#I hate trying to put personality traits into words..

[eternally-anomalous]

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒.

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐒.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your oc swim? do they enjoy swimming?

🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?

🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets?

🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature?

🌴 PALM TREE — does your oc have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening?

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒.

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside?

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄.

😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life?

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

did you just copypaste the whole thing?

🎮- EA enjoys taking care of their leeches, studying and observing their creatures, cyberbullying people. But you already knew this so it's time for the guy I never talk about to finally get talked about. NREs favorite hobbies are watching movies and tv shows made by the ancients, talking to the scavengers and ignoring descent whenever he messages

📚- all iterator have a PhD on everything. I don't think they have any form of formal education for Iterators, considering you can just put that information directly into their memories

🎻- I don't think any of them play an instrument

ADHESIVE BANDAGE (I couldn't find the emoji)- EA has mild chronic pain from detaching his puppet from the arm so violently. And definitely some neurodiveregencies but I'm no expert in that so I'm not gonna give them a specific one

💯- hmmm.. 1.)EAs eyes are naturally white and are only yellow because the activated deathloop is on them 2.) The reason they can modify themselves is because the later added taboo of not making new blueprints caused a conflict in the code and disabled it (I don't know how coding works at all but if mods can do this then so can the limiters) 3.) They also absorb oxygen with the fabricator arms in addition to eating and making things

💤-EA is a pretty light sleeper most of the time, unless they have someone they trust there. They mostly only sleep to wait out cycles, which is a bit of a problem because they don't actually go below the clouds that often and often cant sleep anyway so they stare into space listening to music instead

🔱- Xbox like water(yes)

🔶- EA doesn't know cpr but could still stop you from choking (by sticking their mycelia down your throat). They can fix wounds that would just require some extra tissue or metal easily enough but if it's a damaged organ or something complex to fix they would either need "blueprints" (need better word..) of you or to eat you first (and make the mycelia make blueprints of you that way) (obviously the second option is not desirable)

🚫- EA doesn't drink or smoke but they did inject themselves with karma flower juice once and would do it again if left with nothing else to do for a long time

🌲- they dont really do holidays, as they were all invented by the ancients

🐶- EA has the leeches. Some iterators would consider NREs scav friends pets but they very much arent

🐉- EAs favorite mythical creature is the fog demon. NRE likes unicorns

🌴- EA forgets plants are alive, so no. They would end up killing them even if they tried

❤️- let's see.. EA is very determined when she has a goal, would do almost anything for those they care about and

🤍- has a lot of curiosity especially about creatures, rather willing to take risks(to their puppet) (this can be good or bad I think so neutral), a bit hesitant sometimes I guess

💔- way too eager to resort to murder, likes to cyberbully, even if they don't want to kill you they will still stand back and let you die, even if they could have stopped it (if they don't care about you)

💘- their ecosystem and dew

💚- outside, they spend most of their time outside in their city taking care of the leeches

🖤- EA killed glories (as most of you know) they haven't broken anyone's heart or trust.. yet. NREs fight with descent over what to do to help skywriter is part of what caused descent to work constantly

😊 - honestly neither EA or me really know this one. They want to spend time with dew, get multicolored leeches, continue to observe evolution..

🤔- EA taps on their carapace a lot, uses ellipsis often.. rather rude a lot of the time.. what exactly is this one asking? (Needs clarification)

[smileysuh]

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. “What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

���You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.6k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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[enderlovez]

Oooooo I have a Spencer x germaphobe reader where everyone knows how Spencer is with germs, which isn’t that bad. But imagine everyone’s surprise when they find out he has a huge crush like I mean in love with their coworker who is an extreme germaphobe (think of Ms, Pillsbury from glee) so she’s extra clean but he doesn’t mind he only has eyes on her so he tries to help her while also helping himself and she already has a crush on him but thinks he sees her as a patient in a lab even when he doesn’t but their feelings come to surface and they get a lil dirty lol angst, smut, and fluff thank u❤️

Germaphobe, Too

Spencer Reid x Female Germaphobe Reader WORD COUNT: 3600+ (yeah I got a little carried away)

Summary: You hate germs more than anything else in the world, and Spencer is so very much in love with you, so he's always trying to help you in any way he can — little does he know, that maybe you're feelings about the situation are a little bit different.

Content Warning: reader shows traits of obsessive compulsive disorder, germaphobia and germs, probably misinformation about germaphobia, NSFW content, reader is a freak, dry humping, reader bites Spencer a few times, miscommunication, Spencer likes boobs, groping, nipple play (sort of), unprotected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), virginity loss on both ends, Spencer doesn't pull out, and I think that's it!

A/N I've never actually watched Glee so I went on a bit of a search-spree to try and find out how I would write this, so I hope I did it justice! Also, thank you so much for being the first person in my inbox, you have no idea how excited I was when this popped up, and I hope I did your idea justice!

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From the moment you joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit, everyone knew you were different — from the way you open doors with your sleeves rather than your bare hands, to how you scrub your hands raw after touching something that's not even really that dirty.

And it's not necessarily a bad thing that you're so conscious of these things, it can just be a little... difficult to navigate sometimes.

Take that one time for example, when you were helping out on a case! Morgan had no writing utensils on him, so without thinking, plucked a pen from the breast pocket of your blouse. To anyone else, it might not have seemed like such a big deal, but you were close to tears.

To put it plainly, you are a germaphobe. You're like a female version of their very own Doctor Spencer Reid, but on steroids, and somehow still a whole lot more sociable despite this fact!

Seriously. It's not to say they don't still see you as the strange new girl doing 'strange-new-girl' things, nor is it to say they don't frequently talk about you when you're not around, but they think you might just be the sweetest human being to ever grace the BAU.

Which is why it really shouldn't have seemed like such a secret, shouldn't have shocked everyone as much as it did, that Spencer was absolutely and irreversibly smitten with you.

At first, it was just little things like watching you from across the room with this strange look on his face — he was just watching the strange new girl doing 'strange-new-girl' things!

When he started spending more time around you than anybody else at work, and when it became apparent that he preferred your quiet company, it was just because you showed some similar traits to him, right? Nobody thought anything different, because come on, this is Spencer we're talking about here.

But in truth, Spencer is beyond mesmerized by you, the most beautiful woman he's ever met, and so kind to everyone even though they clearly treat you different to your other coworkers.

The poor man doesn't think he could ever admit this to you, though, considering he's a blabbering mess of hot skin and stutters every time he talks to you. So instead of further embarrassing himself (and giving Morgan ammunition to tease him for the rest of eternity), he shows his affection towards you in other ways.

Spencer himself is not a big fan of germs, so he can understand, to an extent, how you must feel most of the time. You've explained it to him before, while he was standing beside you at your desk, watching as you wiped the surface down with an antibacterial wipe.

"I know it probably seems like I overreact, but it's not something I can just turn off," you'd said to him in a whisper once. "I don't do this because I want to annoy people or make life harder. It's just... if I don't, I feel like I'll unravel."

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Sometimes it feels like the world is too loud. A stranger is screaming in your ear, you can't see them or touch them, but they're there; there's a bee buzzing in front of your face, but you can't swat it away.

How are you supposed to get rid of something you can't see?

You can't — it's as simple as that, but you can try you're very best.

As if sensing that your thoughts are headed somewhere unsavory, Spencer appears beside you on a rolling chair, as he does most days.

Out of all your coworkers, he's the only one that doesn't poke fun at you behind your back. That's how it's been your whole life, people testing your boundaries and teasing you for something you have no control over, so it's... a nice change of pace.

"Good morning, Spencer," you say softly, offering him a warm smile before turning back to your work. "How are you today?"

"Good—um, good morning," he responds awkwardly, smiling even though you're not looking at him anymore. You see it out of the corner of your eye, his little smile and his firetruck-red face, smiling faintly to yourself as you type away on your laptop.

You ignore how he completely dismisses your question, knowing he'd probably just say the same thing as always — 'Yeah, I'm doing great, thank you. As—as long as you're doing alright.'

He always gets so strange around you, and while you try your best to ignore it most of the time, it still irks you.

No, he doesn't join the teasing with Morgan and Jareau when they think you can't hear them, but he still treats you differently.

"I got you something," he says in a quiet voice, reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. You eye him nervously as he carefully places it onto your desk, using one finger to push it towards you. A tiny smile pulls at your cheeks when you see it's encased in a protective plastic film, but it quickly drops when you see what the actual book is.

'Overcoming Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: A Journey to Recovery' by David Veale and Rob Willson.

You peel the plastic away, tossing it into the little trash can under your desk and sanitizing your hands before picking up the bright yellow book, opening the front cover with a blank expression.

It's not like you aren't grateful he's trying to help, of course you're happy he cares so much. But a book isn't going to fix your problems, despite what he may think at times. And right now he doesn't feel like a friend, he feels like a doctor, and you feel like a patient laying on a lab table, vulnerable and stripped bare for the world to see.

For once, you just want to have a normal conversation without it turning into some kind of therapy session.

"Thank you, Spencer — um..." You voice shakes ever-so-slightly as you put the eyesore book in your bag. "I will be reading that tonight, that was very kind of you."

You know you'll probably put that book in a box and never look at it again. He doesn't seem to pick up on your unease, smile widening at your apparent acceptance of his gift.

"Actually," you continue softly, in a voice so quiet it's almost silent, head bowed forward, "I'm actually not feeling too well right now, think I might head home for the day."

The smile on his face falters slightly as you push away from your desk and stand up, packing your things away into your backpack. "Is everything — would you like me to drive you home?"

It's not unusual for your mind to trick you into thinking you actually are sick, but on the off chance that you really are feeling something, he doesn't think it's a good idea for you to drive yourself home.

"You know, about twenty-one percent of fatal car crashes involve tired or impaired drivers."

"I'll be fine," you reply blandly, though those statistics do alarm you mildly, stepping around him and walking in the direction of Hotch's office. "Thank you, though, Spencer."

As you disappear into the Unit Chief's office, Morgan give him this curious look from across the room, eyebrow cocked in question, but all Spencer can do is shrug, his own face twisted with confusion.

Usually when you get like this, there's some kind of trigger that sets you off, like a chain reaction of sorts, but right now, he can't for the life of him come up with something that might've set you off.

You're only in the office for thirty-seven seconds (Spencer was counting) before you reemerge, your head still bowed as you rush out of the bullpen, like there's something chasing you away.

"What'd you do to get Miss Sunshine all blue and teary-eyed?" Morgan asks mockingly when you're out of earshot. "She looks like you just kicked a fluffy little kitten in front of her!"

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Spencer's never been to your apartment before — nobody on the team has, the only reason he's standing here now is because your address is on your information.

It feels a bit like an invasion of your privacy being here when he's not even supposed to know where you live, but Morgan was right. You did look like Spencer smushed a kitten under his shoe as you were leaving, and he couldn't in good conscience not check on you.

He reaches a tentative hand up, hesitating for a (very) brief moment before knocking thrice.

There's some muffled shuffling behind the door before it opens, revealing you, wearing a cream colored cardigan with delicately embroidered flowers on it. And while you're still neatly put together, there's a more casual air about you now, like you're more relaxed.

"Oh — Spencer, what're you doing here?"

Your voice rasps slightly, and when he takes a closer look at your face, Spencer finds that your eyes are a little red.

"I was just..." He pauses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed upset when you were leaving work."

You purse your lips and give him as once-over, then shift out of the doorway — inviting him inside? You close the door behind him once he's inside, guiding him towards the living room with a gentle hand on his back.

It's shocking, to say the least, that you're actually touching him right now, but he doesn't say a word.

"Would you — um — like some tea, or something?" you ask awkwardly, pushing him to sit on the sofa. "Or — or some water?"

"No, but thank you for offering."

You leave the room for a few minutes, presumably to make yourself something to drink, but come back with two steaming mugs, placing one in front of Spencer regardless of what he said.

Another couple of minutes pass where neither of you say anything, sipping on tea and glancing at each other every now and again. He's pleasantly surprised to find that you've used lavender tea.

Your apartment is very clean, looking more like a set you'd find at a department store than anything, but it's still so warm and inviting. You have a couple of candles lit around the place, and Spencer's fighting the urge to warn you about candle safety.

"I don't want you to try and fix me."

Spencer turns his head away from the tall bookshelf across the room to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Fix you. What do you mean, he's trying to fix you?

"The book," you reply meekly, "I don't want you to try and fix me."

That catches his attention, the emphasis on that one little word — it's not that you don't want anyone to help, you just don't want him to help.

You must see the flash of hurt cross his expression, because you're rushing to elaborate, stumbling over your words.

"It's just that — um — I really like you, Spencer, and — uh — when you're giving me stuff like this..." You gesture to the coffee table, where the yellow book he'd given you is sitting. "I don't know, you kind of make me feel like I'm a patient in a lab. Something to be studied and prodded at and — and fixed."

"There's nothing about you that needs to be fixed," he murmurs, trying his best to ignore what you said — 'I really like you, Spencer.'

You place your half-empty mug of tea onto the coffee table and pull your feet up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around them.

"I wasn't trying to fix you — everything about you is perfect," he says, quiet and without thinking. "You just seemed so uncomfortable at work all the time, and I wanted to help you out."

"Why, though?" you ask sadly, a faint heat rising to your cheeks. "Why not just join in on all the teasing and mockery? It would be easier than dealing with me all the time."

"Because..." You raise an eyebrow at his entire face quite literally turns the same shade as a tomato. "Because I really like you, too. I didn't think about how it might come off, and I'm so, so sorry for—"

You hold up a hand to shut him up, leaning a little further towards him than he would have thought you'd like.

"Spencer, it's alright," you assure him, placing your hand on his knee, much to his surprise (and embarrassment). "You didn't need to worry, though — you're really the only person at work I spend much time around, and I'm not uncomfortable around you."

"You're... not?"

A soft smile graces your lips. "Not even a little bit. Not even at all."

Spencer deflates into himself, every inch of his his skin uncomfortably hot — this is news to him.

"That's a relief."

Your voice takes on a teasing lilt. "Why? Because you really like me?"

And just like that, his face gets infinitely hotter, but he gives you the tiniest nod, knowing that if he said anything, he would fumble.

"I don't understand why you're embarrassed," you whisper fondly, "I am the one who said it first, after all. You should be teasing me."

He might be the only one you'll accept it from, just like how he's the only person you'd ever accept physical contact with, the only person you'll ever trust enough to put your mouth near him, like right now."

Spencer has to restrain himself from physically recoiling in shock when you press the softest of kisses to his blazing cheek.

Your instincts are screaming on the inside, but if you're being honest, you couldn't care less.

This isn't a stranger, you assure yourself, this is Spencer, and he could never make you sick.

Spencer could never make you sick.

"Is this alright?" you ask as you press another slightly firmer kiss to the skin under his jaw, your voice dripping with something unfamiliar.

Unable to form a single word, Spencer nods, reaching to place a hand on the back of your neck, gasping when your teeth nipped at the sensitive skin.

It's a complete one-eighty from the shy, germ-conscious girl you usually are, but he can't find it in him to complain.

The girl of his dreams, the one who can't even bring herself to touch his hand at work, currently has her mouth on him, she's biting him, and his mind is in a frenzy.

"I'm not gonna freak out if you touch me, Spence," you tease lightly, lips fluttering over the space just beside his mouth. As if to prove your point, smirking against his skin, you take his hand in yours and settle it on the space just below your breasts — under your clothes.

Where you're not wearing a bra.

His mind reels and melts into goo at the feel of your bare skin against his hand, so soft and warm.

An embarrassingly loud whine escapes his mouth as you bite down on his neck again, sucking the skin into your mouth. His hand drifts slightly upwards, brushing against the supple skin of your breast and gently grabbing onto it.

Your breath hitches as he gropes at your chest, lips pulling off his neck with a little pop and head resting against his shoulder.

"Can I take your shirt off?"

Your question leaves him speechless, but he nods nonetheless, reluctantly letting go of you to help you get his shirt over his head.

The sigh of his bare chest has your mouth watering, and you want nothing more than to leave a trail of hickeys down his stomach, but first, you press your lips to his, hands threading through his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs into your mouth, hands resting on your hips as you grind down onto him. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering as your hips wildly buck down on him. You've never been like this, desperate for the touch of another person, let alone a touch so intimate.

Spencer's grip on you tightens some, and he uses this new leverage to guide your hips, carefully pressing you clothed heat against the hardness straining against his pants.

"P-please," you choke out, arms wrapping around his shoulders, gripping him for dear life as he moves you.

"Hm?" he hums quietly, shifting the angle so he's rubbing right up against your covered clit.

"Please," you breathe out again, clenching around nothing. "Please, Spencer."

You're not even sure what you're begging for, only that you want — no, need more of this stimulation.

He seems to understand what you need better than you do, gathering your body to him and laying you on your back.

Your thighs automatically fall open for him, allowing his body to fit between them, one hand holding himself up. He presses himself against you again, drawing a desperate moan from the back of your throat as he works on undoing the buttons of your cardigan, letting the fabric slide off your body and pool at your sides.

The hand he's not using to support himself reaches for you, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple. The corner of Spencer's mouth twitches upward as you arch up against him, eyes screwed shut.

"You like that?" he asks genuinely, doing it again. You nod frantically, mouth dropping open, but no sound coming out of it.

"Yes," you pant, bottom lip catching between your teeth. "Yes, I like that — please."

"Please what?" His mouth descends upon your neck, fingers continuing their attack on your sensitive nipple, clothed cock still rubbing up against you oh-so wonderfully.

"Please... please touch me," you beg, unable to stop your hips from bucking up against him. "I need you to touch me, Spencer."

Such vulgar words coming out of your mouth. It shocks the man, but he complies, shifting his body backwards so he can pull your skirt and underwear down your legs.

The sight between them is magical — your folds glistening in the soft light of the room, you writhing in anticipation in front of him — and something he has, admittedly, thought about once or twice.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asks, running his middle finger through your slick and pressing down gently on your clit. You shake your head lazily, face screwed up in pleasure, a sight Spencer will cherish forever.

A strangled moan rips out of you as Spencer presses a finger against your hole, thumb rubbing soft circles on your sensitive bud, and enters you with little resistance.

"Neither have I," he admits sheepishly, pumping his finger in and out of you rhythmically, curling it until he finds that spongey spot within you that has you crying out his name and spilling over his hand.

"Two virgin germaphobes," you mumble jokingly, trying to wiggle closer to him again. You fumble with his belt, somehow managing to pull it through the loops, and toss it on the ground carelessly.

He helps you to push his pants down, just enough for his cock to slip out.

"Two virgin germaphobes," he agrees quietly, adjusting your bodies so you're both in a more comfortable position, sliding his heavy tip through your slick folds. "Are you sure—"

"I'm sure, Spence," you abruptly cut him off, running your fingers through his hair, subconsciously pulling him towards you. "Please just — just fuck me."

Spencer doesn't need to be told twice, slowly pushing into you, gasping as your warm walls suck him in, gripping his cock like a vice. He holds his breath, trying not to immediately blow his load.

You're writhing, gasping, clawing at his back, whispering his name out into the air, and it only works to make him more hungry for you. But he stills one he's fully sheathed inside you, giving you time to adjust.

"Does it — uh — does it hurt at all?" he asks in a whisper, directly into your ear.

"N-no," you gasp back, the small pain slowly morphing into one of pleasure. "It doesn't hurt, you can — fuck — you can move, when you're ready."

He doesn't think he'll ever be ready, with how tightly you're gripping him, but he still finds himself pulling out until only his tip is nestled in you, and slowly pushing back in all the way. You hum shakily, trying to press yourself closer to him as he repeats the action, then again.

Already so sensitive from your first orgasm, you know you're not going to last long with his slow movements, thighs clenching around his. Pressure grows in your abdomen as he thrusts back in, slightly harder this time, grunting into your neck.

"God, I'm already so close," you choke out, head thrown back, sounds you didn't even know you could make raking out of you. Spencer can't get enough of them, leaning down and catching one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on the sensitive nub.

Without warning, you're spasming around him, drool dribbling out of your open mouth as you come, body going slack against the couch.

"W-where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you mumble incoherently, biting your lip hard enough to leave marks, tears building on your waterline. "Please, Spence, I want you to come inside me."

Your words alone are enough to have him spilling inside you, thrusts sloppy and unrhythmic. Your hum in content, clinging to him like a koala as he gently pulls his softened cock from inside you, rubbing soft circles onto the skin over your breastbone. It's comfortably quiet.

And then...

"Hey," you whisper in a tired voice, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your hip. "I would love to," he whispers back fondly before standing up from the couch, "but first, we need to get you cleaned up and rested.

[jweekgoji]

I throughly enjoyed your TFO!YAN!Sentinel fic where reader is one of the Primes… Pleeaaase consider doing a part 2, genuinely incredible

Sentinel/Prime!Reader pt.2

tw: unhealthy obsession, slight spoilers if you didn't see TFO, power imbalance, a tiny nsfw at the beginning, yan!Sentinel, slight violence, murder/death, toxic relationship. word count: ~1800. a/n: i feel like the results is not what you wanted, anon-. first part here.

He thought that what you had was special. Special in some sick, cruel way, he still enjoyed to the core of his spark. He hated it, that after everything he had done for them, for you, you had the right to dismiss him as if he was your personal servant. Like he was nothing. He worked day and night just for you to finally notice him, to treat him more than just your advisor.

Perhaps you had some sick pleasure in torturing him like that. Where by the end of the long, tiring day, his presence was always welcomed beside yours. A rare moment when you finally stop putting that stoic leader persona for others. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him, even though every time he has to try so hard to gain at least a tiny sort of reaction from you. He would gladly stay underneath you forever, with your thighs on either side of his head, as he planted each loving kiss across your body.

His blue optics flicker slightly, as he focuses on your back once again. Focus, Sentinel! Not when you are here, discussing the place of your next attack against the quintessons with your brothers and sisters, just as focused on resolving the problem as you are. Sentinel keeps his arms behind his back, his posture straight yet relaxed.

‘ One of the strongest, mighty, and fierce of the Primes,’ he remembers. Is that really what other bots only think of you? They all seem to love you, despite never knowing you personally, like he did. You are always busy with other concerns, protecting your people, thinking of the future of your race, sleepless days and nights of working. You're a Prime, a hope, and everyone looks up to you. It is a remarkable trait, the one he always brings up to the citizens, so they all would be inspired  by you, fond of one of their leaders as much as he is.

There are so many gifts in your name...Cards, stickers, calendars, even figures. Every detail painted so, so thoughtfully and carefully, you can swear that there are no imperfections in it. Why would there be one when he personally made sure to make every single one as a perfect copy of you?

When the meeting ends, Sentinel waits until all the other Primes have left the room until there are only you two inside. Always staying till  late at night...how typical of you. Rarely seem to care about your own well-being, instead preferring the cold embrace of solitude. Something he partly so admired and hated about you at the same time.

You were never alone, he thinks, you always had him.

Watching one of the last of your siblings leave, Sentinel can't help but think of a soft ‘Finally’ with a roll of his optics, before pushing away from the wall, to approach you.

Sentinel flashes you with his usual, polite smile, the corner of his mouth turning upwards, as he makes a few slow steps towards your form, hunched over the table. That sly mech just couldn't leave you alone for good, always finding a way to persuade you. You had grown to silently appreciate it, for now.

If you try to remember what you felt when you first met him, it was annoyance. The way he talked during meetings, the way the blue-and-golden mech seemed to make sure the other Primes warmed up to him in such a short time—it all felt so wrong and fake. You thought that maybe all he wanted was fame, money, and a good impression, something a young but already so proud cybertronian would dream about.

You were so attentive to every small detail, but had never realized his genuine need for your approval.

“Now that we're alone, I thought that maybe we can talk privately, if you don't mind, my...” Sentinel's words trail off, his optics following your form as you walk past him and towards the exit of the room.

You put your servo in the air the moment he speaks, a silent sign of “later, now is not the time for it”. He shivers. Another reason to dismiss him. Each time, it was always something new. You're too busy with inventing, with your high guards, with everything but him.

At first, he was surprised. His optics widened slightly before returning to their normal size. It hurt, for some reason. He should have gotten used to it by now because...how many times was it this week? It's not like Sentinel was that unfamiliar with you, was he? No, of course not. After dealing with you and your behavior for cycles, he learns how to take it. Despite everything, it still hurts him.

Sentinel can feel his servos clenching into fists at his sides, and a familiar tightness in his throat. Don't say anything, just smile and leave. Don't say anything stupid, for Primus' sake.

 “Last time you said this was a week ago,” he smiles at you through clenched teeth, trying so hard not to let his own irritation to take over. You're a Prime, after all. “You forget about it. Again.”

“If you have something to add about our plans with quintessons, say that now,” you pause, yet don't turn around to look back at him. “Or, tell Zeta about it.”

Sentinel's optic nearly twitch when you say that. Is that all you can tell him now? When he is presenting you his own spark on the silver plate? He wants to ignore that disgusting, desperate feeling that roots inside his spark, the need of just to reach for you and stop from leaving him behind. Can't you see how tirelessly he works for you? Puts up with your every whim and call? What should he do now to make you look at him?

“Did you—Did you just ignore what I'm trying to say? No, a better question,” he frowns, his digits pinching the bridge of his nose. The more you frustrate him, the more he paces around you. How ridiculous this situation is. You're still, as stubborn and ignorant as always, and here he is, nearly losing his mind because of you. “Are you even listening to me?”

He had grown so tired of you, all of you, talking, talking, talking about morality and duty, sometimes even his processor couldn't get it. That attitude you had and your ability to drive him mad with just a few words. Cycles of learning every single small detail about you in a tiny hope of your affection, cycles of being just a witness with no real power, so many cycles of humiliation and that's what he receives in return?

 Then, when you finally hit him with your simple “are you done?”, he loses it.

He wonders, sometimes, how iaconians would treat you if it weren't for him building that perfect picture of you for them? A rude, dismissive, and ungrateful piece of scrap, that's who you are. Why does he even bother doing something for you when you act like an ungrateful glitch? He hates you, he hates you so much sometimes.

“You are such an ungrateful and selfish bitch sometimes,” Sentinel spat out as he jabbed his index finger at your chassis. Oh no, now he's far from being done, after all, he has a lot of things to say to you right now. “All these countless hours of speeches, and for what? Just to lose another battle.”

You will listen to everything he thinks of you now, it is only fair after being forced to silently listen to you and other Primes. Maybe then you will understand how he truly, actually feels right now. You kept ignoring him for so long, like every shared moment of intimacy didn't mean anything to you. Even then, he can swear that you love him. You care for him, just don't know how to express it properly. But he's fine with it, he is glad enough to lead you through everything if only you agree.

But the only answer you gave him was a hard slap across his face—so hard, it made him fall back on the cold floor with a loud thud. In the first few seconds, he couldn't hear anything but a harsh ringing in his head, and only after he felt the pain reaching to his processor. Sentinel winced a little, already feeling a trail of energon trickling from his nose.

When Sentinel looks up at you, he meets your own gaze, staring down at him. He holds his face, feeling the burn from your slap. You never hurt him before, never affected by his words, Primus, it's not like you even cared about his presence anyway. Why, why you care now? Why you look straight at him with nothing but hate in your optics the last moment he needed it?

He couldn't even say anything as he watches you leave. The words stuck in his throat, despite how much he just wanted to grab your leg and beg you to forgive him. He would plead on his knees for you, wanting to forgive him, just don't go, don't leave him all alone right now. His own spark felt like it was ripped into two pieces and yet, he stays here, servos tightening onto the floor. If you want him be useful, to tell you something about quintessons, he will give you it.

Thankfully for Sentinel, you never mentioned the last incident to any of the Primes. How kind of you to avoid bringing up this topic as if nothing never happened. But as the meeting goes on, Zeta gives both of you a quiet look, with no words being said, there was a thick tension between one of the Primes and their advisor. If only one of them brought the topic up, would it change something? Would it somehow solve everything that was said and happened? Perhaps, it was already too late for that.

Sentinel wished for it to end differently. If only you hadn't been too stubborn, too idealistic, too full of yourself like all the other Primes. Maybe if he just didn't say anything that day, then— No. It was never his fault, he thinks to himself. Everything that happened, all because of you. He was just your loyal and humble advisor, nothing but kind for you.

What a poor sight to see. Cycles of being looked down and here he is, the one holding you in his servos, while you do nothing but struggle to look up at him, mouth open, ready to curse him, to yell, or maybe...to plead? He can only take guess about what you so desperately want to tell him, until you cough up more energon.

“Don't struggle, just shush,” he coos, placing his digit over your mouth. That soft, awfully satisfied and sweet smirk on his face, as if it wasn't him, stabbing you right into your chest a mere minutes ago. “Don't worry, I'll take a good care over Cybertron after you are gone...you'll never be forgotten, my love.”

He makes sure that your own t-cog will forever be a part of him, so maybe now, he finally has a chance to keep you with him forever.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

just a thought for a logan prompt, what about reader with feral traits? it could be either feral!logan or not. i just like the thought of logan connecting with someone who could really understand his feral behavior! no pressure to write this if you dont want to, love your work! 💕

this gave me the idea of what if the reader in animal had a similar mutation as logan with feral traits? so here's a little drabble about it. (this drabble isn’t connected to the series, just kinda inspired by.)

-

your entire life you’ve had to hide your true self. as a very young child it was slightly more acceptable - you behaved strangely but surely you’d grow out of those strange habits. the problem came when you didn’t, when the growling and the biting and the scenting remained no matter how many years passed.

you were bullied and teased relentlessly, both by those who hated you and by those who claimed to be your friends. your parents were just as bad, telling you that if you wanted to act like an animal, they’d treat you like one. the only people who truly loved you were your grandparents, who had died a few years ago, leaving you to inherit their farm.

you’re much happier living in the middle of nowhere. it suits your nature, a wild part of you that cries out when you remain indoors for too long, when you’re stranded in concrete cities far from any natural wilderness.

you’re close enough to a town that you can go if you require anything, but far enough that no one will bother you under the pretense of ‘being neighbourly’. and the solitude means you don’t have to constantly worry about putting on a mask, a false personality that takes all of your energy to maintain.

everything changes the day you see a naked man running into your barn. 

you tense at the sight, a growl escaping you at the thought of a stranger on your property, the hair on your arms raising as your fight or flight mode activates. your instincts win over the self-preservation that’s been drilled into you since birth, the voice in your head saying to lock the door and hide inside until the man hopefully leaves.

so you approach the barn, your steps expertly silent. despite this, he notices you immediately, growling at another presence in the barn in much the same way you had earlier. it almost makes you laugh, but then his claws come out, stealing the breath from your lungs.

he’s wild as he stares at you, not like the predator he should be but rather with a fear that reminds you of prey when they finally realise they���re being hunted. you can smell it in his scent, his desire to flee, and yet he doesn’t.

somehow you convince him to follow you inside. it’s certainly a terrible idea, and yet you can’t ignore the pull that you feel towards him, the way his mere presence feels like coming home in a way you’d never felt with anyone before. the word pack rattles around in your brain, an echo bouncing back no matter how much you try to push it away.

you feed him and help him bathe and offer him fresh clothes, and by the time the sun sets, he’s mostly recovered from his shock. you let him stay with you, and as he grows more comfortable around you, day after day, you start to notice it.

he subtly sniffs at things in the same way you’d trained yourself not to do. he growls and purrs and grunts, animal noises to express how he feels rather than human words. he’s horribly possessive over anything he considers as belonging to him. he’s aggressive, scratching and biting when he’s angry. he’s more gentle when he play fights, still biting but gentle, just nipping at your skin. he makes nests of blankets and pillows that he steals from your room, whimpering like a wounded puppy when you’d once tried to take one of your pillows back.

and in return, he notices the way you hold back in trying to do the same. the way you press your nose into the crook of his neck where his scent is strongest whenever you need comfort, the way you bite back growls when he takes something from you, the soft purring that escapes you when he scratches your scalp.

there’s a quiet understanding that forms, the knowledge that you’re the same. he doesn’t have to hide his animalistic traits with you and neither do you have to hide from him. it takes time to unlearn years of hiding, but with logan, you have all the time in the world.

[soodoonimin]

Logan Howlett and animal instincts (or in other words my long winded analysis of a comic book character)

So before I start, just know that I have read a lot of comics but I don't know everything. I can take notes all day long but I have a bad memory and comics are confusing so please be nice and enjoy, this took a lot of effort to put together, it’s mostly my thoughts on the character as I read the the comic books. The movie character is a lot different and I will also probably do something like this for movie Logan as well (though it will be significantly shorter).

Also there are some pictures that have blood and body horror so beware.

What does it mean to be human? Well that's a question we as humans have been trying to answer since we could think to ask it and ever since then we've never been able to give a fully conclusive answer. Why? you may ask, well because think about it like this, the traits we most often associate with humanity (higher thinking, creativity, empathy, and love) may not and some times do not always exists solely within us when applied to fiction, we write whole stories about how robots can be human too, how aliens can be human etc etc as long as they have these traits (more or less) AND LOOK I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the nature of humanity on Tumblr.com but I do want to take a second to talk about how those traits are applied to Logan and how he has to fight to prove his humanity.

So mutants are an oppressed people but being a mutant isn't always the same for everyone. You can be a mutant like Rouge who can kill people with a single touch or mutant like Storm who can bend the weather to your will (the most obvious example). You can be a mutant like Jean with no obvious physical signs of your mutation or you can be a mutant like Kurt, where 9/10 people think you’re a demon of some kind.

But what happens when you're a mutant like Logan Howlett? I mean you look human enough, sure you're a little more hairy than most people, you have fangs, you smell, and oh yeah the claws but those are retractable so overall....you're just a normal person right? Nothing you can’t hide, right? Yeah, for the most part, yeah. But there are a couple of other things about you that someone might not know from looking at you, you have an extraordinary healing factor, you have almost animal like senses and when you are pushed to your absolute brink you go into a monstrous like a rage and kill everything in sight.

For every gift Logan was born with theres a very real curse attached to each one.

Healing Factor: Logan still feels pain, the healing factor isn’t just limited to his body but it also messes with his memories, and more importantly he’s lived a very long life. In The End comic and Old Man Logan comic etc, when he’s out lived most of the world, he’s miserable.

Keen senses: Seems great, until they’re exploited, imagine what being able to smell and see and hear that well all the time without relief must be like. Imagine not being able to tell when someone is going to die? Or when they’re lying or when they haven’t showered etc. sure you might get used to it like you might get used to pain but that doesn’t make it pleasant.

Claws: Need to really touch on this one? Aside from the obvious please remember that Logan’s claws aren’t in his knuckles but in his fucking forearms so when using them he needs to make an effort to direct them or….

Berserker rage: great to get you out of a pinch but you can’t control it. (We’ll talk more about this later)

Most people don’t see these very real downsides of Logan’s mutation, they just see a small, angry guy, who’s good at fighting and can take a hit better than almost anyone.

Here’s what worse, a lot of people (X-men included) don't see, they don't all the ways Logan hates himself (and those who do don’t see the depths of that hate he has for himself). They don't see the scared little boy whose father was killed in front of him. They don't see that little boy who killed his father's murderer and was abandoned by all but one person for one person (Rose). They don't see the young man who accidentally killed his first love while trying to protect her from his brother. They don't see the man who lived a relatively miserable life being plucked up by a group of people who only saw him as something to be experimented on. They don’t see the man who believes that if he loves someone he's destine to hurt them in one way or another because he has multiple times over (even if it wasn’t always his fault). They don’t see that for all the times that they call Logan an animal, he already believes them and he’s called himself worse many times over.

(Deep down he truly believes he deserves be to alone, especially in death. That would be his “deserved” hell. Eternal loneliness.)

Which is funny because I think Logan goes back and forth in deciding on whether or not he has any humanity in him in the first place. See in the Black, White and Blood comic, the FIRST story told in this series, is an account of Logan’s time at Weapon X and we get this…interaction:

Pourquoi tu me fais ça?///Why are you doing this to me? This "monster" asks him this on the cusp of death....

(Moments during the Weapon X program, be they real memories or not, when Logan’s humanity shone through)

And THIS almost immediately snaps him out of mind control he's under going. I don't know if he understood the words per say but I think even if he didn't, he still understood the plea on a human level. Because it wasn’t Weapon X who responded, it wasn’t the berserker, or Wolverine. It was Logan Howlett. It was a moment of humanity that broke the conditioning he’d been put through that answered that plea and stopped him. Because if you think about it, if these two memories actually are real, that means that Logan recognized this plea as the same one gave to the scientists. Now determining what did or didn't happen during the Weapon X program is difficult to parse out because they implanted false memories. BUT regardless of that there was always a part of him that held onto his humanity. But I think that just adds to the horror of it all. Imagine not being able to know what memories are yours and which ones are not? So let me ask, even if those memories are “false” does that make them any less real? Does that mean that Logan suffered any less under their stewardship? He was still kidnapped, he was still experimented on, still tortured. He still had the adimantium grafted onto his bones, he was still made into a living puppet and was still seen as nothing more than a weapon, an animal, a monster by the very people who were doing all of this to him and in some respects they are the reason he is seen as a monster by others.

At the end of that comic (where he was momentarily snapped out of his conditioning) he states that no his humanity wasn’t stolen from him but he still lives with that guilt of everything he can’t remember and the things he can remember are unreliable.

I know a lot of people haven’t read the comics so I’m not trying to do annoying about it BUT if you get the opportunity to PLEASE go read The Weapon X comic (by Berry Windsor-Smith) & Wolverine’s first limited series run (by Chris Claremont).

I specifically say that second one because I think the story that’s told is probably one of the more interesting told for Logan because of the relationship he has with Yukio and Mariko. I’m not going to get too deep into it because I really think you should read it for yourself but the basic outline of it is that where Mariko loves the man, Yukio loves the “monster”. And when he’s initially trying to court Mariko it’s his attempts to in a sense to court humanity but he fails and when he turns to Yukio. And for her part it’s not just as simple as her loving the “monster” but more than she goads it out of him, for thematic reasons and plot reasons. But needless to say, they both love Logan but they both love an incomplete version of him. (It’s a really good story and it’s literally what sold me on the idea of reading through any of the older comics.)

Anyway, (in the comics and movies especially) some people solely see him as a man with an uncontrollable side that they’d run from at the first sign of aggression and others only want that animalistic side and don’t love the man that Logan is. The thing is, he is both of those things. Think about it like this. As humans we like to think ourselves above the food chain, we like to think of ourselves as *more* than animals. And sure we’re definitely one of the most successful species of animals on Earth and we definitely don’t act on instincts in the same way most animals do, we’ve created society and rules and we do things a lot different than other animals but we are still animals.

So Logan isn’t both a man and an animal anymore than you or me. But he is a man that is more in touch with those animal instincts than the rest of us (bc of his mutation). Which I think is why when he does act on those instincts, people see him as less, because we (yes even comic book characters for this argument) only seem associate those traits with animals, with something lesser than ourselves.

The thing is, being “an animal” doesn’t need to be an insult or a condemnation of any kind. Humans are still animals but humans are still kind, and caring, humans have still created beautiful art and music and food and architecture and have got to the stars will probably go beyond the stars all while still being an “animal”.

So I think where most people get hung up on word “animal” is because it has such a negative connotation when applied to humans. And thus that negative connotation basically perpetuates itself so the only time we call other humans animals is when we mean to attack their humanity.

So back to Logan. Imo, there is no better example of this than the way people, Logan included, treat his (and subsequently him) berserker rage. Logan describes it as a monster that shares his soul, something else inside him, the real thing that makes him a monster, something that he doesn’t like, something he’s scared of, something he can’t always control but that he does everything in his power to keep away from the people he loves. Because Logan doesn’t like to kill, he doesn’t like hurting people. He might be good at it, he might be known for it but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Even when he thinks death is a deserved punishment, he isn't ever happy about having to kill. And he even says as much at one point in the comics.

And as a real quick aside, but this is almost exactly what sets him apart from Victor Creed. They're both men whose mutation gives them heightened animal like traits. The only difference is that Logan is ashamed of those parts of himself especially when they pertain to violence where Victor likes it, enjoys it; he goes out of his way for violence.

(If there is more to Victor Creed than meets the eye please tell me bc I gotta say I don’t actually know too much about him except that any time I see him in any Wolverine media I immediately laugh bc I know the two around to brawl. And I’m almost never wrong lmao)

And mind you there are times when Logan is also a hammer in the sense that he tends to punch his way through most of his problems. But he doesn't go out of his way for it in the same way Victor does despite having every reason to.

Logan has killed people but unlike Victor he isn't a killer. Even if that's what he's "the best at".

So when he goes into this specific rage that labels him a monster (an animal) it’s almost always in front of someone he loves and it’s almost always in a moment when he’s trying to prove his humanity (when it’s being used thematically and not for plot convenience). Like if you go read the comics 9 times out 10 when Logan is being called a monster or animal by some scientist or an enemy looking to humiliate him. But it’s almost always in the mitts of a life or death situation. A situation that anyone would fight light hell to get out of even with an amazing healing factor like Logan’s.

Because he still feels pain.

He still wants to survive.

He still feels.

And at the end of it all, he feels ashamed and horrified with himself and he'll always have to live with that guilt and shame. There's a point in one of the comics when he describes his heart as being slower to heal than the rest of his body and I think its interesting because although that story he's talking more from a "heart broken" sense. I also think that can apply just as equally to idea that it also harder for him to heal from not just heart break but also from shame and guilt. In certain situations, it takes longer for him to forgive himself emotionally because he suffers physically in the short term. He’ll never have a physical scar of his wrong doing and so he carries the emotional weight of it with him.

But also because he isn't just dealing with himself. In those moments when he comes out of that rage, the people he loves are in shock and are scared because they saw the “monster” and some people do reject it and in so they reject him and although rejection is something Logan thinks he deserves, it doesn’t make that pain hurt any less. it doesn't make it any easier to heal just because you agree with them, and in a way I think that's what slows down that healing process. Logan's inability to forgive himself.

Because that's the thing, Logan, would rather be scared of himself than forgive himself, be it because of his past trauma or because of the Weapon X program (which in the Weapon X comic it’s implied if not outright stated that the scientist at Weapon X are the reason he feels the fear he does about himself). Logan is scared of no one on Earth more than the man he sees in the mirror. And that’s because in his lowest moments when he looks in the mirror he doesn't see a man, instead he sees an animal, a monster. He doesn’t need the rest of the world to tell him what he already thinks of himself, it just doesn’t help that he has a choir of voices that are sometimes louder than his own telling him his worst fear is real. He is the monster that hides under his own bed but the problem is, while the monster is 'real' is a physical sense, it does not share a soul with him anymore than the boogeyman does. He wrestles with himself. Somedays he believes he's a man like anyone else and other days he can't drown out the voices telling him he's nothing more than a monster.

And as my last touch on the beserker rage, I want to posit my own theory about it. Personally believe to some extent that it isn’t part of his natural mutation and that instead it’s something that was “given” to him by the Weapon X program. The reason I say this is because I think it would make a lot of sense that like the adimantium claws and false memories it would make sense to give you “weapon” this uncontrollable rage (that mostly comes out in times of great duress). Not just because it would be one more thing Weapon X has taken from him (control over his own emotions/body) but also because wouldn’t that just make sense on the side of the people who ran the project? That your living puppet have a fail safe of sorts in case it ran into something bigger than itself? During the Weapon X comic, the scientist are constantly surprised by how resilient he is and even though some of this surprise happens in a false memory, they really do believe they can kill him at one points so if they thought they could kill him, why not something else? Why not give their investment insurance? And what better insurance for an animal than monstrous rage. 

But of course none of this is even to talk about the kind of person Logan really is. The thing that I think most people (in the comics) tend to ignore about Logan, in favor of focusing on his rough exterior (and some of his more questionable characteristics) is that he really does have a heart of gold. Now do not get me wrong, he can do some pretty fucked up shit (I will not talk about the Jean and Scott love triangle bc it gives me a migraine) but he does regularly do things that show how much empathy he has. That show that despite what he (or the rest of the world) might think, he isn’t a monster. The best examples of this are his relationships and more specifically the relationships where he’s a father/mentor. Like his relationship with Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, two kids that he basically adopts/takes under his wing and constantly goes out of his way for. Some of you might remember this post and the reason Logan does eventually fuck Wade’s shit up is because Wade literally punches the ever living shit out of Kitty in front of Logan. In another comic issue (after this), Logan beats the shit out of Wade again for punching Kitty, it’s funny but it also just goes to show that he does take protection of his family seriously. And mind you he doesn’t hunt Deadpool down, he find him by sheer plot coincidence when he’s getting a book signed for Kitty and the author just so happened to be Deadpool’s mark.

And mind you, Logan does have love for his own kids (Laura and Daken) despite the troubled nature of both this relationships but again those are a little more complicated. That’s partially for plot reasons but also because they play into just how much Logan hates himself that he struggles active show the same love for his adopted family to his “blood” family (again with Daken it’s a lot more complicated) but I also think that not only are his relationships with them fraught because of how much he hates himself but because both Laura and Daken were experimented on just and manipulated like he was (and in Daken’s case by a major player of Weapon X) so while he does love them past his own self hatred, they are also a reminder of his deepest traumas. It’s not their fault and it’s not necessarily Logan’s fault either, it’s just the cards their characters were dealt. (I haven’t read any comics with them yet so once I do I will most likely write my thoughts on his relationship with them each individually)

Regardless, Logan, depsite what he’d like you to think, is a deeply loving, empathetic and loyal person and this doesn’t just extend to people who considers family:

(Logan says this a man who not only a few issues ago was trying to kill him and his partner/friends. He saved Roughouse (the character he went berserk on a few pictures ago) because he was being experimented on in a way not too dissimilar to the way he had been by Weapon X. And if I remember correctly this is before he even knows how he got the adimantium in his bones)

He is James 'Logan' Howlett. He is a man whose life was stolen from him so many times over. He is a man who believes that the worse parts of him are all that matter and fails (or refuses) to see the good he has done in the lives of the people he cares about and believes that only death will truly bring him peace. He is someone who despite his flaws can’t help but to be kind. He is someone who fights like hell for what he believes is right. And even if he believes he’s a monster, even if the world believes he’s a monster, he will try to do the right thing because although he knows his soul is damned that doesn’t mean that exempts him from doing what good he can. He is someone who gives and good as he gets and then some. He’s the best at what he does but for him, that isn’t alway what he thinks it is.

And I think that’s the beauty of Logan as a character. Someone whose life is so wrought with tragedy and yet he is someone who can’t help but to be kind, someone who can’t help but love and care and find the humanity in the world despite the world seeming to be hellbent on taking his humanity away. Even though he (and many people in universe) might disagree with me, he is not only a one of the best humanity has to offer but he is also a shining example of the tenacity of the human spirit.

[rottenherbs]

Rumors and Lies // H.P x reader

Summary: Harry is frustrated that a new rumor is spreading in the hall about your relationship. You try to cheer him up in any way you can. 

Word Count: 972

Author's Note: Super fluffy! (Also sorry for the sentence with the “made made” i literally was wracking my brain for a better  phrase but it literally just works LOL 

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige 

———-

Being Harry’s girlfriend was not for the faint of heart. Obviously, many girls at school swooned over the boy, and jealousy wasn’t a trait of yours, but the bullying and quips that were whispered in the halls always hurt you more than it did him. It wasn't until something was circulating about your relationship that hindered Harry in a way you’d never seen before. 

“You know I love you for who you are. Okay?” 

“I know you do, it just frustrates me that they won’t just accept that I love you, i am with you!! Like ONLY you!” He scoffed, head in hands. His head was spinning, anger throughout his body. He was having a hard time maintaining his composure, kicking himself mentally in how he was behaving around you. He knew it wasn't that big of a deal, but it was… sorta. 

Unfortunately, its been the second time this week a peer of yours had gone up to Harry and attempted to swindle him into a date; well aware that you two were together. It was embarrassing, not only for the girl, but slightly for Harry. The situation was awkward and he hated being put in a position like that. A rumor had gone around that he was seeing the ravenclaw prefect.

Was this going to be an ongoing thing? Harry thought. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, his hands raking through his hair, pulling at the roots slightly. It kept racing through his mind that people had the implication that he’d leave you, at all, none the less for some Ravenclaw prefect. He worshiped the ground you walked on, constantly trying to be a better person for you. Even the idea of breaking your heart made his blood pressure rise. 

You could see how upset he was getting. You walked over and sat next to him on his bed. His body slumped slightly into yours as you sat, his head thumping on your shoulder in defeat. Wrapping your arms around him, you hummed lightly into his hair, planting light kisses. After a minute of silence, Harry took a deep breath in, his hands slowly moving across his lap to yours.  

“I’ll never leave you for someone else. I hope you know that.” He mumbled, his thumb rubbing his hand roughly in an attempt to calm himself. “No matter what people say in the halls” 

“I know love. Believe me, no one could rip you from my grasp.” You chuckle, whispering into his ear. Your arms snake around him, squeezing his body as tight as you could. Harry laughed, his arms bound to his sides, falling back onto the bed. You both laugh and tousle slightly, your arms racing around tickling any exposed skin. His face was twisted into a fit, his glasses askew on his face, his cheeks warm and red from laughing.

Somehow after a minute, the tables had turned, Harry was on top of you, your arms pinned above your head, both of you entirely out of breath. You smiled up at him, your armpits suddenly feeling very vulnerable to his touch, not knowing what his next move would be. 

Harry looked down at you, his eyes twinkling with a sense of power. He loved being on top of you. Your hair was disheveled and your lips were parted slightly, exhaling from your mouth. You were undeniably perfect, and he wished he could stare at you all day. Scrunching your eyebrows, you looked up at him sternly, becoming antsy under his touch. 

“Are you just going to hold me down all day?” You scoffed rolling your eyes sarcastically. The corner of your lip quivered in a smile, unable to hide your true feelings. 

“I might.” He chuffed, looking around the room. “Doesn’t look like we have anywhere to be.” Looking back down at you, his smile was more mischievous. Any movement he made - made you squirm under his touch, his hands only tensing around your wrists harder. The air in the room changed, the tension was palpable you swore you could taste it. 

Just as Harry was leaning down, itching his way closer to you, the door to the shrared dormitory swung open, slamming itself against the wall echoing around the room. Both of you turned your heads towards the sound, Harry's legs still straddling your waist. 

“Mate. You know the rules.” Ron scoffed, his hands flying to cover his eyes. He stood for a moment, his sight shielded from both of you. Harry didn’t move off of you, his head fell back, smacking his forehead with his palm.  You laughed at them both, the theatrics of the pair was beyond entertaining. 

“We weren’t even-“

”You’re ontop of her!” 

“No we were just”

“Listen.. I'll be back in an hour, but I swear if there isn't a sock on the door handle and you two are…… frolaking… believe me there will be a new story around the halls.” He shook his head, freeing one of his hands from his face miming around him attempting to find the door handle. You and Harry watched him struggle, both holding back laughter until he successfully closed the door. 

“Maybe a rumor about us “frolaking” wouldn’t be that bad huh?” You tapped your finger on your chin, inquiring playfully. Harry's smile grew, leaning back down again just inches from your face. 

“We ought to do it anyway. Wouldn’t want Ron to be a liar now would we?” 

[yuyu1024]

Rebound

Pairings: s.coups/seungcheol × y/n

Genre/tags: friends/fwb

Warning: 🔞smut, a little fluff, cursing, semi public, dry humping, handjob, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex/drunk sex, mention of alcohol

(Always be safe and make sure to have consent... always...)

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.5k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: this might be all over the place since i wrote it while im trying to sleep🫠 Hope you all have a great week ahead....

Brb. 👩🏻‍💻

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You are heart broken right now. Your boyfriend or should we say ex just broke up with you recently. Through text and you haven't gotten the chance to get a grip of it yet. The breakup is still fresh and the way he just dumped you is still painful. He's heartless for doing such thing. No one should ever experience such thing!

"I hate men." You blurt out as you lay down on the mat that you and your friend put down the floor so you guys could lay down whilst star gazing. Of course with alcohol and snacks involve.

"All of a sudden?" Seungcheol heard you as he was just about to come out of his house. "I invited you here at my place... to relax... to entertain you.. for you to stop crying over your ex... then... now you hate men? Even me?" He sound offended

You laugh at his reaction. "Sorry... I can't help it." You say, "Men invades women's lives... flirt with us, make us fall in lovd... then when they feel like they need to go to the next target they'll just throw us like we are nothing..."

"You are not wrong with that... but hey not all men are like that." He sits down next to you, holding a beer on his hand. "Look at me..." he adds

You get up and sit straight next to him, "Yeah... you're a nice person..." you lean your head on his shoulder. "Too nice... even... that's why---"

"Hey. Don't mention the past." He hushes you. "We are talking about your heart break here... not mine that's been years ago."

You giggle at his reaction. "Fine..." you then grab his beer and drink from it. "But just one question.."

"Hmm?"

"Why haven't you dated again after....you know who...?"

"Well... I don't know... I guess... I just haven't found the girl for me yet..."

"Why? Are your standards that high?"

He takes back the beer from your hand. "I'm not like that... I go with my feelings... not like you who goes nuts when you see men with strong arms and built."

"Well," you steal his beer again and drink from it. "I find those traits sexy...how can I resist?"

"Yeah right." He takes his beer again. "Will you stop drinking mine? Just grab one from the cooler... I bought enough for the two of us..."

"But I like yours..." you take it again from him after he just took a sip. "We can always share... we are friends..." You drink the last chug. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"It doesn't. I just thought you'd be the type of person that would be concious about drinking at the same cup or whatever..."

You wipe your mouth with your hand as you put the empty can on the side. "What do you mean?"

"You know... I hear girls at Uni talk about indirect kisses so..."

"Ahh... I see..." you giggle. "How funny... they get so excited by those..."

"You don't?"

"Of course not! It's not like it is a kiss." You roll your eyes. "Making out for sure...is much more exciting..."

"Right." Seungcheol gets up to take another can of beer from the cooler. "Do you want one or you still want to share with me?" He asks as he opens the cooler.

"Grab two... but still we'll share." You say smiling

He shakes head and grab two different kinds. "You are really something..."

***

After a few more drinks and chitchat about your exes, you two finally decided to lay down and watch the stars above you.

With minimal light around you and Seungcheol turning off the lights in the house, just leaving the kitchen lights on where you two will enter back later, the sky is more brighter and clearer in your view.

"Thanks for inviting me here at your family's vacation house..."

"No problem... besides, mom suggested me to bring you here... she said you need this."

"Your mom is so sweet."

"She is... and its a plus because she likes you..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she always wanted a daughter and I guess....you fit what she dreamed off having..."

"Aww... but...it is a bit sad..."

"Sad? Why?"

You turn over to your side, facing Seungcheol. "Coz I'm not the typical good daughter... and I don't want to disappoint her..."

"Typical good daughter?" He repeats, stunned by your word choice. "You are a good person..."

"Am I?" You laugh and lay down at your back again.

"Yeah... just a little freaky..."

"Freaky?!" You repeat, whipping your head to him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't act like you are not..." he smirks, "I've seen you do PDA with your ex."

"And...?" You toss to your side again but this time closer to Seungcheol. "Are you saying I'm freaky because I like to cuddle and touch my man?" You raise your brow at him.

"Don't get insulted. I didn't meant it as a bad way...." he then looks back at you, smiling. "I like freaky to you know... we all have our... kinks..."

"Really? Define... what's freaky for you? What are your kinks?"

"Okay... don't look at me like that..." he laughs, "I don't mean THAT kink... I don't do fifty shades of grey freaky you know..."

"Then... what are the things you like?"

"You really want to know?"

"Of course... coz my freaky may be different from your freaky..." you are grinning

"Hmmm..." he hums, thinking if he should tell you. "Isn't it a bit dangerous to be on a topic like this...?" He asks. Then his eyes starts scanning you from your face to your chest area which is very exposed and in his face right now.

You smirk as you eye him glancing at your cleavage. "Cheolie... are you getting seduced by my boobs right now?" You tease

"How can I not?" He looks away but the corner of his lips is curved into a smile. "You're wearing a verly low V neck shirt right now..."

You giggle at his remarks and then lean in to give your friend a kiss on the cheek which surprised him.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Nothing... because you are so cute." You say before going back to your original position.

"Me? Cute?" He pouts, "Y/N I just talked about looking at your boobs and you find it cute?"

"I do!" You answer

"You're weird."

"Oh yeah... J am freaky..." you say, laughing.

"You are..." he adds

The two of you suddenly became quiet. The only thing you could hear now is the crackling of the woods in the bon fire and the sound of the breeze and the trees dancing.

"It's getting a bit chilly now..." Seungcheol breaks the silence. "Should we go inside now?"

"No... not yet..." you answer. "I need to do something..."

"Do what--"

Before he could even finish, you already got up and crawled on top of him

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

You move your pelvis, lower than where you are. You are trying to find the perfect spot on top of him.

"Ughh..." he breathes out as you placed your clothed core right on top of his erection. "Y/N...."

"Cheolie... Do you want to make out with me?"

"What??"

You slide your hands from his abdomen to his chest. "We're friends right...?"

"Y/N...." he grabs both your wrists. "I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Please...?" You move your hips, slightly rubbing your core to his bulge and causing him to hiss a curse under his breathe. "You can touch me if you want... I don't mind..."

"You are drunk..."

"No, I'm not..." you frown. "If I'm drunk....I won't be asking for your consent..."

"This is wrong... what you want is not right..."

"I know."

He gets up whilst you are still on hip. "And you still want to?"

You nod.

"Are you trying to use me? As rebound sex?" He chuckles

"I was not suggesting sex yet... but..." you put your arms around his neck and then move your body closer to his, "if you are okay with having sex... I'm game..." you say the few words words in a very seducing manner.

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

He laughs at how serious you are. "You are crazy, Y/N..."

"I know..." you once again rub your clothed core on his erection. Basically dry humping him. "Please...?" Your voice sounded more breathy.

"Damn it." He mumbles as the friction between you two makes him more hard.

"Here." You grab his hand and place it over your boob. "You like my boobs right...?" Then you guide his hand by rubbing his palm over and then squeezing your boob with his hand. "Feel it..." you whisper while letting his thumb feel your hardened nipple through your shirt.

"Fuck, Y/N... you are insane..." he throws his head back, holding on to not crack a smile. He is enjoying your needy side.

"C'mon Cheolie... you are making me wait for too long... do you want to or not?" While you on the other hand is being impatient.

"If I say yes," he says "What happens after we fuck?"

"We can decide after..."

"What if... I want to do it again..."

"Then let's do it again."

He's brows scrunches, "you are okay to with that?"

"Yes..."

"Even though... We are not dating?"

"Seungcheol..." you lean in a kiss him on the cheek again. "Like what we talked about... I am a little freaky... and besides you're my friend..."

"So....we're going to be.... fuck buddies?"

"If you want to..."

"No strings attached? Just... sex?"

"Yes... if I'm horny... I'll call you... and if you are horny and need me... then, call me and I'm willing to fuck you or suck you... anywhere... anytime..."

Shaking his head laughing, "Fucking hell Y/N... you are naughty..."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah... I know... so now what? Do you want to fuck with me or not? Give me an answer now coz if your not going to... I'll just go to bed..."

"You are very impatient, you know that?" He says smirking whilst his brows is furrowed. He looks amused. "I just want to make sure..." then he places his hand on your waist, sliding them under the hem of your shirt. "You are sure with this... since... we have alcohol in our system..."

"Right..." then as a needy and impatient as you are, you lean in already and started kissing Seungcheol on the lips.

The kiss surprisingly didn't start sloppy or awkward. It just went smoothly and very... arousing.

He is moaning already into the kiss. That's how good it makes him feel already.

"See.... you want it too..." you tease, smiling pulling away and looking at his turned on face.

"Who said I didn't want to?" He then carries you off him and carefully puts you back down the mat. "I wanted to wreck you since this morning when I first saw you wearing this revealing top..." his hand glides up from your tummy to your neck, right under your shirt. The motion lifted your shirt up exposing the lower part of your tits. "Fuck!" He hisses. "Your body is so fucking insane." He lowers his head and starts nibbling your skin from your belly buttom to your underboob.

"Ahh..." you inhale sharply when he sucked your skin and making sure he's leaving a mark. "Are you happy I didn't wear any bra today?" You ask

"The fuck I am." He goes to fully take off your top and start sucking and squeezing both alternately.

You moan at every suck, lick and flick he does. "Oh fuck... yes..." your hips dance every time his tongue touches your nipple.

"You're sensitive. You really like this huh?" He looks up at you while his tongue continues to pleasure you.

You nod your head, smiling while biting your lips.

"Fuck!" You throw your head back the second you felt him cup you down there. And since you're just wearing your black leggings, you could really feel his finger rubbing you there. "Ngggaaaahh..." you breathing heavy

"You sound so sexy...." he hums right st your ears as he watches you react to his strokes.

"You're teasing me too much..." you say

"Do I?" He chuckles

"Let me do the same!"

You are getting competitive now. You don't want to loose even though there is no game. You just know he's enjoying you moan just with just his little touches and licks. But you want him to whimper like you or more.

"Let me show you what I can do for you..." you push him away and then ride him on top again. "It's unfair that I'm the only one moaning in this session...." you move your hands quickly, pushing his jogging pants and his boxers down at the same time. "Dang..." your eyes widened as you see how long and thich he is. "You're hiding this from me?" You gently touch his wet tip.

"I'm not... technically hiding how big I am..." he answers before taking his shirt off. "You know I am big."

"Wow! You are one cocky mother fucker!" You laugh slapping his abs. "Let's see how cocky you'd still be after I make you come..."

"Bring it on." He says, rubbing his palm to your tits. "I've always wanted to know how your mouth feels on my dick..."

"Really? I'm flattered..." leaning in for a sweeet smooch on his lips. "Seems like... you've been having dirty thoughts about me for a while now..."

"I do..." he answers honestly, gazing straight into your eyes as your faces are just inches away. "I've been a bad friend..."

You kiss the corner of his lips. "It's fine.... I like bad boys..." you whisper sensually before you wrap your hands completely around his length.

You start slowly, pumping him while your eyes are glued to his. You want to see his face, his expression change while you squeeze him. You want to see him melt under your touch.

"Y/N... fuck!" He's breathing goes hectic as you now start to lick him. You are teasing him the way he teased you. "Ahh!" He growls when swirl your tongue on the tip.

Now, you begin to take him all in. Your whole mouth wrapped around his length. You are drooling at how big he is in your mouth but its worth it. His moaning and whimpers are all music to your ears.

"I think I'm going...t-to explode... fucking hell Y/N!"

You give him a final lick from buttom to top before giving him sensual kisses on his abdomen and then to his pecks.

"Do you want to explode inside of me?"

Those words pumped his adrenaline even more. You know it did coz his dick got flexes and got more harder than what it is. He even got up as quickly as he can and take you in for a kiss before he warns you and says, "Now, let me fuck you real good... raw and hard."

[neptunes-sol-angel]

BOO! 👻🎃🕸 How are you scaring people with their shadows? Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most then scroll down for the corresponding message(s). Happy Halloween my Sol-cherubs!!

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Pile One

"SHE AIN'T NO DIVAAA!"

You trigger others in a way that threatens their confidence and provoke them into a cycle of evaluating their self worth and identity after an ego death that's probably been long overdue. Some people in this group may hinder themselves back from speaking to people about anything in general, like expressing your opinion on something, talking about yourself, joining in a conversation so that you can be outgoing and network with others because you could feel like developing normal interactions with others is difficult for you. You could feel that people may find what you have to say as meaningless, they could even talk over you, or maybe you fear that people will hate you for what you say. You could also find yourself in too many situations where people are dedicated to misunderstanding you by twisting what you say or snubbing you. But despite their reactions, people strongly value what you say, and are often changed personally by even just a few words that you mention and could still think about what you've said years later whether it's from a normal conversation or an argument. I feel called to mention to this group that you shouldn't restrain yourself by muting your verbal expression in order to please others, because I'm getting that even though you aren't aware that there are people who want to listen and do listen to what you have to say and will like and respect you for who you are, you understand the weight of your words and the repercussions you face when you defend yourself and but there are times you don't in order to keep the peace. You must understand that peace is simply an illusion when you keep putting your feelings and wellbeing aside to keep people that are not even for you in your life. Tip toeing around others is not what's going to keep you safe—you gotta step on some toes to free yourself. This group has to learn both when it isn't your fault for when you trigger someone and when it is. Because I'm getting that another part of this group is more so in the darker aspect of this trait, you don't hold your tongue for anyone and when someone goes low, you go to straight to the pits of hell. You're fully aware of how you know just the right words to break someone and to intentionally offend them. Your brutal honesty isn't needed all of the time and sometimes you're not being blunt, you're just being an asshole. Reserve your poison for the people that deserve it, but it will benefit you to learn that the same way the magnitude of your words can be poison to others it also be venom used to help others heal. I know it may feel like that someone's always trying it with you but you gotta calm down and start seeing the good in humanity, because not everyone is a piece of filth that you need to sweep. The shadow work that you make other people do eventually creates a balance that keeps their egos in check and where their humility is holding them back.

Pile Two

What's chilling about you is how elusive you are. This can mean a variety of things, but one of the scenarios that I'm getting is that this pile could be adamant when it comes to holding grudges. People hate that you don't forgive them because it gives them a reality check with how entitled they feel to treat others and how they expect them to react about it afterwards. You seem to unfortunately attract a lot of people that don't take any accountability. They show up as either someone who feels like they have the right to mistreat others and have control over how their victims feel or perceive the situation or people who have lived their entire lives as victims but are in disbelief when they are in situations where they have made someone else a victim so they manipulate the situation to confirm their bias and lack of self awareness. These people are possessive over outcomes and how they want to be seen. You are very much capable of forgiving others, but you are strong with your boundaries to the point where you don't make yourself accessible anymore to the people have hurt you and this confuses them. They're used to thinking that words have more meaning than their actions or that forgiveness is something that's automatically given when asked for it, but you show them that's not exactly how it works. This makes them have to unpack guilt that they will deal with for a very long time or your absence reminds them of how powerless that they feel. Both are situations that are hard to sit with alone so these people may tend to latch on others and surround themselves with company. The shadow work that you make others do is to reflect on situations where they are habitually self-undoing.

Pile Three

What makes other people shook about you, is how unmoved you are but how you always seem to ironically move others. You could have this radical intelligence and self sufficiency where you don't care who's on your level or not. You could be isolated by others a lot, and on the outside it could look like you're out of touch with humanity, but no, you're actually way ahead of your time, they just need to catch up. The same things that people have tried to shun you for, end up becoming trends in the future. You guys are very secure with yourself and it intimidates others, but you've grown or will grow to not let that effect you anymore. I see that your purpose involves leading others. You guys could be coaches to help people break habits that maladaptively stagnate their lives, you keep yourself strong, in order to pass this on to others who finally decide that they to help themselves. Your insight isn't going to be accepted by the majority because those people are still stuck on outward appearances or are complacent with their own delusions, and it's not your responsibility to help everyone, but you're good at what you do and you have the potential to save a lot of lives with the changes that you help other people make within themselves. It doesn't even have to solely be changes either, you could motivate others to recognize what they already have within themselves too and that's so empowering. If you guys are tarot readers that are feeling down about the messages that you're trying to bring to people, I'm getting that you guys need to keep going, what you're doing is meaningful even if you can't physically see it, you awaken others deeply to things that they may not be ready to publicly share with others so give it time and remember your mission. You aren't here to entertain any thoughts of staying the same, you are here to promote growth. Don't downplay your gifts, you know what you know.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Obsessed (Joe Goldberg x gn reader)

Summary: Joe discovers your obsession with him

Warnings: obsessive behavior from the reader, mentioned threats/violence, stalking, breaking and entering, the reader has massive yandere vibes, the reader is a creep/pervert, interrupted masturbation session, Joe is pretty complacent to this once he finds out, implied smut at the end

A/N: the original idea for this came from this post by the amazing @samcvrpenters that I decided to expand on a little. thank you so much for giving me the permission to turn your idea into a full fic <33

Joe was perfect. He was, really. He was charming, attractive, had a good sense of humor: all of which were traits that led him to be the perfect guy. In your opinion, anyway.

You wouldn't say you were obsessed with him. That was an awfully strong word. Though you did tend to care about him more than anyone else in your life, and you thought about him every second of every day, and there was the teensy tiny shrine you had dedicated to him tucked away in your closet where no one would see-

Okay, yeah, maybe you were a little obsessed. But who could blame you, really? Guys in general sucked at best and deserved jail time at worst, and that was putting it lightly. But Joe? He was perfect.

Okay, maybe not one hundred percent perfect. He did have a few small character flaws, but they were minor things that you were able to look over pretty easily.

Such as leaving the door to his apartment unlocked sometimes when he left out. I mean, seriously, he lived in New York of all places. If anyone was going to try to rob a person, it would be there.

You forgave him, though. You were aware he probably had other things on his mind, what with having to manage a bookstore entirely by himself (you didn't count Ethan) and making sure Paco was okay.

There was also the girl he'd been talking to that had ghosted him, but that wasn't nearly as important as anything else (you threatened her with a slit throat if she didn't back off). What? You were just looking out for him. He was yours, even if he didn't realize it yet. You knew it, and that was enough for the both of you. It was one of the reasons why you were so determined to not let anybody tear you apart.

No one could love him the same way you could, you were quite certain. No one could appreciate him like you did. Which is obviously why you trailed after him wherever he went like a lost puppy, though you of course didn't make him aware that he had his very own living shadow.

You didn't want to freak him out. After all, you were well aware of what it would look like if he found out you were stalking him. (Though you hated using that word to refer to your situation. Stalking made it sound so bad, so dirty. You were simply looking out for him, is all).

Just like you were looking out for him whenever you snuck into his place. Although sneaking might not be the best word because, again, he had a tendency to leave the door unlocked.

So what if you went in there when he was gone on occasion and took a few things? It's not like he'd notice a missing shirt or pair of boxers. Or three.

Hey, at least you washed them before returning them. You hoped the smell of the laundry detergent you used would remind him of you just enough without giving away it was you that had washed his clothes.

For the most part, you were pretty clever, always making sure you knew where Joe was before heading over to his apartment to poke around at stuff and making sure to wear a hat and discreet jacket whenever you tailed after him. One way you were not clever, though, was when it came to your feelings. That was how he ended up finding you out.

He'd left early that morning just like usual for Mooney's, which gave you the chance to enter his apartment once he was gone. Technically you really didn't need to break in since you had a key (you were his best friend, after all) but it was hard to imagine that he'd be thrilled upon finding you in his apartment when he was gone, snooping around for no reason.

Everything seemed pretty ordinary, and you were just about to leave when you saw a pair of boxers laying on the floor next to the bed. His boxers.

You quickly glanced around despite no one being there and debated on whether or not you'd have the time to take them over to your place for a quick private session before bringing them back. Nah, you couldn't do that, it was far too risky, you decided even while picking them up, your hands practically trembling with excitement. God, you were such a mess when it came to him and his clothing.

Flopping down on the bed, you held the boxers up to your face and inhaled deeply. They smelled just like you'd imagined that he would. Still clutching the boxers with one hand, you moved the other down your body to the front of your pants. Maybe if you were quick, you could rub one out and be gone before anyone even realized it.

Of course it was at that same moment when Joe himself was walking back up the stairs to his apartment building, having left behind a book that needed to be restored back at his place. All he needed to do was grab it and then he could leave, no problem.

Except it was a problem, because you were already in there, about to masturbate with his underwear.

He paused just outside his apartment, noticing immediately the door was cracked. Had he left it like that? No, there's no way. He locked up before he left, he made sure of it.

A low moan was pulled from you as you rubbed and touched yourself, which just so happened to be the very first thing he heard when he walked in. "Joe..." You whimpered out his name in complete and utter bliss, your head tilted back against the pillows as you shut your eyes, though they quickly shot open again when you heard someone clearing their throat.

"What are you doing?" He asked while averting his gaze, feeling flustered and confused (and a little aroused, if we're being completely honest here). "And are those my boxers?"

This isn't what it looks like, is what you so desperately wanted to say, but you knew he'd never believe that. You needed something that could save this, so what did you do? You admitted your feelings to him.

"I love you," is what you blurted out instead, quickly pulling your hand out from your pants as you moved to hide the boxers behind your back. "I was- I just came over to check on things, and I saw you'd left some dirty clothes on the floor, and I was about to pick them up for you."

That excuse was so unbelievably stupid, you knew he'd never go for it. Luckily for you, he only seemed to catch one part of what you'd said.

"You... You love me?" He questioned in quiet disbelief, his big doe eyes gazing at you with a mixture of affection and longing. He was so pitiful looking, it was cute.

Swallowing thickly, you stood, discreetly dropping the boxers on the floor behind you and kicking them away as you spoke. "Of course I love you, Joe. You're my best friend in the entire world, and you mean everything to me."

He knew it was wrong, that he should panic, scream, kick you out and say he never wanted to see you again- but he couldn't. Because the truth was, he loved you, too.

Before you could respond, he pulled you in for a passionate and loving kiss, one that seemed to reassure you that he wasn't weirded out or offended or mad. You could feel yourself instantly melting into his touch, your hands cupping his face as your lips moved against one another in perfect harmony. If you could kiss him forever, you would.

Eventually you were forced to pull away for air, both of you panting heavily as you rested your forehead against his. "Are you the one who's been stealing all my clothes?" He asked suddenly, something that made you let out a snort of laughter in response.

"Maybe. I always washed them before returning them, though, so don't worry," you playfully replied as your arms moved to wrap around his neck.

"Well, that's good at least." He kissed you again before adding, "Care to enlighten me on just what you were doing before I came in?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that already," you purred in a sultry voice, a squeal of delight escaping from you when he suddenly picked you up and carried you over to the bed.

"Maybe you can show me then," he muttered in response, his voice low and seductive. Had you realized things would turn out this well, you would've admitted your love for him ages ago.

It was crazy how this all happened because of your more unsavory habits being revealed before the one person you were trying to keep them from. Him immediately accepting your love with open arms rather than feeling violated or being creeped out only proved to you one thing: that he needed you as much as you did him.

And once this had been confirmed for you in the flesh, there was no way he'd ever be left alone or let out of your sight ever again. You needed to have your eyes on him at all times, if only for your personal peace.

Besides, who could really blame you for wanting to keep him all to yourself? He was perfect, and you were obsessed after all, far more than you'd ever admit.

End notes: I really hope this was worth the wait 🫶

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[ad-hawkeye]

my fav thing about prefect luminary is that even though he is... very different from the other alkaids, he is still Very Much So an alkaid. the innate traits are there, it's just that different ones are expressed because of his upbringing and environment.

pl cares about optimization and hates wasting time and resources. the same is seen with most other alkaids and their desire to learn new skills and achieve their goals in an almost perfectionistic way. this is especially seen with modern alkaid. there's an odd, reoccurring trend where pl seems to use this as an explanation as to why he doesn't just kill people or destroy planets for the hell of it or to prove a point. it's wasteful. of course, this doesn't always apply and the empire has messed him up immensely, but my own theory is that the innate kindness each alkaid has is mixed in here somewhere. that pl unconsciously uses resource management as a means to justify it. key word being unconsciously - pl does not strike me as being self aware in the SLIGHTEST.

speaking of an alkaid's innate kindness, pl is a very interesting case where he seems almost defensive if accused of showing kindness. and he always has an explanation. "this is just one exception" or "this is just to be resourceful"... the only way i can even try to describe it is like... he's almost, kinda tsundere? which makes sense. if you take an innately kind guy and put him in, well. the empire. that will likely be the outcome.

pl almost seems bored by his job - i often joke about this, but it's true. there seems to be a lack of fervor in his actions compared to the other empire boys. when stuck in the same position for years and years with no upward mobility - and with no personal passion for the job - you get an alkaid who lacks freedom. and when an alkaid lacks freedom, much of his personality is being restricted since that's a key component in who he is and what he stands for.

pl is sarcastic, blunt, and sassy. every other alkaid is as well, and i'd go as far to say this trait is the only one that perfectly aligns with the other alkaids since it's allowed to be expressed in the empire. though, with the other alkaids, it seems to be toned down with strangers or anyone he doesn't know too well. this is compared to pl who will straight up write sarcastic and blunt emails to coworkers and subordinates.

pl only feels real emotion when it comes to mc. this is pretty similar to modern alkaid. pl and modern alkaid have the most similarities in terms of emotional repression. both have been trained to repress who they are (because of the empire and tammy's organization respectively), and as a result, are deeply emotionally constipated individuals who see mc as the color that paints their monotone lives. the difference is that modern alkaid has a family who does genuinely care about him, a relatively normal society, and the freedom to pursue what he wants when he wants. so he's more well adjusted despite his issues. pl, on the other hand... lol.

i'm kinda curious to see how other innate alkaid traits get twisted with pl and the empire. specifically would be curious to see how an alkaid's tendency to overthink and to protect comes into play. very, very curious actually!

[not-your-bro]

what i did and didn't (but mostly didn't) like about until dawn remake's character trait changes

hello friends and fans. i am super excited to welcome all my pals back to the latest episode of Laura Yaps About Until Dawn Remake. i've talked about the prologue here and here, and i plan on talking about other elements of the game (visuals, gameplay, narrative changes) whenever life and time allows.

before i go off about the character traits, thanks to @claarria for posting this handy side-by-side of old vs new. super helpful! i'll be using those images here.

and generally speaking, let it be known that i think the font change is so fucking ugly 💖 like god bless but it is so bad 💖💖 and they've made the layout so much less dynamic by just listing all the traits straight down, bullet point style?? it is all very microsoft powerpoint core and it sucks. anyway. onto the characters, in order of appearance.

sam

off topic but very importantly, how did they fuck up sam's face THAT bad?? ballistic moon sapped the life out of her and now there is literally nothing behind those eyes. HOMEGIRL WAKE UP 👏👏

one trait change here: adventurous -> brave. not wrong, but super redundant, because brave is one of the character stats in the menu, so like. at any point when i'm playing her, i can pop in the menu and see exactly how brave she is. it's pointless to put it here.

chris

one change: methodical -> loyal. and honestly. this one slays i can't lie. like yeahhhh 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

i know everyone loves to hate on chris now, but he pushes to help sam even when it puts himself at risk and he goes to the shed to get josh even though josh just traumatized the hell out of him lmao. boy is loyal asf and i'm more than happy to see it replace methodical.

jess

big changes here. i'm not jazzed to see confident go. i always thought smg included it purposefully, because this is how jess is trying to come across, even though she's actually insecure.

and imo trusting fits her far better than, say, driven. based on em's comment about her grades (and the fact that jess doesn't deny it lmao), i don't think she has much drive or ambition at this point in her life. she's always struck me as the kind of person who doesn't have a big dream or passion, and as high school graduation approaches she would feel sort of aimless? like she doesn't know where to go next.

i don't mean these as negatives, btw. jess is a top 3 ud character for me. i just don't think she's driven. and i think she is irreverent. and that's fine. 💖

emily

one change: persuasive -> forthright. like sam's change, this isn't wrong. emily is definitely forthright. but i don't like that we're shifting her further from mike (more on that later), and this change makes her use of words seem less purposeful. like she says what she wants just for the sake of it, instead of: she knows what to say to get people to do what she wants.

matt

matt's trait changes make for a much different impression. motivated and ambitious have been swapped with obliging and dependable, which shifts the focus from himself to others. we're drawing attention to an agreeable, go-with-the-flow personality, rather than the fact that he's got big dreams for himself (get that scholarship, bud).

i'm not sure i'm the biggest fan, because it kind of makes him seem like a doormat? it's possible that he never talks to emily about how she treats him, and he does film the prank on hannah even though he doesn't seem like he would. still...i guess i wish there was more of a mix here. he can be obliging and dependable, but he doesn't have to be, depending on your choices, and this really makes him feel like everything he does is for the sake of others.

mike

i appreciate ballistic moon pulling these shots back a little - some of them were really, like, up the character's nose lmfao. but bro those traits are unreadable against mike's skin 😭😭

anyway, mikey gets a complete overhaul. i've been over brave with sam. it's a waste of a slot. and it's not that mike isn't driven or charismatic. i mean, he is definitely charismatic, given his popularity in fandom. even i have this feeling of 'man, i should not be charmed by him' <- is definitely charmed by him. but i think we're losing a lot by separating him from emily, with whom he used to share 2 out of 3 traits (intelligent and persuasive). i always thought that said a lot about why they would be drawn to each other and start a relationship - but also why that relationship wouldn't last.

if i were to give mike any new trait, it'd probably be impulsive, which i think is a great fit for him. mike may be intelligent, but when it comes to decisions, he's a man of action - a doer, not a thinker. which is just as likely to lead to a bad outcome as it is a good one.

ashley

one change here (forthright -> sensitive), but god does it fucking suck. SENSITIVE?????? be fr. is ashley sensitive or is she traumatized nonstop for eight hours? she was upset when she was chained to a wall and thought she was going to die! when she thought her friend died! when she thought her other dead friend's ghost was trying to communicate with them! when she was put in a life-or-death trap a second time! that sure was sensitive of her!

if i could revert only one trait change, it would be this one. 0/10.

josh

must be said that josh's shot is much better in the remake. it could not have been worse, like i will never understand how anyone looked at that half-closed eye and open mouth and was like yeah that's a good first impression LMAO. so, cool with that.

tbh i also like josh's trait changes? this is another total overhaul, but honestly, at the risk of getting booed offstage, i'm happy with this. if i'm being real, complex was always a waste of a slot. like...yeah? i hope so? all of your characters should be complex to some degree. it feels like a weird shade to the other characters to point out one guy, specifically, as complex. so the rest of them are simple, then? 🤨 it's not that i would argue against josh being the most complex - i do think he is (though i realize my stance on that means little because i'm up this man's ass). it's just weird to draw attention to it.

as for the other traits, yeah, josh is thoughtful and loving. for sure. but i feel like these are sort of...level 2 traits. ykwim? and the new traits are level 1. if you hung out with josh in a casual way, in a group setting, remake traits would be more likely to spring to mind, to match that initial impression. i think you'd have to look more closely or spend more time to clock that he's thoughtful and loving, because outside of his sisters, i don't think he's particularly straightforward or overt in the way he conveys those things, and he wouldn't draw attention to them. maybe i'm leaning too hard on the version of him i've fleshed out in my mind, but josh is the kind of guy who would, like, remember one offhand comment matt made about liking a specific brand of beer. months later, at the next lodge trip, it's there in the fridge, and josh says nothing about it. but he remembered, and he got it. that's josh's brand of thoughtfulness. in my opinion.

none of these six traits are wrong, i just think the new ones are better 'first impression' traits for him.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I’d like to imagine a silentlily (silent salt x white lily) scenario (yan)

Imagine salt’s reaction to her being in a coffin again

Then her walking up

(I starve for silent lily)

Hehe

"White as Snow" - SilentLily Short Story

PAUSE: This is Yandere Silent Salt. He's a knight, he's in shining armor, but he's nobody's hero. He belongs in a cell. Or in a ditch. Or in Hell (which is both of those put together, arguably). Whatever serves White Lily better. She annoys the fuck out of me, but not even she deserves this shit

ALSO: Canon divergence here. The Beasts escape and reenter the world before White Lily wakes up, and before Pure Vanilla and the others go to Beast-Yeast

ALSO ALSO: I wanted to try to play along with a certain concept this time, which may have involved me ascribing a trait I myself possess in the real world to Silent Salt here haha. Wonder if you'll notice what it is

Silent Salt considered his sense of hearing to be more of a curse than a blessing, more often than not. Noise irritated him. Any noise. All noise. He hated it then and he hated it now. Pure, unceasing contempt.

The shrill crunch of broken glass beneath his armored boots. The blaring of those godforsaken alarms that hammered away at his helm, at his skull. The squealing of those brittle-boned creatures in white coats as they scurried about, trying to find help. Trying to stop him. The sound of flesh being stripped from bone and falling to the earth. The wet gurgle of cries for mercy dying on bloodied tongues and slipping through slit throats. The hard knock against cold metal coupled with the squelching of blood and viscera that came with each heavy footstep - away from his broken container, through the laboratory, through the main doorway. He hated it. He hated them all.

But he endured it, with whatever semblance of grace he could muster. He had always been a wanderer, in both senses of the word - allowing his mind to leave his body and find joy and solace elsewhere, while his body carried on in another direction. It was his only defense against the world and all of its cruelties. Here and now proved to be no exception.

The voices in his head saved him from the noises outside. The first - the only, most of the time - was hers. His White Lily's. Soft, sweet, melodic. Like the coo of a waking fledgling at the break of dawn. It didn't made his ears ache, quite the opposite. It... calmed him. Soothed his frayed nerves, like nothing ever did before and likely never shall again. He had long forgotten peace until he discovered her, through their new, ironclad bond through the Soul Jam. Her image. Her spirit. Her voice. Peace. Tranquility. Freedom.

The second - and this one was new - was... strange. An echo of a bygone era, risen from the depths of his memory unbidden. An... older person, he thinks. Older than he'd been at the time, at least. The voice was worn. Rough. But still warm and inviting, in its own way. Like a quilt that had seen better days, offering you a tattered embrace.

That voice told him a story. Over and over again, as many times as he asked (he thinks it might have been his favorite once). One about a beautiful princess, sealed away by an evil witch and cursed to sleep for eternity. A valiant knight, vowing to rescue her, marched across the world, slaying the monsters in his path and braving every danger without rest until he reached her. He broke the seal, he took his beloved into his arms. With true love's kiss, she woke, and so they lived happily ever after.

No longer was it only a story. The Soul Jam granted him sight beyond sight, even with half of it gone; it being in his lily's possession only enabled him to keep a watchful eye on her, even so far apart. The day she fell to the curse was the worst of both their lives: falling into a cauldron, transformed by black magic, consumed by the newfound horror of reality and hatred she felt for the world and all of its cruelties. Her very being split in two: her soul, once pure and now dark and twisted, unleashing itself upon the world, and her body - a husk - left behind. Abandoned. She wandered the world in two different directions. She existed in two places at once.

Just like he did.

No one was there when he fell. He found no light at the end of the tunnel, in that pitch-black labyrinth he lost himself in. It mattered nothing now; in time, he came to realize that the darkness suited him better, anyway. But he wouldn't allow the same to happen to her. He shall be there by her side, when no one else had been. He will save her.

She was his princess. He was her knight. What the second voice told him was no story - it was a prophecy. He understood it now. And it shall be fulfilled, with nothing and no one to stand in their way.

Silent Salt's hearing somehow sharpened during his time in prison, it would seem. Even the smallest sounds burrowed beneath his skin and pulled at his nerves now. Leaves rustling in the wind. Grass flattening as he made his way through the forests and meadows. Water droplets splashing onto his armor as he waded across a river. The beauty of nature... no such thing. There never was. The only beauty to be found in this world was within his White Lily. The story foretold such. And it was it, and his lily's sight and sound, that blanketed his soul and guided him on his path through Beast-Yeast. To that land bathed in silver. To that tree he so despised. To her. To them. To their destiny.

More noise, when he reached Faeriewood. More alarms. More yelling. Blades and bows being drawn - a slightly more entertaining detour from the defenseless squirming of those lemmings in their hideous coats and gloves, if nothing else. He hated it.

The clash and clang of his sword against theirs. Beautiful, grand structures collapsing in the wake of his rampage. Swarms of silver locusts, buzzing towards him in righteous indignation. Screams of agony as he cut them all to pieces. As he laid waste to their homes, their businesses, everything they ever built and loved. As he rended flesh from bone and ground the bone to dust. As those delicate little butterfly wings of theirs tore to pitiful shreds.

He hated it. Hated all the noise.

It was what they deserved.

The voices grew louder as he drew nearer to where he needed to be.

His dear lily, soft and sweet, mending the ever-bleeding tear in his soul. Beautiful princess, calling to her valiant knight.

That shadow, that phantom with no body and no face, comforting him with promises about the future. Wizened oracle, reminding him of his purpose.

That terrible image of his lily falling. Changing. Suffering. No more of that. Not in his mind, not behind his eyelids. Not to her. He will save her.

The last faerie left standing was quieter than the rest. Tall, regal, sword brandished with steel-eyed determination. He hardly spoke a word to Silent Salt, before their battle and during. He made his thoughts and feelings known only through the sound of his great, ethereal wings flapping, and his blade parrying and counter-striking Silent Salt's own, and his long, lavender hair whipping around in the frenzy.

But silence is gold, not silver. And this faerie he knew to be king learned this truth the hard way.

Against his better judgment, Silent Salt let him go. Left him slumped against that accursed tree, gasping for air and clutching at his wounds. His body nailed to that dry bark would have been a more welcome end to their particular tale, but... his dear lily cared for him. Silent Salt knew this. His blood boiled whenever he saw them together in the past - if only the Soul Jam allowed him greater contact than just watching through a one-way mirror - but it was fine. He loved White Lily more than he hated her compatriots. Faeriewood being sliced into silver ribbons would be enough to take in already; the sight of her friend all but crucified would be unfair to have her endure. The faerie king was vanquished; that was all that mattered for the time being. When White Lily woke, he would allow her to decide what was to be done about him. A gift from her valiant, adoring knight.

It was quiet as death when he finally found the coffin, laying so perfectly against the humble willow looming over it. Crystal clear glass. Intricate carvings, coiling around the head and foot and snaking along the sides. In the tree's trunk was the engraved image of the Light of Freedom, and words in what he knew to be faerie language.

His White Lily, his princess, under a terrible curse. Sleeping soundly in her tomb. Lost and imprisoned, just as he once was.

He took enough care to not tear off the lid too forcefully. The sound it made as it hit the ground was grating enough already. And he wouldn't dare let any glass break, at risk of it falling on her.

His hands trembled as he reached for her, letting one rest on her shoulder - so much so that he could hear the rattle of his gauntlet.

He grabbed her face, caressed her cheeks, as gently as he possibly could. Perhaps some foolish part of him hoped the shock of metal against her skin would wake her - if only so he could see her open her beautiful eyes sooner. But alas.

He could hear her breathing. Slow, steady. Soft, sweet, melodic. That gentle rhythm flowing from her ever-so-slightly parted lips, that rise and fall of her chest that reassured him that she still lived.

He admired her, for just a moment longer - her lovely figure, her flawless skin, her hair, white as snow and framing her face so beautifully - before he brought one hand back to his helm. Slowly, hand still trembling, he pulled it off. It fell to the ground with a thud. The only other noise he would tolerate.

Back to her cheek his hand went. Holding her face so tenderly, he leaned down and let his eyes flutter shut.

Destiny had finally arrived. The knight has come to save the princess. The monsters that kept them apart were now slain, left scattered across the blood-soaked earth. He would take her into his arms. He would give her true love's kiss. With it - with the strength of their bond, and with the beating of his heart - she would finally wake. Her curse would be broken.

And they could be together at last...

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

Do you think he really managed to wake her...?

[lunarthecorvus]

After being a part of this fandom for a while, I have seen quite a few posts about people asking artists to draw Nina as fat, because we know she's curvy and isn't slim like some artists draw her. I've seen the debate around not telling artists what to draw and there is a lot to say, but I'm not here to talk about that. I just think that a part of Nina's appearance is obviously the fact that she isn't fitting the slim type that almost all women characters are.

Nina is (to quote the gv wiki) tall and curvaceous, and to quote Kaz "built like the figurehead of a ship carved by a generous hand". These descriptions are not descriptions of a thin person. I have scene people be offended by people drawing Nina larger than they think. The thing is we don't know her exact appearance, even the official art of her fluctuates, BUT from the descriptions it is so easy to tell that she is not slim/skinny/thin.

I grew up surrounded by people who were harassed, relentlessly for years bullied and ridiculed for their weight and the fact that they were bigger. Often the world fat is used as if it was a derogatory word, and I have seen it be used that way, which and I may be wrong here but I think people hate picturing Nina as fat and hate that people says she's fat because in most of media and in real life, fat is used as if it was a negative word and means bad/ugly but we shouldn't think that (and of course there are fatphobic people) because fat is not a bad or negative word, its the people that use it as if it was bad that are the problem. Being bigger/not slim is not bad, there is no better body type, Inej is described as slim, neither body is 'better'. I've strayed from the point I'm trying to make-.

To get back on track, what I'm trying to say is that for someone to see representation of their body type not being used as a derogatory way or a comedic way is so amazing, it will help people feel more comfortable with their body type and see the beautiful human being they are. And we know Nina knows how to dress well and is feminine which is quite rarely shown in body types that aren't thin, it feels so refreshing to have that, as characters who are bigger are often not dressed as well as the slim characters.

Also for Nina to have confidence and to be the icon that she is, she doesn't care that she's seen as loud or that people judge her for that. These aren't traits that are commonly seen in characters that aren't thin and if someone who isn't slim is loud they are made fun off and bullied for it. We know Nina was bullied, yet she is always unapologetically herself and doesn't squash that to satisfy how someone else thinks she should act.

I know there will always be a debate as to how 'fat' she is, everyone will have different ways of picturing Nina, but all we know for sure and is 100% is that Nina is not thin, and is curvy, there's still so many ways she could look but she is not slim. (We all should know that there is not just two body types, there are billions of variations and I know my terminology probably isn't the greatest but I hope you know what I mean). There are so many characters that are described as slim, leave alone Nina to not be drawn that way because it is explicitly canon that she isn't thin.

There are so many ways you could draw/represent Nina with a curvaceous body just because she's bigger does not mean that she only has one body type, again even the official fanart represents her in different ways, she just is not slim. I also want to reiterate that I do not think that all Nina is just her body type, I actually felt uncomfortable only writing about this because people like to put down women just to their body, but she has so much more to her than just her appearance. She is NINA motherfucking ZENIK for saints sake.

This post probably won't be posted because some people probably won't like it.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello! I have seen this question debated many times and I wanted to know your take on it cause I find your theories very compelling. Do you think harry should've been in Slytherin? Does he have what it "takes" to be a Slytherin? Is it because of voldemort's soul in him that lead the sorting hat to even suggest he could be in Slytherin? I know this is not one question but I would like to know your opinion on this topic in general!

First of all, thank you for the kind words! 😊

As for the questions, well, you've asked more than one question, but this ask kinda gives me a good reason to talk about how Harry isn't some golden Gryffindor. He actually has some anger issues and he most definitely has what it "takes" for Slytherin.

I'll start with the last question and then go backward, actually.

Did the hat consider Slytherin house just because of the Horcrux?

I don't think so.

I mean, Harry is incredibly clever, magically powerful, and has a cunning streak a mile wide all on his own. I'd actually go as far as to say he's more cunning, ruthless, and resourceful than many of the Slytherins we see in the books. So his own traits definitely are in line with a Slytherin sorting, Horcrux or no Horcrux.

We can try and discern if the Horcrux has an effect on Harry's personality then, and if its influence is seen like that. I'd say that I don't think so either.

Tom and Harry, while they have their similarities, are very different people. They both have a bad temper (although they react to anger differently), but Harry has low self-esteem whereas Tom thinks he is the best (while still hating himself). They're both stubborn, but Tom is much more obsessive than Harry in pursuit of his goals. Harry cares for justice and isn't willing to hurt innocents, Tom doesn't really care about any of that he cares for efficiency. If the Horcrux was influencing Harry's personality, I'd expect to see more similarities between them that go deeper than that.

So, I don't think the hat only offered Slytherin because of the Horcrux. Harry is a Slytherin in his own right.

Does Harry have what it "takes" for Slytherin?

So, I honestly got really excited at the sight of this sentence. See I love Harry, that's no secret. But one of the things I love about him is that he isn't the perfect noble hero. He can be angry, and cruel and ruthless. But he has a sense of justice, he wouldn't wish harm on someone innocent, but someone who did harm to him, or was mean to him or someone he cares for... then Harry can be terrifying when he wants to be.

So, now I'm going to go through some (I have so many more examples of this, and the examples here are mostly books 1-5 since that's what I had on hand) of my collection of quotes showing Harry Potter's vindictiveness and anger.

Harry's response to "have a good summer" at the end of his first year:

“Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer.…

(PS, page 221)

This is Harry's (very justified) vindictiveness we see towards the Dursleys many times in the books. He uses the idea of magic to scare them and is gleeful at the thought of Dudley's fear. Harry is very much chill with vengeance.

“…He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I’m happy. . . .” And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon’s face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

(PoA, page 435)

Same as above, just Sirius Black as the threat instead of magic.

Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream; he didn’t want it to look as though he was too worried.

(GoF, page 25)

Harry can and does lie and conceal information, even from people he trusts (like Sirius) if he thinks it'll be better not to tell them something. Whether that is for his own image or for what they would think.

“Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?” It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines. “We were — we were —” Ron stammered. “We were going to — to go and see —” “Hermione,” said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at him. “We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,” Harry went on hurriedly, treading on Ron’s foot, “and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —” Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice. “Of course,” she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye.

(CoS, page 259)

And he clearly can lie well, even at 12.

But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules. He wasn’t following Dudley’s diet, and he wasn’t going to let Uncle Vernon stop him from going to the Quidditch World Cup, not if he could help it. Harry took a deep, steadying breath and then said, “Okay, I can’t see the World Cup. Can I go now, then? Only I’ve got a letter to Sirius I want to finish. You know — my godfather.” He had done it. He had said the magic words. Now he watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon’s face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream.

...

He stopped there to enjoy the effect of these words. He could almost see the cogs working under Uncle Vernon’s thick, dark, neatly parted hair. If he tried to stop Harry writing to Sirius, Sirius would think Harry was being mistreated. If he told Harry he couldn’t go to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write and tell Sirius, who would know Harry was being mistreated. There was only one thing for Uncle Vernon to do. Harry could see the conclusion forming in his uncle’s mind as though the great mustached face were transparent. Harry tried not to smile, to keep his own face as blank as possible. And then — “Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy . . . this stupid . . . this World Cup thing.

(GoF, page 33)

Again, vindictiveness and manipulation of Vernon through fear. Not only that, but Harry can keep his calm and keep his face blank even at 14 for the sake of getting something he wants.

“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” said Harry. “C’mon, Ron. . . .” “Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?” “You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — “that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?” Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink. “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.” “Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning away.

(GoF, page 204)

Harry has a bark (all of the above quotes are Harry having a bark). He can and does shoot back as good as he gets.

Harry isn't all bark though, he's got a bit. Harry's anger is palpable and so very real and I love seeing it:

just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. “COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”  He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. “I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”

(PoA, page 30)

Again, Harry has his vindictive strike. (Obviously, Marge had it coming, but that's also what Harry is thinking).

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill.

(PoA, page 339)

“You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

(PoA, page 341)

Harry, at 13, was fully willing to kill who he believed led to his parents' deaths. And more:

So what if he had to kill the cat too? It was in league with Black. . . . If it was prepared to die, trying to protect Black, that wasn’t Harry’s business. . . .

(PoA, page 342)

He's willing to kill Hermione's cat if it stands in his way.

Harry stood there, feeling suddenly empty. He hadn’t done it. His nerve had failed him. Black was going to be handed back to the dementors.

(PoA, page 343)

Harry Potter, at 13, laments that he didn't have the nerve to kill Sirius himself. He thinks he should've killed himself. He sees it as a failure that justice would be served by someone other than him.

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, page 300)

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter ” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

(GoF, page 347)

The above quotes are both situations Harry was willing and wishing to curse people. Even Crucio Snape. He's not as noble and righteous and golden as many fans and characters in the books make him out to be...

If Dudley’s friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the gang, but he’d be terrified of provoking Harry. . . . It would be really fun to watch Dudley’s dilemma; to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, Harry was ready — he had his wand . . . let them try . . . He’d love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell —

(OotP, page 11)

And sometimes, Harry wishes for an excuse to fight. An excuse to take his anger out on someone. (He has a lot of anger in him)

Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest bowtruckle. “Maybe,” said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.” “Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,” said Harry out of the side of his mouth.

(OotP, page 260)

He's threatening and witty.

“Oh no,” said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. “Oh, that was horrible. And he [Gwamp] might kill them [the centaurs] all. . . .” “I’m not that fussed, to be honest,” said Harry bitterly.

(OotP, page 759)

And when it comes to people he doesn't consider innocent, or ones he doesn't care for, even if they never harmed him, Harry is still vindictive. The centaurs mistreated Firenze and Hagrid, so Harry doesn't really care if Gwamp kills them all.

That being said, he is more concerned about Sirius in the above scene.

And he can and does cast unforgivables easily by the later books:

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again — her counterspell hit the head of the handsome wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.

(OotP, page 809)

Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, “Imperio!” A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast. The goblin took Bellatrix’s wand, examined it closely, and then said, “Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!”

(DH, pages 152-453)

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(DH, page 502)

So, I think Harry definitely has what it takes. He's clever, he can be ruthless, and he's capable of lying and hiding secrets when he feels it's the best option. He can hide his emotions when he really needs to, even if he rarely does. Actually, only in book 6, Harry starts sharing everything with Ron and Hermione on Dumbledore’s advice. Up to that point, he kept quite a bit to himself. And when someone wrongs him, he can and often will swing back.

And last but not least, should he have been in Slytherin?

So, this is an interesting question, because "should" can have two meanings.

1. Should've for the story — as in what is best for the narrative.

2. Should've for the character — in universe, which house the sorting hat should've picked.

So, for the first one, my answer is no. Gryffindor was the right choice for Harry for the narrative of the books as they are. Gryffindor is essentially the opposite of Slytherin and represents a choice more than just the traits and values the house represents. It represents Harry's choice even though he could've been a Slytherin he chose Gryffindor. And it's a constant choice with every heroic act. (personally, I'm not the biggest fan of equating school houses with morality, but it's effective in creating a clear narrative)

And while not all Slytherins are evil and not all Gryffindors are good, a Slytherin Harry Potter would've resulted in a very different story than what we have. So, for the story we ended up getting to happen the way it did, yes, Harry needed to be a Gryffindor.

For the second, maybe. Personally, I believe people (even if they aren't hatstalls) have more than one house they can fit into. Harry is both a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, and neither of them is more wrong or right for him as a person. I think deciding which one of them is best for him is up to a coin flip (and when in his life the question is asked).

He can be ruthless and cunning like a Slytherin. Selfless and courageous like a Gryffindor. He values justice like a Gryffindor. But he also has the selective loyalty of Slytherin to their own.

Point is, there isn't really a "should", because both suit him and he would’ve done well in both. Do I think Slytherin Harry is an incredibly fun concept to consider? Yes. Did I read way too many fics with this premise and would read more? Yes. Do I think he might've fit into Slytherin better than Gryffindor? Well, not necessarily.

Harry is much quieter than most in Gryffindor, but I think the constant scheming and image-keeping in Slytherin would be exhausting to him. He just doesn't care about all the gossip and politicalizing (something that occasionally leaves him out of the loop also in Gryffindor). So, again, both suit him about equally. The difference is that we get a very different story depending on his house.

[nicksbestie]

hi!! if you’re still doing requests, can i have a chris sturniolo x autistic reader in which reader has a habit of misplacing or losing things, but on a particular she keeps consistently misplacing losing a lot of things that she loves or that she needs and it all results in her having a very bad meltdown in which chris helps calm her down and eventually comforts her in the process?

Meltdown - C. Sturniolo

Summary : You're so lucky to have such a caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to help you in moments of distress <3

Warnings : Meltdown, emotional overwhelm

Word Count : 805

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : i loved this req!! neurodivergent reqs are amazing, please keep sending them <3 reminder that ableism is not welcome here!

There were a lot of tendencies that you loved about being neurodivergent, and a lot of the time, you didn’t view yourself as any less than the average person, but there were always a couple traits that really frustrated you when it came to living as an autistic person.

You hated losing things. Not knowing where things were made you very anxious, but unfortunately, you couldn’t seem to stop doing it. No matter where you placed things, or how many times you reminded yourself that they were there, you always managed to end up losing them. 

It was like your brain just blocked out the part where you moved them to a different location, or when someone else told you that they’d put them somewhere else, and you couldn’t find them for hours after that. It often caused you incredible frustration, especially if you’d lost more than one thing at once, and sometimes fueled you to the point of tears. You hated how much this happened to you, but you had no idea how to go about fixing it in any way. Luckily, you were very supported by your boyfriend, who was always good at finding things. 

A lot of the time, he had been the one that moved the lost items, or the one that had seen you move them, and kept a mental note of where they were because he knew you would more likely than not, forget where they had been placed. He had quickly become an expert in keeping those situations from escalating into meltdowns, but sometimes you were just so upset about not being able to find important things that there was nothing he could do except help you find them and just comfort you the best that he could. 

Unfortunately, one of those times was today. You had gone out to run errands, and Chris had come with you, even though it was just a grocery store trip. He often came with you, picking out a bunch of random food for both him and his brothers, some for videos, some just for fun. Because of this, he often wandered into different aisles than the one that you were in, thus going out of your sight. However, you had always remembered what aisle he was in, and he had always texted it to you just in case you forgot. But this time was different. 

Chris had walked away to go to the bathroom, leaving you standing by yourself while picking out the things you needed from that aisle. You weren’t concerned, he had done this before, and always came right back, so you kept moving, grabbing things off of the shelves and putting them into your cart before turning into the next aisle over. Time continued to pass and you tried to brush off the anxiety that was beginning to roll in, but after fifteen minutes and no return of your boyfriend, you couldn’t help the freaking out that was going through your mind. You began taking longer breaths, trying to relax, and moving through the aisles around you to find Chris, but when you had gone through four of them and couldn’t see him anywhere, you couldn’t deny the tears filling your waterline. 

Chris was arguably the most important thing in your life, and the feeling that you had lost him was too much for you to handle at any point in life. He wasn’t responding to your text asking where he was, and this only fueled the anxiety even more. The tears in your eyes had started falling by this point, still moving between aisles and hoping to see his familiar figure. 

Chris had no idea that you were panicking. His phone had died while he was in the bathroom, and he had gotten distracted looking at some of the weird flavors of donuts and Oreos he’d seen on a small stand. It wasn’t until he heard soft crying near him that he realized what had happened, and immediately ripped himself away from the display, turning around to see you wandering between aisles, wasting no time in getting to you and pulling you into a hug. 

Feeling the way that your shoulders shook against his body broke his heart, realizing the effects of what he’d done, despite it being unintentional. He whispered comfort to you, not caring about the people that had slowed down their walking to stare at the couple having a moment in the middle of the bread aisle, only focused on you. Apologies flew through the air along with promises to never leave you, and he refused to let go of you. He led the rest of the grocery trip, getting everything you needed for you, pausing every so often to wipe tears off of your face or to kiss the top of your head.

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