#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[eelhound]

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 7- Miguel x Clumsy!Reader (Toys)

        It was a gag gift from a close friend of yours. Never had you thought you would actually use it. Staring at the clit and vibrator in one before you made you sweat. Today had been a really rough day and you meant rough. You had your ass handed to you during a mission earlier only to come back to your world to deal with Rhino being a complete ass to your favorite museum. That and Miguel gave you a lecture about being reckless, again. Needless to say, you needed a stress reliever. Something to get you off.

        Exhaling loudly, you slid your pajama pants and panties off. You were hesitant. You had never done something like this. You rather it be Miguel stuffing you with his cock, not a toy. Huffing your cheeks at the thought, you knew that would never happen. Miguel probably saw you as a nuisance. A Spiderwoman who always caused trouble. You couldn't help it though. You were still fairly new at being a superhero. Miguel was just a handsome jerk. 

"A sexy jerk," You grumbled.

        Finally finding the courage, you shivered as the cold vibrator entered your tight walls. You repeated to yourself that it was Miguel, which helped it slid in. Next, you attached the second part to your clit. It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but you got used to it. Right when you reached for the remote, your watch went off. 

"(Y/n)! We have an urgent anomaly, I need your help. Here are the coordinates." Miguel told you.

        You squeaked and told him you'd be on your way. Hurrying up, you put on your suit and grabbed the remote, thinking it was your phone. Opening a dimensional portal, you hopped inside, forgetting about the toy you were wearing.

--------------

"Alright, you're all dismissed. Good work," Miguel praised.

        You must be dreaming. Never had he told you that you did good. Waving goodbye to the other Peter's, you decided to grab a quick bite in the cafeteria before heading home. You went to reach for your phone, only to realize that nothing was in your pocket,

"Huh? Oh no...Did I drop it in Miguel's office?!" You whined.

        Right as you went to turn around, you felt a strong buzz from below. Your body flinched forward at the sudden pleasure. Heat was forming fast in your suit. You let out a small gasp, remembering about the vibrator. It wasn't your phone you brought, but the remote! Leaning against the nearby wall, you whimpered wondering who found the remote. You needed to hurry to get it back, or find the bathroom to take the toys out before it was too late.

-------------

        It was when Miguel had dismissed everyone when he noticed something on the floor. He jumped down from his platform, making his way towards the item. To his surprise, it was a remote. He wasn't sure what kind it was, leading him back to his desk. He summoned Lyla, asking her to scan the item.

"It's a vibrator remote." Lyla said with a grin. Miguel immediately tensed up,

"Who-No, I don't even want to know." He spat lowly. Lyla appeared in front of him,

"You totally know who it belongs too." 

"No. It could be one of the Pet-"

"There she is on the camera, you know you want to test it out~" Lyla cooed.

        Miguel grumbled lowly as he ignored his AI. His eyes were focused on the cameras before him, watching you skip your way to the cafeteria. He knew better. He knew he shouldn't, but you were just so clumsy. Ever since you first fell into his office, he had a soft spot for you. That soft spot started to grow into a desire. You were reckless. Sometimes he just wanted to fuck you until you learned your lesson. Until you finally listened to him and stayed put.

        Staring at the remote, he wondered if this was it. If this was his chance to teach you a lesson. It was wrong, but he wanted to see your face contort in pleasure. To hear you moan his name, begging you to let him fuck you. A low rumble escaped his throat as he started to get hard at the thought. He might regret this, but he just wanted to see your reaction. You were the one who did something so foolish, what were the chances that you were actually wearing the damn toy?

"Dios mío, lo es. (My god, she is.)"

        Miguel groaned lowly as he pressed on the remote. He watched as your body flinched forward before finding something to lean against. It was a damn good thing it was late at night. Most, if not, all the Spiders were in their own world. Miguel's fangs started to show as he bit his lower lip, stroking himself. He watched as you made your way to probably a bathroom. You were so clumsy. Miguel imagined that it was his dick inside you and not this toy. His dick harden at the thought. He wanted to watch you cum.

        Miguel looked away from the screens for only a moment to engulf himself in pleasure. Right when he did so,

"U-Um...M-Miguel? I think I uh, dropped something in here." Your voice trembled. Miguel flinched as he heard you, accidently raising the setting on your vibrator, "Ah~"

"Joder, esto tiene que ser una señal. (Fuck, this has to be a sign.)" He groaned, lowering the setting for you, "I did find something, do you realize how reckless this is?" His breathing was heavy, wanting to return to his high.

"I-I know, I'm sorry! I completely forgot-"

"That you were fucking yourself with this?" Miguel hissed lowly, unable to face you since his cock was still sprung out and hard, "That you brought it with you on a mission and dropped it in my office?!"

"I was about to use it! I never done this before! I thought I grabbed my p-phone." You whimpered as Miguel played with the setting again, "M-Miguel, w-wait-"

"You tested my patience long enough, cariño. (sweetheart) I'm going to teach you a lesson,"

        You let out another whimper as you tried to get closer. You went to web the remote, but Miguel caught your webbing inside. He pulled you towards him, looking down at your trembling form. He could smell your arousals. The wet slick in your suit was strong. He glanced down at your flustered face, observing the lust in your eyes. There was practically drool coming down your mouth. He turned to face you, watching as you stared at his dick,

"Suck it." He demanded.

        To his surprise, you did not hesitate. It was as if you were waiting for his. Miguel groaned lowly as he buckled his hips, letting you sloppily suck him. His thumb against the remote, slowly raising the setting each time he felt you slow down.

"Finalmente ser una buena chica. Escuchándome por una vez. (Finally being a good fucking girl. Listening to me for once.)" Miguel gripped the edge of his desk, feeling the urge to cum, "I'm about to cum, cariño. Tell me where you want it?"

"Mh-"

"Fuck, tell me without my dick in that little mouth of yours,"

"I-In here," You whined, leaning back as you pressed the vibrator deeper inside you.

        You were a mess at this point. As you were sucking Miguel's dick, you had reached your orgasm not once, but twice. You knew that Miguel felt you too, because he raised the setting on your vibrator each time you did. All you wanted right now was his dick inside you. To ravish you pussy better than this damn toy did. Another loud moan was forced out of you as Miguel raised a setting once more. You could barely take it.

        The vibrator inside you and on your clit felt like they were on fire. Your suit was drenched with your juices that it almost hurt to be wearing it. You were desperate for something bigger to enter you. Having Miguel's cock in your mouth made your mind wander as if it were inside your pussy instead. Trying to fix yourself, you laid on your back, spreading your legs for Miguel. Moans kept coming out of your throat as he just watched you struggle while stroking himself.

"Mírate, rogando por mi polla. Si tan solo hubieras hecho algo tan estúpido antes. (Look at you, begging for my dick. If only you did something this stupid earlier.)" He used his talon to rip your suit from your breasts to your pussy, "Vas a chupar ese juguete. ¿Por qué no le doy a tu coño algo mejor para chupar? (You're going to suck that toy in. Why don't I give your pussy something better to suck on.)"

        You were so fucked out to even know what Miguel was saying. Your body arched as the cold air hit your drenched cunt. Miguel bend down to your level, deciding to lick your body. You cried out as he poked the small vibrator on your clit. It hurt. You needed him. You needed his dick. Spreading your legs out more, you whimpered his name.

"M-Migueeeeel, pleaaaase,"

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked, toying with the remote. You raised your hips, feeling the vibrator burn hotter,

"Y-Yes!"

"What did you learn?" Miguel panted softly, feeling his high getting closer by the second. Your vision started to blur as you felt your orgasm approaching again,

"I-I will...ah~ will listen...to...to y-you~"

        Miguel muttered a good before turning the vibrator up to the highest setting. He had his cock between your thighs, rubbing himself against your dripping cunt. The vibrator giving him an extra push as well. The two of you moaned together as you both reached your mind blowing orgasm. Right as you did, the vibrator stopped working. Miguel chuckled lowly as he pulled it out of you, watching your juices spill all over his floor,

"Looks like I'll have to buy you another one," He panted, watching his cum rest on top of you, "Now, I think you've learned your lesson."

        You tried to catch your breathe, but gasped as you felt Miguel easily enter your abused hole. Your eyes nearly rolled back as he stretched you out and hit you deeper than the vibrator. You could barely hear what Miguel was saying since you were so blissed out. His hips pulled out before giving you a fatal blow. His cock hit your cervix, causing a ringing in your brain. Your throat started to hurt as you cried from overstimulation. 

"Así es, sigue chupandome la polla. Esto era lo que querías ¿verdad? Joder, mírate, un bonito lío para mi polla. (That's right, keep sucking my cock. This was what you wanted right? Fuck, look at you, a pretty little mess for my dick.)" Miguel slapped his hips into yours, soaking in your moans as you gushed around his cock, "La próxima vez que cometas un error, te haré suplicar por mi polla otra vez. Entonces te follaré como un estúpido hasta que aprendas a comportarte. (Next time you make a mistake, I'll make you beg for my dick again. Then I'll fuck you stupid until you learn how to behave.)"

        You arched your body towards his, clenching against him once more. Your vision blurred as your cam hard. Miguel groaned lowly, enjoying your lewd face. The cute little 'o' you made with your mouth as you cam for him. His cock covered in your white ring while he filled you up. Catching his breathe, Miguel stared down at you. You were so beautiful under him. Pulling out, Miguel fixed himself before picking you up.

"I'm going to make you a new suit, and get you a new toy." He told you, knowing full well that you weren't listening, "I hope you chose to not listen next time. I enjoyed this lesson."

        Now that, was something you didn't need to listen to. You were defiantly going to mess up again, and Miguel was going to have to teach you to listen again.

[hritika13-tamboli]

Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 2...

°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°

Series :

Day by day || dilf!jungkook x best friend!reader (f) | single dad au || @hansolmates

Summary : a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together

Aim for the heart || hitman!jk x female reader | hitman au || @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Bedeviled || demon!jungkook x female reader | demon au || @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Money. Fame. Power. Love. Health. Courage. Strength. Humans will trade their souls for anything, unaware of how their selfish desires will fade away as they do; growing feeble and pathetic, until there's nothing left but the ghost of their youth, cowering in a corner until old age disposes of it.  Convincing yourself to go to the Underworld? Easy... Walking through to get something that you've waited many years for, accompanied by a demon that will stop at nothing to make sure your soul belongs to him? Maybe not so much. Making deals with the devil is a tricky business; one you might not have realized could end in something much more painful than death itself if you make a single mistake.

Animal : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 || Boxer Jungkook x Reader | boxer au || @cutaepatootie

Summary : The girl looked at the man who was in his 60s , lying on the hospital bed fighting for his life, he was trying to talk with her “I don’t want to go without telling something.” The girl frown looking at the old man “What do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” “I don’t want to die without telling someone about her,” he says, his voice softening when he says ‘her’. “I don’t want to disappear without the world knowing about her and what she did for me.” “About her?” the girl frowns. Maybe his daughter? His sister? The man turns his head and faces the girl, a soft, distant smile plastered on his lips. The gesture is nostalgic, sad, almost loving. “Y/N,” he murmurs, the name rolling off his lips softly, just as softly as the waves of the sea roll over the sand. “Her name was Y/N.”

Into the woods || goblin jungkook x reader | goblin au || @junqkook

Summary : getting hurt and stumbling upon a goblin in the forest leaves you completely at his mercy, though you aren’t sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆

One-shot :

The habits of the broken heart || Jungkook x reader | soulmate au || @softykooky

Summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.  alternatively, “You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

Something in the heir || knight!jungkook x palace woman!reader | non-royalty palace au || @hisunshiine

Summary : The king of your empire will be leaving soon to head off to fight against Soiros, a foreign enemy, and his seven knights of the order of Bangtania will lead the way. One of the seven, Jeon Jungkook, with his dark eyes and easy smile, is someone you long for. Children believe he has slain dragons, and adults think he’s killed over one thousand Soirian soldiers. Everyone thinks he is a heartbreaker, making his way through every unwed wench in the land...but all he wants is you.

Miracle of the season || Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F! reader | angel au | soulmate au || @cybrsan

Summary : Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

Amortentia || Jungkook x reader | hogwarts au || @jungkxook

Summary : jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

Black magic   || human!jk x witch!reader (f) | magic uni! au || @hansolmates

Summary : a witch with an ambition for learning, you stumble across a crushing spell in the middle of the forbidden section. of course you have to try it out! what happens when the crushing spell not only has jeon jungkook crushing on you, but you crushing on him?

(Un)crushed    || human!jk x witch!reader (f) | magic uni! au || @hansolmates

Summary : you’ve liked jungkook for the longest time, but you believe it’s time to cut the cord—literally 

What's wrong?  || Jungkook x reader | slice of life!au || @oddinary4bts

Summary : Reader overhears Jungkook talk to his friends and mention how she’s always clinging on to him and doesn’t let him breathe sometimes and that she’s annoying because she’s too loud and energetic. When he comes back home she acts the complete opposite and tries to avoid him without letting him know what’s going on, until he realises that he actually prefers her clingy and loud🥺

High demand || Dealer! Jungkook x Reader || @bunnyhugs77

Summary : modern day Romeo and Juliet

Coin toss ||Jungkook x reader detective | agency au || @yoondoze

Summary : you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

A fluffy/ mild angsty valentines fic with Bucky where reader gets HIM flowers ( because of the whole guys don’t get flowers thing :((( ) maybe there’s some mutual pining and sweet confession? Like she gets the flowers for him because he makes some joke about not having had a valentine for nearly a century and she’s just like “absolutely not will not allow that >:(“ but he thinks it’s just a joke at first :(

Anyway thanks! Love you!

Bloom.

bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none

valentines masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

“Are we almost done?”

Bucky looks so miserable, you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, we are. We just need flowers, and then we have everything on the list.”

He grabs the shopping cart and pushes it across the grocery store, determinedly marching in the right direction. You’re practically running to keep up with him.

“Which ones?”

You look at all the flowers, touching some of the petals gently as you decide.

“I’m not sure. What’s your favourite kind of flower, Buck?”

He looks at you with a blank expression.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

Now it’s your turn to look blankly at him.

“I’ve never been bought flowers. Why would I have a favourite type?”

You frown at him. The idea of Bucky never receiving flowers makes you much sadder than it should, but you’re trying to play it cool.

“Oh. Well… which of these do you like the look of the most? They’re going to go in the middle of the table in the kitchen, so they need to be bright. Give the room some colour.”

He circles the flower display a few times, looking around carefully. Eventually, he picks up a bouquet of tulips, all pinks and oranges and yellows.

“I like these.”

You smile softly, nodding your head.

“Good choice.”

You’re somewhat distracted as the two of you check out. You put the tulips in the bag carefully, glancing at Bucky every so often. He catches you looking, and can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’ve been standing outside Bucky’s door for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He knows.

He heard your footsteps, can hear your chest heaving, lungs working overtime. He’s just waiting for you to make your own decision.

Eventually, you do. After thirty minutes, you decide to just do it. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You knock.

Bucky swings open the door as if he’s been waiting for you, standing patiently on the other side.

“Breathe, honey.”

You didn’t even realise you’d been holding your breath. You exhale, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of you.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, you.”

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

You grab the bouquet from where you’ve leant it against the wall, holding it out to him.

He stops in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“They’re… for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You inhale deeply, willing yourself to find some temporary courage.

“Because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And no one has ever bought you flowers.”

He’s smiling now, soft and knowing.

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

He says it so sincerely, so genuinely, that it makes you want to cry. You hand the flowers to him, grinning as he admires them up close.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

That takes you by surprise.

You and Bucky have always had a careful, consistent friendship. Ever since he first barrelled into your life, you’ve thrown tender smiles his way, nodding your head in acknowledgement every time he passed you in the hallways. He warmed to you, slowly but surely. Your kindness, your generosity, your genuineness - you’ve charmed him delicately, somewhat accidentally.

You’ve also been in love with him since day one.

You never thought to mention it - he’s healing, learning, growing as he goes, and you don’t want to halt his progress. So, you’ve pined from a distance, gently and quietly.

“Buck… will you be my valentine?”

He beams at you, the most luminescent smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been working up the courage to ask you that every year since I met you. Knew you’d beat me to it.”

You laugh, stepping in closer to him. He puts the flowers down carefully, reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you, my valentine?”

You nod, already leaning in. He presses his lips to yours, and he swears he feels flowers bloom in his ribcage, bright and alive.

[atticrissfinch]

all you wanna do | (dark!joel miller x reader) (18+)

pairing: VERYdark!joel miller x fem!reader summary: once you turn eighteen, joel feels he can finally act on his attraction to you. CAUTION: MASSIVE, GLARING DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, friends. This is unambiguous noncon, from reader’s perspective. This is potentially incredibly triggering, so please protect yourself. Stop reading if you’re uncomfortable because at no point does it get “better”, it’s the same vibes all throughout. I know this isn’t for everyone. But if it’s for you…iykyk warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] explicit noncon, dark!creeper!neighbor!joel, no!outbreak!au, girthy age gap (Joel is anywhere from 50-60, reader is 18), implied previous sexualization of a minor (nothing physical), fetishization of new-adulthood (Joel gets off on reader being 18), blink-and-you’ll-miss-it foot worship (literally two lines), unprotected piv word count: ~3.8K a/n: truth be told i am terrified to post this because i know it’s A Lot. i think the audience for something THIS dark might be pretty niche. or maybe it’s not. i guess we’ll find out. just to be super clear: I DO NOT condone SA of any kind in any real-life circumstance. this is entirely fictional. but please be respectful of those who find enjoyment and/or healing through writing/reading it. no one is entitled to anyone else’s past experiences or explanations of their fictional preferences. love you and please protect your own peace ❤️ Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

You really didn’t want to cross the street over to Joel’s place, with his dirty truck in the driveway, but your dad insisted that it would be a nice thing to do. You were already washing your own car when you had offered to do your father’s but he had just run through a car wash the day before. He suggested you offer your washing services to your neighbor since his truck clearly needed it. 

Joel was always plenty friendly to your father, but something about the way he looked at you from the moment you turned eighteen a few months ago—and even before, to be honest—made you uneasy. Sometimes his eyes roamed a little too low, and lingered a little too long. His words a little too sweet and his casual brushes a little too deliberate. 

You’re a bit embarrassed to admit that you’d harbored a small crush on the man growing up. He was incredibly handsome and plenty charming in the right context, and when you were thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, his looks and brooding Southern manners were enough to make specific feelings start to stir inside you that you weren’t familiar with previously. He was almost like a fun uncle, teasing you with mirth and pure intentions. Giving you noogies that mussed up your hair and playful shoves when you said something silly. But once you finally started developing properly—your boobs growing bigger, your hips wider, your thighs thicker—the way Joel looked at you started to change. 

A heat existed in his eyes.

And when you were younger, that might have flattered you when all you wanted was to be desired by him. But your changing body had ushered in more than just the physical differences, and you quickly learned the other consequences from boys at school and men on the street. Almost overnight, you began to hate your body and the attention it rendered. Joel was just another casualty of that. He looked at you just like all those other gross, strange men looked at you. The ones who wolf-whistled and cat-called and made your skin crawl. 

Joel made your skin crawl. 

“You’ll be doin’ him a big favor, sweetheart. You know he’s been goin’ through it since his wife left. A little act of kindness goes a long way,” your dad offers, that last line one you’ve heard over and over growing up. Your father, ever the thoughtful, gracious man, always an advocate for helping others out. You didn’t have the heart to tell him why you have no desire to be alone with that man. 

So you gather your courage, plaster on a smile, and haul your sponges, towels, and sudsy bucket of water across the way to Joel’s house. As you work, you count your blessings that Joel has not yet noticed your “random act of kindness” and you’ve been able to complete your task in peace. The nozzle on Joel’s hose causes you some trouble while you attempt to rinse off the suds, resulting in water soaking through your front-tucked oversized white shirt and showcasing your hot pink bikini top underneath. You’re grateful you decided to wear your favorite denim cutoffs over your high-cut cheeky bikini bottoms, otherwise those would be on display as well. 

You’re finishing off your job as hurriedly as you can, toweling off the clean water with a microfiber and leaving it reflecting shiny in the hot Texas sun, when you hear the front door open. You feel your stomach leap into your throat. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here, darlin’?” Joel calls out at you from his porch, a grin on his lips and a thumb tucked in his belt loop. 

You do your best to ignore the way his eyes have locked onto your damp chest, the way your shirt suctions to your skin and your breasts swell over the curve of your bikini top. You gesture to his truck with your towel, wiping at your brow with your other hand. “Clean as a whistle, free of charge. I was just finishing up.”

Joel wrestled his eyes back to your face with an even broader smile. “Well, that’s mighty thoughtful of you, darlin’. Thank you.”

You nod, managing a grimace that you’d chalk up to the bright glare of the sun if he asked, trying not to be overly friendly, but not outright impolite. “Well I should get back, get cleaned up—”

“Nonsense, darlin’,” Joel interrupts, waving a hand towards himself, “Come on in for a glass of lemonade. Just made it fresh today. You must be practically meltin’ in this heat.”

You hesitate, wringing the towel between your hands as you look back at your own house and back to Joel’s ajar front door. You’d never been inside his house before, him always coming over to your house as a guest of your father’s and taking advantage of your large backyard. “It’s getting a little late, I really should—”

“I’m not takin’ no for an answer, sweetheart,” He insists with his smile still intact, making your gut clench at him using the same nickname for you as your father does. His insistence makes you anxious, depriving you entirely of a way out without coming off as rude and ungrateful. 

You chew on your lip before nodding and forcing your feet to move. 

“You can leave the towel outside,” He directs, his eyes refusing to leave you alone. You hadn’t even noticed you were still clinging to it. You drop it unceremoniously on the pavement, flexing your fingers at your sides as your leaden feet drag you forward. As you climb the few stairs up the porch, Joel’s hand finds its way to your lower back, his fingers indenting at your waist. The touch makes you want to yank his hand from your body. 

You faithlessly hope he at least leaves the door open, but he swings it shut as soon as you’re both inside and turns the deadbolt. Joel mutters something about how you can “never be too careful”. The locking sound seems to echo throughout the space ominously—like emptiness resides here. 

He does drop his hand from your hip as he mills his way toward the kitchen, retrieving the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard and pouring one for each of you. 

You nod in thanks as he slides one over to you across the island at the center of his kitchen and you tentatively take a sip. Joel leans on his forearms against the countertop, staring as your lips meet the rim of the glass and down to your neck as you swallow. 

“I sure do appreciate your help with that. Been meanin’ to do it myself for a hot minute, but just haven’t found the time.”

You quietly nod in response, eyes transfixed on the condensation of your glass as it drips onto the granite. “My dad suggested it. Figured it might be nice,” you mutter, wanting to make it clear that it was not your idea, lest he get the impression that you were looking for an excuse to douse yourself with water in his driveway. 

“Well then give him my thanks too.”

“Will do.”

Several moments of silence pass as you finish off your lemonade, noticing that Joel hasn’t even touched his own. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t done a single thing but leer greedily at you since he slid you the beverage. 

“I really should be going,” You squeak out, trying not to sound like you’re rushing, while simultaneously definitely trying to rush. 

“Now hold on a second, sweetheart,” Joel says calmly, rounding the island. He approaches you slowly like he’s attempting not to startle a mouse. He stops in front of you, his hand mere centimeters from where your own rests on the counter. His proximity has you shaking infinitesimally, unable to get a grip on yourself. He hooks a pinky over yours smoothly. You can’t pry your eyes from it, where the two of you connect. “I would love to thank you properly for your kind deed.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as a crooked finger presses under your chin, guiding your head to face him. His eyes on the surface are soft, but you see the depravity buried deeper. Your bottom lip trembles. 

“Would you like that, darlin’?”

“I…I don’t know…” You whisper, feeling the burning prick of tears behind your eyes. You know what’s about to happen. 

Even though you expect it, it still startles you when his lips press against yours, hard and possessive. He mouths roughly at you as you remain frozen, fingertips gripping the counter and eyes clamped shut. 

“You taste just as sweet as I imagined,” Joel sighs, dipping his head down to inhale at your neck. 

You somehow find your voice as his breath travels hotly at your skin. “Joel, I need to go home.”

Joel laughs hollowly against your jawline, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck harshly enough that the pain makes you flinch. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re just getting started here.”

“Please…” You whimper, “Please don’t. Please let me go home.”

“Been thinkin’ about you for a long time now,” He continues, completely ignoring your pleas as he maps your skin with his nose. “Watchin’ that young, beautiful body take shape. Now you’re a full-grown woman. Ready for the touch of a real man. Not them silly boys.”

“Mr. Miller…” You try, maybe jogging some sort of sense into him that you are still a teenager, and he is an actual full-grown adult. However, it seems to do the opposite. 

Joel lets out an unabashed groan. “Fuck, I like that. You want Mr. Miller to touch you like a real man should?”

You start to squirm as both of Joel’s hands start to squeeze and slide up your sides, his tongue wet and slimy on your skin. “I don’t want that, Joel, please…”

“You don’t know what you want, sweetheart. But that’s okay. I’m here to show you.” Joel untucks the hem of your damp shirt and lifts it off, joining your empty glass on the counter. “These beautiful tits. Put on your own little wet t-shirt contest just for me.”

You have no idea what that is, what that means. A single tear escapes as he massages your tits in his hands, scooping them out of the confines of your bikini top and thumbing over your pebbling nipples. 

“Delicious,” he mutters, gliding his mouth over them sloppily and flicking your nipples with his protruding tongue. His fingers fumble to loosen the simple knot at the back of your neck and behind your back until your top tumbles to the floor with a wet thump. 

Your heart rate picks up drastically as he fiddles with the band of your regrettably and inappropriately short cutoffs. Joel must pick up on your increased breathing because he begins stroking at the crease where your thigh meets your crotch, your short curls escaping the thin gusset of your bikini bottoms. You think he means for the motion to be soothing, but it makes you want to claw out of your own skin.  

“You ever had a man touch you here before?”

Your legs shake beneath you as his thumb dips further inside the crotch of your bottoms with each pass. Your brain reels, weighing whether you should be honest or not. The truth is, you’re not a virgin. You lost it two years ago to your first boyfriend. Not life-changing, but a positive experience. But he’s the only one. Never someone older. Never a grown man. 

“Just one,” you whisper. “But he was my age. I don’t think I’m ready for another person yet. For someone older. Please.”

“You’re just nervous, sweetheart. I think you’re plenty ready. Like ridin’ a bike.” His hands fly back to your shorts, popping the button and easing down the zipper. He tugs them down your legs sharply, lifting behind each of your knees and all but forcing you to step out of them before he kicks them aside. 

You whimper pitifully, somehow unable to move, unable to stop this horror from happening. 

Joel handles the ties on your bottoms more deftly than the matching top, sliding the free strands cleanly through the knots. You curse yourself for not double-knotting them, making it all the easier for him to disrobe you. Then again, if he’d struggled, he would have just pulled them straight down anyway. You’re pretty sure he’s just getting off on taking you apart slowly. 

They fall to meet the top piece on the tile floor, and then there you stand, naked and trembling in front of another man for the first time since you’ve become a legal adult. 

Shouldn’t this feel different? Better? You know it’s insane to think that everything changes when you pass from seventeen to eighteen, but that’s how society makes it seem. Suddenly the act of this adult man seeing you naked is no longer a felony. But the way he’s salivating over you makes you feel like it should be. 

“Perfect,” he breathes as his eyes rake dangerously over you from head to toe, his palm grinding aggressively at the huge bulge in his jeans. “So young and soft and fucking perfect.”

Your eyes flick over to the front door and back to him again, and he clocks it. 

“Not a step,” he threatens, his gaze growing dark. “You started this. You’re gonna finish it.”

“I didn’t start anything,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. 

“You knew exactly what you were doin’, you little slut,” Joel growls as his hands start work on his belt. “Standin’ on my property, soakin’ wet, tits and ass fallin’ out your clothes. Just waitin’ for me to notice.”

“I was just—”

“‘F you’re old enough to be flauntin’ a woman’s body, you’re old enough to suffer the consequences.”

“…S…suffer?” 

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Joel says lowly, cradling your face in his hand in a gesture that should be comforting, but instead makes your stomach churn, “I’m gonna make it real good for ya.”

His hand presses strongly on your shoulder, forcing you down onto your knees. You panic at the thought of having to take him in your mouth, knowing that you’re not great at it and dreading him abusing your throat as punishment. You feel strangely relieved when he lowers to his knees himself and guides you onto your back. When you hit the hard tile, it’s unforgiving and cold on your skin. The lack of cushion is brutal against the back of your head, never having realized how heavy your skull is until it’s lying helpless on the floor with the weight of your crowded thoughts. Tears start to leak down your temples and into your hair at the reality of your situation. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Mr. Miller's gonna take good care of ya.” Joel lifts your ankle over his shoulder, tipping his head sideways to kiss the side of your knee. He continues planting kisses down your calf until he reaches your bare foot. He mouths wetly at the sole and up to your big toe, sucking it into his mouth lewdly. You cram your eyelids shut, bile rising in your throat as he feigns to treat you like a lover. He chuckles against your foot, teeth scraping lightly at the side of it. “Shit, I’m not normally one for feet. But yours…so young, so smooth…had to taste.”

He unhooks your leg from him and pushes it flat against the floor, leaving you open and exposed. “Such a pretty pussy,” he muses, running his thumb up your seam and spreading you wider to reveal your clit and your opening. Confusion wraps around your mind as you feel yourself getting wet under his touch. Your body is responding independent of logic and you feel betrayed by it. Maybe you’re overreacting. Maybe you are supposed to like this. 

“Look at this young little cunt glistenin’ for me.” You cringe at the use of the vulgar term. You’ve never had someone call you—or it—that before. It seemed like a taboo word to you. One used for shock value. It feels deeply degrading. You hate it. You never want to hear it again. 

His middle finger strokes up and down your folds almost awkwardly, stopping to circle your clit every few seconds. “Feel good, sweetheart?”

Your lips press together tightly as tears continue to slip out of the corners of your eyes. Emotion burns in the back of your throat. You don’t respond. He doesn’t seem to care. 

The finger stroking you slips inside you easily, lubricated with your involuntary slick. “There’s a good girl. Lettin’ me right in there.” Your nails dig crescents into your palms as you clench. You can’t even feel it. 

“Please just do it,” You find yourself whining, voice thick with your tears. 

Joel laughs, a sound that in any other context would be so innocent, but right now only sounds like pure evil to you. Menacing. “Eager little thing. Knew you wanted this big cock. Bet you’ve been dreamin’ about it every night.”

You hear the clanking of his belt amplified in your ears and the grating tick of each metal tooth on his zipper. He groans in relief as he pulls himself from his pants. You hear him spit into his hand and start to stroke his cock. 

You steel yourself as well as you can, which isn’t much. Your body is already exhausted from clenching and holding your breath periodically, trying to wrench yourself out of this nightmare. 

But the sting of the fat head of his cock stretching open your pussy is no dream. 

You catch a scream in your throat, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. With him taking whatever he wants, you’re keeping from him whatever you possibly can. He doesn’t get your screams. He doesn’t get your involuntary moans. He doesn’t get anything else that he could conceivably mistake as your pleasure. 

He fucks you rough and merciless, the air filled with his loud grunts and the jingling of his loose belt as he thrusts into you without finesse. He lies on top of you fully, looping his arms around your shoulders and burying his face into your neck. His hips snap into you in sharp bursts, panting haggardly with his own efforts. The rough scrape of the fabric and buttons of his flannel sear across your tits and stomach, overwhelming your senses in tandem with his cloying breath creeping along your flesh. 

“Love this young, tight pussy, stretched open so good around me, such a good girl sweetheart,” he babbles, even more incoherent words interspersed with the legible ones. Your nose is overtaken with the scent of stale beer, pine soap, and sweat. It’s suffocating. 

He ruts into you much like you’d imagine a dog ruts into its bitch. Like he’s fueled with unregulated primal drive. If his cock wasn’t so long, he’d probably slip out of you with his haphazard thrusts. But with his solid, unyielding grip around your shoulders, Joel doesn’t waste a single second he has to spend inside your inexplicably wet and welcoming warmth. 

His tongue, feeling slithery and alien, laves against your ear and neck with abandon. The cacophonous echo of his raspy breath in your eardrums tweaking at the only nerves you have left. You just lie there, letting him use you, time passing impossibly slow. Your senses numb after a while, and then time ceases to mean anything at all. 

“This naughty pussy’s gonna make me come, sweetheart,” he groans after what feels like as many years as the age difference between you, filling you up with a few more ungainly thrusts before pulling out with a grotesque squelch. You hear him moan breathily as he jacks his cock with urgency. Warm jets of come splash across your tits and belly with a soundtrack of Joel’s barbaric noises spilling from his lips in the background. 

Joel catches his breath and pats your inner thigh affectionately, then groans with the effort of standing back up after your activities. You hear his knees crack with the movement and him mumbling something about taking you on the couch next time. 

You only dare let your eyes open when you hear a sink running in the background. You look around. Everything looks exactly the same. You have no idea how. 

Joel comes into view, looking down at you with a gentle smile. He’s stuffed himself back into his jeans and righted himself of any proof of what he’s just done. He lowers himself gingerly into a crouch and uses the wet cloth in his hand—your t-shirt, you realize after a moment—to clean the evidence of him off your skin. You’re not sure why he’s trying. He’d have to carve your skin from your bone to even come close to ridding you of this disgusting feeling he’s instilled in you. 

“There we are,” Joel smiles as he finishes up, playfully wiping at your chin and nose for good measure, “Good as new.”

You want to scream at the top of your lungs. You want to cry until you drown in your tears. 

You let him help you up. You let him tie your bikini back in place. You let him guide your legs into your shorts and fasten them. You let him lean in and lick his way into your mouth again. 

You stumble forward, legs resembling jelly as you try to get them to work again. 

“Fucked you so good you can’t walk straight, huh darlin’?” Joel says smugly, helping you towards the door. “Don’t you worry, there’s plenty more where that came from.” He pulls you into his arms, wrapping you tightly and kissing the top of your head. “Anytime.”

Before he opens his door, he fits your soiled shirt over your head with a smirk. “Our little secret, sweetheart. Don’t go tellin’ nobody.”

Your legs carry you across the street of their own accord. You forget about all the car washing supplies sitting in his driveway. 

Your dad is cooking dinner in the kitchen, whistling along with the radio. He cranes his head toward you with a large grin. “All done?”

You nod stiffly. 

“Bet he was sure grateful,” he asserts, returning his attention to the vegetables he’s chopping. 

“Yeah. Extremely,” you whisper hollowly. 

“Why don’t you wash up for dinner, sweetheart.”

This time when the bile rises in your throat, you speed to the bathroom as nonchalantly as possible, divesting the contents of your stomach. 

You drop your head back against the bathroom cabinet as you sit on the floor. Your father has been calling you that ever since you were born. How do you ask him to never call you that again? 

You splash your face with cold water, brush your teeth, plaster on another smile, and help your father finish dinner. 

Part 2

(i'm opting not to tag anyone who requested a general taglist on this one just because it's such triggering content and different from what I've written previously, but if you are ok with being tagged in content like this in the future, please let me know!)

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow@atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

Visit here for instructions on how to get a tab just for the blogs you’ve subscribed to at the top of your tumblr page!

[nolita-fairytale]

Meeting Pastry Chef Luca from The Bear For the First Time Headcanon

a/n: inspired by @superhoeva, i thought i'd take a crack at writing a chef luca headcanon because we're all dying rn for will poulter as a sticker-sleeve tattooed chef. would anyone read this as a fic?? let me know.

edit: (7/3/23) i turned this into a fic called 'burn your life down.' feel free to read if you'd like!

you own a small restaurant in copenhagen. it's only been open for a year (this could potentially change if i write said fic). it's nothing fancy, but the food has soul. the food is an extension of yourself -- it tells the story of you.

inspired by noma, you grow some of your own produce outside of the restaurant in raised garden beds.

you begin to notice (as it's an open kitchen) and a smaller spot, that a tall, blonde brit has become one of your regulars. he comes in the same day each week at the same time. he always looks tired, like he's unwinding from a long day's worth of hard work, but he's always kind to your staff, and he has a quiet, powerful confidence to him.

week after week, he's there. he always orders one dish and one glass of wine, before paying the bill and leaving for the evening without a word.

your staff speculate about him: who is he, what must he do, that he's so handsome that he must have a partner. you don't pay much attention to the gossip, but it's hard not to notice that it's become part of his routine.

he always orders something different -- eager to try any new kind of special that you have on the menu that day.

it's not till one slower night of service that you finally meet him. you're short staffed that night and so you end up running plates out to tables -- finding it a great opportunity to connect more with your diners on a personal level. it's a very american hospitality concept, but since you have the time, you figure, why not?

he comes in at his usual time on sunday evening and you're curious to learn more about your weekly diner. you introduce yourself after walking his plate out and he's surprised that it's you who's serving him this evening.

"you're the chef?" he asks. "yes." "i can't think of the last time i saw a head chef work front of house..." he shakes his head in disbelief. "we're a little short staffed tonight." he seems impressed, raising his glass of wine to you. "cheers."

at the end of dinner service, one of your servers hands you a handwritten note that luca's left for you, inviting you to the restaurant he works at. the note reads: "thank you for all of the great meals. i'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it," followed by a time, a date for tomorrow, and an address.

as soon as you realize which restaurant it is (much fancier, michelin starred, held in high regard) you only panic a little, but decide to go anyways. since both of your restaurants are closed on monday, you're even more nervous about the fact that you're meeting him at his tonight, while it's closed, considering you've barely had a conversation with him and how intimidating of a reputation the restaurant has.

he greets you at the door, right on time, and he leads you past the closed dining room, back to the kitchen where he's created a few dishes for you to try: two from his regular menu and one inspired by a dish of yours he's had.

"all of this... you did all of this for me... why?" you muster up the courage to ask. "your food is inspired and i don't think i've had something this inspired in a long time. and as chefs, this is what we do. we feed each other." and it's the beginning of, you're not quite sure what, but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!childhood-Friend!Fae x F!reader

You grew up with a mysterious but kind friend, but when you learn the truth about him you become distant from fear that the stories about his kind are true. Despite this you still loved him and gathered up courage to see him one last time before you left town. Did you really think he’d let you leave again? Fae are know to abduct humans to be servants, entertainment or even lovers.

Use of y/n

You grew up on the edge of a small town, in a house with little garden space, enough for a small bed of vegetables and some pretty flowers. However there was plenty of wild land stretching till the next town over, most of it a forest with healthy oak trees and soft mossy ground. Some land was a meadow that always seemed to be glow with a golden hue and and sprout the most beautiful flowers and large daisies even on the gloomy days. Other bits of land had desire paths stomped into the ground, some by your own doing and some by strangers, there was a creek that ran through the town and into the forest then over to the next town. You liked to sit there as a child with the daisies from the meadow and make daisy chains and to fashion into jewellery and crowns.

Your parents though you were a unusually quiet child, never really playing with other kids to long not because of a fault on yours or theirs part; were just happily reserved. So they didn’t bother you to much, believing you were just a thinker who enjoys their own pace, maybe you could grow to be a great poet. However while some of that true you were quieter for other reasons.

You were content with with the friend you had already, you understood early on that one close friend is better than all the friend in the world (maybe with slight persuasion of the friend). You in fact wasn’t slinking out the back door to the forest, promising you’d be home before tea time, to be alone but instead to meet your woodland friend.

You never connected the dots that the friend that you had grown up with was far from human until you began to read more widely, therefore learning about old tales and creatures like werewolf’s, witches and... fae ? Fae that sounded eerily similar to the now young teen in the forest, small horns that will sometimes poke from his hair that you shrugged off to be knotty hair or odd lighting, or the sharp black nails you’d assumed to be a odd fashion statement, or the odd colour of his eyes that you didn’t know was possible but blamed good genetics.

You freaked out a bit when you first realised that this boy wasn’t just a boy from the neighbouring town who enjoyed the forest but rather a fae who are usually depicted as evil, cunning and unpredictable. Maybe the stories are dramatic or just false, he’d never lay a rough hand on you before, rather he��d gently wind together plants and branches with your daisy chain to make you a more extravagant crown, and when he’d gently coax you over the creek holding your hand telling you what rocks to step on, or rub certain leaves on your cuts carefully that ease the pain almost crying himself from seeing you tear up.

You found it hard to believe he was anything like the stories, so after a few days to process the possibility you set out to meet him again. Hopeful that you were over exaggerating and he was just a human boy.

...

Fiddling with the hem of your shirt you walked deeper into the woods following the desire path you and your friend had made through the years, reaching the creek you stepped on the rocks he had guided you over and met the muddy bank on the other side with a squelch as your boots sunk a bit. You watched your footing as you trudged back onto the dry mossy ground, having made the clumsy mistake of falling into the mud many times before, you missed the boy dropping what he was doing and jumping down from a tree before rushing to you.

“Where were you?” The boy sighs frustrated, you jolted on edge from the sudden intrusion but relaxed when you saw it was just him. Although he looked angry as he stomped closer you could understand why “I’m sorry, I was just a bit busy” you chewed your lip, annoyed you hadn’t come up with a better excuse “I’m here now though” you said more like a question and forced a smiled, searching his face for forgiveness.

His eyes softened and a toothy grin crept onto his face “you’re excused” he half joked and your shoulders relaxed fully and almost forgot why you were here when he slipped his hand into yours. Looking down at your fingers intertwined with his soft fingers with talon like nails at the end you couldn’t hide the was your face dropped, he luckily wasn’t looking but rather guiding you to the meadow.

Walking beside him you were as silent as a church mouse, even treading carefully on the forest floor. You couldn’t help but be fearful of what he might be, taking a quiet breath you decided to walk along side him instead of being dragged behind. Now beside him you tried looking at his hair hoping you had made this all up in you’re head, but you saw no horns. Maybe you had just been dramatic so you tried to enjoy the walk with peace of mind.

Finally reaching the meadow you both collapsed into some taller grass that would make a padded place to lay, laying side by your side he talked about his week while looking up at the clouds and occasional butterflies. His parents always sounded strict and unloving, his brother sounded cruel and he had no friends from what you heard, maybe one day he could come for tea ‘mom would love him and maybe that would make him happier’ you thought; feeling guilty you had such a idillic live and him not so much.

Turning your head to face his with a sad smile as he ranted wanting to emphasise or comfort somehow but you found yourself become chocked up, he turned his head to and saw your sour face “but never mind that, I’m here with you and the forest that’s what makes me the most happy”. You however weren’t comforted not even hearing his attempt of lighting the mood, no you were sickly unsettled for another reason. Small but sharp horns that glimmered under the sun, now exposed slightly as his black curls fell oddly when he turned his head uncovering all the evidence you needed.

You jolted up so fast from the grass that your hair ribbon that wrapped around your head keeping stray stands from you face had unraveled from its lovingly tied bow and fell to the grass, the wind began picking up and everything around you became chaotic with the sound of the trees groaning and leaves shaking violently you stumbled back away from the grass that tickled your legs, every piece of grass now feeling like needles. He jumped to his feet just as fast or maybe quicker and grabbed your arm “what is it? Are you okay?” He pushed the hair from your face and tried pulling you closer, there they were again, the horns exposed from the wind. He saw you looking at them and his face dropped his mouth opened to protest but you didn’t give him a chance as you ripped your wrist from his hand and began running for the forest.

He followed closely yelling for you to come back, it started desperate then became frantic before turning demanding , you could have sworn the woods were becoming darker and branches were reaching to trip you. However you got to the creek and ran straight through instead of minding the stepping stones, it’s reached your knees but splashed higher. Climbing the muddy bank with your hands before you became steady enough to climb the rest on your feet you glanced back seeing him run up to the creek and stand there as you ran further away. You never saw him look so angry, fully convinced he was a malicious fae like the ones from the book you ran all the way home.

...

It might have been slightly naive to believe that he would still be in the woods after all these years but you needed closure, needed to walk through the woods and see there was never any threat, that afternoon you had accused a harmless boy of being something he’s not, something that didn’t exist, and the woods hadn’t grown a conscience and tried to trip you and consume you or left a story book monster decide your fate. You wanted to remember this place for what it was, a wild but joyful escape from ordinary life.

Memories change and you believed whole heartedly that everything you experienced that last afternoon in this place was all childish imagination from reading to many books. So it did come as a disturbing realisation as you faced a young man, probably your age with curly dark hair, bright unnatural eyes and shiny dark but sharp winding horns. “It’s okay y/n, just come here for me okay? Then I’ll explain it all to you” he spoke softly just like he used to when attempting to soothe your scrapes. He stood tall with a hand outstretched persuading you to cross the creek and for some reason you couldn’t take another step back but only forwards, it was like you were in a trance like state but still partially conscious.

Maybe if you and done your research, and learned that giving your name to a fae means bad news, you might have had a clue as to what was happing as to why you were compelled to cross the water and let him pull you into a desperate and crushing hug “it’s okay now my love, I’ll never let you leave like I foolishly had before, I’m so sorry” he pulled back a bit to hold your cold cheeks and look into your terrified eyes, his eyes softened from their frantic state as he pushed the stray stands from your face.

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a ribbon, no it was your ribbon the one that unraveled from your hair as you fled the forest. He wrapped it under your hair and around your head, keeping your hair from your face he kissed your forehead. Had he been here the whole time waiting for you with your old flimsy ribbon? “We’re going to go home now okay?” He spoke slow and condescendingly, holding your face to look him in the eyes. You nodded slightly but stopped when you noticed the subconscious action, he was however satisfied with that and began dragging you into the woods with a hand in yours.

He had only walked about a minute before he heard your sobbing, turning quickly he saw your reluctance in your eyes and your mumbled pleas, but as much as his heart broke seeing you so upset he refused to let you out of the trance he had over you and risk you leaving for good. Instead he slowly picked you up and held you close encouraging you to hide your face from the cold bite of winter and cry into his shoulder.

He continued walking deeper into the woods without regret, he would have taken you kicking and screaming over his shoulder if he had to. Just this way he can rub your back, talk to you calmly and comfortably walk through the entryway to the world where most fae beings reside to take you to his home.

[st4rtar0t]

Random Uplifting messages for you

Pick a picture

Please DM for person readings

This is a general reading so only take what resonates.

Picture one

You are capable of achieving incredible things.

Your resilience is inspiring.

Don't be afraid to dream big; you have the talent to achieve it.

Embrace challenges; they make you stronger and wiser.

Your kindness makes the world a better place.

Believe in yourself, and others will too.

Your journey matters; every step is a victory.

Life may be tough, but so are you.

Your smile is contagious; keep spreading positivity.

You are not alone; your friends are here for you.

Each day is a new opportunity; make the most of it.

Your uniqueness is your superpower; celebrate it.

Don't underestimate your impact on others' lives.

Your potential is limitless; never stop exploring it.

Remember, progress, not perfection, is what counts.

Your efforts never go unnoticed; keep shining.

Mistakes are lessons in disguise; learn and grow.

Your courage inspires others to be brave too.

In every setback, there's a setup for a comeback.

Your heart is pure gold; cherish your compassionate nature

Picture 2

Every storm runs out of rain; brighter days are ahead.

You are stronger than you think; keep pushing forward.

Your positive attitude is your greatest asset.

Challenges are opportunities for growth; embrace them.

Your determination knows no bounds; keep going.

Life's hurdles are stepping stones to success; keep climbing.

Your presence brings light into the lives of others.

Stay focused on your goals; you are unstoppable.

Your energy is infectious; keep spreading the joy.

Believe in the beauty of your dreams; they will come true.

Your perspective is valuable; never hesitate to share it.

You have the power to change the world; start with kindness.

Your passion drives you; let it lead you to greatness.

Remember, even the longest journey begins with a single step.

Your creativity knows no bounds; let it flow freely.

Life is a canvas, and you're the artist; paint it vibrant.

Your laughter is music to our ears; never stop singing.

You are a beacon of hope; keep shining your light.

Your friendship is a treasure; cherish the bond we share.

Every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day.

Picture 3

Your spirit is unbreakable; keep soaring high.

Believe in miracles; you are one waiting to happen.

Your generosity knows no limits; keep giving from the heart.

Life's challenges are like a puzzle; you'll find the missing pieces.

Your humility is your strength; stay grounded and keep rising.

Remember, the best is yet to come; keep the faith.

Your wisdom is profound; keep sharing your insights.

You are a masterpiece in progress; embrace your journey.

Your love and kindness create ripples of positivity.

Every setback is a setup for a comeback; keep fighting.

Your enthusiasm is contagious; keep inspiring us all.

Believe in the power of small steps; they lead to significant changes.

Your friendship is a gift; thank you for being you.

You have a heart of gold; keep spreading the warmth.

Remember, life is what you make it; create something amazing.

Your dreams are the blueprints of your future; chase them fearlessly.

Your determination fuels your success; keep the fire burning.

Believe in the magic of new beginnings; they hold endless possibilities.

Your presence is a present to the world; keep shining bright.

Remember, you are loved, valued, and cherished; never forget your worth.

[overtaken-stream]

What's your opinion on Katakuri being a dad ^-^, ik he doesnt pull out

Father!Katakuri headcanons

This is all my brain can come up with. It's a bit short, and I'm not satisfied with this, I feel like I could have added more, thus this has been collecting dust in my drafts. I hope you like it anon.

Warnings: End of Wano spoilers, this is meant for F!Reader.

I imagine he had children after Big Mom passed. Or a few years before she died, and of course, the marriage was arranged once Big Mom realized that she might just be left without any offspring from her third child.

And as much as I'd like to get lost in Father Katakuri, I can not ignore the warning signs this road presents.

The man doesn't see his children often enough. He always wanted to spend time with his family, but in this job, that isn't possible. Big Mom often holds his family over his head, making empty promises about him having a week off to help take care of the children, only to call him back before the sun rises on the fourth day. He had the courage to ask her for more time at the beginning, or to not disturb him during that single week where he spends time in metaphorical paradise with kids whom he loves and his partner whom he tries to shower with affection. He asked that of her once and when Big Mom does not deliver, Katakuri learns to cope with the dissatisfaction, it's a song he has heard of all his life, he knows every word and note that plays, he wants nothing more than to stop listening so that his kids don't step away from him again. It's impossible, and he comes to terms that he won't have that fatherly privilege. He feels like a stranger around the kids. No amount of comfort will be able to hide the truth.

It isn't the first time Big Mom pushed away a father from his biological children.

Although his time with his kids is short, it's always full of adorable moments, Katakuri is trying very hard to be a father even with his mother standing in his way.

I see Katakuri as a father of 3. Two girls and one boy, who is the youngest.

The man loves sweets, donuts, chocolate bars, cinnamon buns, and all, so he will be DEVASTATED if one of his kids isn't a big fan of sweets. He'll try to make them change their mind, maybe persuading them to eat a different kind of dessert, but once it becomes clear that they aren't into it, he accepts the fact with great pain, since he cannot share the simple pleasure of eating sugar with his child.

Katakuri often can't get his emotions across to others, including his siblings, but with his children, he tries, he really tries. This can be seen in spending quick yet platonically intimate moments with them alone and making small talk that he isn't a big fan of.

He also hopes that when the children grow up, there won't be any distance between them, it's basically a death sentence for him.

The moment Big Mom dies, Katakuri is finally able to keep his promise to his family and breathe with no one holding his leash.

I also think of him as a laid-back father who's strict when needed. His behavior is the result of countless years he spent mulling over his future family and what type of parent he would be. So this led to him walking on metaphorical eggshels that he imagined every time he got close to his children. Which they definitely took for granted.

Katakuri is very careful with his children because of it, I'd say that he is so scared that the kids would build a wall and be mad at him for not spending enough time with them that the man unconsciously started constructing the said wall.

[alistairsmonstercafe]

SFW Dragon of the East

NOTICE GN Lung Dragon / Eastern Dragon Hybrid Reader

CHARACTER Price X Reader

ADDITIONAL I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr & @/thegnomelord

NOTE I have tried my best to include many traditional aspects of the lung dragon in my own way, and will take any criticism if its not up to date to the history of the actual, lung dragon/chinese dragon culture, although I am asian, input is always perfect.

In the midst of the bustling 141 headquarters, you, had been their newest recruit. A Lung dragon—a different kind of dragon from his European heritage, Price noticed. And whilst there was quite the fascination of a different yet similar species, he couldn't help but find himself intrigued yet lucky. There was something about your calm demeanor and patience that caught Price's attention.

In most cases, dragons are considered fierce, strong, quick, easy to anger, and anything that isn't patient. And yet there you sat, your long, seemingly unscathed scales and beautifully fluffy tail laid lazily across your lap as you spoke to Soap. Not an ounce of anger or aggression to someone so close to you as the usual European dragon would be when first meeting new people.

Curiosity sparked, Price observed you, trying to understand your customs and ways, which seemed a bit different from what Price was used to. You had a knack for being seemingly the most grounded. You words flowed like water and your advice seemed endless. You didn't seem rookie, either, and he wondered for how long you had roamed the earth for, and your presence exuded a sense of tranquility, much like the calm after a rain shower.

Acknowledging their differences, Price aimed to show you his strengths—leadership, courage, and wisdom earned from experience as a way of perhaps, courting you. Testing you, seeing if you would rise to the challenge. He respected your background, trying to learn about the values and traditions that shaped the Lung dragon's approach to life.

Yet in your interactions, Price was surprised when you didnt go against anything he'd bring up to you, opting for agreeing and even adding to his plans, he was left dumbfounded, leaving him as he subtly expressed his admiration for your dedication to the team. While their cultural backgrounds differed, there was a mutual respect growing between them.

Ghost could only watch from a distance a smirk on his lips beneath his balaclava at the way Price's scales would shift as he spoke to you, the way he'd try to puff out his chest a little or even stretch his wings to prove the size of them.

Around the first month, Price noticed your fascination with pearls, large, almost black shiny pearls, he subtly tried to engage in your shared interest, albeit in his own way. He occasionally brought his jewels or rare treasures from his hoard in his office. Almost hoping you might reciprocate or rise to the occasion. When asked, you had called it a "Flaming pearl." Leaving him confused. Had you of blown flame into it? Was it something that was often kept warm? Yet your soft chuckle left him once again, in the dark.

His attempts at courting had backfired in a way, revealing your calm demeanor and willingness to foster understanding rather than competition.

Little had he knew that his attempts were seen by you more then he would have thought. Only smiling at his little attempts.

Slowly, Price began to realize that your approach to courting wasn't about winning or being superior but about mutual respect and cooperation. It dawned on him that your patience and willingness to aid him were gestures of camaraderie and a desire to build a connection rather than engage in a contest would be better. So he went for something softer. After all dragons could he as delicate or as rough as they wanted to.

The way your scales in certain parts would glow, to the way you formed clouds from your breath rather then breathed fire, the way you disappeared into water as if you were, water, made you all the more interesting. Watching even as you sparred, against someone like Soap, your fluid and quick movement, kept you from being hit easily.

In this realization, Price's approach to courting shifted. He began to appreciate your supportive nature, understanding that their connection wasn't about outdoing each other but about nurturing a bond that thrived on mutual respect and understanding, something that be was well familiar with.

Little did he know, that you wanted to court him back, a collection of finely polished pearls from the ocean had been building up in a glass case. Wrapped in a strong, seaweed bow.

The day you had given it to him was during a beach day with the 141, you were all having a late night barbecue. And you had given the case to him, the moonlight illuminating your figure and the warm fire lit up your face. You scales glowing in an intricate pattern. Soft and slow.

He accepted the gift, marveling at the beautifully, perfect yet imperfect pearls.

"Your actions aren't as hidden as you think." You joke, gently cupping his face, you feel his cheek warm up like a blaze, watching as Price turned to the side and coughed out a few puffs of smoke in embarrassment.

You were bad for his health, thats for sure. But with all the cigarettes hes used as a substitute for flame? He'd take you over any kind of drug.

[justpoliteconversations]

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 4)

Link learns some things. And so do you.

Yet another for the ever growing pile of self-indulgent garbage refuse. Enjoy the process of decomposition with me for a while.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

The yiga. A faction of Ganon worshipping traitors formerly of the Sheikah clan, whose main objective is to kill the Hero known as Link (in other words, himself). Known for their distinctive red body suits and white masks. And, strangely enough, their love of bananas.

They were also currently at the very top of Link's (until recently non-existent) shit list, because AM had deemed their threat level too great to allow them to meet each other freely. As Blue had told him, AM's profession placed them at greater danger than the average citizen to the assassins' blades. What that profession was, Link was not told (despite his pleading and intense stares and even one memorable attempt to bargain for the information), but it was deemed necessary to maintain distance because of this.

There were plenty of other useful things in the book too. Not a letter or a note or even a small bundle of documents. A book. An honest to Goddess book. Because there was nothing else the ridiculously thick, neatly piled collection of leather bound miscellaneous papers, maps, diagrams, notes and documents could be. It was the thickness of Link's hand for goodness sakes.

Thankfully, Blue had taken mercy on him (and his desire to get moving as soon as possible) and bookmarked the pages and maps that would be most useful to him. All while giving him that bland, graceful smile of hers and explaining that AM was a very proactive information gatherer, but that they didn't always consider that not everyone wanted to know the exact region Sneaky snails bred in or where the highest priced wheat could be found.

Link very deliberately didn't tell her that he did, in fact, find those very interesting topics to learn about (and that he would be reading through the entire book when he got the chance. later). Because he was still stung that she'd given him a condescending little smile (smirk, it was a damned smirk and Link knew it) when he'd tried to bargain with her for more information on AM.

In total, he'd spent three days in Hateno, gathering information (as though the book wasn't enough), gathering supplies (because as many as were in the slate, it didn't have everything a warrior would need to maintain his gear. Blue's words, not his) and getting to know the people around the area.

Also, armor. Costume fitted (Link didn't think too hard about how Blue had gotten his measurements) as to AM's specifications before they'd left town. The order arrived a little later due to his (apparently) small size causing complications with some of the straps.

Honestly, it felt good. It felt familiar with a hazy kind of comfort that spoke of his body's remembrance of such armor resting upon it often. And suddenly, in that moment, the thought that he had once been a knight didn't feel so far off, despite having no memory of it and very little desire to become as such again.

Ready to go (finally) he put on his boots, tightened the straps of his new (fitted. maybe he'd see about getting his Sheikah armor fitted as well if he was in the area) hyrulian armor set, and took one last shot before departing.

"Where can I get more bananas?" Link tried, going for casual but coming off far too intense for it to be anything but prying. "For the Yiga problem."

Blue just smiled (small and condescending, and so frustrating) before replying evenly. "AM has that well in hand I'd imagine." The knowing glint in Blue's eyes put a pout on Link's face. "It's best you focus on your mission, Courageous One." Then she smiled genuinely. Just a bit, but enough to ease Link's heart as she continued. "Fear naught for your beloved AM. No harm shall befall them while my sister haunts their shadow."

Link believed her. And with that little bit of reassurance, the Hero of Hyrule set out into the world once more. With courage in his heart and his goal ever at the forefront of his mind.

Defeat the Calamity guy. Meet AM. Travel this vast, wondrous world with them for the rest of their days. Or, maybe one day settle down more permanently in Hateno and open a food stand.

Anywhere life took them. Whatever you wanted. This was the beginning of his new life after all, and he was so eager to spend it with you.

---

You stared up at the quickly growing pile of bright yellow fruit with something like regret stabbing at your heart. Just thinking about how much rupees you were about to drop on this one purchase alone was enough to put a hitch in your throat. It was enough to have you contemplating a long walk off that equally long (absurdly long) wooden bridge just next to the stable.

When you'd stopped at Lakeside Stable for the night and told Adino you'd pay him market price for any bananas he brought back to you before you left. You hadn't expected him to take that as a challenge. You hadn't expected Skims to get involved in it as well. And you most certainly had not expected Red to show up out of nowhere with a pile rivaling (and maybe even surpassing) Adino's.

And thus, within the span of a few short hours, you were suddenly several thousand rupees poorer (not that that pantry amount even scratched the surface of your accumulated wealth, but you digress) and many, many bananas richer.

At least they tasted good.

"Not that I'm against your presence. But why are you here, Red?" You asked the red clad woman after (with a heavy heart) passing out everyone's pay for the bananas they'd brought you. (Skims and Red didn't even have the grace to look ashamed for muscling in on the quick profit either, the jerks.)

She didn't even pause from where she'd been fingering through her newly acquired (ill gotten) gains when she hummed playfully. "Oh. Gran thought it'd be wise to send along a little extra protection to ensure The Hero's benefactor remained unmolested during these most crucial of times."

The look on your face must have been confused enough to spur Red to explain. "Gran told us to keep you in the dark about our motivations, but I like you. So I'll tell you the truth, since you seem like the reasonable sort." She finally put the rupees down and turned to face you, eyes hardening into a serious shade of near black as she explained.

"The Hero is without his memory, and until recently, was without motivation to see his mission through with the urgency it requires. Had he been as he was before, just the mention of the Princess would have been enough to send the guy running, if you believe the rambling of nostalgic old gossip crows." Her lips twisted into something too complicated to decipher before it was neutral again.

"But he's not the man he used to be. He's not the princess's knight anymore for all his destiny would push him to be. And so, he needed a new motivation to get him moving." She gave you a smile, but it wasn't a nice one (it was one full of spite and pity, though only the pitying part was directed at you). "That's you. The guy loves you already. Call it situational stockholm or just that damned knightly instincts of his, but you are the apple of his eye." She tried to soften her smile into something humorous, but it fell short.

"Bottom line. You're the replacement motivation. Just until he gets enough of his memories back to get invested in the Princess' wellbeing." She flicked a rupee off the stump she'd gathered them on, expression very closed off as she continued.

"Whenever Mr. hero gets a little too comfortable playing house, we're supposed to dangle you in his face and get him interested again. That you seem invested in his success was just a bonus. Be it the Will of Hylia or just simple coincidence, doesn't matter. You're useful, and if it gets the Princess out of that Hell, we're willing to use that."

Another smile, sharp but honest. "It's our duty after all, to serve the royal family. I'm sure you understand." Despite the way the information settled sourly in your stomach you nodded, keeping your expression as even as possible.

She noticed though, and suddenly her hand was on yours (you hadn't noticed it tightening into a fist). "Don't fret, Apples." She smiled again, softer this time. Eyes lighted with a compassion that held such raw honesty despite her earlier words. "My sister and I are not going to let the elders use you like that. You might have asked yourself why Bluey isn't here instead, since, you know-" She smirked, side-eyeing Adino who'd gone some distance off to try to find more bananas (to take more of your rupees, the little bastard).

"We will fulfill our duties. For the protection of Hyrule and everything we love. But not at your's or your dear Hero's expense. At least, not like that. You see, Bluey has something I do not, and that is a gentle touch. She'll take care of the Hero in the way he needs, not the way that'll get the fastest results." Her smirk widened. "And she's got more of a rebellious streak than me too. Trust in her. She'll protect your dear Hero. Even if she has to spit in the elders' eyes to do it. She never could put her heart aside for the sake of duty."

You were silent for a time, digesting her words with the weight and attention they deserved, before looking back to her. A smile on your lips, and your hand out before her in the gesture of a shake.

"I look forward to doing business with you then, Red." You began, letting the edge of your resolve sharpen your eyes and embolden your words. "Let's do our best to protect Link and save Zelda. We'll give it everything we've got."

Red grinned, full and bright and smug (so unbearably smug, like she had won the lottery. which they didn't have here, and you were not interested in introducing any time soon either). "I knew you were gonna understand. The Goddess wouldn't choose just anyone to guard her chosen's heart."

You blinked. "What?"

Red picked up another rupee, flicking it at you. "What~?"

---

Now, off to work! And then the shadows to rest.

[familyfriendlydilfartist]

Bedtime (Short)

Synopsis; you can’t fall asleep so you seek comfort.

Warnings; None

One thing everyone in camp knew was Astarion enjoyed reading. They would always catch him with his nose in a book, crimson eyes taking in every word moving slowly from the top to the bottom of the page. Astarion often held onto the books he found when looting crates and shelves during your adventures.

It was midnight and everyone was getting ready to settle down for the night. Shadowheart sat In her tent unbraiding her hair and then running a brush through her raven strands before finally heading to bed. Lae’zel sharpened the last of her weapons, a ritual she refuses to neglect. Gale lay in his tent attempting to fall asleep as he used magic to mimic rainfall white noise. Everyone else slept soundly in their tent, or so you assumed.

Well, everyone except yourself. Tonight you lacked the capacity of falling into a deep slumber.

You were kind of like Scratch. At times Scratch couldn’t sleep, too hyper to even lie down. Halsin calls this zoomies so maybe you had zoomies as well.

You lie in your own tent staring at the roof. Gods how you wish dawn would arrive sooner. You huffed sitting up, you couldn’t lie in this uncomfortable tent for much longer, it was driving you crazy. You carefully peer out from the flaps of your tent. You observed the outside. Everyone was asleep, except for one. Astarion. A warm light illuminated his red tent, outlining his shadow. He lay in his tent, with what you could tell was a heavy book.

Astarion and you shared...well could you even call it a relationship? You slept together once or twice and Astarion enjoyed flirting with you but it didn’t seem like he wanted anything more. Whenever you slept together it seemed like he wasn’t entirely there. The only time he truly took satisfaction in the act is if he was allowed a bite from your neck. You it saddened you, to say the least. You really liked Astarion, not just for his stunning look but for his charming character as a whole. However, if all he wanted was to have a fling then so be it. That wouldn’t stop you from being his good friend though.

You slowly crawled from your tent and then tiptoed over to Astarion’s tent. You weren’t hoping to surprise Astarion; his heightened senses wouldn’t allow you the luxury. Your quietness was in favor of Shadowheart and Lae’zel, two people who would stir awake at the slightest snore. Astarion had his eyes on you already, waiting for you to call out to him first.

“Astarion,” you whisper, “It’s me.”

“I could tell.” He states matter of factly, turing the page of his novel. “Whatever is the matter?”

You lower yourself to the tent opening, pushing a flap aside. “I can’t sleep, could I hang out with you?” Astarion stares at you with an unimpressed look. “Please?” you pester.

“I guess so, besides who am I to deny you the pleasure.” Astarion sighs like a bothered mother giving in to her child’s request. You grin and immediately crawl inside. You sit beside him with a silly smile on your lips. There's a silence for a moment, you trying to gain the courage to ask him questions while he read to himself.

“Whatever you want to ask go ahead, the more eager you grow to ask, the more it’ll bother me.” Astarion lowers his novel. The slightly bothered expression he wears provokes an uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. You shyly mess with your nails. “Oh, well, I was just wondering what you were reading.”

“A novel about a boy venturing into vampire territory and what he has learned about my species. His assumptions are quite laughable.” Astarion’s pale pink lips quirk into a brief smile and a small laugh falls from them. “Here he states,” Astarion changes his voice into a mocking one, “One of the known weaknesses to a Vampire is garlic. Garlic will frighten a vampire, so always wear some on your neck to scare them away.”

You giggle too, “I’ve heard that one before. To be honest, I assumed you’d be scared of garlic as well because all the other tales of vampire’s weaknesses were debunked as true by you.”

Astarion shakes his head, “No, darling. It is simply the scent. Truly odorous. And if garlic were truly a weakness of vampires then Gale’s breath after dinner would be my demise.”

You both share a laugh then the silence returns.

“...Could you read to me?” you ask out of the blue. After the moment shared between the two of you before, you had hoped the question wouldn’t be answered too harshly. “-I mean, I like stories too but my mind often drifts from the pages. I prefer being read to than reading it myself and you have the perfect voice.”

Astarion contemplates for a second, observing you as he does. He taps his bed, “Fine.” You do as instructed, tugging the blanket until you’re all warm and cozy. Once you’re settled in Astarion starts on the page he stopped on. His voice is soft and relaxing. As the night goes on you finally fall into a deep slumber.

[openconceptpanicroom]

Imagine being Nanami’s first crush

Nanami Kento x Upperclassman!reader

Note: Reader is 1-2 years older. Fluff, pining, Private Simp reporting for duty.

Nanami was never one to believe in fate, or “love-at-first-sight.” He certainly didn’t think about romance either. Not here. He came to this school to better hone his skills as a sorcerer. Even as a first-year, Nanami was grounded and practical. And then he got lost on his first day. That was how he met you. Just a simple conversation where you, the pretty upperclassman, pointed to his homeroom and wished him luck. Nanami couldn’t pinpoint why, but just that quick chat had him.

You were beautiful. A bit clumsy, a bit too chatty, and rather oblivious at times… but kind. Most underclassmen liked you, you were one of the few that actually helped them. You didn’t come from a powerful family but you didn’t have a chip on your shoulder about it. All that mattered to you was making the world a better place. Not upholding some bloodline or proving your own might. Nanami fell hard for that sort of ethic. Not that he heard it from you yourself. He got far too nervous to approach you. The first-year just got into the habit of listening hard if he heard your name in passing.

He saw you off and on, falling harder every time. Catching glimpses of you training with the other third-years. Your form immaculate and focus perfect. You see him, and smile as you wave. His throat feels dry and he rushes off. There were times where you two did chat, briefly. Over time, he started to hang around you more. Normally to study or train. Totally not to learn more about you and admire the way your eyes shined as you smiled. Nanami was always respectful. Only ever referring to you as your surname followed by “senpai.”

You just thought your kohai was adorable. He was always so straight-laced and serious. All you ever wanted to do was make him laugh. Leaning close to tell him a joke or tease that he would get wrinkles if he frowned so much. You also liked to invite him to hang out after school, just to go walk around the city. Do “normal people things,” like you saw on TV. His face would redden and he’d stammer out that you shouldn’t be so casual. You were, again, oblivious to how he felt.

Nanami thought he hid his growing infatuation well. Until his fellow classmates brought up how he always had something to add if your name was brought up. Or how he started to bring larger lunches in case you forgot yours (you forgot your bento once and he shared his food, to which you praised his cooking… his face was red for most of the day.) Or how he would linger by spots you tended to hang around. He had almost worked up the courage to confess his feelings when another boy said: “Man, pretty ballsy of you to crush on Gojo Satoru’s girlfriend!”

[noctivague]

PAC: What do you bring to the world?

Today I wanted to make an uplifting personality reading focusing on the positive things you personally bring to the world as well as your strengths and qualities.

I will also finish with an advice on how to share it or share it better with the world, depending on the pile.

Note: I always write down the cards I draw. a "+" indicates that these cards go together; a "/" shows as change of row/question.

Focus on the 4 pictures, pick the one that draws you in the most and go to your pile. It's possible that more than one pile resonates. This is a general reading meant for multiple people so not everything will resonates.

Always open to feedback :)

PILE 1

Cards: The Shadow + the Temple + 9 of Pentacles / The Great Goddess + Truth + Acceptance / Navigating by the Stars: Follow your bliss + Growing Pains

You are someone with a great understanding of the shadowier aspects of the mind, which doesn't only stop to an understanding of your own, but extend to the human psyche as well. You are not only in-tune with what most people don't want to see or accept, which requires courage and resilience, but you are also able to make flowers blossom from the dirt, so to speak.

You are in tune with your inner voice and live in abundance of all the lessons you've learned on your path. I see all these events you've been through and all the effort you've put into learning from them and growing as a human. They are like little pockets of truth you've collected throughout the years, little nuggets of gold that make your soul rich.

You anchor that into reality, making a temple out of what you've learned through pain about yourself and the world, and draw a lot of strength that others can feel without even knowing your past.

It's like, by going through your own personal hell, you've managed to shine bright and light up those around you.

Perhaps some of you are advisors or speaker of some kind who actively help others, and for some of you, it shows up in conversations with people you meet.

And your strengths and qualities reflect that! You are someone who is able to transcend whatever struggle they are going through in order to find some type of divine beauty from it. You can see both good and evil in yourself and in what is around you, and you can see the importance of both ends of the spectrum, letting yourself dance with those cycles and finding harmony in what most see as only chaos.

You also didn't let your heart close from what you've endured and instead gained a lot of empathy for other people's suffering.

You are also someone to whom authenticity is not only important, but a major part of their personality. You despise lying to yourself. Not saying that never happens, but you always end up correcting the trajectory at some point. You have strong core values that you've spent a long time modeling like a beautiful and ever changing work of art, born from your own work. You honor this quality in yourself and you encourage it in others.

You also embody the quality of acceptance. You know being in touch with your shadow means you're going to find things that are ugly, scary or violent, and you've learnt to see that without judging it. You are able to accept and release whatever comes to the surface, surrendering to the flow of life. As a result you are not someone who judges people harshly for their humanly flaws. Again not saying you don't condemn anyone ever, but you understand the shortcomings and the shortsightedness everyone has to deal with, because you went through it so many times yourself.

And as to what you can do to share that better with the world, well, first I feel like most of you are already doing that by just existing, but the advice I got was to listen to your spiritual guidance, whatever that means to you. There is this idea that you are guided on your path and that, perhaps, it is time to not simply look under, but look above. Trust that your effort are seen and that you will be shown the way to make your qualities of use for others beyond what is already happening.

The last card I drew says to keep walking on that self-healing path you are on, which is a life-long process as there are always layers and layers to dig and dig through. And by that I mean that you can go way beyond yourself, into the generational, the mythical. And I think that's the main takeaway. You are a Healer of Yourself, and by doing that, you're also healing others.

I'm still getting that some of you will be able sooner or later to share that wisdom in a more tangible way, perhaps as a writer or a counselor, a speaker or a carer, but, again, you don't need a specific job or activity to share your gifts because they radiate from you and can be received by the people in you touch in your daily life.

That it's for Pile 1! I just wanted to say that your energy is awesome and I feel very touched!! I wish you good luck on your path and I'm sending you a lot of love.

PILE 2

Cards: The Medallion + The Hunter + Ace of Wands / The Mystic + Spirit of the Tree + Magic / The One + The Shaman + Rebirth

As for what you embody in what you bring to the world, I see you someone who heavily involved with magic and/or the spiritual realms. Like, heads up but, I'm actually a bit floored because it is powerful but I'm not surprised knowing the type of people who follow me.

So yeah, the magical and the spiritual. But more precisely, you are upholding traditions from the past, working with something you've inherited (not necessarily by blood although it may be the case for some of you) from those who came before you. By practicing and taking action with these practices, you are keeping them alive, honoring them, and even perhaps working on transmitting them to those who will follow.

I see you one some type of mission (in an humble way) as in, you're focused on your path and moving fast toward that shining light you sense in the distance, like a glowing target that pushes you forward whether you are fully aware of what it is exactly or not. You are answering some type of call.

As for your strengths and qualities, you are someone who is really in tune with your dreams, and beyond that, the other realms. You feel the pulsation of both life and death in all things, can read the signs the world sends you, and can peek behind the veil. You may be a mystic, a seer, or a medium, or have strong affinities for this.

You are also no stranger to the mysteries of Nature and are able to gather knowledge from what is so different and alien from you. Again there is an idea of ancient wisdom that you are tapping into powerfully. It comes naturally to you because it's part of who you are. You are able to step back from the noise of the modern world to touch the wisdom that lies beneath the busy surface of the world. Most people don't even know it's here, but it is, and you see it.

Again, there is this idea that you see beyond human knowledge, and you are able to remember it because somehow, you understand that, and even though it is strange and alien, it's part of us, too.

You are also able to cultivate your own magic. You understand that you can't just receive without doing the work on yourself and cultivating your own power. You are not an empty vessel but a being full of stars in your own right. I have this image of someone who one day opened their eyes and saw the sunrise seemingly for the first time. As if those eyes themselves where born anew. You are able to dance between earth and the sky, embracing transformation and initiation.

As for the advice you received on sharing your strengths with the world, I was sort of expecting it but it's not so much about really sharing your knowledge with the world rather than being your own individual on your path and doing the things that are required by it. Idk if that makes sense it's quite abstract to understand so bear with me.

I got the Shaman. As you probably know it's a word that is mostly wrongly used and that can mean a bunch of things, like healer, sorcerer, oracle, warden of Nature, medium, spiritual advisor or religious leader. What I'm getting is that it's going to vary for all of you depending on the path you are on, but one thing is for sure, you are a very important link between the other-world and the human world and you can serve your community.

Perhaps because you can/will/are meant to embrace one of the roles I just mentioned, or because you are doing some type of work for the other-realms, again it will vary greatly depending on the person.

There is an inherent loneliness to this path. You may feel othered, marginalized, even crazy at times, because you exist in some type of hazy in-between, with one foot in our world and one foot in the Other.

The advice is to learn to accept and lean into that, and understand that you are not as alone as you think you are, even to your fellow humans.

We are all one, in some way. Made of so many buried facets, so many fallen stars. What you are experiencing is present in all of us, you are just able to anchor it in this world, which is not only important in and of itself, but also helps people around you help themselves, is what I'm getting.

As a final advice, because I felt like drawing one last card, I got Rebirth.

I'm going to keep this super open because this pile is made of various people, but there is something that needs to be reborn within you. Some type of transformation you need to go through to go further. You will need to leave something behind. Know that what you are right now is meant to shed and change because there is so much more to learn. Lean into what you know to see the next step, but be open to the unknown and its gifts.

That's it for this reading, very different from Pile 1 but I'm equally floored and a bit spooked because it was super powerful! Thank you for reading me, I hope this was useful to you and I send you a lot of love and wish you good luck on your journey!

PILE 3

Cards: 4 of Swords Rx + 10 of Pentacles + The Pilgrim + The Castle + The Threshold / 5 of Cups Rx + 8 of Wands Rx + Space, Time and Self + The Gifted Guide / Overwhelmed + Sorrow + the Moon (oracle) + Queen of Swords + 7 of Pentacles + The Forbidden Forest Rx

Driven is the most important word I'm getting from this reading.

It seems you are a builder and a pioneer of sorts, someone with the power to materialize your goals into the material plane, with the potential to establish long term material wealth and stable structures in the world. I'm also getting the word legacy, it's something that's important to you and you wish to accomplish in this lifetime. You might be an entrepreneur of some sorts or work in an area of Sciences, so legacy could be either about a business or wealth or advancing human knowledge in some way shape or form.

You don't sit around and wait, your are someone who don't remain stagnant but is always rising above and beyond to work towards your goals. You understand that your goals won't materialize without effort and you are committed to the task.

The way you go about life is focused on outside achievements, but that's the way you grow inside as well. The world is your laboratory where you explore ideas and see what can be birthed into the world.

You are someone who is not afraid to step into the unknown, to go towards uncharted territory, where others don't dare to go. It may seem like a lonely path for some, but for you, it is immensely fulfilling and is how you free yourself. You have your eyes set on the top of the mountain and nothing will stop you from reaching it.

You have no regard for the concept of fate and wish to keep your destiny into your own hands.

Your strengths and qualities are that you are aware of your faults and failures, of what you've lost in the past, and have learnt that no matter the setbacks, a new opportunity or idea can always arise and you can learn from your mistakes. You are full of energy and desire to move forward in a sort of restless way. It's like your burning with the energy of your will and the only way to master that fire is to remain as active as possible. Where others would have given up, you keep pushing, even if it hurts.

There is a strong message about knowing you are guided but not in a spiritual sense, and for two reasons:

One, you have trust in your own instinct and are guided by your interests and what pulls you in. You go with the flow and are able to follow effortlessly the dance of the cosmos, flowing from one cycle to the next, understanding that sometimes things can take more or less time (the idea of timing to be respected), or that you can zoom in and out your perspective on things (sometimes you need to see the big picture but sometimes you need to look into the details).

Second, you also understand the parts of unknown of your path, you don't feel like you need everything figured out and have trust that things will unveil when they need to. You listen to your environment and see patterns in the chaos that remain invisible to others and that's what guide your steps.

The advice on how to bring that more effectively into the world is pointing back to the reversed 5 of Cups and 8 of Wands, with Overwhelmed and Sorrow. It's very interesting because your strengths and quality are also sometimes reverted and things you struggle with, which is normal since we all have bad days and the very things that makes us ourselves can be our most violent pains.

In your low points, you have a tendency to bottle up your feelings, so focused that you are on your tasks, you ignore them until they spill. You don't really know how to handle your emotions and wait until they explode in your face to confront and feel them. It leaves you feeling lost and frustrated.

You have a highly individualistic mindset, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but in excess it makes you too tyrannical toward yourself. You may feel alone against the world at times, a lone star in a black sky, because you are so cut off from receptivity and external guidance.

Don't discard the parts of you that feel alien and strange as they have much to teach you. It's okay to stop for a moment on your path, you don't have to rush all the time. You need to be patient with your goals, like a gardener watching them grow in their own time. You can't go against the rhythms of Nature and the Universe, some things take time, and that include respecting your own rhythms.

You need to learn to set up boundaries within yourself. It can be hard to feel when you're going overboard so you need to carve out some time to deal with your inner struggles and let yourself time to rest. Perhaps these low points have a lot to do with exhaustion and lack of mental and emotional space, so be mindful of that and keep some time for nurturing yourself, not just your goals.

That's it for Pile 3! I hope this was useful to you and brought you interesting messages. I wish you good luck on your path.

PILE 4

Cards: The Orphan + The Animal + 3 of Swords Rx + Ace of Wands Rx + Bottled Up + Gloom / The Mirror + Energy + Space, Time and Self + Dark Night of the Soul / 9 of Pentacles Rx + The Empress + Gratitude + Let Go + Yin and Yang + Truth

You are someone who came into this world full of childlike wonder but something broke, making you carry a deep wound. May be mental or physical trauma, an accident or a disability. As a result, you gained a ferocious thirst for life, a wild energy, similar to the primal instinct of survival. It was either giving up or pushing through, life or death.

It seems your ability to act in this world got restrained and that you had to learn your way around that. Like your potential was bottled up which made you think that all was over. Complete loss of hope. You felt cut off from the world, cut off from life and society. Rendered unable to connect with the bustling world. It seemed like it wasn't a choice you wanted to make but had to.

When I started drawing your cards for strengths and qualities, I felt an immense wave of fatigue washing over me, and one of the cards I drew was about calling back your energy. So I think you are very well aware of your limitations and you had to learn to live with that, manage your limited resources to make something blossom regardless. If you're not already aware of it, it's something you're currently learning.

I feel called to describe the energy card to you: a woman is sitting in a back full of stars, from her left palm flow a stream of water filled with stars with a flower blossoming from it and her whole body. I really think that whatever you went through and are still dealing with, despite limiting you in some ways, cannot stop you from bringing something beautiful to the world. It will feed from your very pains, like flowers feeding off dirt. There is so much potential for Life and growth.

Also, you had to learn to reflect on yourself a lot and that brought you a admirable understanding of the human nature, a precious wisdom that could not have been yours had you not have the life you had. It sucks to write because fuck that, I'm angry with you and I don't get why it has to be that way sometimes for some people, but it's true. I'm also getting that some of you are writers or have a great ability to spell out your thoughts. Really, this wisdom you gained through pain gave you a greater understanding of life, one that most people cannot touch, and that can be a great treasure to share with the world.

You have a strong ability to bring a deeper understanding of the human experience to others, transcending the mundane to allow them to touch what is meaningful and precious about life, understanding themselves and the world more. From the simple moments to the greatest revenge taken against fate.

By experiencing extreme loss, you found hope and a desire to survive and overcome, and are able to share it with others. This card also has a book in it so idk if you're a writer or not but you should definitely consider it if that's not the case. I think you have a lot to share with the world which could help others. Your words are worthier than gold, because you know how hard it is to face monstrous events but you know that it's worth pushing through. We all face difficult times in our lives, some more than others, but it's not about who suffered the most, and you understand that. You can really make a difference, pile 4. Light the way for others with your words.

The advice cards are really beautiful and supporting.

I see you being encouraged to learn to find balance within yourself and aiming for success and abundance. Because you can and you will be able to bring gifts to this world. You heart is a fertile soil, and it is so strong. From dead matters, pain and wastes, we can sow seeds and harvest golden crops, feeding many. You can embody that.

Really, you can be a beacon of light to other, crowned in stars, adorned with roses. You need to let yourself hope a little further. Don't settle for the bare minimum, let go of your regrets and pessimistic mindset. You have so much to offer. Find beauty, love and pleasure in your everyday life. It might only be in some specific moments but it is still so important and will help you live with more ease. Find bliss hiding between the folds of time.

You also got a strong message about gratitude. It can be easy to look down on this word, thinking it's a way to keep yourself in your enclosure and not thrive for more, but in reality, it's very empowering. By being grateful for your gifts, you are actually recognizing them, learning to trust and value them, which will in turn give you the confidence to share it with the world. The wise know that there is so much power and grace in having a grateful mindset, it doesn't stop you in your tracks, on the contrary, it calls even more blessings in.

You hold both life and death, pain and pleasure, despair and hope within yourself. It's time to embrace it and learn that life is not one or the other but a balance of both. You have been tilting over one side too much and it's time to rectify the scale. The advice is to find power in an unexpected place within you. Something you have overlooked. Something that feels uncomfortable. Ask yourself what you are resisting. You will find great creative energy as a result of that inner work. It will bring you growth.

The final card is called Truth and is also connected to the Empress, which you got earlier. The words on the card are: " That which is true will always be enough". You had to learn some truth the hard way, don't discard it because you are afraid or in pain. Hold it tight. Honor your truth. Again you get a message of gratitude and abundance. You are on a path to wisdom and you will gain a lot from it. By liberating yourself, you will also free others. Don't be scared to share what you've learnt and will learn with integrity. You soul is so beautiful.

That's it for pile 4. I hope it was an useful reading. It definitely was insightful for me. I wish you good luck on your path and I give you a big hug!!