #thealchemistbae #birth chart #horoscope #astrology for beginners #natal chart #astro notes #fama #fama asteroid #fama persona chart #fama persona #fame astrology

743 notes · View notes

glowettee · 2 months ago

Text

✧ how to reinvent yourself without deleting everything this summer ✧

hey lovelies!! WELCOME TO SUMMER! so i've been obsessing over this idea of reinvention lately... like literally woke up at 3am last night to jot down notes in my phone because my brain wouldn't stop thinking about it?? summer always feels like this dreamy little pocket of time where anything is possible... where you can try on different versions of yourself between iced matcha lattes and sunset walks.

i know we've all been there... that moment when you're scrolling through pinterest at midnight and suddenly you're like "what if i just... became someone else??" (guilty of creating entire secret boards dedicated to my "french girl era" that never actually happened lmao). but the thing is, completely starting over is exhausting?? and honestly kind of impossible unless you're in a witness protection program??

so this post is for my girls who want that reinvention feeling without the whole dramatic disappearing act. because honestly? the you that exists right now is already pretty magical, we're just gonna help her shine in some new ways.

✧ why gentle reinvention just hits different ✧

i had this realization while reorganizing my bookshelf last week (yes, for the third time this month, don't judge me) the most interesting characters aren't the ones who completely transform overnight. they're the ones who slowly evolve, keeping their essence while discovering new facets of themselves.

like, remember in "emma" when she realizes she's been in love with mr. knightley the whole time?? she didn't become a different person, she just finally understood something that was already there. that's the kind of reinvention i'm talking about: the recognition, not rejection, of who you are.

✧ actually magical reinvention tips that feel like character development ✧

digital presence evolution (without the cringe factor)

• create a finsta where you post the aesthetic you're curious about but not ready to commit to (mine started as dark academia but somehow evolved into cottagecore with a side of astrology memes??)

• change your social media bios to describe who you're becoming, not who you've been

• make an email signature that makes you feel like the main character (mine has a tiny moon emoji that literally no one has commented on but makes me happy every time)

• curate a new spotify playlist with songs that feel like your "becoming" soundtrack (tip: add one new song every morning as a little ritual)

• start ending your texts with a new sign-off or emoji (i switched from "x" to "✨" and now my friends get worried if i don't include the sparkle)

• take selfies from a completely different angle than your usual (overhead instead of straight-on changed my LIFE)

tiny identity shifts that nobody notices but YOU

• give a slightly different name at starbucks, not completely different, just a variation that feels like an alter ego (i use "amelia" which is my middle name and it feels like slipping into another dimension for 5 minutes)

• create a secret signature scent combination by layering two perfumes you already own (vanilla + something citrusy has main character energy, trust me)

• change your handwriting slightly, make your y's loopier or dot your i's differently (sounds so minor but feels so intentional)

• develop a subtle personal symbol and incorporate it places only you would notice (i draw tiny stars on the corners of important journal pages)

• start carrying something unexpected in your bag that represents your new era (i have a tiny rose quartz crystal that literally no one knows about)

• choose a "power color" you don't usually wear and incorporate it somewhere small every day (even just as a hair tie or phone background)

space magic that costs zero dollars

• rearrange your room based on the energy you want to create (bed facing the window changed my sleep quality so much??)

• create a tiny altar/intention space somewhere private with objects that represent who you're becoming

• switch up where you do everyday activities (i started doing my skincare routine by the window instead of the bathroom and it feels like a whole spa moment)

• change the scent of your space. different candles, incense, or even just boiling cinnamon sticks on the stove

• put up photos from a completely different phase of your life than what you usually display

• rearrange your books by color or theme instead of author (my shelf organized by "books that made me cry" vs "books that changed my mind" feels so personal)

• sleep on the opposite side of the bed or with your head where your feet usually go (literally changes your dreams, i swear)

style whispers that feel like screams

• start wearing your hair in a completely new way just one day a week (slicked back bun on tuesdays has become apart of my routine)

• change where you wear your everyday jewelry. ankle bracelet instead of wrist, rings on different fingers

• try "dopamine dressing" where you wear something purely because the color makes you happy, not because it "goes" with anything

• experiment with makeup placement rather than buying new products (blush higher on cheekbones or across nose bridge instead of apples of cheeks feels revolutionary)

• wear the "special occasion" clothes on random weekdays

• try to add one unexpected accessory to elevate basic outfits (a silky scarf tied on your bag handle)

• match your nail color to your current emotional goal rather than your outfit (blues for calm, reds for confidence)

routine alchemy that changes everything

• take a completely different route home, even if it's longer

• switch when you shower AND the temperature (night showers ending with 30 seconds of cold water changed my sleep quality)

• read the last page of a book first before starting it (chaotic energy but changes how you perceive the story)

• change where you sit in every familiar setting... different spot on the couch, different chair at the dining table

• set alarms for weird specific times (9:43 instead of 9:45) so you actually notice them

relationship refreshers that feel magical

• respond to texts with voice memos if you usually type (this transformed my friendship with my long-distance bestie)

• ask people completely different questions than usual ("what made you smile today?" instead of "how was your day?")

• suggest a different type of hangout than your usual (art gallery instead of coffee shop, sunrise instead of brunch)

• share something slightly vulnerable if you're usually private (i told my friend about my secret passion for astrology and now we have the best conversations about it)

• write actual handwritten notes to people instead of texting

• create little rituals with friends that feel special

• be the first to suggest plans if you usually wait for others (this tiny shift literally expanded my social circle overnight)

mindset magic that costs nothing

• choose a new word to eliminate from your vocabulary (i stopped saying "sorry" before asking questions)

• pick a new word to deliberately use more (i've been using "delightful" instead of "cool" and it makes ordinary things feel magical)

• create a secret personal holiday that only you celebrate (i have "manuscript monday" where i work on my secret novel for just 20 minutes)

• start a collection of something weird and specific (i collect interesting sugar packets from cafes and it makes every coffee shop visit feel like a treasure hunt + i get to discover new food brands).

i literally started taking a different route to my morning coffee last month and ended up discovering this tiny bookstore that's now my favorite place?? sometimes the smallest detours lead to the biggest discoveries.

the most interesting people aren't completely different versions of themselves every season. they're just constantly evolving.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

p.s. make sure to rest this summer, you're gonna need it <3

758 notes · View notes

astrocafecoffee · 10 months ago

Text

•Venus in Groom persona chart •

• FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, ENJOY •

✨ MASTERLIST

(I totally forgot about this series 🙂, so here I am with Venus in Groom persona chart)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~✨✨~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Venus in 1st house:

Prince charming, tall , handsome and attractive spouse. Has beautiful eyes that Captivate your attention. Appreciates luxury, comfort and sensual pleasures. Could be a romantic at heart with a deep appreciation for love stories. May have talents in music , art or any creative pursuits. People wants to be with them , could be some sort of influencer. Also, maybe a natural people pleaser. May have a secret talent for improvisational comedy or witty banter.

Venus in 2nd house:

Sturdy build or have athletic physique. A hard worker, who values financial security. Very loyal spouse. Acts or service and gift giving could be their love language. Could have a strong connection to family traditions or cultural heritage. They could have a thing for collecting unique items. May have a secret talent for cooking and baking. Loves nature and gardening. Excels in banking or in family business.

Venus in 3rd house:

Possibly has youthful appearance (even if they are older than you). Enjoys mental stimulation. Has talents for writing or public speaking. Also can be a good singer too. May have secret love for leaning new languages. Likes brain teasers or puzzles. Some sort of content creator? May have strong connection with their siblings and friends. Possibly has a fascination with technology or gadgets.

Venus in 4th house:

Possibly has soft, rounded features. They values hone life and very protective and Caring towards their loved one.may have strong connection to their family traditions. Enjoys cooking, decorating or other domestic pursuits. Very intuitive spouse. Possibly has a fascination with antiques or vintage items. Has ability to transform emotional pain into something beautiful and meaningful . Spending time with their loved ones is their love language.

Venus in 5th house:

Has youthful and radiant appearance. Possibly has a playful and mischievous glint in their eye , has a talent for fashion and design. Enjoys risks and trying new things. Loves music , drama, art and any other creative pursuits. May have a strong connection to their inner child. Loves to shine and be the centre of the attention. Some kind of content creator maybe. Hopeless romantic at heart. May have a talent for writing or reading fantasy stories to create elaborate imaginary worlds.

Venus in 6th house:

May have slender or athletic build. Passion or interest in health and wellness / service oriented activities. Values long term commitment, very loyal spouse. May have a talent for energetic healing or reiki. Possess talents for finding creative solutions to everyday problems. They will listen to your every word very closely. Maintains a good body and health. Suprise gifts and heartfelt letters are the love languages. possibly has talent in writing or in journalism.

Venus in 7th house:

Possibly has a strong sense of style and enjoys dressing up. They will love you the most. May have strong magnetic attraction to your beauty. A excellent listener and have a strong ability to understand their partner's needs. Collaboration is the main theme in this relationship ( collaboration in artistic pursuits or any business). They believe in idea of soulmates or twinflmaes . Others admires their beauty so much.

Venus in 8th house:

May have a powerful, intense and dark gaze. They will be attracted to the beauty of your body and sensual expression.also may possess magnetic presence that attracts others to them(Obsessive energy is present too). You can openly share your secrets with them , they will never tell a soul. Could be very spiritual and has knowledge about esoteric things ( tarot, astrology). May have a dark romantic streak or a fascination with unknown.

Venus in 9th house:

Probably big and tall build. May Have interests in foreign cultures/ may have attraction to foreign peoples or people very different to them. May have radiant or philosophical gaze. They are drawn to higher education where they can expand their knowledge. Very spiritual. Their knowledge and words inspire others. Maybe interested in mystical arts and practices such as meditation, yoga or energy healing.

Venus in 10th house:

May have a strong build. May posses a leadership position in the society. Possibly drawn to careers in arts, design or media, also humanitarian field and possess charismatic and charming public persona. Very responsible spouse. Also may have interest in fashion, beauty or any creative industries. May posses some kind of media presence. Possibly may recieve awards or recognition for their work. May have knack for forming successful collaborations or partnerships.

Venus in 11th house:

Possibly has tall or lanky build. Quirky or unconventional appearance. May have a strong desire to help others. They thinks outside the box. Maybe passionate about technology, innovation or progressive ideas. Passionate about science and engineering and mathematics. Involved in social justice and human rights. Possibly has a talent for finding innovative solution to complex problems. Their work inspire others.

Venus in 12th house:

May have dreamy or ethereal quality to their appearance. Has slender or delicate build. Possibly has a talent for art, music or any other creative expression. Passionate about spirituality , and other metaphysical subjects. May have interest in esoteric studies(tarot, astrology). May have intuitive relationships or sense their partners emotions. Possibly some sort of content creator. possibly engages in selfless service or volunteer work.

Thanks for reading ✨

- PIKO 💙

815 notes · View notes

emmkayyy03 · 8 months ago

Text

✨ How Your Dominant Planet Secretly Shapes Your Teenage Brain ✨

Have you ever looked back at your late teens and wondered why you were so obsessed with certain things? Like, one friend was glued to their guitar and poetry journals, another was training for their fifth marathon, and you? You were probably neck-deep in your thing. Here’s the deal: your dominant planet was pulling the strings behind the scenes, shaping how your mind worked and what you gravitated toward without you even realizing it.

Let’s break it down:

🌞 SUN Dominant: "I need to shine—what’s the point otherwise?" Late teens for Sun-kissed folks are like a personal hero’s journey. You’re obsessed with figuring out who you are. Your brain’s constantly asking, Am I good enough? Do people see my worth? You might’ve been the captain of the debate team, the drama club star, or just that person who somehow made walking to the cafeteria look like a runway. How your mind works: Everything feels like a stage, and you want to perform your best—even in front of yourself. You seek validation, yes, but deep down, it’s about finding your inner confidence.

🌙 MOON Dominant: "I feel… everything. Is that normal?" For Moon folks, the late teens are an emotional hurricane. You’re all about understanding feelings, whether it’s yours or everyone else’s. You probably overthink texts (why’d they only reply with “k”?), cry over movies you’ve seen a million times, and have deep, borderline-therapeutic convos with your bestie. How your mind works: You process the world emotionally first, logically second. You’re learning how to handle your empathy without drowning in it.

🔥 MARS Dominant: "Let’s go! But… where are we going?" Mars kids are powered by action and passion, and your late teens are when you’re learning to channel that fire. Your brain thrives on challenges, so you probably signed up for every sport, pushed yourself in the gym, or got way too into proving someone wrong in an argument. Impulse control? We’ll work on that later. How your mind works: You process through doing. Sitting around theorizing makes you twitchy. You need action, even if it’s messy. Picking fights on the basketball court because the ref made a bad call, then realizing you’re actually just mad your crush didn’t text you back.

💬 MERCURY Dominant: "Wait, how does that work? Tell me everything!" Mercury-dominant teens are curiosity machines. Your brain’s like a search engine that never stops running. You want to know why, how, who, and what if. You’re that kid who can’t let a fun fact go without looking it up. Debates? Bring ’em on. Trivia? Your jam. Group chats? You run them. How your mind works: You connect ideas at lightning speed. Learning isn’t just a necessity; it’s your love language. Staying up until 3 a.m. watching YouTube videos about conspiracy theories, then showing up to school explaining why aliens totally built the pyramids.

💎 VENUS Dominant: "Why settle for okay when life can be beautiful?" Your late teens are a crash course in pleasure, relationships, and aesthetics. You’re probably experimenting with your style (cue questionable fashion phases), figuring out love (hello, hopeless romantic), or diving into art and music. Life needs to feel good, or it’s just not worth it. How your mind works: You’re tuned to beauty and connection. Your decisions are emotional but driven by desire—whether it’s for love, art, or the perfect selfie.Spending an hour perfecting your eyeliner just to go to the grocery store because what if you meet someone cute?

🌍 SATURN Dominant: "I’m too busy for nonsense." While your friends are out making impulsive mistakes, you’re busy building your future. Saturn-dominant teens have an old-soul vibe. You’re focused on responsibility, probably working a part-time job while juggling school and worrying about saving for college. Fun? Sure, but only if it’s productive. How your mind works: You crave structure and long-term success. While others wing it, you plan 10 steps ahead. Skipping a party to study for finals because failing isn’t an option—not because of pressure, but because you expect better from yourself.

🚀 RAHU Dominant: "What’s the wildest thing I can do right now?" Rahu teens are like explorers charting unknown territory. You’re obsessed with breaking rules, chasing thrills, and doing the forbidden. If it’s edgy, you’re into it. You’re the one sneaking out, dyeing your hair neon green, or trying things that make adults nervous. How your mind works: You’re wired to seek more. More excitement, more knowledge, more of life’s extremes. Going on a spontaneous road trip with friends, breaking the rules, or getting into something your parents wouldn’t approve of—just because it felt like the next big adventure.

🌌 KETU Dominant: "I’m here, but also not really here." Ketu teens are all about spiritual detachment. You’re introspective, reflective, and a bit aloof. While everyone else is chasing their dreams, you’re figuring out why dreams matter at all. Meditation, tarot, or even just staring at the stars for hours—you’re vibing on a higher plane. How your mind works: You reject surface-level stuff, diving into the depths of existence. But you also need to learn to be present. Skipping out on big social events to sit at a park by yourself, journaling about the mysteries of life, or getting into spiritual practices like meditation because they felt more authentic than anything else.

🚀 JUPITER Dominant: "Knowledge is freedom, and I’m going after it!" Jupiter-dominant teens are all about growth, knowledge, and the bigger picture. Your late teens were likely filled with plans for the future, exploring new ideas, and constantly looking for ways to improve. You may have been the one always talking about your next big trip, your dream career, or the philosophies that shaped your world view. How your mind works: You crave expansion and understanding. Learning is your path to freedom. Deep-diving into a topic you just discovered, researching potential career paths, or discussing ideas about travel, culture, and self-improvement with anyone who would listen. Your teenage years were wild, weren’t they? Which planet had your brain on lock? Reblog with your planetary dominant and let’s compare chaotic late-teen stories. 🌠

591 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 4 months ago

Text

✨Run✨

Summary: Hunting monsters was the plan. Hunting you was Dean’s. And when he caught you? Game over.

-requested-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 3629

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

You and Dean wandered around the woods, your flashlight beam cutting through the thick darkness as branches scraped against your jacket. The cold air bit at your skin, but it wasn’t what had you on edge. You’d been tracking this damn wendigo for days now—exhausted, pissed off, and worst of all, completely out of sync. No time to rest, no time to breathe. No time alone.

Sam was back at the motel, nose-deep in online research. You and Dean volunteered to sweep the woods for signs, mostly because neither of you could stand sitting still any longer. But now, at near midnight, the only thing you’d found was more trees and your own rising frustration.

Dean moved ahead, stepping over a fallen log like it was nothing, his shotgun slung casually over his shoulder. His silhouette in the moonlight was doing absolutely nothing to help your situation. And yeah, you were annoyed. Tired. But mostly? You were just horny as hell, and Dean freaking Winchester was not making that any easier.

Every time he smirked at you, every time his hand brushed yours when he passed you a weapon or touched your back to guide you through tight paths—it added to the heat simmering under your skin. And right now? You were so done pretending like you didn’t notice.

“See anything?”, he asked over his shoulder, voice low, gravelly.

“Just trees and disappointment”, you muttered.

Dean chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always sent a shiver down your spine. “Well, disappointment’s kinda our brand”.

You rolled your eyes, but your gaze lingered on him a second too long. The tight line of his shoulders, the way his jeans clung to his thighs, those sharp and focused green eyes… You hated how hot he looked when he was in full hunter mode. And damn it, you hated even more how badly you wanted him.

You walked a few more paces, kicking at a pile of leaves, scanning the area with your flashlight. The woods were too quiet. No birds. No wind. Just the sound of your own boots crunching over the forest floor.

“Dean?”, you called after a few minutes of silence.

No answer.

You frowned, shining the light in the direction he’d been. Nothing but shadows. You quickened your pace. “Dean, quit messing around”.

Still nothing.

Your heartbeat started to pick up, not from fear of a monster—but from the fact that Dean freaking Winchester never wandered off like that. Not without a heads-up. Not unless… Your brain threw the worst-case scenarios at you like darts. Wendigo. Ambush. Injury.

You swung the flashlight around, spinning in a slow circle. “Dean?”. Louder now. More anxious.

A branch snapped behind you.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned, shining the light behind you—and saw nothing. Just trees. Just silence. Your breath caught in your throat.

And then—

Out of nowhere, arms wrapped around you from behind and a figure lunged, letting out a loud, guttural growl.

You screamed, dropping your flashlight and instinctively elbowing back with a hunter’s reflex. You spun around, heart racing, fists raised—only to come face-to-face with a damn scream mask.

“WHAT THE FU—”, you choked out, staggering back.

Dean ripped off the mask mid-laugh, grinning like the devil himself. “Holy shit, you should’ve seen your face!”.

“You son of a bitch!”, you yelled, punching him hard in the chest—not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

He laughed harder, actually doubling over, wheezing like it was the funniest thing in the world. “I’ve been waiting all week for that!”.

Your pulse was still going a mile a minute. “You disappeared! I thought something got you!”.

“That was the point”, he said, through chuckles, tossing the mask aside. “Payback, sweetheart. You scared the crap outta me last week—middle of the night, wet towel, no warning? Fair game”.

“That was an accident!”, you shot back, still trying to get your breathing under control.

Dean wiped a tear from his eye, smug grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, well. This wasn’t”.

You stared at him, arms crossed, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins—not just from the scare, but from him. The way he looked now—eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed, that stupidly charming smirk—it pushed you right to the edge of your patience.

“You’re such an ass”, you muttered, turning away.

But Dean stepped closer, voice lower now, a hint of something else in it. “You gonna make me pay for it?”.

You turned back slowly, brows raised. “Maybe I will”.

Dean’s grin widened as he looked down at the mask still dangling from his fingers, then back up at you with that spark of mischief that always meant trouble. The playful energy between you shifted, thickened, like the air itself was holding its breath.

He took a step closer, voice low and rough around the edges. “You know”, he started, lazily twirling the mask in his hand, “this kinda reminds me of that little book you wouldn’t shut up about a few weeks ago”.

Your stomach flipped.

He saw the flicker in your eyes and ran with it. “Yeah”, he said, stepping even closer, crowding into your space now. “That one scene you got all flustered talking about. Where the guy was chasing her through the woods, promising that if he caught her… he’d fuck her… right there against a tree”. His voice was a murmur now, intimate and deliberate.

You tried to hold his gaze, but your breath hitched, just a little. Of course he remembered. You hadn’t meant to get that carried away describing it, but it had slipped out after a few drinks, your mouth moving faster than your brain. Dean had gone quiet then, real quiet—but now, apparently, he hadn’t forgotten a damn word.

“You said that scene made you horny as hell”. He was right in front of you now, his hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “You said you imagined what it’d be like if it were me chasing you”.

You swallowed, heart pounding, your body practically vibrating from the energy rolling off him.

Dean’s thumb brushed down your cheek, slow, almost reverent, but the heat in his eyes said something else entirely. You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Every nerve in your body was locked on him—on his closeness, on the low gravel of his voice, and the tension thick enough to drown in.

You and Dean had only fucked once—months ago. A messy, desperate night after a brutal hunt, where emotions were high and boundaries blurred. You’d both sworn it wouldn’t change anything. That it was a one-time thing. But everything had changed. And ever since, neither of you had said a damn word about it.

Until now.

Dean’s eyes searched yours for a long beat, then his lips twitched—not with amusement this time, but something darker. Deeper. A flicker of restraint threatening to snap.

Then he leaned in close, his breath warm at your ear as he whispered, low and commanding—

“Run”.

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a challenge.

Your heart nearly stopped, then slammed back into motion. You stared at him, stunned—but his expression didn’t waver. He meant it. You were already breathless before you moved.

You didn’t think. You just turned and ran.

Branches scraped your arms as you tore through the woods, your boots pounding the earth, adrenaline roaring in your veins. You didn’t know where you were going—you didn’t care. All you knew was that he was behind you now, somewhere in the shadows, and that made everything in you ache.

The chase was a tease, a game laced with tension you’d both ignored for far too long. Every step, every heartbeat, felt like it could tip you over the edge.

And then—

A hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back hard.

You gasped, stumbling, crashing into a solid chest. Dean’s arms closed around you like a vice, his grip unrelenting, breath hot against your neck as he slammed you gently but firmly against the nearest tree.

“Gotcha”, he growled.

You could barely breathe. You didn’t want to.

Pinned between him and the rough bark, the air pulsing between your bodies, you felt the full weight of everything you’d been avoiding. His hands planted on either side of your head, his body caging yours in, his eyes wild with something feral, something possessive.

Dean’s breath was ragged against your skin, one hand gripping your hip like he was anchoring himself, like he needed you right there in that moment or he'd unravel. His eyes searched yours, dark and burning, and for a second, you thought he was going to kiss you—claim you.

But you were a hunter, and hunters didn’t go down easy. Especially not when the game had just begun.

So you did the only thing you could think to do. You smirked. And then drove your knee up—sharp and fast—right into his abdomen.

“Oof—shit!”, Dean stumbled back, more surprised than hurt, doubling over just enough for you to slip from his grasp. You darted away with a laugh, the kind of laugh that felt wild and alive, echoing through the trees as your adrenaline spiked all over again. “You’re gonna regret that”, he called after you, voice rough and hoarse, laced with something that sounded a lot like a promise.

You didn’t look back.

Leaves crunched beneath your boots as you ran, heart pounding in rhythm with the thrill coursing through your veins. The woods blurred around you, moonlight flickering between branches, cold air biting at your skin. Somewhere behind you, Dean was giving chase again—more determined now. More dangerous.

It wasn’t just a game anymore. It was war. And you wanted him to catch you just as much as you didn’t.

You twisted through a thicket, breath coming in sharp bursts, grinning like a lunatic as you heard him closing in again—closer, faster this time, the sound of his boots hitting the ground sending another jolt of heat straight to your core.

This time, when he caught you, you knew he wasn’t letting go.

You ducked under a low branch, breath tearing through your lungs as you slowed, listening—nothing but the wind in the trees and the thundering of your own heartbeat. You grinned to yourself, half-dazed, half-high on adrenaline. You’d lost him. For now.

Leaning against a tree to catch your breath, you scanned the woods, ears straining for any sound of pursuit. But there was only stillness. You let your eyes fall closed, chest heaving.

That was your first mistake.

Because the second your guard slipped, hands grabbed you from behind—rough and fast—and you barely had time to gasp before you were spun around and shoved chest-first against the nearest tree trunk. The bark scraped your palms as you caught yourself, Dean’s solid body pressing into your back, his hand curling tight around your wrist, pinning it high above your head.

“Thought you could outrun me?”, he growled into your ear, his voice low and wrecked, breath hot against your neck. “Cute”.

You squirmed, but he pressed in harder, his hips flush against your ass, his free hand bracing against your hip. You weren’t getting away this time. Not like this. Not when he had you caged, breathless and burning.

You could feel him—every inch of him. Pressed tight against your back, no room to move, no room to breathe that didn’t taste like him. His arousal was unmistakable, hard and insistent against you, sending a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body.

Dean leaned in, his breath warm as it coasted down the side of your neck. “You feel that?”, he murmured, brushing your hair gently out of the way with one hand, his fingers trailing soft against your skin before curling around your shoulder to hold you still. “That’s what you do to me”.

His voice was rough, strained—like he was barely holding himself back. “And you’ve been walking around for weeks”, he whispered, mouth grazing your ear, “acting like you don’t know exactly how bad I’ve wanted you”.

Your breath hitched, your body strung so tight it hurt. You could feel his lips ghosting along the curve of your neck, the slow drag of his breath, the barely-there touch of his teeth. Every nerve was lit up, every part of you buzzing under his hands.

“But not tonight”, he growled. “Tonight, I’m done pretending”.

He pressed forward just a little harder, enough to make your knees tremble. His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, not rough, but firm. Possessive. Like he was reminding you exactly who had you now.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face, but it was impossible. You knew that tone in his voice. That edge. And you knew exactly what was coming.

Dean’s hand trailed down your side, slow and deliberate, until it found the waistband of your pants. With one sharp tug, he yanked them down along with your panties, the fabric catching briefly at your thighs before dropping to your knees. The cold air hit your skin, but the heat rolling off him kept you burning.

Still pinned to the tree, you shifted slightly—enough for him to notice, not enough to escape. Not that you wanted to.

“Shit”, he muttered behind you, like he’d forgotten how much he liked the sight of you like this. His hand grazed over the curve of your ass, slow and possessive. “You’re not even pretending to fight me this time”.

You let out a breathy laugh, still facing the tree, cheek pressed to the bark. “Didn’t say I wanted to win”.

Dean huffed a dark, low sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. His hand slid up your back, holding you firm against the tree, while the other stayed low, fingers teasing at the edge of where you needed him most. You squirmed again, more for show than anything else, your body already aching with anticipation.

Because the truth was, no one had ever touched you the way Dean did. Rough and reverent. Like he couldn’t get enough and didn’t know how to stop. And you didn’t want him to. Not tonight.

Without wasting another second, you heard the soft clink of his belt unbuckling behind you—fast, urgent, like he couldn’t stand the wait another moment. The rustle of denim and cotton followed, and then silence. Heavy. Loaded.

You didn’t have to look to know what he was doing. The sound of his breath shifting—short, low, ragged—and the unmistakable pressure of anticipation building in the space between you told you everything.

Two rough strokes, and then he was there, the heat of him brushing against the back of your thigh as he lined himself up behind you.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, coiled tight like a spring—every inch of him wound up from the chase, the silence, the weeks of pretending there was nothing more between you than hunts and long drives and shared glances that lasted too long.

You braced yourself, one hand flat against the tree, the other gripping a low branch above you, your breath catching as he settled one hand low on your hip again, firm, claiming.

And then, in a voice barely more than a growl, he spoke against your neck: “Hope you’re ready, sweetheart… 'cause I’m not holding back this time”.

His grip on your hip tightened for just a beat, like he was giving you one last second to breathe. But you didn’t need it—you were already on fire, already aching for it, already his in every way that mattered.

And then, he thrust forward.

One deep, hard movement that knocked the breath straight out of your lungs—and his. A raw, broken sound tore from his throat as he pressed fully inside you, his chest collapsing slightly over your back as the heat and shock of it sank in for both of you.

Your hands clawed against the tree, fingernails digging into the bark as a moan slipped from your lips, ragged, desperate, hot. You hadn’t meant for it to sound like that, like need, but it was real, and it was all you could give.

Dean’s head dropped against the curve of your shoulder, breath rough against your skin. “Fuck”, he growled, the word more of a prayer than a curse. “You feel… fuck, you feel so damn good”.

You could only nod, lips parted, eyes shut tight as you tried to remember how to breathe, how to think—how to do anything but feel. Because that thrust wasn’t just physical—it was everything. All the tension, the silence, the things neither of you had said for months, buried in one brutal, perfect motion.

And he wasn’t letting you go. Not now. Not when he finally had you again.

Dean didn’t give you time to recover. His hips pulled back just enough before driving forward again, hard, precise, like he knew exactly how to undo you. And he did. Over and over, he set a rhythm that was rough and relentless, each thrust hitting deep, shaking something loose inside you.

Your fingers scrambled for grip against the tree as your knees nearly buckled, but his arm slipped around your waist, catching you, holding you up like he knew you were seconds from falling apart.

“Uh-uh", he growled, breath hot against your neck, voice thick and wrecked. “You don’t get to fall yet, sweetheart. Not ‘til I’m done with you”.

Every word he spoke was laced with grit and heat, a perfect echo of the scene you'd once described to him—mocking you and honoring it at the same time. You’d imagined this before, in the quiet of too many motel rooms. The chase, the rough bark against your skin, the way his voice would rasp against your ear while he took you like he meant it.

Your body trembled in his grip, heat coiling tight and low until it finally snapped—sharp and overwhelming, white-hot and all-consuming.

You came hard, a strangled cry slipping from your lips as your legs gave out completely. Dean held you firm, one arm locked around your waist, the other braced against the tree to keep you both upright as you clenched around him, wave after wave tearing through you.

You saw stars. Literal flashes behind your eyes, your breath stolen from your lungs. The kind of release that left you half-limp, half-floating, completely undone.

Dean groaned—low, ragged, wrecked—the sound of your release clearly pushing him right over the edge. He thrust deep once, twice more before burying himself completely with a heated curse.

“Fuck”, he growled into your shoulder, voice hoarse. “That tight little body’s gonna ruin me”.

You felt the heat of him spill deep inside you, the press of his hips holding you right there, still trembling, still trying to come back to earth. His breathing was heavy and uneven against your back, both of you lost in the haze of it—sweat-slicked skin, bruising grips, and that sense of finally.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind in the trees and the slow, matching rhythm of your breathing.

Then, softer, breathless: “You good?”, he murmured, voice gentler now, lips brushing your shoulder.

You managed a small, dazed laugh. “Eventually”.

Dean chuckled, pulling you back against him, wrapping both arms around you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. He stayed there for a moment, chest pressed to your back, both of you still catching your breath. The air was cold, but his body against yours kept you flushed and burning.

Then, with a low grunt, he finally moved—pulling back just enough to let you breathe again, though he still kept one hand on your hip like he wasn’t ready to fully let go. You were barely steady on your feet, the aftershocks still rolling through you, when he crouched slightly behind you and began tugging your panties and jeans back up.

Dean smirked, not even trying to hide the pride in his voice as he leaned in close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Leave it in”, he whispered, voice thick and low and smug as sin. “Wanna keep you nice and wet ‘til round two”.

Your breath hitched, a slow burn blooming all over again in your belly.

You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of that wicked grin, that sparkle in his eyes that always meant trouble—and always, always, meant you were about to enjoy it.

“Cocky bastard”, you muttered.

Dean just smirked and slapped your ass lightly. “Damn right”.

He took your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and started guiding you back toward the trail—like the two of you hadn’t just lit up the middle of the woods with weeks of pent-up tension.

And all you could think was: round two couldn’t come fast enough.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #deanwinchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

316 notes · View notes

quelmdn · 2 months ago

Note

would you be open to deconstruct how you draw Laurent's hair? bc his hair is so gorgeous but messy at the same time (looking at you, book 3 duel piece) and wavy but straight and combed yet unkept unless specifically put into place (looking at you book 1 prince viewing piece) and it looks amazing, but every time i look at it i go "?????????" and aussie!laurent now only added to my confusion. it's consistent how you draw it within one "thing!"laurent, im just so lost his hair is gorgeous i need more Laurent's hair please

The true answer is: I draw it inconsistently as hell 🥹 You get my dilemma. Still, here we go with doodles from a few minutes ago:

Long answer:

First Laurent I ever drew already had his hair pushed back because I wanted a colder looking piece, but his hair was quite straight in it... I prefered it wavy, bc that was closer to my imagination of him! So I began experimenting with wavier hair soon after, joking that "his hair gets wavier when hit by humid hair, so in the books, as they progressively go souther, it would get a little puffier 🤭 For real, I just like drawing some waves in his hair, make that yellow shine ✨

Along with waves, came the multi-purpose Loose Strands(TM). I tend to put more strands when I want a softer look, or when he's a mess (duel scene 🙂‍↕️)., or whenever. Because I love drawing hair strands in general, even in pieces I want that colder, restricted look, they tend to show up.

Overall, I'm a short haired!laurent truther, but his hair is not thaaaat short: it's longer in the front and shorter in the back ( to show off that nape line 🫢). If he used a bang, it'd cover a big portion of his face. I use that to make me feel better because... a few times through the book, Laurent lowers his head and text says his hair hides his face: fully combed back doesn't match that ;; then I lie to myself cheat with make use of the strands getting looser and partially hiding his features :)

As you can see, the hard science behind it is: whatever way my brain is leaning that day. I like to follow a certain look, but it's sadly inconsistent, and can change anyday.

PS: Aussie Laurent is not a design of my own, I just draw too bc it's such a cute design 🥹🤌 so I cant talk much abt him.

#laurent of vere #asks #dont yall love that we have laurent in a dozen kinds of hair/hairstyles by many artists and they're all so good? i appreciate it sm! <3 #lamen hair “meta” is fun!!

158 notes · View notes

jeonginsleftcheek · 7 months ago

Text

A new beginning (drabble)

a/n: this is just a short fluffy (a bit angsty but happy ending) drabble i spit out after a 9 hour shift (horrible and i am exhausted). happy new year, my friends!❤️✨

Of course he's here.

How could he not be? After all, he's in your friend group and that makes it kind of hard to avoid him.

You weren't even supposed to be at the party but Jeongin gave you the cutest pout he could muster and you were too weak at the sight of his adorable face.

He even added in a 'please' and a fake sniffle, making Felix gag in the back as Changbin smirked.

You weren't too surprised they invited you dragged you out of the house since you hang out with them whenever they have free time but you really didn't wanna leave the comfort of your blanket.

The holidays always made you feel a little nostalgic, like you were saying goodbye to someone you know, the reality of another year quickly passing by settled in your brain.

It's been months since you last saw Hyunjin, and even then you avoided him like the plague.

Ever since that night two years ago, when you were so stupid to believe his lingering touches and sweet words meant something more.

You let yourself fall for him, believing wholeheartedly that he would catch you so you confessed. Hyunjin looked surprised, kind of like someone slapped him out of a trance while he stuttered out some excuse about 'not being ready for a serious relationship'.

You were so embarrassed at that moment as you mumbled something out and excused yourself. After the embarrassment came the disappoinment, then the sadness and doubt.

You started to think about every moment spent with him, how he was always so attentive towards you, how you could spend hours talking to him, that one time he held your hand, the way he smiled at you...

Were you wrong to think he loved you like you loved him?

Since then, you used every and any excuse to avoid him whenever everyone was hanging out together. You only went if he wasn't there, you couldn't even look at him after he rejected you.

But now, you had nowhere to run, not when his eyes caught yours as everyone walked out to the balcony to watch the fireworks.

A minute left until midnight. A minute left until your life changes completely. A minute left until your heart explodes together with the fireworks.

It felt like slow motion, all the other people around you becoming a blur as Hyunjin made his way towards you, a small unsure smile on his plump lips when he finally approached you.

You swallowed your heart and stared at him expectantly.

Thirty seconds left.

"Hey." he said.

God, you missed his voice.

"Hi." you almost ran out of breath.

Hyunjin wanted to say so many things to you.

That he was sorry, that he couldn't stop beating himself up for being terrified of something he always dreamed about, and he needed you to know that he loved you back then and has never stopped.

His tongue got twisted as you stared at him, the air became heavy with unspoken emotions and you were buzzing from being so close to him after all this time.

It was as if you hung out yesterday, talking about your dreams, your favorite albums, your biggest fears.

The countdown started.

Hyunjin's lips parted as he leaned in closer to you and your heart dropped in your stomach.

Five...

Four...

You could see your reflection in his adoring eyes.

Three...

His breath hit your face and like always he pulled you like a magnet, your soul screaming to stay in his presence.

Two...

Everyone was yelling but your focus was only on Hyunjin who was closing the gap that had grown between you.

One...

His lips pressed on yours as fireworks exploded in the background, shining over your heads as your friends cheered for a new beginning.

But no one cheered as happily as you and Hyunjin did, butterflies dancing in your tummy because finally everything you had dreamed of was about to come true.

This was going to be an amazing year, with many more to come.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them

369 notes · View notes

mermaidgirl30 · 7 months ago

Text

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 6: New Introductions with a Cup of Hot Chocolate✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: The frequent need to write about these two is always sitting in the back of my mind. The slow burn is burning, friends 🥹 I have so much more left for these two, so this is a little New Year’s present because the writing bug hit me this week. I hope you enjoy 🩷

Chapter Summary: An unexpected guest appears in Joel’s front door, but it’s not just any guest. It’s his daughter Sarah, and he wants you to meet her.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter Tags: Fluff, angst, meeting Sarah, soft! Joel, age gap (reader is late 20’s and Joel is late 40’s), slow burn, mentions of being trafficked, hurt Joel, yearning, so much yearning

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

November autumn leaves fall from the oak and maple trees outside the view of the floor to ceiling windows, stacking vivid piles of bright orange and dark red colors across the front lawn. Whiffs of pine and cinnamon permeate through the house, creating the perfect atmosphere to read by the crackling fireplace in the living room.

That’s what you spend most of your time doing these days. Reading anything and everything you can get your hands on. Joel has hundreds of books scattered around his house, so you don’t have to go far to find something you want.

You love the afternoons. Love being in the comfort of a home where you feel warm and relaxed. Where you feel… safe. Yes, safe. Joel does that. Makes you feel like you’re in the presence of a knight in shining armor. You guess that’s what he is to you. Your savior. But mostly, you love afternoons because that means he’s here, and he’s choosing to spend his time with you.

The other night when he watched Gone with the Wind with you was the first time you actually had fun in a long, long time. And he made sure you were comfortable and taken care of, made sure you got to bed okay. But the one thing that burns like flickers of embers in your brain is the moment he picked you up and took you upstairs.

He was so… careful. Gentle, even. You latched on so tight to him that he had to pry your fingers from his flannel. He tucked you in, that much you remember. But also, you vaguely remember the faint brush of his fingers on your cheek, a lock of hair pushed behind your ear, and whispered words of affirmation.

Beautiful. He called you beautiful. Even if you were falling in and out of sleep, you still heard his slow drawl float through your ears, and you’re still blushing from the electric moment. He doesn’t need to know you heard it. You’ll just keep it tucked away in your locket, save it for a rainy day when you can repeat it a thousand times in your mind. Maybe one day he’ll say it again. Or maybe, one day you’ll be strong enough to look him in the eyes and tell him exactly how he makes you feel. Safe, beautiful, whole, seen.

Thumbing through the colorful bookcase, you slip a book out and start scanning the back. Just when you start to flip the front page, the click of the front door opens, and then you hear voices. Joel’s and someone you don’t recognize. Pressing the book against your chest to hug away the anxiety that’s building in your system, you pause when in comes Joel with a girl with big doe eyes and long strands of curly dark hair. You take a good, long look, your brain suddenly registering who she is.

Sarah.

You drop the book from your arms and it goes tumbling to the floor, your mouth parted open in mere shock as you register the situation.

Joel steps forward, enough to feel the heat from his body against yours, his arm placed gently around Sarah’s back, pushing her forward to present to you. He clears his throat and smiles. “Have someone I’d like to introduce you to, sweetheart.” He flicks his brown eyes to you and then back to Sarah as she stands gleaming in the sunlight with a bright smile. “This is Sarah, my daughter.” And then he says your name, introducing you the same.

You stand there lock-jawed, eyes wide, arms down at your sides, your mouth parched of words as you take her in. Big smile, as kind as her brown eyes. Eyes like Joel’s. She has a light dusting of freckles across her nose, cheeks warm and pink. She looks so kind. Kind like Joel, you think.

She says your name brightly and flashes you a genuine smile. “It’s so good to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much.” Before you register what happens, she’s throwing her arms around your back and pulling you in for a tight embrace.

Your eyes widen in confusion, mouth hanging open as she squeezes you tighter with your arms still draped to the sides of your body. It’s like you’re a long-distance cousin she hasn’t seen in years, but you’ve never met her in your life. But you think it’s okay because she’s a survivor like you, and you feel like you do know her. Joel’s told you so much.

Briefly flicking your eyes up, Joel chuckles under his breath from the foyer and gives you an encouraging smile, his eyes sparkling with glee as he takes in the sight of his sweet daughter pulling you in for a hug.

As if he’s encouraging you, you cautiously snake your arms around her back and hug her right back, embracing her like a sister that got lost along the way of the kidnapping. And when you finally breathe in her strawberry scent, you hold her tighter for just a few seconds knowing that she had everything stripped from her years ago too.

When you release your arms from her, Joel gives you a small smile and slowly retreats back from the room. “I’ll get out of your hair, let you two talk.” And then he’s disappearing around the corner, leaving you alone with Sarah.

“You want to go out on the back porch?” Sarah asks brightly, brown eyes as big as the moon.

You give her a shy smile and hesitate because you’ve never actually been out there before. You kind of just locked yourself in the house, afraid to venture far from closed doors and warm air. Afraid to go far because you’re still scared. Scared someone could take you away from Joel again… “Umm, sure. I’ve never really been out there before.”

“You’ve never been out back?” she asks, shocked, jaw dropping like you just said you’ve never seen colors before.

You shrug meekly and say, “Kinda keep tucked away in the house.”

Registering your answer, she closes her lips and nods. “I understand. It’s nice and cozy in here, but come on. You’ll love it.”

She tugs your wrist and pulls you along with her toward the back glass door, only stopping momentarily to pick up two fleece blankets from a little basket tucked next to the fireplace. Handing you one before she slides the door open, she encourages you forward.

When you step out onto the wooden back porch, your jaw drops as you take in the beautiful view. Acres upon green acres expand over the horizon. A small pond that glistens in the sunlight sits a couple miles out. A flock of birds soar in the blue sky, only disappearing behind some forming grey clouds in the near distance. And the trees… so many tall, green, large scatters of them expand over the open land. It’s almost like home…

“Whoa. This is…” You pause, mouth suddenly dry as you join Sarah on the porch swing, eyes still roving across the beautiful view. How did you not know this was out here all this time?

“Pretty great, right? Dad owns all this. All the way back behind that line of thick trees.”

You scan the horizon, but you don’t see an end anywhere in sight. He must own hundreds of acres.

Taking a deep breath, you part your lips and smile, pulling the blanket up over your lap to dissipate some of the November chill. “I’ve been kind of a recluse since I’ve been here. I just can’t believe I missed this. It’s beautiful…” And it is. Breathtaking, actually. It kind of takes the ache away, fills you with a little happiness that replaces all the bad things that have happened to you over the past couple of years.

“That’s okay,” she smiles encouragingly. “You’re seeing it now.”

You take another moment to soak it all in. The crisp smell of autumn, the yellow and red tinted leaves that blend in with the deep greens, the open land that’s filled with picturesque views that you swore would never be in Texas. But this? This is as close to home as you’ve felt for a long time.

Sarah’s warm voice pulls you back to the present. “Dad’s told me a lot about you.”

You turn your head, eyes a little weary. He’s told her about you? “Really?” you ask, taken aback.

“Mhm,” she hums out with a smile plastered on her glossy lips.

“Nothing bad I hope,” you breathe out.

She shakes her head, curls bouncing with the movement. “Oh, no. Only good things. He really likes your company.”

He likes your company?

You smile to yourself, feeling a blush set in on your cheeks as the cool air blows against your skin. He likes your company… “Well, I like his too.” But really, you mean to say you just like him. More than his company. You like being in his space, nuzzling into his soft flannels that smell like him—Pinewoods, mahogany, and a hint of black coffee. You like talking to him, watching his dimples cave into his tanned cheeks when he’s smiling. You just like him. All of him. You like everything about him. Especially how kind and soft he is with you. You like it all. And that scares you a little, but you shouldn’t be because he makes you feel so safe.

Yes, safe.

She pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her pink hoodie, the blanket loosely draped across her shoulders, and then she takes a good look at you, like she’s doing a deep dive into your mind. “How are you doing, really?”

You let the question simmer, let it bubble inside you as you contemplate exactly what you’ll say. How are you really feeling? Drained, worn down, discarded, hurt. But there’s a chip inside you, one that’s filled with a little warmth, a little healing. A part of you is being stitched back together. One thread at a time. And it’s not because you’re away from that awful house, away from their clawing hands and sharp commands. You think maybe, just maybe, Joel’s healing a teeny tiny part of you. Inside and out. He’s making you whole again. Even in the short amount of time you’ve been here, you think he’s making you brand new.

He’s making you feel not so alone. He’s making you feel safe, wanted. He’s giving you wings…

“I’m hanging in there,” you say quietly, fingers brushing lightly over the fleece blanket. ”Kinda just taking it one day at a time.”

“It’s been a little over a month now, yeah?” she questions, tilting her head as her brown eyes glisten through the clouds now hanging over the covered porch.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod, eyes wandering back to the big, open field. You could get lost in those sea of trees. Run, disappear forever. But you don’t think you want to anymore. At least, not right now.

“How long were you gone for?”

You fiddle with your bottom lip, wincing at the lost time that’s gone by. “Almost two years. Seems more like ten, if I’m being honest. Time seems to blur together when you’re… Well, when you don’t know if you’ll make it through the night.”

A lump forms in the back of your throat, making your eyes a little blurry from the thought of being gone for so long. How had you managed to survive all those days of abuse and torment? How’d you ever get saved by the likes of someone like Joel? Warm, kind, safe.

She twirls a strand of her dark curls around her index finger, eyeing you with big sad eyes that make you want to choke out a sob, but you don’t. “I wasn’t gone nearly as long as you. And I can’t imagine what you went through. Two years, that’s… God. I’m so sorry.” Regret fills her eyes, and then she places a hand softly on your shoulder, saying just as much in her touch.

“Yeah, I am too,” you say a little dazed as her hand slips away from you, back into her lap.

You mull over what you’ll say next while your emotions are running rampant. You feel everything all over again. The fear, the blinding pain, the inconsolable ache in your bones that won’t go away. You’ve been scared for so long, so how are you supposed to navigate your way through life again? How are you supposed to go on when the weight of the world rests like cement on your chest?

Turning your head toward her slowly, you ask something that’s been bothering you. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” she questions; her tone gentle and patient.

“Keep living a normal life,” you whisper, letting your words float across the frigid air, right back to Sarah.

She shifts in her seat and takes a beat before answering, her voice calm and collected. “I wouldn’t exactly call my life normal. It’s gotten almost to that point, but there’s still days I can hardly get out of bed, nonetheless eat. But my boyfriend, Ryan, helps me when it gets like that. Or I talk to Tess. Have you seen her yet?”

Tess. That’s right. You forgot about Tess.

You shake your head. “Not yet.” But you’d really like to.

“She’s great. She’s really helped. Even my dad sees her sometimes.”

“Your dad sees her?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

She nods. “Yeah, she’s actually helped him a lot too with everything. Especially with his line of work. He really needs someone to lean on on the hard days, you know?”

You let your mind settle on her words, your thoughts turning back and forth over the endless images of Joel’s sleepless nights. The deep shadows under his chocolate eyes. The restless image of him hunched over a laptop with his fingers lacing frustratedly through his dark locks. The late night runs he has to do periodically. The stressful calls he takes right when he’s about to head to bed. The times he’s not home when it’s three in the morning. The pacing back and forth he does when Tommy’s talking to him about a job. But there’s one thing you don’t ever miss. The pain that flares behind his brown irises, blending in with the inky flecks that remind you of dark chocolate.

Something hurt him. Something continues to hurt him, and you don’t even know what that something is.

Jesus. You don’t even know half of what Joel goes through, but you think he might need someone just as badly as you do. Maybe, just maybe, you can be that something he needs because he’s that to you. He’s your foundation when you had nothing.

“Your dad, what he does, he’s helped so many girls…” you murmur, your voice caught in your throat as you think about everything he’s done specifically for you. But really, it just takes a toll on you thinking of everyone he has saved. He’s… incredible.

She smiles, her cheeks bright from the crisp air. “He’s saved countless lives. And for that, I really couldn’t ask for a better dad.”

No. She really couldn’t. He is the best dad, and she’s so lucky to have him.

After a moment of silence passes, she speaks again. “He seems happier lately.”

Your eyes flick over to hers while your heart does a somersault in your chest. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she smiles gently.

“What makes you say that?” The knot tightens in your stomach, and maybe you’re a little scared of the answer. Was it… was he happier because you were here? No, that couldn’t be possible, could it?

“I don’t know,” she laughs, shrugging casually as her hair tumbles past her shoulders. “He just seems lighter, maybe a little brighter. His eyes, they’re a little clearer. I think… I think ever since you came here. Yeah, that’s when I noticed the change.”

Your eyes widen, lips part in awe. Did she just say… No. You must’ve heard wrong.

“Me? But I…”

She stops you mid-sentence and smiles. “He likes your company, like I said. I can tell. He’s never been… Well, he hasn’t been happy in a while. It’s nice to see him smiling for a change.”

You bite your bottom lip out of habit and curl your fingers into the fleece of the blanket, tossing ideas back and forth in your mind. Maybe he has been smiling more lately. Like on movie night. You’ve never seen him laugh so carefree before. He did seem happier. A little more teasing, maybe even playful in a way. You wanted to see more of that. Carefree Joel is heart stopping.

“And you think I’m the reason he seems happier?” you laugh, a pang of disbelief flowing through your body. Could you really be the reason he was happier?

“I really do,” she confirms with the imprint of a dimple in her cheek, solidifying the question.

You’re the reason he’s happier…

“Hey, umm. I just wanted to say you can reach out to me anytime. I’m always available if you need a friend,” she smiles, her eyes sincere and warm. “And just know that you’re a survivor. You’re a strong one, and there’s nothing you can’t overcome. Never give up. Keep fighting the long fight. You’ve got this. I believe in you, my dad believes in you, Tommy does too.”

They believe in you. Joel believes in you. And that in itself means so much to you…

“Thanks, Sarah. I’m so glad I got to meet you.” A tear forms in the corner of your eye, but you brush it off just as Sarah squeezes your knee in encouragement.

Before you can say another word, you hear a shuffling noise by the door. “Hope I didn’t intrude on anything.” Joel slides the glass door open, balancing mugs with two hands and one braced against his flexed arm, making you almost lose your balance at the sight of him. Tall, fitted blue flannel around his muscular arms, slicked back hair with silver streaks glistening even under the cover of a grey cloud. So handsome, so put together, so…

“Oh, no. Not at all, Dad!” Sarah chimes in, giddy as she reaches for the pink tinted mug in his firm grasp.

“Thought I’d whip up some hot chocolate for you two. It’s a bit chilly out here. Don’t want ya to catch a cold. Plus, I know how much you like my homemade recipe, Sarah.” He smiles as she takes a big gulp, groaning when she swallows the first taste.

“Yes! I knew you’d make me your famous hot chocolate. Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.” She throws him a toothy grin and settles back against the swing, kicking her legs carefree while she indulges in the warm hot chocolate, eager for you to try a taste yourself.

“Here ya go, sweetheart. Reckon you like hot chocolate.” He smiles, reaching his arm out, offering you a warm mug with swirls of steam billowing out the top.

“Yes.” You extend your arm, palm open with an invitation. And when he slides the cup into your hand, his calloused fingers brush against yours, causing goosebumps to rise on your shivering skin. You gasp, feeling how warm and welcoming his hand feels against yours, but it’s only there a second, the next he’s whisking his arm back to his side. You already miss it—his hand sliding against yours implicitly.

Physical contact is not in your book of things that make you feel good anymore. But with Joel? It feels more than right. It feels… perfect. Like his hand was made to brush against yours. Or maybe it was made so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, thread them together like your stitched-up heart. You think you’d like that. One day. And maybe he would too.

“Put some extra whipped cream and marshmallows in jus’ for you. Know how much you like everything extra sweet.” He gives you a gut-wrenching smile. One that could bring you to your knees. Especially once that dimple forms on the middle of his cheek.

God. What did you ever do to be worthy of looking at that angelic face? Carved to perfection, tanned, smooth like his tousled curls. And his eyes. Big pools of warmth that instantly make my insides all fuzzy and warm.

“Thanks, Joel. You didn’t have to go through all that extra trouble though,” you smile bashfully, still trying to get a grip on this reality.

“‘Course I did. You’re worth the extra mile.”

Your mouth parts at the words. You’re worth the extra mile. Sarah giggles under her breath, but she keeps to herself. But you can’t help but notice her eyes keep roaming from Joel and then back to you. She must see it. See just how much we affect each other. Just one look and you’re melted butter. It just takes one glance from those big brown eyes until you’re nothing but dust in the wind.

“Dad makes the best hot chocolate!” She brags, taking another sip of her steaming hot chocolate. “Don’t for a second let him tell you it’s nothing special.”

But it is special. Every single particle of him is special. How’d you ever get so lucky to be sitting here on his porch, drinking his hot chocolate that he made specially just for you?

“You know,” he drawls. “Thanksgiving’s next Thursday.”

Thanksgiving? How had you forgotten it was Thanksgiving? To be fair, you weren’t really in the mindset to think about holidays. You overlooked Halloween already, what used to be your favorite.

“Already?” you laugh uneasily, afraid he’ll be upset you forgot.

“Sure is,” he chuckles back, but he gives you an encouraging smile, saying you’re just fine.

“Dad makes the best cherry pie you’ve ever tasted! I’m so excited,” Sarah squeals excitedly beside you. “Well, I guess everything he makes is the best, but this is to die for!”

“Oh?” you ask while Joel nods shyly. “What about blueberry pie?”

He tilts his head and looks at you a beat before he says, “I can make that, but only if you help me.”

“You want me to… help you?” you gawk, mouth parted in surprise. You’re not a cook, never really been one in the first place. Do you even remember how to do anything?

No… you really don’t.

He nods as he takes a sip of his warm coffee, brown eyes locked on yours. “Can’t do it without you. Take it or leave it, sweetheart.”

He’s not making this easy, is he?

“Okay,” you break after a beat. “You’ll just have to guide me. I’m not the best at baking.”

“Well, I’ll jus’ have to teach ya then,” he smirks, sending a wink your way and making you blush all over again.

“Perfect,” Sarah giggles, like she knows something we don’t. But she’s been watching us like a hawk; silently tapping her talons and sharpening her ears. Maybe she sees the chemistry swirling between us like the smoky fog hovering over the glassy lake. If she does, the only thing that gives her away is her sneaky smile and bright eyes flicking between us.

He shakes his head and chuckles under his breath while he leans against the wooden porch fence. One elbow propped lazily up on the edge, his other hand flexed around his royal-blue coffee mug. You follow the map of lines on his forehead, memorizing every crevice, every wrinkle like the constellations in the sky.

He catches you staring, which makes you look down, a deep blush burning in your cheeks. But when you look back up, he’s still watching you. Almost like he’s memorizing your face just the same.

Soft. His eyes are so soft. Warm, big, his brown irises full of promises of something. It makes your breathing hitch, makes you a little off center. But yet, he keeps watching like he can’t quite believe you’re there, sitting right in front of him too.

And it stays just like that until Sarah starts up the conversation again. But he still doesn’t take his eyes off you. It’s almost like he’s just as mesmerized as he makes you feel.

There’s a spark, a lapse in time where fireworks go off somewhere in the far distance. You can almost hear the sizzling and booms as they light in the sky. But instead, you hear Joel’s name whooshing around your mind, lighting you up a variety of colors. He painted you a multitude of shades and brought life back in your eyes when all you could see was black and white before.

You’ve never seen such pretty shades of brown before until you looked up and saw his eyes. You think he lit you up the very moment you became his that night he saved you…

“Joel?” you call, a few minutes later when the only sound is the faint rustle of leaves in the distance.

He turns his head toward you, coffee cup snug in his big hand. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

You hesitate a second, looking from Sarah and then back to Joel. Yes. You think it’s time. “I think… I think I’m ready to talk to Tess.”

His brown eyes light up like Christmas lights, a soft smile splaying across his lips which nearly takes your breath away. And the way he’s looking at you? All soft and warm. Well, you think you’ve just fallen all over. “Why don’t you give her a call this week? I’m sure she’d be happy to get you in soon. In fact, I’ll drive you to your appointment. Whenever you’re ready, you can count on me.”

You can count on me. He’s so reliable, so sweet, so genuinely caring. It makes a smile crack over your lips, makes another wave of warmth rush through your chest, filling you up with sunshine and the hot chocolate he made for you. With extra sugar, you can’t forget that part.

When Sarah congratulates you on taking that step forward, Joel can’t help but to smile even bigger and brighter. He even goes so far as mouthing the words “I’m so proud of you” to you through the air. Even though you didn’t hear them, you swear you can taste them as they simmer through the chilly air, along with his thick Southern drawl.

And just like that, you’re falling through cloudless skies, crashing down to earth. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore of dying because he’ll be right there waiting to catch you.

Later, when Sarah’s gone for the night, you’re wrapped up in your favorite fluffy blanket, knees tucked up underneath you while you silently read under the bright lamp. The fireplace crackles in the corner, making for the perfect night to read in the living room. But this is kind of a ritual now, a normal routine you’ve slipped comfortably into.

And then there’s Joel—the man who completes these relaxing nights. He’s here. Right where you need him. He’s perched on the leather couch, his guitar between his legs, gently taking a rag and dusting off the smooth wood, carefully cleaning each string with rapt attention. It’s a little distracting you think—watching his hands slide over the instrument, oh-so-carefully polishing and refining something that seems like it means the world to him.

To be honest, this is the first time he’s actually taken the acoustic guitar out of the reading room. He’s never really talked about it before. Which means, it’s something he hides deep inside his chest, careful not to show emotion when he glides over the colorful moth that’s etched in the wood. You think it means a great deal to him, whatever it symbolizes.

Putting the book down on your lap, you sit up straighter and muster enough courage to call his name. “Joel?”

He looks up, his brown eyes crinkling in the corners when he focuses on you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I, umm. I was wondering…” You bite your bottom lip, suddenly nervous as he zeroes in on you, waiting for your question. You muster up enough courage to ask, but you don’t want to overstep. “Would you… Do you think you could play me something?”

His jaw ticks, his lips quiver as he muddles over your big ask. There’s a glimmer in his eye, a faint recognition of something hiding deep behind those brown pools. Uncertainty, maybe. Or was it just sadness?

Grazing the tip of his thumb up one of the strings, he sighs. “Haven’t played in quite some time, sweetheart.” His deep drawl is filled with anguish, and the last thing you want to do is make him sad.

Taking back your ask, you whisk it back in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… You don’t have to…”

He stops you before you can finish your stammering. “S’alright, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything.” But it feels like you did. After a beat, he huffs out a breath. “I’ll, uhh. I’ll try, sweetheart. For you, I’ll try.”

Those words mean more to you than he knows. He’ll try for you. That’s all you can ask for. Putting him in a vulnerable position, and he still wants to try? You don’t think you could be more smitten.

He straightens his back, mulls a little more over what he’s doing, then he’s placing the guitar carefully over his lap, adjusting his arms as he cradles the instrument like it’s the most fragile things he’s ever touched.

You fall silent and watch the way his thick fingers flex, eyebrows thread together, eyes close, lips slowly part. It almost feels like he’s keeping something down—something that’s hurting him, cutting him deep, bleeding him dry. You wish you could sew the wound up, wipe away his invisible scars that only show beneath the surface. You want to take his pain away like he takes yours.

After a silent fist fight in his mind, he slowly places his fingers gently on the taut strings and oh-so-carefully begins to play a steady, melancholy tune. You can feel the weary emotion he wears on his face, can see the hurt lined in his weathered stare, can feel the debilitating pain he wears on his slouched shoulders, can even hear the grieving through the deliberate cords he strums.

You feel the backs of your eyes burn with held-back tears the longer you watch Joel wear his heart on his flanneled sleeve. And as the melancholy tune carries throughout the stifling room, you feel every single emotion he’s ever poured out into that guitar. That special, one-of-a-kind, gem of a guitar. Whatever it means to him, you see it so clearly now, even if you don’t really know what’s got him so torn up. Was it the moth etched to perfection in the wood, or was it the person that gave him that guitar. Or, had he lost someone, too?

When he plays the last note, his jaw goes slack, and he lays the guitar flat on his lap, his thumb slowly tracing the edge of the little moth. Tears well in his big brown eyes, but he doesn’t dare let one fall. He holds them back, like the strong man he is. But strong men are allowed to break too. And right now, you’re fighting every single particle in your body not to tiptoe over and fall into his arms.

Joel deserves that. Someone to take his pain away, lock their arms around his neck and promise him that he’ll be okay. Just like he promised you…

He looks up slowly, steadily, his head still hanging low, but his eyes meet yours for a brief second. It almost kills you to see those big, sappy brown eyes lathered in such sadness. Makes you want to just rush into his arms and never let go.

Who hurt Joel? That’s what you want to know. Who tore his heart from his chest and ripped it in two?

You slowly peel yourself off the couch, leaving your book open, laying face down in the blanket. You silently tiptoe over to him, careful not to disturb his sulking, keeping your eyes glued to the way he’s brushing the pads of his fingers against the scarred strings. He’s got his heart spilled all over them like black ink.

Carefully, you slide in next to him, fully aware you’re about to play Russian roulette in the next few seconds. “That was beautiful. The song you played,” you whisper out, afraid you’ll shatter his glass box that’s cased around him.

He shifts against the leather, dragging his thumb smoothly across the polished wood. A sad smile crosses his lips, but it doesn’t meet his darkened eyes. “I uhh… I wrote that for someone. Someone who meant a lot to me…” The pain in his strained voice is etched in his clenched jaw, his palms a little shaky as he speaks.

You almost reach your hand out for his, but you think better of it. Someone did hurt him. Or maybe, he lost them… “Joel, that’s… that’s…” You can’t even finish your sentence without your own voice cracking. What could you say to that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He rasps out a sigh and slumps his broad shoulders a bit more, one hand dragging over his silvery scruff, all the way across his mouth. And his eyes. Still glistening with held-in tears.

Oh, Joel…

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask bravely, clenching your fingers as the words leave your lips.

Sniffling, he murmurs, “Not tonight. Not right, at least.”

You let his words simmer, let them soak into your sweater until you feel it’s safe to respond again. Shifting just a little closer, you brush your fingers just inches away from his hand, enough to where he might be able to feel the warmth coming from your palm. “Joel?”

“Hm?” he hums, his deep bravado echoing around the room.

Your fingers dance closer, just enough to lick flames from your skin. If you were brave enough, you’d thread your fingers through his until he let you take away some of his held-in pain. “You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything.”

He lets out a breath and slowly looks up at you. His eyes are hazy, a little cloudy with the fog from his watery eyes. It makes pain flood inside your chest. You freeze when he brushes his knuckles gently down your cheek, a light touch that means he appreciates you when words surely fail him in this moment. And then there’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the center of his gravity, making a tear leak from the corner of your eye. But of course, he wipes it away before you can blink.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he smiles, letting his thumb trace your jawline before he snaps his hand back to his side. And there you go, wishing his warm palm was still lingering across your skin.

The way he touches you—it’s not sexual. Not in the least bit. It’s warm, filled with so much care and attention. Just like the special recipes he conjures up in the kitchen. It’s filled with extra care. And God, how he cares for you. Just like you care for him…

He stares at you for a beat, crystallized brown flecks dancing across your vision, soaking you up like you want to do with his pain. He tilts the guitar against the leather couch and lets his palm drag down it, eyes flicking back and forth from it to you repeatedly. He looks like he wants to tell you something. Maybe the reason he’s hurting?

Please, Joel. Give me your pain.

Once he’s settled his mind, he blinks a couple times and looks at you with hurt-filled eyes. He focuses on a strand of your hair, lets his fingers fall over the silky surface while you hold your breath from the contact. And he fixates on it while his mouth twitches to let the words he really wants to set free out. “The reason I haven’t played in so long is because… Because I…”

You hold your breath, waiting for that something to come tumbling from his lips like an old wound he just won’t let go of. But before he can finish, his phone starts ringing off the hook, deflecting him from the one secret he was about to share with you. The one thing you might’ve been able to remotely help him with.

Pulling his phone free from the front pocket of his denim jeans, he sighs, carding his free hand through his slicked-back curls. You get the faint view of Tommy’s name scrolled across the screen which means it’s probably going to be another late night for Joel. He deserves a break. He works too hard, pushes himself past his limits most nights. He deserves someone to stop the madness for just one single night.

Could you stop it? Press pause on the world for just one night? Just long enough for him to get a decent night’s rest. The dark circles beneath his tired eyes never go unnoticed. He’s got so much weight on his shoulders, so much baggage to pull around. Would he let you take some of that weight off, just for one night?

Groaning, he pushes off the edge of the couch and stands, his thumb hovering over the answer button. “I’ve gotta take this,” he mumbles heavily, dragging all his pent-up frustration and pain right back on his shoulders. But before he clicks the button and walks away, you recklessly reach your arm out and wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling the thick flannel just enough to get his attention.

Stay, Joel. Don’t go. That’s what you really want to tell him, but you’ve said enough through your rampant movements.

Looking down at your closed hand around his wrist, he lets the phone keep ringing, just stares into your eyes while his big, wide brown irises cross with yours. There’s a hesitation there, a moment in time where everything just stops. It’s just you and him for the second, the flickering embers that crackle like pop rocks in the flames of the fireplace.

Parting his lips in awe, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, tears pooling in the backs of his irises, you think he might crack right on the spot. But the world begins to spin again, bringing you back to the present where his phone continues to ring and ring and ring repeatedly.

Don’t answer it, Joel. Let it go to voicemail. Stay. Stay with me. But the disappointment bubbles up inside you the moment he clicks the green button to life, letting Tommy’s voice slip through the end of the receiver. “Yeah?” His voice cracks, strains as he swipes at his teary eyes. It makes you crack just the same.

Just when you let a puff of air leave your lips, he fills the empty space by just a smidge. Slowly, carefully, he reaches over and cups the back of your head affectionately, letting his fingers linger in your hair, tangling for just a second as he fights to pull away. He’s talking on the phone, nodding his head and repeating what Tommy says, but his wide eyes are tethered to yours in a wave of emotions tossing through his beautiful brown eyes. He’s said enough in that touch, even as he pulls away. He’s saying thank you, that he appreciates you being here, that he revels in the way you’re trying. He’s trying to let his walls down too. Just enough to let you creep in and slip into the parts he keeps tucked away, afraid to show just how vulnerable he is too.

Taking one more good look at you, he snaps his hand back inside his pocket and disappears around the corner, leaving you alone with the flickering fireplace and solid guitar next to the now empty couch.

You close your eyes and let your head fall back into the cushions, tucking your knees against your chest as you blow out a heavy breath. You were this close to getting a glimpse into his mind. And now? You didn’t know if you’d get that chance again.

Joel… He barely touched you, barely grazed his fingers across your skin. But that last touch? The way he ran his hand down your hair and cupped the back of your head? That was everything all at once. He was everything. Gentle, kind, and so very soft.

You don’t know how long you stay there, but it’s long enough that you’ve faded off to sleep. Long enough that you feel him slip his strong arms around your body and carry you back to bed in the early morning hours of dawn. This time you don’t fight the need to sleep; you just curl into his chest for those few short, blissful seconds, breathing in his woodsy scent until he tucks you safely into bed. And you don’t miss that same brush of knuckles across your cheek before darkness takes a hold of your body. The last thing you remember is hearing his soothing Southern drawl whisper sweet nothings through the air.

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

@whxtedreams @sawymredfox @sanarsi @mountainsandmayhem @bitchytimetravelqueen

@southernbe @katinasweeney @pixelspunk @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@christinamadsen @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69 @alltheirdamn

@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @fandomdaydreamer @elliaze

@callmecath1 @kulekehe @yorkshirewench @untamedheart81

@tateypots @stylesispunk @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @mellymbee @pascalsbae

@locaparapedrito @ladyofmidlo72 @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @axshadows

@here-briefly @cozylittlepigeon @pastawench @keylimebeag @joelsoftie

@romanarose @captainredspade @megangovier @bishtrouille @almodovarispunk

@papipascaaaal @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @bambisweethearts @puddles221b

@valkyreally @northennlights

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel miller tlou

255 notes · View notes

milkbobatyun · 5 months ago

Text

do you tell the moon about me?

pairing: dan heng x reader

genre: slight fluff, pining

summary: the world is rose gold with the promise of love, but do i dare break this fragile balance?

word count: 584

a/n: fun fact, this actually happened in text convo w my crush, except they were literally like uhhh which [their name] are you talking abt ? (they thought i knew multiple people w the same name) it was so awkwardly funny LMAO (for context they're INTP if that explains anything)

the soft pastel interior of march 7th’s room was tinted with a rosy dream-like haze.

playing truth or dare with alcohol on valentine’s day was probably the bold choice of march 7th, or the collaborative and chaotic idea of her and the trailblazer. your cheeks were warm, with blush or the fact that you were seated almost knee to knee with your clueless crush, you’ll never know.

you listened to every word that fell out of dan heng’s mouth, every truthful word and cheeky dare with rapt attention. without even trying, he commanded your attention, your thoughts dying before they leave your mouth whenever you feel his eyes on you.

the room fades away every time you hear his voice address you. it’s as though a spotlight is trained on dan heng’s figure. your eyes are drawn to him like magnets, eyes shining brighter than the galaxy that silently regards your quiet party from march 7th’s window.

your fingertips dance nervously on your knees, just close enough to feel dan heng’s assuring warmth. every accidental touch sends sparks flying up your arms, straight to your heart.

tongue stumbling over your words, your heart is a fragile sparrow, soaring in the winds of hope, riding the current of unspoken confessions, buried deep in the organ nestled behind your ribs. it hides secrets you’d keep locked away till the day you die.

after many failed and forfeited challenges, everyone was a different progress of tipsy. for you, the edges of the room blur. everything’s a little brighter, slightly more hopeful. drunken confidence courses through your veins like golden, fizzing hope.

“so,” march 7th’s mouth is twisted into a cheshire’s sly grin, eyes narrowed in amusement as she watches the way your eyes memorise dan heng’s every move, tracing his smile with your gaze. the sparkle of hope and something deeper, glistening in your eyes. “dearest [name], truth or dare?” “truth.” the words are out of your mouth before you know it. curse your quick mouth.

“describe dan heng in two words.” march 7th presses on. the trailblazer watches with the word “✨drama ✨” dancing with glee on their face. “pretty. breath-taking.” the words have stumbled their way out of your mouth before your brain can hold them back.

thankfully, your brain managed to catch up to your mistake, the quiet confession dancing at the edge of your mouth bitten back, along with your tongue.

it was small, a careless slip, but something shifted in dan heng’s features.

disbelief, surprise and…hope.

“me?” his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as though he can’t believe his ears.

your laughter is nervous, hanging in the air for a fraction too long.

“of course, how many other dan hengs do i know?” you jest, face on fire with the realisation of the implications of your drunken words. your brain is desperate to do damage control, to rewind the past few mortifying moments, to snatch those words back. but what has been said and done cannot be revoked.

you desperately bite down on the words threatening to spill from your tongue. dan heng needs not know how you secretly make wishes to the night sky, how every falling comet bears the secret hope that you could be his.

he lost the small window of opportunity, to tell you how he has late night conversations with the celestial bodies, crowding outside the archive windows, how the stars whisper secrets in his ear and how he tells them about you in exchange.

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki, @your-sleeparalysisdem0n

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #hsr fluff #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

173 notes · View notes

movingthisblogcelestialtarot11 · 1 year ago

Text

Astro observations 💐🌸

Hi friends 👀✨ guess who is back with another astro observation! Enjoy! Feel free to like comment and reblog ☀️

🕊️ Why so sag men try to brag about their physique? Is this something only I noticed? They will try to bring up their body in any conversation!

🤍 Taurus rising men tend to have a stocky physique and usually there is a feature on them that is “smaller,” than the rest proportionally.

🕊️ Taurus men also have pronounced voices, or there is something different regarding their speech. Accent, speaking a different language, or their choice of vocabulary can make them seem luxurious ✨

🤍 Gemini women are so multifaceted and see a lot of perspectives, it may be why they get anxious. They see lots of different perspectives, and it can get hard to manage and process. It feels like their brain is always working like a piston.

🕊️ Virgo mercury in the 8h will not play around when it comes to receipts! Your honor I have screenshots type of energy 😭

🤍 Those with saturn or chiron afflicting their mercury, I’ve noticed have a speaking issue. Stuttering, speech delay, or issues with conveying their thoughts. Its possible they overcame a strong language barrier 🫂

🕊️ Lilith aspecting Venus and the natives mom often using the child against family members 👀 anybody experience this? The mother could’ve been cunning with her words and manipulative to get what she wanted, or feel power.

🤍 Cancer women also have a lot of opposition with family and friends, just like Leos. Both are luminaries and shine brightly in their own ways. And both are powerful! The moon is our instinct, intuition, primal responses, and its likely cancer women can draw out what needs healing in relationships. People may not respond well to their own healing work which results in competition and jealousy.

🕊️ Sag venus women have high standards because they learn their value! If they know something is not for them they will leave, no questions asked.

🤍 Best friends with venus on the opposite ends (example: sag venus, gemini venus) tend to have amazing compatibility! My best friend and I have this, and we get along amazingly. Our humor is top notch, we also are very intuitive with one another and give each other what we need (hence, the venus signs) I feel like its a balancing factor!

🕊️ Pisces men can be very confused with their life, yet project an entirely different image of “having it together.” They may talk a lot more than they can handle.

🤍 Venus 1h synastry, if it includes Aquarius, usually the other person’s beauty is considered unconventional or different than their usual. The house person can see the Venus person as different, or not their type at first. And its possible at first, the house person had a completely different impression of the venus person, which changed tremendously over time.

🕊️ Two air Venusians together love to yap 😭 I dont make the rules.

Thanks ya’ll! Loved making this post 🥰 it was a lot of fun! I hope ya’ll really enjoyed this. Feel free to like, comment and reblog! Its always appreciated.

Paid readings 🤍🕊️

#astrology community #devi post #astrology #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #astro posts #astrology notes #astro notes #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick one #pick a card romance

425 notes · View notes

the-lazyyy-artist · 7 months ago

Text

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x GN!Reader Synopsis: He left as a hero, and he returned cold and heartless. What adventures have made him like this? Would you still love him? Themes: angst, post-WC! Kunigami, set during Blue Lock's two-week break after their win against JP U-20 (chapters 150 - 153), reader is hopeful, Kunigami lost all humanity, established relationship, if you squint a little it's kinda like Epic's OdyPen lmao Author's Note: Epic The Ithaca Saga is ruining my brain chemistry. A mutual and fellow writer already created something like this but I wanna put my own twist on this hehe!

@thebestsetter ✨

Kunigami Rensuke was a hero before he became yours.

He always believed in goodness, helping everyone else, and acting like a big brother to those who needed his guidance. It's no wonder his morals bleed through his play on the field. To win each game fair and square while he showcases his skills. Watching how he turned into a knight in shining armor every time he stepped onto the field, defending his team from the enemy and scoring his goals was mesmerizing.

So, when he was invited to the Blue Lock Program, you weren't so surprised.

"How long will you be there?" you asked him once while you were on his bed, watching him go back and forth around his room, packing a small duffle bag of the things he might need in the facility. "That's something I can't answer right now, love," he replied, "it's something they never clarified in the letter. But let's say 2 or 3 months, give or take."

"Take care of yourself in there, okay? Show them the hero that you are," you reminded him, smiling up softly as he zipped the bag close. He was ready. Ready to face a new adventure, new challenges, and new foes and allies. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. "I will. Then when this is all over, I'm coming home to you with stories from my training."

"You're not leaving me behind, are you?" you teased, reaching for his hand. On his ring finger was a promise ring, the same one you wore. A symbol of his love for you and his promise to marry you. Your fingers gingerly held on to his ring, feeling the rough metal against your skin. "I will never. I'll always take you with me, remember? I'll be back before you know it."

3 days later, he left with a kiss, a promise, and a vision of him taking over the world with his aspirations.

A few weeks in, you received a call from him, happy and excited to talk to you. He told you about the things he's learned, the friends he's gained, and the foes he's made. He spoke about an Isagi, a Chigiri, and a Bachira, and how these people made him feel stronger with how they all blended on the field. You were proud to hear him grow and find friends.

"How did you get your phone anyway? I thought the letter said phones aren't allowed?" You asked him.

"We were given a star system where goals are exchanged for points that we can use for different privileges," Kunigami explained, "I exchanged my first goal for steak, and shared that with Isagi. Now, I exchanged two of my goals for my phone so I can talk to you."

Always so considerate. Your hero never changed despite the changes he's experienced in Blue Lock. With every point he earned, he'd always exchange it for phone time to call you and tell you about his adventures.

Suddenly, the calls stopped.

You're sure Kunigami wasn't the type to never make a goal. Was he getting into harder challenges in there? No matter how hard it was, you knew your hero would never back down.

Right?

It worried you. You kept looking at your phone, waiting for a call. You kept replaying your conversation weeks ago about a possible second selection and how it would play out, and you worried it was even more challenging than the team matches. Would he get out of it alive? Triumphant? Of course! Since when did you start doubting your hero?

You began to twist your ring, anxious about Kunigami as the days went by, each one feeling longer than the last. It's making you sick. He was never the type to just disappear without saying anything.

The announcement of an exhibition game with Japan U-20 made you feel hopeful again. Knowing your hero, he would be part of the starting 11. You saved enough for the tickets for you and your sibling to watch him play live. You were excited about what skill he gained in Blue Lock, and if he improved to be the best version of himself.

But why wasn't he there?

You know Isagi was there... Chigiri... Bachira... but where was he? Where's your hero?

The win was a blur. How can you even cheer for his team when he isn't there? It's impossible that he's benched too. Kunigami was never the type to warm the bench for the whole game. You wanted to ask Isagi... Maybe Chigiri because Kunigami has talked about him the most. Bachira might know too. But it's impossible to reach them, especially with how they disappeared into the building after the game.

"Where are you?" you whispered into the empty stadium.

Maybe it's time to let go. No. Kunigami made it clear that you would never let go. You'll wait for him to call. You'll wait for him to send you some kind of sign. Anything. Letting go is never the answer, he would say if he's beside you. So, with every passing day after the match, you never went anywhere without your phone, hoping soon he'd call.

How cruel must fate be that the only time you let your guard down was on the day he decided to show up?

Your mother opened the door for him, a gasp leaving her lips. She led him to your door and left him to talk to you. From the outside, Kunigami tensed as he wrapped his large hand around your doorknob, hearing your voice spilling out as he opened it slowly. And for a moment, Kunigami would like to believe nothing has changed. For a moment, all he could see was the light he held on to.

There you were, sitting on your desk as you studied with headphones on, singing one of the songs from the playlist he created for both of you to listen to. Clearly, in your little world, you didn't hear Kunigami enter and close your door behind him. Kunigami sighed, and then he opened his lips to say your name.

Oh, it felt like a lifetime since he spoke your name. Kunigami felt a piece of him remembering what it was like to say your name the first time he met you.

"Y/n."

No answer.

"Y/n," he said once more, a little louder. He saw you perk up a little.

You don't know if you're just imagining things or if Kunigami's voice sounded nearer than how you'd usually imagine it on the days you missed him. And then...

"Y/n."

You removed your headphones, standing up so quickly that your chair toppled over and fell to the floor with a thud. In front of you right now was your hero, the man you waited to return. You held your breath for a moment as you took a good look at him. He looks... he looks...

Tired. His build was bigger, but he looked tired. His hair was a thick mop of messy orange, his eyes...

"Rensuke?" You spoke with caution, "Is it you?"

Kunigami felt like he could fall to his knees the moment you spoke. But he wouldn’t allow himself to do so. You stepped away from your desk to walk to him, holding out your hands to touch him, that this wasn't a dream. He was cold, his cheeks, at least.

That was enough to break you. You embraced him, crying and grateful that your hero had returned. "You're back," you sobbed softly, "my Rensuke, you're back to me." You felt him lift his hands, but instead of embracing you, he gripped your shoulders and pulled you away from him. "Y/n," he spoke, his voice ragged but soft, "I'm not entirely back."

"W-what do you mean?" you asked, your teary eyes, wide and confused, looking up to meet his dull orange eyes. This was the first time you've seen him so lifeless. What the hell happened?

"I'm not the Rensuke you once knew. That version of me is gone."

"What?"

"I'm not the hero I promised you to be."

"What... I-I don't understand. What happened, my love?"

Rensuke looked at you with a slight hint of vulnerability. He must not show weakness. It was drilled into him that he'll be ruthless, he'll become irrational if it means becoming the best that the world will see. But with the sight of you, it felt impossible. "They... changed me. I'm not the hero we both envisioned to be. I... I had to become cruel and let go of my beliefs... The Rensuke you fell for because he believed in doing the right thing fair and square is dead.

"That's why I decided you can no longer love me, Y/n. Because I can't."

You're not hearing this, right? Yet, he sounded so sure. His voice was firm, the same one he would use on his teammates.

"Who are you to decide that?" you asked calmly, reaching for his hand again. Your gaze lowered to his hand, callused and tired, yet the ring was still there. A little worn out than the last time you saw it, but he's still wearing it. Your fingers worked on twisting the ring off his finger, causing him to tense up.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. You looked up at him with determined eyes. "You once told me when you got these rings for us that if we no longer love the other, we should remove our rings.

"I'm removing yours for you, Ren."

The ring was almost off his finger when he suddenly closed his hand. You looked up at him, and there he was, the Rensuke you fell in love with. "Don't, please..."

"But you said you can no longer love me," you reasoned, still holding his hand. Rensuke stared at you, his walls slowly breaking down at the reality of what he just told you. A stupid, stupid decision because he can't stop loving you.

The whole time he was in the Wildcard Project, the only thing that made him hold on to the little humanity he had in him was the promise of forever in your arms when he returned. The ring on his finger comforted him on nights when he almost gave up because his dream of becoming the best came from you. He promised he'd bring you with him and that he'd come back to you. So, he persevered and came out triumphant... but at what cost?

"How could you even love a cold-hearted man, my love?" he asked, his voice now a mere whisper, slightly cracking, "I have nothing left in me but the drive to win. I am no longer the warm man you want to be with for the rest of my life. I did all I could inside that facility for us to reach our dream, but they drained me. How can you still love me if I have nothing to give you any more?"

"I would still love you because no matter what, you're mine. You're my Rensuke, the man who made me believe that love as pure as yours exists in this world," you replied, "I don't care how much you've lost in there. As long as you return in my arms, I know a part of you that loves me and believes in us is still in there. I know you're still in there, Ren."

And with that, Rensuke broke down in tears in your arms. The place he had always longed for in the days he felt so alone. The warmth that he always yearned for in the coldest and loneliest nights. He's home. He's here.

"If you didn't care about me, you should've removed your ring a long time ago," you added, "but the symbol of your love for me is still there. A little worn, but I know you still have love for me.

"I've waited for you to return. This is all that matters now."

"I love you," Rensuke said between his tired sobs, his orange eyes sparkling with a little bit of life. He's still in there, the hero you loved is still in there.

"And I love you."

177 notes · View notes