#RARE🌟

[behindthecrowns]

PS: I couldn't believe my eyes when I found this photo!

#Queen Victoria smiling

[kuzcoskingdom]

Emperor’s New Groove cards from Disney Lorcana: Azurite Sea

[turtwisp]

might try sketching out a new design for flint... i haven't been too happy with the one i have lately

[katherinewinchester13]

I promise that you'll never find another like me

I know that I'm a handful baby, uh

I know I never think before I jump

And you're the kind of guy the ladies want

(And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

I know that I went psycho on the phone

I never leave well enough alone

And trouble's gonna follow where I go

(And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

But one of these things is not like the others

Like a rainbow with all of the colors

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e-eh

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

★★★★✩

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °° ∆ -------- ••• ------

Complete 💯

MATURE

Words:170,812

╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲

✨SHIPS✨🩷

Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

Sirius Black/Tom Riddle

╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱

DESCRIPTION 🌟

Harry disappeared from his families house as a child and never made it to Hogwarts. In an effort to find him Dumbledore planned the Twiwizard Tournament.

Unfortunately for him Harry Potter isn't anyone he would want around his brother, let alone the children in his school.

Also, did you hear? Draco Malfoys boyfriend is insane.

~~I heard he once tortured a man for looking at him a little to long.

~~I heard he bought Draco an island for his birthday.

▅▄▃▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▂▃▄▅

[thesilverlock]

Girl- your art and your OC Jey Cleary is SO GORGEOUS I CAN'T- I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT HIM

I know your OTP is Joey and Astral, so, I must ask, how would he behave or act around Dark Mist if he met him?? 👀👀👀

Would he hate Mist? Would he tolerate him??

And what is Joey's relationship with Eliphas and his previous obsession in reaching purity by removing all the chaos??

(( AAAAAAAA! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH! ;A;;;

THESE are also Super fantastic questions, thank you for the opportunity for me to gush about my boy and his antics with other characters 💙🩵✨ i’m so sorry this got SO long agshdj! There are doodles/art for your reading troubles down there too!))

- - ⟢〖 MIST 〗

So Jey’s whole deal is; Despite hailing from Astral World and being obligated to participate in their favor during the war ﹣ he’s actually the Son of Balance. His father, Protos, (the Heart of Astral World, as some called) was the guardian/overseer of the harmony between Chaos and Order. Before shit hit the fan in every conceivable way lmfao On top of that, Jey’s just.. a rogue and a rapscallion ahsgdhjs He never was keen on how black-&-white the war seemed, but relearning about the complete villainization of one half of a necessary energy was the final coffin nail. And that disagreeance is literally in his soul makeup! He was created in equal Chaotic Energy and Pure Energy. That balance is intermittently tied throughout him; He is meant to be the harbinger of Balance. Even Jey himself isn’t fully aware of how ingrained it is due to his own amnesia, but he does know obliterating all Chaos is not the answer, there’s something in his bones defying it. It’s a rather big plot point in his story that he starts to feel divided from the main crew because of this. Not Yuma﹣ Yuma is the only one backing Jey up at all ﹣but Astral. And it’s Astral’s rejection (spawned from the envoy's own rigid ideals and mission) that hurts Jey enough to push him out of the group for a brief period. ✨breakup arc woes✨

. . . And this is how and when Mist finds him. They make an alarming well fit duo. Their personalities mesh, and they do surprisingly? Okay? To avoid overt toxicity in their alliance? Mist doesn’t get preached at to change, or to “join a side of the war”, or be force locked in his card, so he tolerates having Jey around. And obviously Jey can’t be affected by Mist’s number influence, and he's naturally domineering enough to counteract when Mist gets too... himself lmao. Jey has a Robin Hood type of suave and charm whereas Mist acts increasingly seductive and invades people’s space because he wants to intimidate. Jey knows how to beat Mist at his own game, which both intrigues and aggravates the Number. Like two people who know one another via a friend-of-a-friend, and go on this epic journey and end up unconventionally thick as thieves like halfway through the movie. ASDFGH

Mist likes Jey’s assertiveness and darker side - the viability to resort to vicious methods and being such a rebel personality despite supposed loyalty to the world of “pure” ideals. Jey is pulled in by Mist’s unapologetic “take me or leave me” nature and his recognition of the hypocrisy regarding the war from both ends. And ofc the Number's unique brand of effortless beauty and free-bird, unaffiliated presence. Those two tend to, pretty universally, have a quick chemistry and natural connection. [ It’s also thanks to that natural connection that a certain lightbulb gets his first experiences dealing with an ‘unknown’ and green-eyed emotion. 😉 ] Also also, fun fact - if it could not already be told by these answers lol - These two are my second highest OTP, right after Goldenship (Jey x Astral /JeiAsu) ! I call them Pierceshipping. Since they have a lot of piercing qualities (particularly their affinity for bedroom-eyed stares and smirks) And because they each canonically stab someone through the chest.

I’m so sorry I ran out of space for the Eliphas portion of the question, I’ll have to return to that! ♡ ;v;

But TLDR; For a lot of the same reasons already listed here, Jey and him do not get along. Can’t always do much ‘bout it tho cause that’s their technical boss, gotta play civil or else Jey and boifren don’t get as many missions together :(

[classicdaisycalico]

As a supplement to my previous post, it's also really cool to note that it isn't just Mario who's having a grand old time in this adventure.

Everyone else in this roster of characters is having the time of their lives, too!

[softtdaisy]

You know what, I requested it so I have to make a real comment this time!!

I can’t thank you enough for putting my idea into words, every time I listen to this song I have to pause because I think about this man AND NOW I HAVE A FULL STORY TO GO WITH IT???

I’m so obsessed with excited and shy Hotch that can’t stop looking at his girlfriend and tried to compose himself but just can’t. And then him being more commanding and the “brat”??? You lost me here 😮‍💨

I love what you did with the lipsticks I love this idea so much and it was so perfect here. I want to kiss his chest and leave stains too. And the innocence thing at the end was so perfect I can’t explain how it was the perfect ending

In case it was obvious already I LOVE IT!!! 🩷

I was listening to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae (it gives me so much Hotch vibes for some reason??? I love it) and I thought it would be the perfect occasion to make a request for your Thirsty Thursday 👀 I don't have much idea but I guess something in the car, maybe a younger reader so we have a lovely age gap and maybe something that goes with the lyrics "I write my name with lipstick on your chest I leave a mark so you know I'm the best" (don't need to be the name writing of course ahah but I love the idea of lipstick stains on his chest)

You're the absolute best and congrats on your 2k btw!! you deserve thousand more 🫶

Fog up the windows in the parking lot [Aaron Hotchner x Age-Gap!Reader] **

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Hii! Thank you so much for this request--I still can't believe I was listening to this song when you sent this, haha. Great minds think alike!! I hope you like this (I can't write smut to save my life, but here i am doing a smut day.)

Tags/Warnings: female reader, porn without plot honestly, smut, mdni, unprotected sex, car sex, I am bad at writing smut sorry, horny hotch, sorta brat tamer hotch, age gap, you're hotch's controversially young gf, not specified if reader is BAU (so up to your imagination).

Summary: The one where Aaron Hotchner realizes he goes weak in the knees when he sees how tight his much younger girlfriend's jeans are.

Hotch couldn't help himself today, and it was all because of those jeans you decided to wear. Each time you bent over to grab something off the lower shelves at the grocery store, his heart skipped a beat, his mind filled with thoughts that had no place in the brightly lit aisles of their local market. You were oblivious to the effect you were having on him, focused on checking items off the grocery list, your hips swaying naturally as you moved down the aisles.

It wasn’t just the bending or the swaying; it was every little thing you did. Each time you reached up to grab something from a higher shelf, the way your back arched slightly, Hotch felt a pull deep inside him, a stirring of feelings he hadn't expected to be so strong.

When you both loaded the groceries into the car and then reached into the backseat to grab your purse, your jeans hugging you perfectly, Hotch found his eyes lingering. He was usually more composed than this, more in control, but today, those jeans had him teetering on the edge.

Driving home, he kept stealing glances your way, each look like adding fuel to a fire he was struggling to contain. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning and desire mingled together. "You have no idea what those jeans are doing to me," he confessed, trying to keep his focus on the road but failing miserably.

You turned to look at him, a mischievous sparkle in your eye, fully aware now of the turmoil you were causing. His words, so out of character for the usually stoic and controlled man, only brought a playful smile to your lips.

Hotch knew he was treading uncharted waters, not just with his emotions but with how openly he was expressing them. Despite the teasing from the team, who noticed how much younger you were, and their offhand jokes about him being like a lovestruck teenager, it didn't matter. You brought out a side of him he never knew existed. A side that felt alive, vibrant, and yes, even a bit reckless.

You sighed, looking in your purse for something beside Hotch in the passenger seat. He then all about lost it when you unbuckled your seat belt in the passenger seat and twisted to the back. Your ass was now level with his head, practically drawing him in. He had to keep his eyes on the road--but god dammit. 

The car shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening from the tension. "You're doing this on purpose now," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and barely contained desire.

Playing coy, you didn't respond immediately. Instead, you found your lipstick and settled back into your seat, taking your time to apply it carefully, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicked, catching yours, and you saw a flash of something intense in his gaze.

Hotch stepped on the gas a bit harder than necessary, the slight surge forward a clear indication of his growing impatience and agitation. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, teasing him further. "You know, you're really sexy when you're all hot and bothered," you pointed out, your tone playful yet sincere.

The remark seemed to hit a nerve, and Hotch took a deep breath, trying to refocus his attention on the road. But it was clear you had effectively distracted him, his mind racing with thoughts he usually kept well under wraps. This side of Hotch, the one that struggled between his composed exterior and the mounting desire you elicited, intrigued you. It was a side of him that came out rarely, and you relished the moments when you could draw it out, loving the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous glint in your eye, and teased him, "I have a good idea."

Hotch's response was immediate and a little strained, his voice tight as he focused on the road. "The only idea I have right now is getting home and taking a cold shower." He was half-joking, but the undertone of his voice betrayed his growing frustration and need.

You laughed lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him, but decided to push the envelope a little further. "You know," you started casually as if the thought had just occurred to you, "I've always wanted to have sex in the car."

Hotch paused at that, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. The rational side of him kicked in almost immediately, listing several reasons why that was not a good idea—safety, legality, the potential for discomfort. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, he felt your hand on his thigh.

Your fingers started caressing him, inching dangerously close to his groin. Each touch sent a jolt through him, scattering his thoughts and straining his control. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, and he drew in a sharp breath, trying to concentrate on the road while battling the surge of desire your bold move had ignited.

He half sighed, half groaned your name, his voice strained as he tried to concentrate on the road. "That's not—"

But he didn't finish his sentence. The sensation of your fingers, the way you leaned closer to him, your breath on his neck as you whispered just how much you wanted this—all of it was overwhelming. Hotch gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the car speeding along as he battled the surge of desire that you sparked with your daring touch.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the more he thought about your suggestion, the more appealing it seemed. Here he was, a man always in control, always calculated, yet at this moment, driven to the edge by the simple act of your hand on his leg.

"We should... we should at least pull over," he finally conceded, his voice a mix of reluctance and desire, realizing that resisting you completely was a battle he might not want to win today. As he scanned for a secluded spot to park, the thrill of the impending escapade with you sent a jolt of anticipation through him. 

Hotch pulled the car over, the tires crunching softly on the gravel as he turned off into a secluded spot shielded by trees. Without a word, he reached over the console, his movements deliberate, and captured your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your lipstick leaving a taste of cherries against his lips, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

His hands roamed over your body with a sense of urgency and ownership, finally reaching across the console to trace down your legs to those tight jeans that had been torturing him all day. His touch sent shivers up your spine, and you pulled back breathless, meeting his gaze which had darkened with raw desire.

"You’re gonna need to help me peel these off," you suggested with a playful yet sultry tone, motioning towards the backseat, "Maybe back there would be better?"

The idea sent a thrill through Hotch, the tightness in his own jeans growing at the thought. His brain buzzed with a cascade of 'what ifs' — what if we get caught? What if someone sees? Yet, the logical side of him was quickly overridden by the sheer desire to be closer to you, to explore this daring side of your relationship.

Hotch's decision was made the moment you suggested moving to the backseat, but as he surveyed the space, he realized there was enough room if he pushed the driver's seat all the way back. The SUV, similar to the one he drove for the FBI, was spacious, but even then, the two of you fit just barely.

You began to wiggle out of your jeans in the passenger seat, and Hotch reached for his belt with urgency. Typically, your intimate moments were full of foreplay, and you both took your time, savoring each other. But today was different—there was a sense of rush, an urgency in the air as he pulled himself from his jeans, his eyes never leaving you.

"Come here," he said in a low, commanding tone that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a direct, uncharacteristically blunt invitation, but it carried all the intensity of your mutual desire. He adjusted himself, making space for you, anticipation etching every line of his face as he awaited you to straddle his lap.

Your eyes went from his to his hand as he began stroking himself with a semi-achingly slow pace that made your eyes widen. He watched you slide your panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor of the car with your jeans and shoes.

The rush, the spontaneity—it all contributed to a thrilling urgency neither of you could deny. As you moved towards him, leaving the constraints of your jeans behind, the tight confines of the SUV seemed to close in, enveloping you both in a private world where only your intertwined desires mattered.

You slid from the passenger seat, the fabric of the car seats whispering beneath you as you maneuvered yourself toward Hotch. The confined space of the SUV made every movement more deliberate, more charged with an electrifying tension. Your heart raced as you reached him; his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the pounding of your pulse.

Carefully, you straddled him, positioning yourself over his lap. Hotch's hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm and sure, anchoring you securely against him. The close quarters of the SUV enveloped you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that amplified each breath, each subtle shift in movement.

His hand moved from your hip to between your legs, spreading you and finding the wetness that waited for him there. He groaned, feeling it; he threw his head back, opening his neck for you to nip at and kiss. You began unbuttoning his button-up, glad he went without the tie today and just the button-up and jeans--a casual look you loved. 

You reached between the two of you and positioned him before swiftly sinking down with a shared groan filling the walls between the two of you. You felt the pads of his fingertips grip your hips again as you began to rock into him, subconsciously clenching around him. 

His hands caressed the curve of your ass, guiding your hips to rock against him. The way he pressed you so firmly down against his hips had the right amount of pressure on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure. 

His hands spread up your sides on your still-clothed top. Through your shirt, he grabbed at your breasts roughly before returning to your ass. 

Hotch got a little rougher, meeting your hips rand ocking against his with a thrust beneath you. You could feel him deep within you. Caught in your throat was a moan, but the pleasure was too immense--too good. 

“You have no idea what you were doing to me today in those jeans,” Hotch panted, his lips finding the crook between your shoulder and your neck as he began to meet you thrust for thrust--so deep, so good--so much. 

“Oh,” You squeaked, “I have an idea.” You laughed, breathlessly. 

“Fucking,” Thrust, “Brat.” The sound of your hips smacking. Your thighs sweaty now against him, and your wetness now audible. 

“You love it,” You breathed, your lips going down to his chest now, kissing him and leaving marks of your lips from your lipstick, stained across his chest. 

“Yes,” He thrusted again, sharper now, but the rhythm beginning to falter. “You better hurry up and come,” he said breathlessly. You clenched around him with a glint in your eyes, “I’m serious.” 

Reaching between the two of you, you began working your clit with a circular rhythm that was old faithful in any situation. Hotch’s eyes squeezed shut then open, continuing to meet you. There was a found tempo from the way your fingers circled your clit and the way his hips met yours.

You felt the coil begin to tighten as your orgasm approached. Your thighs began to shake and you threw your head back. Hotch’s fingers bruising your hips continued with each deep thrust. Over and over and over. Just right. 

You came with a gasp, which was then covered by Hotch’s lips kissing you. His hips beginning to lose control as his own orgasm left him. You felt him empty within you, only adding to the sensitivity you felt deep within you. His hips stuttered against you, resting, but your thighs still shaking against him. As if to hold you into place, his hand rested at the small of your back, settleing you. 

A groan left his lips into your mouth, and the two of you slowed with lethargy. As the intensity of the moment ebbed, Hotch's hands gently caressed your skin, soothing and tender in their touch. The two of you were left sweaty and breathless, the aftermath of your passion palpable in the close, humid air of the SUV. His hands moved slowly, tracing patterns across your back and shoulders, each stroke helping to ground you both as you came down from your highs.

The small space of the car, which just moments ago had felt electrifying and exhilarating, now seemed overly warm and confining. As you both caught your breath, the reality of the situation gently settled in—a mixture of amusement and affection hanging between you.

"We definitely need a shower," Hotch murmured, a slight grin playing on his lips as he acknowledged the state both of you were in. The thought of continuing this intimacy in the shower brought a soft smile to your face.

"And maybe a detail for the car," you added, laughing softly, the sound mixing with the faint hum of the idling engine. The humor of the situation wasn't lost on you, and Hotch's responding chuckle told you he felt the same.

"So, I take it you liked the jeans?" you asked, a playful note in your voice.

Hotch glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held a glint of mischief mixed with undeniable affection. "I loved them," he admitted, his voice low and enticing. "But for the sake of productivity, maybe never wear them again around me if we actually want to get anything done."

His witty response made you laugh, the sound light and carefree. It was moments like these that deepened your connection, mixing playful banter with the intense chemistry you shared. 

Your fingers trace the outline of your lips marked all along his neck and chest from the now-smeared lipstick you had applied moments before. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you pointed them out. "You know, this might be my favorite look on you now," you said, the playful tone in your voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he reached up to feel the marks, his fingers brushing over the spots you indicated. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, appreciative of your boldness and the memory of the moments that led to such disarray.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice laced with humor and a warmth that reached his eyes. "I suppose it's a good thing we're heading home then. I might need to wear it more often if it gets that kind of approval."

As you watched the fading lipstick marks on his skin, you leaned closer, a teasing gleam in your eyes. "I like marking what's mine," you murmured, tracing a finger lightly over one of the marks, emphasizing your words.

Hotch looked at you, his expression softening into one of deep affection, the playful retort ready on his lips turning into something far more tender. "Sweetheart, you don't need marks to know I am," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, filled with a sincerity that warmed you through.

You kissed him tenderly there before he patted your bare hip. You smiled against his lips, knowing the two of you had to leave this little intimate cocoon now. “I know, I know,” you sighed against his lips before whimpering, slowly moving off of him, trying not to make an entire mess of his already dirtied car. Hotch groaned, feeling you leave his lap. 

Despite the age gap between you, something about being with you made Hotch feel as though he was losing his innocence all over again; each moment tinged with a freshness and excitement that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. It was a rediscovery, a rejuvenation of spirit in the best way possible, with every laugh, touch, and shared secret making him feel both wonderfully vulnerable and profoundly alive.

He sure hoped you wore those jeans again. 

[psyworks]

March 29, 2025 Solar Eclipse 🌚🌞

March 29th Solar Eclipse, a rare moment known as the double sunrise. 🌌🌞🌚🌟👁️As the Moon partially blocks the Sun, it creates more than a visual phenomenon… it opens a gateway to your subconscious.This eclipse mirrors your inner world: your desires vs. your deep-rooted beliefs. And for a brief moment, you have the chance to bring them into alignment.This is your moment to reset from within. Align…

[artjiayi]

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2025 🌟 from Floyd Leech, Shrimpy and myself 🎇🦐

Goofy Floyd is the cutest but Shrimpy might not approve there 🤭

I wasn't fully satisfied with my Christmas illustration of Jade so I decided so I redrew some parts and here is my version 2.0 :

The cute buddy is called Lil' Mush' and is Jade's new best friend. He is a rare species of living mushroom. They met in the mountains while Jade was hiking and they are inseparable since then 💜

One day I'll take the time to write down their unexpected but lovely encounter and illustrate it.

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

kim namjoon fanfics that should be turned into a movie or a book! (namjoon masterlist)

Thank you authors for your infinite imagination and creativity! My days are better because of you.

Perfect Plan by @mortallydeepestobservation (namjoon x reader) genre: friends to lovers completed

The holiday pretense by @mortallydeepestobservation (namjoon x reader) Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au ongoing

It’s december (and i still love you) by @smoochkooks ex husband!joon x reader) completed

Parasomnia by @borathae (namjoon x reader) completed

False awakening by @taleasnewastime (best friend!namjoon x reader) completed

Me and your mama by @joonberriess (husband!joon x reader) completed

Sexts and showers by @moni-logues (namjoon x reader) completed

Everythingoes by @vantaenims (idol!namjoon x reader) genre: before sunrise au, strangers to lovers | fluff, angst completed

Satisfied by @luvismenu (roommate!namjoon x reader) completed

Just the tip? by @joon4eva (husband!joon x reader) genre: established relationship au completed

Nothing by @shina913 (namjoon x reader) Genre: Established relationship, slice of life completed

💗🌟 hi babies! this is my updated list with the best works with namjoon. i wanted a bigger list but good fanfics with joon is a rare thing to find, but i’m always open for recommendations (and let’s say that i have a giant list of fanfics to read… but i will get there.

i noticed that people are looking for namjoon recs so here i am! i’m thinking about a weekly list idk… anyway have a great time guys 💌

ps: forgot to mention that i do reviews!!! yes so if you want to check my crazy comments just click in the first # ok byeeee 💋💋

[shalgates]

HOOOLY SHIT

could u do a licovamp or rare wubbox board?

rare wubbox moodboard!! 🎵🎹🔊⚡️

lyrics from Synthesizer by Electric Six

[strange-aeons]

Dear Strange,

I also did some searching in Dutch newspaper archives and found an article from 1981 (27 June), from a national newspaper. It's a brief text but also has a picture of Hugo Hernandez, so I thought that's sweet. Here's the link.

On to the translation:

Unique sphynx-cat is [a] mother

(star) The rare sphynx-cat [note: female] of Mexican man H. Hernandez (32) living in 's-Graveland, has given birth to 4 kittens, of which 2 are still alive. According to cat experts, this birth is very special. These sphynx-cats are most fervently bred in Canada and [the U.S.] America, but this has to the best of knowledge not yet been a success. Hernandez put in a lot of effort. He got a brother and sisters of the rare breed from an American breeder [note: female] who did not succeed. The Mexican found two sphynx-cats [note: female] in Canada and, after two years, the male cat, who didn't show any interest, had fallen for the charms of one of the cats [note: female] in an unguarded moment anyway. The two still living kittens are doing well according to Hernandez. Just like their mom, they are getting / wil get [note: unclear from text which one] a think reddish* bald skin and they will produce a powerful spinning-noise when content.

*rossig translates to reddish, but could range from more copper, to more pink, to actually red-leaning, depending what it's describing (this from my own experience of what it's commonly used for, idk if the use has changed in the past 44 years).

Hope this helps! And hope it's okay to send in info like this (I'm still a bit of a newbie when it comes to Tumblr). Maybe I'll do some more researching, but first I'm going to sleep

Good luck with the research! I really respect the work you do and the effort you put into it, keep it up! 🌟

This is an insane find!! The only photo of Hernandez that ever circulates online is this one:

And i have no idea what the original source of it is so I was really excited that this might be it AND THEN IT WAS A NEW PHOTO???? THE SECOND ONLY PHOTO OF HIM I'VE SEEN???? truly insane find. thank you so much!

[tokkiwrites]

꒰ ꪆ୧ ꒱ SUℳM𝛢RY ⌢ ꒰੭. Heartbroken and lost, you find your peace in the strangest place — or maybe, in the rough hands of a stranger who feels more like home than anything you've ever known.

˖˙ ᰋ ── 𝖙ags ˚ trucker joel miller x fem reader, no outbreak au, afab reader, strangers to lovers, hurt comfort, soft joel, age gap (mentioned like once), slight angs, found family themes, reader is in a vulnerable mental state, themes of family problems, abandonment themes, sex with a stranger, shower sex, unprotected p in v, head m receiving, some fluff.

𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒﹙ʚɞ˚﹚ 𝖓ote: wooow who is this??? guys i just have so many ideas like i want to keep on writing sm i hope you wont get tired. idk what this is but i craved some trucker joel so yeah. this is not proofread soo...lmk if u want a pt2!!! hope u enjoyyy 🎀🐇🌟

You hadn't even known they were leaving.

No call. No letter. No warning.

Just gone.

The late afternoon sun beats heavy against your back, turning the asphalt into a slow, shimmering sea. Somewhere down the block, a dog barks once. It sounds lonely.

You stand there on the cracked sidewalk, a single suitcase dragging heavy behind you, staring up at the place that once tethered you to the earth.

It looks smaller now.

Older. Sadder.

The windows are dark. The porch swing hangs lopsided, one chain snapped clean through. The garden is wild now, strangled with weeds.

And then there's the sign.

Staked crooked in the dry grass.

FOR SALE.

Faded letters, rust blooming along the edges like sickness. Your mouth is dry. Your throat is tighter than it should be. You step closer, slow. One foot in front of the other, like maybe if you just knock on the door, they’ll open it, laughing, some cruel surprise party for the daughter they forgot.

Maybe they’re inside right now.

Maybe.

But you can already feel the lie breaking apart inside you. No car in the driveway. No porch light left burning. Not even a note tucked into the mailbox.

Nothing. They’re gone.

They left without a word.

Your palms are sweating. Your heart hammers helpless against your ribs, each beat growing louder, louder, until you can’t stand it anymore. You sit down hard on the curb, scraping your palms against the concrete. You barely feel it.

The ache opens up inside you like a sinkhole. A hollow thing, sharp around the edges. You drag in a broken breath and press your fists against your eyes but it’s no good.

The tears come anyway.

Hot. Ugly. Unstoppable. Not the pretty kind you see in movies. No trembling chin, no single glistening tear. Just sobbing, red-faced and snotty, body hunched in on itself like you could somehow hide from the shame of it all.

You must look ridiculous. A full-grown girl weeping into her hands on a shitty little sidewalk in the middle of nowhere.

A few cars roll past. None of them slow down. The sun keeps sliding westward, pulling long shadows behind it, and still you sit there. Too heavy to move.

By the time the low rumble of a truck grinds into the gas station across the street, the sky has cracked itself into a thousand bruised colors. Orange. Violet. Sickly gold.

You don't look up. You don't think you could bear it.

Not until you hear boots and the slow, heavy crunch of them over gravel. You freeze.

Instinctively shrinking into yourself, holding your breath.

"Figured you might need these." A voice. Rough. Warm. Older. You look up through a curtain of tear-blurred lashes. A man stands over you. Sunburnt skin. Faded jeans. Sleeves rolled up to thick forearms. Hair gone silver at the temples.

A stranger. A trucker, maybe.

In his hand there's a fistful of gas station napkins, crushed and slightly oily, but clean enough.

You blink at him. The late sunlight outlines him in gold, makes him seem almost unreal.

Some part of you wants to tell him to go away. That you’re fine. That you don’t need anybody. But you’re not fine. And the kindness in his face is so rare it slices you right open. You reach out and take the napkins with shaking fingers. "Thanks," you whisper, voice breaking apart like wet paper.

He crouches down without being asked, one knee cracking softly under the strain. "Didn’t mean to scare ya," he says, low and careful. "Just saw you sittin’ here lookin’ all broken up." You try to smile, try to pull yourself together, but a fresh sob bubbles up before you can stop it.

The man frowns softens. He shifts closer, careful like he’s approaching a scared doe. "Hey now," he says. "Ain't no shame in it, darlin’. World kicks hard sometimes." You wipe your nose, mortified. Your skin burns with embarrassment.

"IㅡI didn’t know they were gone," you choke out, the words spilling uninvited. "I didn’t knowㅡ they never even told meㅡ" His mouth draws into a thin, grim line. He doesn’t say Jesus or what the hell’s wrong with them or any of the things he could say.

He just nods. Understanding. Like he’s seen this kind of hurt before.

"Families," he mutters, almost to himself. "They can gut you worse’n any knife." You let out a strangled laugh. It sounds ugly, broken, but it’s better than crying. He huffs out a soft breath, like he’s relieved to hear even that.

You’re staring at him before you realize it. At the steady set of his jaw, the faint scar running through his eyebrow, the careful way he holds his hands.

Like he knows what it’s like to hold something fragile. And for one aching second, you lean forward and try to kiss him. It’s clumsy. Salty with tears. Desperate in a way you don’t mean it to be. You feel the scrape of his stubble against your cheek, the stunned heat of his mouth, but just as fast his hands are on your shoulders, gently pushing you back.

"Hey," he says again, voice tight. "Hey. No. Not like this." You stumble backward, cheeks flaming, tears stinging anew. "Iㅡ I’m sorry," you stammer. "I wasn’tㅡ I didn’tㅡ" He’s still crouched there, breathing hard, dragging a rough hand over his face like he’s mad at himself. "You’re not thinkin’ straight," he says. "You’re hurtin’. That ain’t the way this should start."

You press the napkins to your face again, wishing you could disappear. The shame is thick enough to choke on. He hesitates. "My name's Joel." He looks out toward the highway, then back at you. "You got somewhere to stay tonight?"

You shake your head miserably. His jaw tightens. He scrubs a hand through his hair. "I got a room down at that old motel, just off the 45," he says finally. "It ain’t much. But it’s safe. Two beds. Nothin’ will happen you don’t want, I swear it."

You stare at him, every nerve screaming at you not to trust a stranger.

You nod. "Okay," you say, small. Something eases in his face.

"Alright then," he says, rising to his feet with a grunt.

He holds out a hand. You hesitate then reach out and let him pull you up. His hand is big and rough and calloused, but it holds you carefully.

Like you’re a porcelain doll. You follow him toward the truck, the sky bleeding itself dry behind you.

The motel is even sadder than you pictured.

A squat strip of rooms sagging under their own neglect, washed in the sickly orange of buzzing neon lights. Joel pulls his truck into a cracked parking spot and cuts the engine. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve.

"You sure?" Joel asks, voice low. "Last chance to change your mind, darlin'." You glance over at him. The dashboard lights throwing sharp shadows across his face. There's no pressure in his voice. No expectation.

You nod. His mouth pulls into something that isn't quite a smile, but almost. He gets out first, boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Comes around to your side and opens the door like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You slide out, clutching your suitcase tight, trying not to feel like a little kid lost at the fair.

The motel office is locked up for the night, but Joel already has a sad looking brass key. Room 2. He leads the way down the sidewalk. He opens the door, steps aside to let you in first, giving you space.

The room is as bad as you expected.

Scratchy bedspreads. Faded floral curtains. A humming mini-fridge in the corner that sounds vaguely threatening. But it’s clean enough. And it's safe. The first thing Joel does is toss his duffel bag onto the bed nearest the door.

"You can have the other one," he says, jerking his chin toward the second bed. Sheets still tucked in tight. Untouched. You set your suitcase down and stand there awkwardly, wringing your hands. Joel watches you for a long moment.

"You want somethin’ to eat?" he asks. "I got some stuff in the truck. Nothin' fancy, but it's somethin’."

You shake your head. Your stomach feels twisted into knots. "Water, then," he mutters to himself.

He crosses to the mini-fridge, crouches down with a soft grunt, and pulls out two water bottles.

He cracks the cap on one and hands it to you. "Here you go, darlin'," You take the bottle and sip gratefully. Cool water rushing down your raw throat.

Joel lowers himself into the chair by the window and the old wood creaks under his weight. He stretches his long legs out, resting his forearms on his knees, and looks over at you.

"You got anybody you can call?" he asks. You shake your head again. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, the rasp of it loud. "That’s a damn shame," he mutters. "You don’t deserve that." Your chest squeezes tight and you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. "Thank you," you whisper. It’s all you can manage.

It feels stupid and small and nowhere near enough. Joel tips his head like he heard you anyway. For a while, the only sound is the hum of the fridge and the distant buzz of the neon sign outside. The whole world feels like it’s folded itself down to this one room and this one moment.

You sink down onto the bed across from him, clutching the water bottle in both hands. "I'll take first watch, if you want." You blink at him, confused.

He smiles, just a little. "Ain’t no locks on these doors worth a damn," he says. "Rather keep an eye out. Make sure nobody bothers you." Something hot and unfamiliar twists low in your stomach. A rough, tender kind of feeling, one you didn’t even realize you were starving for until now.

You curl your legs up onto the bed, tucking yourself into the smallest shape you can make. "Thank you," you whisper again, voice cracking. Joel just leans back in the chair, arms crossed loose over his chest, boots planted solid on the floor.

You wake in the dark.

For a second, you don’t know where you are.

The room is still. But you remember Joel.

Your heart calms a little. You lift your head from the pillow and squint across the room.

He’s still there.

Sitting in that same battered chair, not really asleep. The lamp on the nightstand is still on, dim golden light painting the sad looking walls. You sit up slowly, the blanket pooling around your waist.

Joel stirs when he hears you move and lifts his head.

His eyes find you instantly, bleary but alert, making sure you’re alright. "Sorry," you whisper. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

"You didn’t," he says. He runs a hand through his messy hair, the soft gray at his temples catching the light. "You need somethin', sweetheart?"

You open your mouth then close it again, suddenly too shy to say it. But Joel waits, patient as ever. You pick at a loose thread on the blanket and breathe in slow through your nose.

you whisper, "Will you come sit closer?" Joel goes still. Some battle raging behind his eyes.

Then he stands up, slow. He lowers himself onto the edge of your bed, careful to leave enough space between you that you could still escape if you needed to. If you wanted to.

You shift, just slightly, letting your knee brush his thigh. "You sure?" he murmurs. It would be so easy to say no. But you nod again instead.

The tears come out of nowhere. One minute you're fine, the next you're crumbling. Crumbling into a thousand jagged pieces. "Hey, hey," he murmurs, shifting closer. Without thinking, you press your face into the crook of his shoulder, clutching fistfuls of his worn flannel. He wraps his arms around you.

You sob into him. Ugly, gasping, hiccupping sobs and Joel just holds you through it. His hand rubs slow circles over your back as his mouth brushes your hairline. When you finally pull back, Joel lets you go without a sound. Your face is a mess, tearstained, flushed, swollen but you don’t even care. He tips his head down to meet your eyes.

"You alright now, darlin'?"

You nod. But you're impulsive, so you lean forward and press the softest kiss to his stubbled jaw. Not a kiss that asks for anything or a kiss that demands.

Just a thank you. Just a please stay.

And he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t tell you no.

Not this time. He just presses his forehead against yours, breathing you in slow and shaky.

You wake a little before the sun. The cheap motel curtains let a little light bleed through. Joel is still sleeping. Or at least, his eyes are closed.

You slip out of bed quietly, your body aching in ways you didn’t even realize from the long day before. Sticky with sweat. Heavy with sleep.

You need a shower. Desperately.

You gather the little toiletries you bought from the gas station last night and tiptoe to the bathroom.

The water comes alive with a groan of old pipes and a thin hiss of steam. You step under the spray, shivering a little at first, then sighing when the heat seeps into your skin. Washing away the grime, the dust.

You’re half-done, shampoo stinging your eyes, when you realize you forgot your clean clothes. They're still folded neatly by the bed, in the other room.

Shit.

You wrap your arms around yourself, but there's no towel in the tiny bathroom either. Just bare skin and dripping hair and a racing heart. "Fuck this..." you whisper. "He’s still sleeping. Just real quick." You crack the door open and peek out. Joel's heavy figure is still sprawled across the bed. Face turned into the pillow, blanket rucked around his waist.

You tiptoe out.

Naked, dripping. You reach the edge of the bed, your fingers brush the hem of your clean shirt, but that’s when you hear the shift of sheets. Then the low and scratchy sound of a man clearing his throat.

You freeze. Like a deer caught in the center of a long, empty road. Joel is awake. Very awake, actually.

Sitting up, eyes wide and dark and fixed on you. His gaze drags over you, his hands clenching in the bedsheets like he’s holding himself back with everything he’s got. Heat floods your whole body. You can't move. Can't think.

You're naked, soaking wet, standing in front of a man you met less than 15 hours ago. "Shit—" he rasps, dragging a hand over his mouth, looking away fast. "Shit, darlin’, I thought you were still in the shower—" You scramble backward, grabbing your shirt against your chest, face burning hotter than the sun. "I—I’m sorry, I thought you were still asleep—!"

Joel swings his legs over the edge of the bed, palms raised like he’s trying not to scare you. "It's alright! Ain’t your fault." He keeps his eyes carefully averted, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle jump.

You hurry back into the bathroom, slam the door shut, heart trying to punch its way out of your ribs.

You lean against the wood, gasping, mortified.

But for a moment you pause. With your palms flat on the door, heart still hammering, you call out to him. "Joel?"

"Yeahㅡ" you can hear the hesitation in his voice. You squeeze your eyes shut as your cheeks burn. "Will you come wash my back...please?" The quiet drags out for a second too long. You almost lose your nerve. Then the floorboards creak and his rough voice come through again.

"Yeah, s-sure 'Course I will." he stutters. This giant hunk of a man was blushing, and you could hear it in his voice. The door opens. Finally. He steps inside and shuts the door behind him. You turn away, back into the shower, giving him your back, the damp curve of your shoulder blades. You can feel his stare.

When he finally touches you, it’s like fire. His hands are rough, careful, sliding soap over your back, your shoulders, the nape of your neck. Everywhere he touches, your body lights up. And when his hands slip around to your front and you don’t stop him. You don’t want to stop him. You turn in his arms.

Still slick and warm and trembling. Finally he lifts your chin and kisses you like he’s been dying to. Soft at first. Then deeper, needier, like he’s finally giving in.

Joel kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His palms flatten against your hips, fingers spreading wide like he wants to memorize the feel of you. You clutch at his shirt, the old cotton clinging damp to your palms, dragging him closer without thinking, needing to feel him, needing more.

He groans low in his throat, the sound rumbling against your chest, and suddenly it's like something inside him snaps. He picks you up, just lifts you like it’s nothing, your bare thighs hooking around his waist, your wet skin sliding against the denim of his jeans.

You gasp into his mouth, and he carries you, stumbling, until your back hits the cool tile wall. "Fuck," he breathes against your jaw, "Fuck, you’re killin’ me, baby..." You can feel him, hard and aching pressing into you, and it sends a desperate heat spiraling through your belly. Your hands roam up under his shirt, tracing over rough scars and thick muscles, greedy and shy all at once.

He shudders under your touch, dropping his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath. "You sure about this?" His voice is hoarse, wrecked. "Don’t gotta do nothin’ you don’t want, sweetheart."

Your throat feels tight, but you manage a shaky whisper."I want to. IㅡI want you." Something shifts in his face. He kisses you again, slower this time. Like he’s worshiping every little gasp, every brush of your lips against his. One hand slides down between your bodies, rough fingertips skimming the inside of your thigh then finally finding its way to your wet fold, and you whimper into his mouth.

He smiles a little at that, a small crooked thing that makes your knees even weaker. You can barely hold on. "S'alright," he murmurs, soothing, "lemme take care of you, little girl."

He touches you with maddening patience, two fingers deep in you, dragging every tiny sound out of you until you’re shaking in his arms, crying out against his neck. "good girl, so pretty, you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart —" and it wrecks you even worse.

You want to cry so bad.

You manage to push yourself off of him, sinking down to your knees and looking up at him through tearstained lashes. A little gift, you said, for taking care of you. He groans, his head all over thinking how is this even real. You looked straight out of one those pornos he used to rent back when he was about your age, face flushed and mouth full of cock. "Shitㅡ Atta girl...Y-eah, please keep goin'" he whimpered through bared teeth, hands roughly gripping your hair. His hips were barely kept from snapping like he wanted to. He wondered how it'd feel to fuck your throat, but he didn’t want to force you right now.

Your tongue swirled and lapped around his head, saliva and precum mixing and dripping down onto the shower floor. Your jaw hurt, and knees even more, but you didn’t want to stop. Not until you made him unravel.

Your thoughts are cut short by Joel, pulling you off and up. "Don't make me come yet, baby. Gotta feel you around me first." Oh, how your heart twisted. When he finally sinks into you, slow and careful and thick, your head tips back against the wall with a broken sob.

Joel curses under his breath, clutching you tighter, pressing kisses to your damp cheeks, your temple, your throat. "Shhh," he breathes, rocking into you with aching sweetness, "I got you, baby. I'm right here." And you believe him. For the first time in a long time, you believe someone. You cling to him like a lifeline, gasping his name over and over, as the whole world narrows down to just this.

His cock slides in and out of you rapidly, reaching places you didn’t know felt this good. He fucks you deep and hard, and for the first time you're actually not faking anything. It's all raw, and beautiful and sad at the same time. You cry and he kisses you hungrier, eating up your sobs as his length throbs inside of you. You're all broken again, in his arms, body jolting as he bites your shoulder.

Maybe you'll regret it later. But who cares about later when it seems like today is all you have. When he is all you have. Maybe he's a murderer on the loose, maybe he'll hurt you. Maybe it's the pain controlling you, but it feels right. Just right.

Your vision is blurry, and your head is fuzzy with him, that familiar feeling in your lower belly blooming again. Finally you come undone in his arms, shaking, crying and moaning all at once. He holds you closer, if thats even possible, and spills inside of you, his soft groans filtering through the ringing in your ears.

When it’s over, he doesn’t let you go. Just holds you there, cradled against his chest, both wet and sticky. Dirty and clean. Ugly and rough. "Was real brave of you," he whispers rough into your hair, pressing a kiss there. "Comin’ out here. Trustin’ me."

You smile against his skin through tears, small and trembling.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just stupid luck. But you found him. Or he found you. Either way, you hope he won't let go any time soon.

[kingstarkingslay]

🌟 RANKING REMUS LUPIN’S BEST "WEREWOLF CARD" EXCUSES 🌟

🥉 TIER 3: LOW EFFORT, BUT IT WORKS

5. "I'm experiencing a rare sensitivity to [current weather]."

Used For: Avoiding outdoor activities (changes reason based on conditions)

Effectiveness: 7/10 - Teachers assume it's a chronic condition and stop questioning

4. "My circadian rhythms require recalibration."

Used For: Skipping early morning classes

Effectiveness: 6/10 - McGonagall's eyebrow twitches but she allows it once per lunar cycle

🥈 TIER 2: MEDIUM-EFFORT LIES WITH A STRAIGHT FACE

3. "The moon’s in retrograde." (Not a real thing.)

Used For: Avoiding having to watch Quidditch practices (James buys it; Sirius cackles).

Effectiveness: 8/10 – James panics and asks if he needs chicken soup.

2. "I've developed an unfortunate reaction to [nearby object]." (gestures vaguely)

Used For: Leaving uncomfortable situations

Effectiveness: 8/10 - Works best in potions class where plausible accidents happen

🏆 TIER 1: ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECES OF DECEIT

1. "I'm presently engaged in critical lunar research."

Used For: Leaving any situation with an air of academic importance

Effectiveness: ∞/10 - Works best when said while holding a chocolate bar as if it's research equipment

0. "I’m legally required to lie down." (No such law exists.)

Used For: Everything. Everything.

Effectiveness: ∞/10 – Even McGonagall lets it slide once.

HONORABLE MENTION (THE ONE TIME IT FAILED):

"I can’t, I’m allergic to... this conversation."

Used On: Sirius, who immediately throws a pillow at him.

Verdict: "Try harder, Moony."

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "attention" ⎯୧ (kdh)

+*:🌟:*﹤smut w plot, sub!leehan, edging, riding, exhib+voy themes, reader fem anat, piv sex, flawed characteristics, bit of a scent thing going on / wc: 4.7k / masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

leehan wants your eyes on him, but you've been so focused on work, leaving early and coming home late. he knows it's important, that you have to finish your project by the deadline, but he can't help but feel a little selfish about your time when you've rarely spoken to him in the past two weeks. he's barely even seen you, always falling asleep despite trying to stay up when you come home, and he's getting antsy missing your company.

you're sliding out of bed after only being home for five hours. he’d startled awake when you came in, but you were too tired to talk, too tired to change before collapsing on the bed.

he’d changed you himself, gently wiping your makeup off and massaging lotion into your skin, then held you close to him as you caught up on much-needed rest. he wakes up when he feels your body heat leave his side, and groans as he watches with foggy eyes as you disappear into the bathroom. 

“don’t go to work. stay here with me,” he begs sweetly when you come back out. you consider it, he can see it on your face, but you ultimately shake your head.

“i can’t, baby. gotta get this project done, then i’ll be all yours, m’kay?”  he pouts, but it doesn’t last long because you kiss it away and ruffle his already messed up hair. within minutes, you’re out the door.

leehan sulks in bed for a little longer, wishing he could make you pay attention to him. it feels like the only time you’re actually looking at him, thinking about him, is when the two of you are intimate with each other. it’s hard to find time in two busy schedules, but during those rare moments, it’s just you and him; the world around the two of you doesn’t exist anymore.

he’s so warm and safe in bed and the only thing that would make it better is if you were here with him, tangled up in the sheets and wasting the day away. he thinks about your soft skin and how sweet it smells, how warm your touch is when he’s lucky enough to be blessed with it, blessed by your gentle eyes and kind words when they’re focused only on him and spoken just for him to hear.

his hand is traveling under his waistband without hesitation, and thoughts of you clutter his mind as he wraps his palm around his length. he tries to mimic the way you squeeze his base and flick your thumb over his slit, tries to imagine it’s your pretty hands touching him this way. it's not long before stars are dancing behind his eyelids and he’s grunting out into the silent room. 

you never want him to cum the first time around, and almost always pull away when he’s on the edge. he’s so used to the denial, to the feeling of his orgasm slipping out of his grasp that it just feels natural when he pulls his hand away from his cock. he sucks in a breath at the way it twitches and sees you, hears you in his imagination, saying, “good boy, aren’t you so well-trained?”

he chews on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the burning hot need coursing through his veins, and an idea forms in his head. he knows he shouldn’t, but it should be fine, right? just a voice message showing you how much he misses you. you wouldn’t get upset with him for that, surely.

he reaches for his phone on the nightstand and opens you guys’ text messages. he spends another four seconds convincing himself this is a good idea. then he’s grabbing his cock again, pulling all the tricks to put him on the verge of tipping over. when he feels close, he presses the “record a message” button beside the text bar.

at first, it’s just shy little moans as he complains about how much he misses you, how much better it would feel if you were here. then, they turn into desperate, raspy gasps as he pushes himself over the edge. the audio recording sends the second he releases the button, and he can’t unsend it, so he accepts his choices and waits to hear what you have to say.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

the answer is absolutely nothing. you don’t respond to or address the audio recording at all, aside from a smirk and a “did you have fun today?” that you throw his way when you walk through the front door. 

he continues doing it, messages ranging from more audio recordings to photos of his stomach painted white, and usually you’ll kiss him, ruffle up his hand, call his “little treats” cute, make more promises to help him out when you’ve met your deadline.

he knows your work is important, but although guilt claws at him for it, leehan still feels a bit hurt that you didn’t take his complaints to heart, just assumed it was another one of his trivial games. 

leehan can play games, and when you hole yourself up in the bedroom to type away at your laptop, he realizes that he will. he’ll do whatever it takes to get your attention.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

you finally have a day off, and have decided you’d like to spend part of it at the mall looking through new arrivals. leehan’s not big on shopping, so he just follows you around and occasionally gets distracted by fish merch. 

you’ve stepped away at least four times to take phone calls from your coworkers, and you guys have only been at the mall for an hour and a half. when lunchtime rolls around, you excuse yourself again to answer a call from your boss, leaving leehan alone to pick at his food in disinterest. 

“um, hi. are you busy?” a feminine voice says. the girl has to stand directly in leehan’s line of sight for him to realize she’s talking to him. when he looks up at her, she smiles shyly and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“can i help you?” 

“no! well, yes. i…was just wondering if i could have your phone number. i saw you standing alone earlier…” the girl’s voice fades out as leehan peeps your approaching figure in the distance, and the gears in his head turn with another (probably bad) idea.

“...alone again here in the food court, so i thought i should take the chance.”

leehan didn’t hear most of what she said, but he can tell when someone’s interested in him, and he can play along.

he flashes the girl a charming smile, dimples and all, and nods along to whatever she’s rambling about. she’s cute enough, and seems like a nice girl, but leehan’s real focus is entirely on you as you watch the scene. he watches you as best as he can from his peripheral, but never takes his eyes off the girl in front of him. 

“is that…alright?” she says, looking at leehan with wide, hopeful eyes. he pretends to consider whatever she asked, and holds a palm out for her to rest her hand in. her face gets even redder, and he kind of feels bad that he’s using her to get to you.

he’s about to tell her that he’s sorry to disappoint, and that he appreciates it, he really does, but he has a girlfriend. he doesn’t get a chance to say any of that when you come up behind him seemingly out of nowhere and tap him on the shoulder. the girl pulls her hand away from leehan’s and stands around awkwardly.

“what do you think you’re doing?” you ask. your arms are crossed and your eyes are locked on his, but not with the love and admiration he’s been longing for. his composure falters when he sees your expression, one that says he’s fucked up more than he knows.

“this girl came up to me and…” he trails off and gestures in the girl’s general direction.

“and?” you ask impatiently, but leehan doesn’t know how he was going to conclude that sentence. this girl came up to me and i pretended to be interested to get a rise out of you? he has a feeling that’s not going to support his case well. you turn away from him and to the girl behind him, causing him to turn around as well.

“you’ll have to excuse my idiot boyfriend. i’m sorry he wasted your time instead of just telling you he was taken.” the girl nods in understanding and tries to hide her disappointed pout. she accepts your handshake when you offer it and hurries off. 

you shoot leehan another pissed glare, then dump your remaining food in the trash and walk out of the mall. he considers apologizing to the girl as well, but she’s already out of sight, so he trashes his own food and trails after you with a ball of shame sitting in his throat. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

to be honest, you scare leehan just a little, especially when he knows you’re angry with him but you’re not talking about it. he’d rather you just chew his head off and get it over with, just tell him how much of an inconsiderate dumbass he is. you don’t, so the guilt manifests and manifests until he feels like he might puke it up.

you lock the front door and hang up your coat, and the first thing you say to him in the last twenty minutes is “sit.”

leehan parks his ass on the couch immediately, and waits to hear whatever other command you might give him. he expects you to sit next to him, or on the armchair by the couch or even on his lap. he doesn’t expect you to sit right across from him on the coffee table. at least a minute passes full of you just staring at him, and the silence is killing him. 

“baby–”

“shut up,” you say, and his mouth clamps shut. you stare at him for a few more seconds, poking your inner cheek with your tongue in thought. then, you shake your head and laugh in disbelief. leehan watches as you cross your arms over your chest, and tries not to flick his eyes down to the way your boobs are being pushed up. he may be sick with horniness and loneliness, but it’s really not the time.

“why are you acting like this, leehan?” it takes leehan a few seconds and a quirk of your eyebrow to realize you’re actually waiting for an answer, that you want him to speak now.

“what do you mean?” that’s his intelligent response. you scoff and roll your eyes.

“don’t act dense with me. you were flirting with that girl just so i’d see. i know when you’re acting out for attention, and that’s exactly what you’ve been doing this entire week.” leehan’s embarrassed at being caught so he shakes his head in denial, but it’s nowhere near convincing even to himself.

“no? you didn’t touch yourself and record it for me? didn’t send me photos of you covered in your own cum? didn’t flirt with a girl right in my face in a desperate attempt to get my attention?” leehan’s cheeks burn at the direct confrontation. hearing his actions out loud brings a fresh wave of shame over him, and he’s so ready to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.

“show me.”

leehan’s eyes fly wide open and he lets out a nervous chuckle. “w-what?”

“you wanted my attention so bad. now you have it,” you say with a bored expression. your eyes leave a trail of fire wherever they land on his skin. he has your attention, and has to think of a way to keep it. 

“go ahead,” you command with a jerk of your head. your lips are turned down into a frown, and it’s so condescending, like you don’t even want to be here. leehan needs you to want to be here, and he’s nothing if not a performer. he lifts his hips and tugs his pants down to his thighs. 

you make a noise, something between a hum and a coo, when he pulls his boxers down and his dick springs against his stomach.

“your little cock is hard, hannie.” he knows he’s not small, but your words are still humiliating, and still burn the need to impress you across his skin. “gonna show me how you fucked yourself when you were moaning into your phone?”

leehan’s hips buck against nothing, causing his member to slap against his stomach again, and his mouth falls open with a groan.

he does as you tell him, wrapping his hand around his cock like he’s been doing every morning for the past week, squeezing his base, flicking his tip, imagining it’s you, wishing it was you, but he doesn’t dare ask. instead he watches your facial expressions, how your lips curl up into a smirk when he’s close.

“stop,” you tell him, and he pulls his hand away without question. he would’ve been foolish to not expect the sensation of his orgasm floating farther and farther away from him. he tries to slow his breathing, tries not to lose his mind so early into this session.

“keep going.” 

he continues his previous pace immediately, and his hips tremble when he tries to stop them from bucking up. his tip is a bit more sensitive when he brushes his thumb across it, and it takes less time for him to get close. 

he strokes a bit faster, moans a bit louder. he has no idea how long you plan to keep him here, but he still anticipates the relief of falling off the edge.

“let go.”

leehan pulls his hand away from his cock and clutches the couch instead while willing his legs to stop shaking. he’s helpless to disobey you, but he groans as his orgasm escapes him a second time.

“hm…i dunno. something’s not right.” you tap a manicured nail against your chin in thought. he can never understand how you’re so composed in moments like this, like it’s a normal evening. if you’re turned on, you don’t show it, and it makes leehan flush with shame. “what do you think, baby boy?” 

he huffs out a laugh at the question. how is he supposed to know? but you’re looking at him expectantly, so he scrambles to come up with something. “i mean– usually i’m, like, in bed, i guess. thinking about you, imagining you, smelling you…” god, don’t get him started on smelling you. 

you hum thoughtfully and lift off of the table. in seconds, you’re hovering over him, flashing him a devious grin. your hips are so close to straddling his, and you slap his hand away when it reaches up to touch your waist. you hold yourself up by the back cushions with your arms on either side of his head. he’s trapped, and suddenly, everything else in the room is overshadowed by you.

 “is that right? you think about all the dirty things you wanna do to me while getting off to the smell of my perfume?”

of course you’d know his weak spot. you’re so close to him and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to touch you. your perfume is invading his senses, and flaming hot desire coils in his abdomen. he squeezes his eyes shut to prevent them from rolling into his skull as his hips twitch into the air.

“touch yourself, hannie,” you say sweetly.

he takes a deep breath and grabs his cock again. he’s known to leak like a faucet, especially after meeting you, and his hand is covered in sticky white within the first few seconds of stroking himself.

he knows there’s raspy noises falling from his open mouth, but he can barely hear them over his heart pounding. the way you take over his brain is overwhelming and he can hardly think. your lips graze his neck, and the skin litters with goosebumps despite the hot air between the two of you. 

if he opens his eyes, he’s got a face full of titties, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that despite every cell in his body telling him to look. he wants to be good for you and hold out until you give him permission to stop, but it feels so good that he’s speeding his hand up.

“ha– ah, fuck–” slick, sloppy sounds fill the room as he works himself to the edge for you.

“let go,” you whisper in his ear. his hand rips away from his cock and grips onto his thigh instead, getting it wet and gross with precum. it takes what feels like an eternity for him to back away from the precipice this time. fear runs his blood cold when he realizes he almost didn’t last. 

he’s always good for you, can edge himself for as long as you'd like. he doesn’t know why he’s sensitive today, especially after spending a week beating it.

you pull your face out of his neck, and he slumps against the couch. you smile at the sight and caress his cheek. he melts into the touch, but you pull away to card through his tangled hair instead. you used the grip on his strands to tilt his head back so that he’s looking up at you. 

“i do think you were louder that time. moaned just like you did in those recordings.” he opens his mouth to say something, but loses his train of thought when you plop down on his lap. 

“fffuck–” he moans, voice all pathetic and high-pitched. 

“stay still,” you warn when his hips buck into yours, and he tries so hard, but even the soft fabric of your skirt is too rough on his sensitive dick. he struggles to keep his eyes open, but he’d rather die than take them off of you, so he blinks through the tears pooling in his waterline. the action causes the tears to trickle down, and the air is cold against his wet cheeks.

you stay like that until his breaths are more even and he’s somewhat calmed down. he lets out a displeased noise when you lift off of him and sit back on the coffee table.

“c’mon, hannie. i’m not done with you yet. let me see.” you push his legs apart with your knee. he looks down with you, and the sight makes him burn with embarrassment. he’s leaking so much it’s soaking into the couch, and it’s another sight he has to squeeze his eyes shut to get away from.

“w-what, are you j-just gonna–” he swallows thickly, clears his throat, and tries again. “how long are you gonna make me do this?”

you tilt your head and smile at him like you aren’t melting his brain into goo. “however long it takes for you to learn your lesson.” leehan whines a little in protest.

“just wanted you to look at me, missed you so much.”

the look in your eyes softens and you lean forward to place a heartfelt kiss on his lips. “i missed you too, hannie. so. much,” you say, cupping his cheeks and pressing more gentle kissing around his face. “it was so hard to focus at work when you kept sending me those treats. but bad boys still have to take their punishments, yeah?” leehan sighs longingly and nods, resting his head against the back cushions, and reaching for his cock when you instruct him to start over.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

by the fifth denial, he’s a shaking mess, falling apart at the seams and only holding himself together by your command. he’s done for the second you flip your skirt up, slide your panties off, circle your clit right in front of him. you’re so close but so far, and he’s definitely losing his mind. 

“please– n/n, let me…could fuck you so good,” he begs helplessly, deep voice strained and words stringing together. it’s the first time tonight you actually look interested in what’s happening, and he can’t figure out where to look–at your pretty face as you make yourself feel good, at the wetness leaking out of your pulsing heat, at the way your tits shake when you tug at your nipples. you’re biting your lip to keep quiet, keeping your pretty noises to yourself. leehan thinks that’s the cruelest part of this punishment. 

his hips are fucking up into his hand in a sloppily, a stark contrast to his usually controlled thrusts. he’s not easy to turn into a mess, but you know him better than he knows himself. you know his limits, know that he won’t cum unless you tell him to, know how badly he needs your forgiveness. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, just fuck me, please?” but you’re not looking at him. your eyes are focused on his cock drooling all over his legs, at the way it twitches when he’s close. your hips twitch, and your cunt drools on the table, and his mouth runs dry. he’s too delirious to figure out if your reactions are because of him, if he’s doing good for you. 

“stop, pretty boy.”

his hand trembles as he pulls it away from his dick and flops it against the couch. he gasps harshly, heaves loudly, and more tears stream down his face as his hips chase friction that’s already gone.

his head is leaning against the back cushions and lolled to the side, but he’s still watching you touch yourself. his mouth hangs open from all of his pathetic begging, and there’s a thin trail of saliva pooling in his mouth and dribbling onto his t-shirt. 

his eyelids are so heavy, but he watches brainlessly as you tease your opening, dip a finger into the heat. it comes back out drenched in creamy white, and he has to dig his nails into the cushion to stop himself from grabbing his dick without permission.

you pull your hands away from your body and straddle him again. he nearly goes cross-eyed when your bare cores touch. it’s so wet, and his entire body shivers with need.

“aw, hannie. look at me. tell me what you want.”

“mm, want– wanna taste you, wanna fuck you so bad.” you giggle, and he loses himself somewhere between your sparkly eyes and shiny lips.

“wanna taste me?” you reaffirm, and he nods dumbly. you straighten his head up and cup his cheeks between your fingers and thumb. you make him watch as you use your free hand to repeat the motions, gathering your wetness on your finger, pushing it through your opening and pulling it out. 

you whimper out freely this time, and the sound is so pretty and sinful leehan wishes he could tattoo it on his brain, wishes he had recorded it so he can hear it again later. your hand forces his lips to pucker and his mouth to open, and you press your wet fingers onto his tongue. 

leehan’s eyes roll again, and his eyebrows crease as the taste of you, the smell of you invades his senses. you always taste so good, so sweet to him.

his eyes focus on you again, but his vision clouds and his hips buck up against you. you slide against him so deliciously, but it’s over too soon when you slide your fingers out of his mouth and pry your hips away from his.

you wipe your wet fingers on his shirt and remind him to look at you, but he is already looking at you, has barely torn his eyes away from you in the last thirty minutes.

he’s completely awestruck, and maybe a little delirious when he swears he can see the faint halo hovering above your head. he tries to tell you how perfect, how much of an angel you are, but his words come out jumbled and unintelligible. 

“do you have a color for me, baby?”

“mhm, fuck– green, n-need you so bad. ’m so sorry, p-please, you look so beautiful, t–”

you interrupt him by pressing your lips against his, and leehan’s convinced he would’ve been talking for the rest of his life if you hadn’t. he’s pretty sure he melts into a puddle of goo when your lips collide, yours so perfect and plush against his. any function his brain is still performing shuts down immediately, and you have to handle the kiss by yourself, because his lips are slack and useless against yours. there’s a string of saliva connecting the two of you when you pull away from him.

“i think my pretty boy’s at his limit, hm?” you ask, and he doesn’t really know what you’re saying, but anything sounds good coming from you, so he nods and watches with his jaw on the floor as you stand up and pull your skirt off. you pull his shirt off as well, and you’re both bare and vulnerable but safe in your own world, just as leehan longed for.

you cup his cheeks again and hold his face so he can look up at you as you sink down on his cock, and the noise he makes when you bottom out is broken and pitiful even to his own ears. he knows he must look so fucked out and stupid, but you’re looking at him with so much love in your eyes that he’s sure he looks beautiful anyway. 

you wrap around him so well, your cunt is so tight. it feels like he’d forgotten how it feels to be buried inside you, and to be experiencing it for the first time again has to be parallel to some sort of spiritual ascension. leehan doesn’t know what he did to deserve it, but he does know he’d spend an eternity here if you allowed it.

your hands move to grip his shoulders, and you make the most heavenly face of ecstasy leehan has ever seen. you lift your hips to slide him out, and bottom out again. your cunt’s sucking him in so greedily, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. 

“i’ll let you cum if you fuck me, pretty boy,” you say like you read his mind. you grab his lifeless hands and place them on your waist, then grip the back of the couch again. he gets the message clearly, holding you in place as he jerks into you. his thrusts aren’t coordinated at all, and it’s out of pure habit when he angles his hips to fuck right into your sweet spot. 

“fuck yeah, hannie. that’s so good, you’re so good,” you moan out, and he uses strength he barely has to aim for that spot, to hear those words from you again. on a particularly hard thrust, your eyes flutter closed.

“look at me, n/n. please– look at me,” he begs, voice cracking, and when you do, your eyes are glossy, tears pulling in your waterline. it’s so hot, and finally, your attention is his, and he’s making you feel good, but he’s not gonna last like this.

“you fill me up so good, hannie. make me feel so good,” you say breathlessly, eyes locked on his. “gonna cum for me? gonna fill me up nicely?” and he’s nodding, pitiful whimpers falling from his lips, whatever you say. 

you trail a hand up his abdomen, to his chest, and tug at his nipple. the rush of pleasure he feels is so intense that the knot in his stomach is fraying and snapping so quickly he can’t even warn you, but he tries through strangled gasps: “cumming, ‘m, fu–”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

it takes leehan a while to come back to earth. he’s so tired he can barely move, but you kiss him until his mind returns home. after asking if he’s okay five times and getting five verbal “yes’s,” you clean the two of you up and lead him to bed.

it’s still when he speaks again, eyes searching for yours in the dark room, “i really am sorry, y/n. i should’ve been more considerate. i respect your work so much, i just got so lonely…” you smile at him softly and reach a hand up to rub circles into his back.

“i’m sorry you were so lonely, hannie. i should’ve managed my time better, should’ve taken your feelings more seriously. from now on, i’ll keep work at work, and after my project, we can both take time off and go on a vacation. how’s that?”

“that’s perfect,” he says, and means it wholeheartedly, falling asleep with a smile of his own.

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : FUCK THIS TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE LOL i reread it three times pls lmk if there r still typos <3

[ravens-two]

PAC: How will your relationship with your FS be like?

This reading includes:

insights into your relationship with your FS

The extended reading includes:

your sex life with your future spouse

how you'll meet your future spouse

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone. Also, this content is 18+ only!

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Page of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, Two of Wands

I was just the chip on your tooth/ And I liked being that/ I was just the me to your you/ And I liked being that - Curl up & Die by Matt Maltese

Pile 1, your relationship with your spouse is filled with devotion as we can see from your song, but also filled with excitement. You and your FS are always on your way to do something, to try something, to pursue something. Immediately I can see that you and your FS always support each other when it comes to your goals. Your person always does their best to make your life a little easier so that you can pursue some goal or project. They don't feel jealous or hold resentment, in fact, they want to be your biggest supporters.

I also think that you'll be traveling a lot as a couple, both on vacation and also probably because of work. I get the sense that you're both very ambitious people so you might have a career that requires traveling from time to time. The other thing I'm seeing is that the communication between you two is just excellent. I get the vibe that you talk a lot in general (or actually one of you might talk a lot and the other not as much, but the other loves listening). You have long conversations about everything and nothing, the last movie you watched together, the neighbor who just moved across the street, your takes on spirituality, or the current state of the world. The point here is that you two talk a lot and for a long time just because you enjoy each other's company.

Another thing about your communication is that you rarely fight because you can talk and resolve your problems before a fight can arise. Even just simple communication like organizing your life and things like that (like let's meet at x place at y hour) works very well. Also, you're both very good with helping your partner come up with a solution for a problem (I feel like your partner immediately jumps to this whenever you're down or having some sort of problem). Sometimes it might not be appreciated but your FS just loves you so much and they don't want you to have to struggle with anything really.

When it comes to your life as a couple I think that you have a set routine that you always follow, while holding space for surprises to emerge. Let me try to come up with an example. For example, you might have the habit of going out every Saturday afternoon and always keep that time free for this, but you don't often plan what you'll do. It's just the spontaneous thing that came up that week. But besides this I see you having a very cozy routine and doing mundane tasks together, like cleaning the house or tending your garden. It's the little things that bring you together. In fact, I want to say that one of the most important love languages in this relationship is actually quality time. You might not be doing the same thing but you like doing them in the same space so that you can feel close to each other.

With this Two of Wands here I also have to say that this is a very passionate relationship, especially coming from your FS. They adore touching and kissing you, the type of partner who will smack your ass every time you cross paths, for example. You two just really enjoy touching and cuddling a lot. It might not even be full on cuddling, but you love just laying on the couch and just hold hands, or play with the other's hair or their leg or their foot. It's not even anything sexual about this (although it is sometimes), but you both just feel the need to touch the other.

check out the extended reading here

Pile 2

Eight of Cups, Three of Pentacles, Five of Wands

Feels like I've known you my whole life/ I can see right through your lies/ I don't know where we're goin'/ But I'd like to be by your side - Are You Bored Yet? by Wallows ft. Clairo

Pile 2, for some reason I think that you might work with your FS or if you don't work with them, it might be that you have the same job because you end up competing a lot with each other. This is something more specific just for some people so feel free to ignore if you feel like it doesn't apply. However, this energy of competition and playfulness is very present in your relationship with your partner. I get the vibe that you both love to lie to each other for fun, lol. Maybe things like they ask you where you've been and you say that you were with your lover or something like that. You're both just so secure in your relationship that you don't have any problems with joking about these things. Also, going back to the competition energy, I feel like this applies to when you're playing together (like playstation or boardgames), but also even the simplest of situations. Like your partner will try to rile you up because yesterday they did the dishes faster than you, or something silly like that.

A bit similar to pile 1, your relationship with your spouse is marked by how supportive you two are of each other. You act as a team and you don't let problems or other people get in between you two. With the Eight of Cups here too, there's almost this sense that you two are an island away from everyone else. You don't need anything but each other and you'll always stand up for each other. I'm sensing that when it comes to any family conflicts (with your parents or your in-laws or anything like that) you and your person will always stick up for each other even if you're the ones wrong in this situation. You might compete with each other, you might act silly, but in this relationship you're the most important thing for your partner. You always come first, no matter what.

In pile 1 I didn't really see anything about family, but in yours I do see children (feel free to ignore if you feel like this doesn't apply to you). But if you do want to have children in the future, there's three kids here in the cards, they seem quite close in age so it seems very planned. The kids seem to be a big part of your life (obviously) and you and your partner tackled them together as a united front. You don't undermine each other and you agree on the important things - like the type of values and education you want to give your children. As parents I also see you two being very fun with the children and trying to give them as much unique experiences as possible. They certainly adore you both.

When it comes to routine you seem to organize things well in advance and try to split household chores efficiently. I get the vibe that you two are a bit peculiar about your space so you try to keep it clean and organized as much as possible. I also see your partner surprising you with small gifts every once in a while - like little trinkets or a flower bouquet. No matter what it is it's just because your partner so that thing and suddenly thought of you. I think that your partner tries to be as romantic as possible, but sometimes daily life doesn't make it very easy (you two seem to be very busy people).

Despite this you two always make an effort to have a couple of dates every month, a moment you can have just for the two of you and to nurture the love you have for each other. For your partner in particular, I think that romance is very important. They don't seem to be very touchy, especially in front of other people, but they do enjoy putting their hand on your waist or your back. I think that your partner prefers to give you small (or big) gifts and to do things for you. Daily life can be so busy and exhausting that your FS knows that one of the best things they can do for you is make sure that you don't have to do some extra task.

check out the extended reading here

Pile 3

Knight of Swords, Page of Pentacles, Strength

You come back, I'll be right here/ Like a barge at sea/ In the storm, I stay clear/ 'Cause I've got my mind on you - Say Yes to Heaven by Lana del Rey

Pile 3 the first thing that I'm picking up is that your FS is a romantic at heart, think those old Hollywood movies gentleman type. Your spouse is absolutely and completely devoted to you. They adore you and don't want you to worry about a single thing; if a problem comes up they try their best to solve it before it even reaches your ears. To them you're a goddamn work of art. To your spouse they might as well display you on the Louvre because you deserve to be admired.

I'm also getting this vibe that you're a bit stubborn and tend to try and get your way in most things. Your FS knows this and they know that fighting you is useless because you'll always win, so instead they understand that they need to either agree or steer you gently in the "right" direction. I don't really see arguing in this relationship, especially from your person's side. You're far too precious to them for them to be arguing and screaming. Absolutely not. Any issues need to be solved in a civil and productive way.

Something else that I'm picking up is that you tend to withdraw, either when you feel down/after a conflict or you have periods of withdrawal. Your FS may feel a little sad and desperately want you to talk to them, but they understand that you need this space so they're really good at providing it for you. It's literally like your song says when you come back they'll be right there waiting for you with open arms. The main thing I'm getting honestly is that your person wants to be your rock.

If you like animals I think that you might have a lot of pets, especially cats and dogs, but I'm even seeing other types of animals like lizards, bunnies or even horses (this will certainly apply differently to everyone). You and your partner love your pets very much and they're an important part of your life, even if you have kids, the pets are still really important. If you have dogs for example, I see you two taking a long walk every Sunday and just spend time in nature with your spouse, the dogs and the kids. You're both very doting both on the pets and the kids and they are a very important part of your life and your routine. You like doing things in family and you don't feel like the kids or the pets are intruding in your relationship as a couple.

For some of you, I think that either you or your partner either works from home or stays at home. There's just this big emphasis on the home and how it's a cozy space for you, I just heard that it's your nest. When it comes to children I don't really feel like you want to have a lot of kids, maybe one or two. What you do want is to be a good parent. Like, you'd rather not have kids at all or have only one child rather than being a bad parent. You're certainly only going to have kids when you both feel like you're ready for it.

check out the extended reading here

Pile 4

The Fool, Three of Swords, Nine of Pentacles

I don't need a sign, what will, be will be/ Let's go start a life, somewhere in the weeds/ I am usually able, but your effect is fatal/ I was doing fine, then I met you - Intolewd by Matt Maltese

Pile 4, the first thing I'm seeing is that a lot of people will be jealous of your marriage. It might be because your relationship with your partner seems to be in a perpetual honeymoon phase, it might be because your partner is so good looking or because your partner makes a lot of money. Whatever it is people are very jealous of it, because they look at it and it's the type of thing they dream about. With that in mind, I think that you and your partner live quite a lavish and comfortable life. You take nice vacations, you go out, you can buy nice things, and you have a really nice home. The specific vibe I'm getting is of a very stylish and artistic house, but that might be a vibe for just some of you. The main takeaway is that you live well because both you and your partner work for it.

Despite all these eyes on you, you and your partner don't really care about any of that. You have eyes for each other and that's that. Sure, you like showing each other off and you might get off on other's jealousy a little bit, but at the end of the day you're both very aware that the relationship is between the two of you and no one else.

Your FS has a really big energy. They seem like the type of person that immediately gets everyone's attention because they're high-energy, they talk loudly, they laugh a lot. I actually think that one of the first things that attracted you to your FS was their sense of humor, the fact that they just made you laugh and laugh and laugh. Even when things are at their worst you know that your partner will just come up with the most out there joke that instantly breaks the tension and allows you to think about things a little more calmly.

Ohh, actually, the vibe that just came to me was a bit of Gomez Addams from the Addams family in the sense that your FS does everything he can to make you happy. He would fight against a thousand enemies to make you laugh. Your partner absolutely adores you laughter, by the way. In your free time I think that you love going out to museums or historical places. You both seem to love learning and have a great appreciation for art, architecture and culture. I get the feeling that your partner might be an artist or work in the arts.

I think that your FS is also a little prone to having "bouts of melancholy" as they might humorously put it. They just have days where they're moping around the house, sighing into corners and being afflicted by the human condition. They just need a little bit of patience and understanding when this happens. Afterwards, they go back to being their joyous self. If you do have kids I think that your FS is absolutely the funny parent, like strict but very funny. They treat the kids like they're adults explaining overcomplicated concepts to them without missing a beat. In general though, I don't think that you'll treat your kids in the conventional way. In your view they're little people that don't know anything about the world yet, and you both focus on their education and knowledge most of all.

check out the extended reading here