#and it has eight p EIGHT PAGES???!!!!???

[sunllghtt]

Hi are you up for a messy scene analysis thing

Ofc it's this scene who do you think I am

I've been wanting to do this for God knows how long but I never had the balls and neither the words to (still don't) but I wanna try to properly talk about this scene. My primal instinct is to sit here and tell you how much this 30 second scene changed the trajectory of these characters in the next movies, how it made their friendship grow and develop and how much of a storytelling lesson it is (oh the so so deep understanding you need to have of your characters to have them say things so vaguely and still express exactly what they mean). I could also go down the emotional and subjective road and ramble about how much it means to me and how I resonate with it, but I've done that at least 837382 times and I think everyone knows it by now 😭 so!!! Let's get to the real thing

(I'm trying to keep it as analytical and straightforward as possible but please note that this is my favorite scene that's ever existed so neutrality is not really a possibility)

Rocket is a brat. He's restless, he's loud, he's always puffing up his chest and yelling at someone and picking fights with the wind cuz it was blowing in a way he didn't like and he's just an overall bastard. In this scene, though, we see him inside out. His head is low, his shoulders are slumped, he has his tail between his knees and he looks tired. He speaks quietly (curiously like he doesn't want anybody else to hear him), he's not deliberately insulting anyone and he's just..... defeated??

Up until that point I don't think we ever got to see Rocket like that. From what the movies have shown us he'd never had to. But in the past few days that led to this, Rocket had stolen batteries for no apparent reason (which we'll later learn why💀), ruined their ship, got literally kidnapped by Ravagers, blew up a creepy planet-guy-thing and oh my god attended his friend's dad's funeral. At least half of these things were directly or indirectly his fault and he knows it.

I don't think he ever doubted it was (we see it earlier in the movie when the Guardians leave to "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac and Rocket scowls and winces like he either stepped in a pile of shit or got hit in the face by regret), but he still argued with Peter even knowing he was in the wrong just to keep up apparences or hold on to a little thread of pride when he was already feeling ashamed for being caught red-handed stealing shit he didn't need AND destroying their ship etc etc, and he just kinda fucked up big time. And I think that's (besides the general exhaustion of parenting a tree and fighting a planet and Yondu's death) is what got him so devastated in that scene.

Ofc Yondu played an extremely important role in that. He was the one to open Rocket's eyes, to give him some sort of reality check and show him the only thing isolation is ever gonna bring him is regret and bitterness (or, in other words, Yondu). Rocket is most of all hopeless and tired and just sad like that because he knows he hurt his friends. He knows he's chasing them away, that he yells at them, that he's always mean and that he steals batteries he doesn't need. He knows he's not awesome to put up with and seeing what happened to Yondu and his former friends probably made him terrified it'd happen to him and the Guardians too. He's stuck in this cycle of pushing them away with everything he can (and we could get into all his trauma regarding betrayal and death and literally endless other things but it's all very clear at this point) and he knows patience doesn't last forever. He's just scared, he feels bad and he's tired.

Now on the other hand we have Quill. He's also destroyed, he lost two fathers (3 if you count what Ego could've been, what he wanted him to be), basically relived his mother's death and had to watch literally every single one of them die. He's also scared and tired, yes, but all he has left is this unstable family of weird idiots who are learning how to show care and he's... pretty much fine with it. He wants it.

And when what Rocket's saying clicks, when he realizes who he's talking about, Quill, who's usually all smirks and teasing and bickering and name-calling, looks at his best friend like this,

because

(From vol 2 script!! Won't even try to comment on that last part before Quill's last line but I also really like that Peter just "shakes his head" over and over like he's just barely listening until he realizes what Rocket really means cuz it also shows a lot about his character. He's naturally a little slow and downright stupid when it comes to this kind of hidden emotional thing and he's also exhausted and depressed from everything that happened and STILL he stops and just. Sees Rocket, and sees Yondu.)

He's not doing well. He's probably sore and hurt and sad and miserable and yet he takes his sweet time to look down at Rocket, let go of his resentment from before and see right through him. In order to understand this scene it's important to remember he most likely doesn't know what Yondu told Rocket at all, he doesn't know anything they said to each other and how Yondu showed him they're mirrors. He doesn't know any of that. He just knows his best friend and his father and how much they resemble each other. He puts up with Rocket's bullshit because he knows how to deal with Yondu.

He could've just ignored him or pretended he didn't know what he was talking about. He could've made Rocket swallow his pride and "teach him a lesson" by making him say what he means without hiding behind metaphors and vague self-deprecation, because Rocket was probably vulnerable and defeated enough to be honest in that moment. And yet, he just looks at his friend, who's usually a loud and mean and restless brat, and is now staring at the floor with his ears droopy and his tail between his knees, and just says, as a form of reassurance and tenderness that's just as subtle and shy as Rocket's insecurities, "Well, of course not."

(The kind and soft and sweet DETERMINATION on his face tho like no!!! No we're not ditching you even though you suck I'm!!! Serious!!!!)

[sysig]

I'm almost finished with this notebook with it's horrible paper, and I just finished the first page of my Big Project

[palms-upturned]

Gaza escape funds: match my donations! 🇵🇸

I finally got my paycheck today, so I want to highlight the campaigns I’m donating to and to encourage anyone who can to match my donations. All of these campaigns have been vetted and vouched for by Palestinian users I trust, and you can look at this running list of everyone who has reached out to me to see links to the verifications.

Today I’m going to donate $10/€9/£8 to each of these funds! If you can match that donation for one or more (or all!) of these funds, please do! I encourage everyone to follow the tumblr pages for each of these campaigns as well.

Thank you all for your generosity 💙

@hebsnhel

€11k/€35k

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€15k/€45k

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€23k/€60k

@haifaaziz98 (previously issamaziz98/azizfaker)

€11k/€15k

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$6.6k/$90k

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€5.5k/€16k

@iyadsobhe

£8.9k/£60k

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£4.1k/£50k

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£13k/£35k

@amalisam

(Note: this family was evacuated! 🙏💙 but Amal lost her job and was scammed out of $20k in the process of the evacuation, and she is now struggling to provide for her displaced family. She has both a gofundme and a paypal fundraiser, both of which are linked in the post which I will link below, in which user fallahifag also vouches for Amal)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Autumn has been introduced to the world but there’s something more special for a first appearance: Monaco GP Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, fluff WC: 3.7k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two

The white noise in the nursery threatened to put you to sleep too but there were still dozens of messages to get through. There had been a constant stream of well wishes to your inbox since the announcement to the world but one had been left on read for three days now and a little rage built each time you reread it.

It didn’t take long for new ‘exclusive’ information to pop up in the gossip pages, along with the photo you had taken and sent to Jos. It wasn’t a surprise at all, but it still hurt to read what he had said. Trusted sources close to Y/N say she is being monitored for Post Natal Depression and Psychosis, as it is no secret she has had trouble with mental health in the past.

“You are lucky, my love,” you whispered to your daughter who slept soundly in your arms. “Your fathers love you so much.”

You carefully stood up from the rocking chair beside her cot but the moment you started to lower her to the mattress she began to stir.

“Already a little arm princess, aren’t you?” you chuckled, settling back into the chair to start rocking again.

You didn’t mind getting these rare moments alone with her, even if you were exhausted from waking up to breastfeed her all through the night. As soon as Charles and Lando finished their Zoom Meetings with their teams they would be stealing her away for their own snuggles. It was safe to say everyone was smitten with her. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. The front door barely closed before another visitor came, and Max had taken up permanent residence on the couch when he wasn’t needed elsewhere.

“Is she sleeping?” P whispered loudly as she stuck her head in the door.

“She is, but you can come in.”

Max trailed in after her having let himself in the apartment with his spare key. Your mother was out grocery shopping again so she could do more baking for the visitors of the day. You had told her she didn’t need to but she was enjoying the company and feeding a small army.

“Have you eaten?” Max asked as he knelt down beside P who gently stroked the blanket Autumn was swaddled in.

“You’re as bad as my mother.”

“I’m just checking. Kel said everyone comes to see the baby but no one asks how the mum is doing. I want to make sure my sister is okay too.”

“Now you’ve done it,” you croaked as you started to cry. “I’m over these damn hormones. I was fine until you arrived.”

Max laughed and rocked side to side. “You’ll get over it. Should we go to the living room or do you like sitting in the dark?”

You accepted his hand and let him pull you to your feet since he had long ago mastered the art of carrying a baby one-handed. “You’re going to have your hands full when Vicki drops.”

“I have two arms. Unless you're planning on having another one right away?”

“Max, I love you, but I will punch you if you ask that again. I am still having to sit on ice pads because no one warned me about the goddamn haemorrhoids-”

“Okay, okay, fuck, stop!” he begged with a disgusted look on his screwed up face. 

Satisfied he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, you went to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water and a juice box for Penelope. 

“So Toto still hasn’t confirmed anyone for Lewis’ seat next year,” you said, passing him one bottle before taking a seat with P. 

“You’ve been talking to him?”

“And others,” you admitted. A few more of the Team Principals had sent their congratulations and the ones with empty seats for 2025 expressed an interest, asking what your plans were. “As soon as my six week check up gets signed off Kristian is going to become my worst nightmare again.”

“Do your boyfriends know that’s your plan?”

You shrugged. It had been spoken about before Autumn was born but they all thought having her in your arms would change your mind about returning to racing. None of the other parents on the grid gave up their careers to grow their families, and while there were still empty seats in the teams you were going to shoot your shot until every last one was taken. 

“Never let them know your next move,” you joked before sobering up and sighing. “Working mums are normal in every other business. Plus, I’m only talking about sim racing this year and if I can impress someone with the data then we can go from there.”

Max nodded along as his eyes traced over Autumn’s features, finding Charles’ dimples when her lips pursed with a soft whimper in her sleep. Penelope had finished her drink and turned all her attention to your daughter, giggling whenever Autumn sucked on her own lip.

“Can I have a baby sister?” she asked Max with bright, hopeful eyes.

“Maybe one day, P. You would make a great big sister.” She grinned at the compliment and snuggled closer until she was half on Max’s lap and holding Autumn too.

Monaco GP

“Ma fifille, tellement belle,” Charles gushed as Lando stepped out of the nursery with Autumn in his arms. She smelt sweet from the baby oil that hydrated her skin and fresh since Lando had changed her diaper before finding the prettiest dress in her closet for her first paddock entrance.

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to sneak her into McLaren gear,” you commented as you packed the baby bag with extra supplies for the day. Gone were the days of arriving at the paddock with just your phone, now there were a million things to remember since no one wanted to try to return home with the insane traffic that came with the road closures for the Monaco race.

“I hid them all,” Charles confessed with a sly smile before stealing a kiss from Lando’s pouting lips. “If she can’t wear Ferrari then she definitely isn’t wearing McLaren, mon cher.”

“One day when you are at Maranello…” Lando warned with a wink.

“You can finish this squabble later, we have a whole camera crew waiting outside.” The tone wasn’t quite as light as you hoped and it drew the attention of both of them straight to you. The joking smiles fell and Lando lay Autumn in her stroller and clipped in the buckles with a frown. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

“You only gave birth four weeks ago, love, it’s okay if you’re not ready to go to the track yet.”

“We wouldn’t be upset if you watched from here,” Charles added.

“It’s Monaco and I am fine, just a little nervous.” Your blasé shrug didn’t fool either of them.

“Of what?”

Charles took over rocking the stroller back and forth so Lando could pull you into his arms. The warmth and security of his embrace was always enough to spill whatever was on your mind.

“The crowd, the cameras, your fans - take your pick.” You looked down at your clothes. They weren’t the designer dresses the other women would wear to the paddock but the maternity jeans and breastfeeding friendly shirt were tidy enough. You couldn’t help noticing the pouch where your belly sagged like a deflated balloon.

“Hey,” Lando murmured, catching your chin with his finger and guiding your head back up to face him. “Do we need to remind you how beautiful we think you are? I don’t mind being late. Charles?”

“I am more than happy to take a penalty.”

You chuckled at the enthusiasm but shook your head. “I would love nothing more than to drag you both back to the bedroom but save it for the six week sign off, you horny devils.”

“We can still show you how sexy we find you without fucking you,” Lando whispered in your ear and Charles’ eyes darkened at the little catch in your breathing.

“Don’t tempt me, but there’s still the problem of the camera crew outside and you’d be on your own explaining to them why we were late.”

“Mon amour, that is the man who asked Stroll if he could wank after breaking his wrists. Would you really trust him with that task?”

“I mean…I would find it funny. Zak might blow a gasket though,” you admitted with a grin. Feeling a bit more at ease after a laugh, you stepped out of Lando’s arms and took a steadying breath. “I’m going to grab a hoodie and we can go.”

Neither commented as you hid your body in an oversized Quadrant hoodie despite the summer heat but you barely made it halfway down the street before you asked Charles if you could push the stroller. There were too many people and too many screams for autographs that your heart started to beat erratically and your breath burned in your lungs.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, ignoring the people beyond the security team that surrounded your group.

“Let her push, Charles,” Lando urged as he saw a sight he was familiar with in the mirror. It was rare for him in recent years now that he had you and Charles but he could remember the feeling of being out of control and the panic that came with it.

You grabbed the handlebar of the stroller and held on with a death grip in case someone broke through the security guards and knocked into it. Your knuckles changed colour from how tight you handled it and your legs pumped faster with the urge to get to the track and inside the walls of a team hospitality.

From the corner of your eye a shadow slipped through the bodies and your elbow flew out as your mind went straight to the worst case scenario. Was it an overzealous fan wanting a picture or a fanatic wanting to hurt your family?

“Ow, zusje, what the fuck?” Max asked as he rubbed at his ribs.

“Jesus Christ, Max, what are you doing? Don’t jump out at me like that.”

“She’s a little on edge right now,” Charles said quietly, acutely aware of all the cameras pointed their way.

“I can see that. Is it the crowd? Do you want me to call in reinforcements?”

Charles shook his head and walked quicker to catch back up to you. “We would probably be there by the time anyone came.”

Lactic acid burned your calves and reminded you just how hard you were going to have to work to get back to your pre-baby fitness but it felt good too. It brought you back to yourself in a way you had forgotten since becoming a mother and the endorphins from the exercise began to relax your body and mind.

Your pace began to slow and Lando smiled proudly like you had won a world championship. “Now can I hold your hand, love?”

You shifted your hold to the centre of the handlebar so you could still navigate the stroller and placed your hand in his. “Thank you,” you murmured as he kissed your knuckles.

“I would tell you not to worry but I don’t think it will make a difference,” he replied between waving to his fans.

“Aren’t you worried? There’s so many things that could go wrong.”

Lando stopped and turned with a serious look on his face that was only softened by the untamed curl that fell over his brow. “Of course I’m worried too, babe, this is our family and Autumn is the most precious part of it. But, I have to trust that we have done enough to protect her and you and Charles,” he said with a wave towards the security guards. “Do you remember how nervous you were before your first race? You could barely keep your food down and Pierre thought you were actually going to pass out during the Anthem.”

You rolled your eyes but a small smile leaked through. “Don’t remind me.”

“I would have caught you.”

“You were six inches shorter than me.”

Lando stood straighter and looked down at you. “That’s beside the point, I’ve more than made up for it now.”

“Yes, you have,” you said with a wink. “Much more than six inches.”

Charles interrupted the appreciative gaze you dragged over your boyfriend’s body. “Will you two please behave?”

A devilish smirk grew on Lando’s face. “Never, but I will go and sign some autographs before I get in more trouble.”

“Is it me or is he even more cocky?”

“Winning does that to a guy.”

Charles scoffed and curled an arm around your waist. “I will have to remind him what second place feels like, it’s my turn to win Monaco.”

Max laughed, reminding you that he was still there as you approached the paddock gates. “Half the grid thinks the same thing.”

“Well they have a chance with you starting P2,” you teased your brother before grinning at Charles who took pole position. “Take that chequered flag.”

You scanned your ID and the pass for Autumn too as everyone else did and clustered together on the other side again.

“Where are you going to be watching from?” Max asked as you approached his hospitality first.

“Homeboys box, but Toto wants a word so I’ll take bub there first.”

Max looked like he wanted to say something but his name was called out from his team waiting by the dark blue entrance. Instead he stepped forward and kissed your cheek before kissing Autumn’s and tickling her toes. “Tot zeins, mooi meisje.”

“She’s going to speak Dutch before me at this rate,” you complained as he walked away, still not knowing what he said to her.

“Learn quicker then.”

You threw him the middle finger that made him laugh before he disappeared and then it was your turn to say goodbye. Mercedes was the next garage followed by Ferrari then McLaren.

“We will see you before the race,” you promised as you unbuckled Autumn from her stroller and held her to your chest. The garages were tight enough as it was without trying to fit the pram inside too. “Say bye-bye daddy,” you said with a wave of Autumn’s little hand as she woke from her nap. “Love you.”

Charles and Lando both kissed her cheeks and said their goodbye before you received your own chaste kiss on the lips. “Call us if you need anything, I will keep my phone with me,” Charles promised before stepping away.

“Same, and these guys are going with you too,” Lando said with a nod to the security shadowing your sides. Your entourage joined you in Mercedes but thankfully took a wider perimeter since there was a fairly strict policy in who could enter the garages. Toto didn’t seem to mind the additions since you came bearing a pretty great gift.

“You are a beautiful time waster,” he said sweetly as he cradled Autumn to his chest. “I have work to do, little lady, yes, I do, but I’m not ready to hand you over, no, I am not.”

“I get the feeling that Jack will be getting a sibling soon enough,” you said to Lewis who swung back and forth on his chair with his headphones half on his head.

“I don’t think it’s Toto that needs convincing,” he said with a laugh. “It’s not his career that goes on hold, you know that.”

“I never would have said it before, but she’s worth it,” you admitted. “Still not sold on doing it again though, got one more championship to win.”

“I know that feeling,” he said wistfully. “Charles had better bring her to Maranello too.”

“I don’t think much work would get done if she was there,” you pointed out. “And like you said, you have a championship to win.”

Autumn suddenly decided that she was starving and started to cry as she nuzzled into Toto’s shirt and you laughed as you got up to retrieve her. “Sorry, bub, there’s no milk in those titties,” you teased as you picked her up. “Is there somewhere I can feed her?”

Toto looked around and shrugged. “Wherever you’re comfortable. There’s rooms down the hall if you want.”

“I’ve learned it’s not about my own comfort.”

“If anyone’s got a problem they are free to leave,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear and return to their work.

You took your seat again beside Lewis and unzipped the discrete opening on your shirt before unclipping the small window on your bra.

“Come on, man, she’s just trying to feed her baby. Get those cameras out of here,” Lewis said as he blocked the lens and started to herd the Netflix crew back out of the garage.

It had taken a week of trial and error before mastering the art of latching but now you had a routine and Autumn quickly fell back to sleep despite trying to keep her awake. Lando had joked he would sleep better if that was his routine too, at least you thought he was joking.

“Can you hold her please?”

Lewis didn’t need to be asked, he had been patiently waiting his turn since you walked in the garage. He even knew to draw soothing circles and pat her back to bring up her wind. “There’s those famous Uncle skills you bragged about.”

“Told you, I’m just down the road if you guys want a babysitter for date night.”

“I might take you up on that in a few weeks.” You looked over to Toto who was speaking to Bono and jutted your chin his way. “Has he mentioned anything about who’s in line for your seat?”

“Nothing set in stone, just lots of talk - or at least that’s what he told me.”

“Fair enough, you’re the enemy now,” you teased.

“Netflix is going to love this season. Did you see Nando re-signed?”

“Mhmm, I sent him a pot plant and instructions to wipe the floor with Lance. I think he’s taken it on board.” Fernando already had nearly four times as many points in the driver championship so far and you expected that to increase after the race.

“There’s rumours Lance is going to WEC next year, maybe there'll be another seat opening.”

“Fuck that,” you scoffed. “If I get a seat it’s going to be with a team that has some sense of loyalty. I’m sick of being dropped like a hot potato the second anything goes wrong. I’m desperate, but not that desperate.”

Lewis was about to be called for the driver parade and you realised just how quickly time had passed. “I should let you finish your rituals, we still have a few stops to make before the race.”

He handed Autumn back and gave you a hug. “Don’t lose that glow stressing about getting a seat, mama, enjoy your time with this little beauty. Che sarà, sarà.”

“Practising Italian already, huh?” you teased as you buckled Autumn into the stroller where she promptly fell asleep after the movement disturbed her. “I will keep your wise words in mind.”

The paddock was quieter as you made your way down the line of garages. Most guests would already be in the viewing spaces above the pit lane to watch the drivers parade so there weren’t many people for security to part.

“Ma’am,” the head guard called as he stood in front of an imposing suited figure. “He wants a word.”

You nodded your head and he moved to let the man through. “I’m kind of running late, Lawrence.”

“I just want to say congratulations,” your old boss said as he looked into the stroller and removed his sunglasses. “She’s very cute, you must be proud.”

“You could have sent a text message.”

Lawrence sighed at the frosty tone. “In hindsight things may have been handled a little callously but you should understand it was for your own good. This isn’t an office job that can be worked while pregnant, it would have been irresponsible as an employer.”

“I understand that, it was the fact you fired me without even talking to me first - I had to find out through the tabloids - and before that the way you let your son get away with treating his team is actually despicable.”

Lawrence pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned his glasses as he stared off into the distance. “You’re not wrong, but we are working on his attitude and behaviour - discreetly.”

You raised an eyebrow but he wasn’t going to share anything further, instead he took one last look at Autumn and put the aviators back on his nose. Maybe there was some weight behind the rumours.

“Hopefully we’ll see you back on the grid at some point. You were one hell of a racer.”

“Am, Mr Stroll,” you corrected as you turned the brake off the pram. “I am one hell of a racer.”

Click here for the next part.

[ravens-two]

PAC: What Does Your Future Spouse Look Like?

This reading includes:

your FS's general physical traits

your FS's vibes & celebrities with similar vibes

The extended reading includes:

your FS's fashion style

your first impression of your FS 

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

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

Pile 1

Houdini - Dua Lipa

Five of Cups, Ten of Pentacles, Two of Pentacles

Pile 1, the first thing I notice in your person is their eyes. It's not necessarily about the color - although it could be that they're a particularly pretty color - but more that they are very expressive. It also seems that for most of you, this person has really big eyes. Perhaps round or almond shaped too. Think something like Al Pacino, Cate Blanchett, Liv Tyler, Kurt Cobain or Adrien Brody for example. They can convey a lot of emotion with just their eyes. I also see that some of them have crow's feet when they smile too, which is really endearing honestly.

Another thing that I pick up from your person is that they seem to have a vaguely sad vibe to them. Do you know that meme "my poor little meow meow"? Their vibe is a bit similar in a way. They just look like they're sad and you have the urge to take care of them. Again, think a bit about someone like Kurt Cobain or Adrien Brody.

When it comes to their body they're tall or, at least, they give the impression of being tall and broad. Especially for men, they have broad shoulders even if they aren't muscled or chubby. For the women I also think that they tend to have broad shoulders and a narrower waist, but their most prominent feature seems to be their chest. They may have big boobs or they tend to use clothes that emphasize their boobs. I think that even for the men, their chest is quite prominent.

When it comes to vibes it's mostly what I've already said your person has this "please love me" vibe. Despite this, they're capable of commanding attention and they tend to look quite elegant. It may be that they have a lot of pisces placements or a pisces rising. In general, I think that they're attractive, but not like conventionally attractive or Hollywood attractive if that makes sense.

I also think that your person shows themself differently to different people. With you they may feel more comfortable to be a "poor little meow meow" while with others they're more closed off and may even appear a bit cold. I just heard that they have a poker face, so with other people they may completely close off and be hard to read.

(extended reading here)

Pile 2

Kiss Me More - Doja Cat ft. SZA

Six of Wands, Page of Wands, Eight of Swords

Hi, pile 2, your FS is the type of person that gets other people's attention. They are very conventionally attractive (I feel like especially when it comes to their face), but they don't really see themselves life this. In fact, I think that they're quite insecure about their appearance. This almost feels like body dysmorphia honestly (and for some of you it could be related to them being trans, while for others it could be related to an eating disorder). The reality is that they can't see themselves the way other people see them.

They have really thick and luscious hair - it reminds me a bit of Carlos Sainz or Ben Barnes for the men - and most likely it's either wavy or straight. For most of you they have rather long hair, the men tend to have up to shoulder length hair, while for the women it can come down to their waist. When it comes to color, most likely it's dark, but for some of you it could be bleached.

Most of them seem to have tanned or dark skin, this isn't really about skin color, if they have black skin for example, it's really dark. For the people with lighter-skin they have a tendency to blush a lot or get flushed (especially after drinking). They also have really pretty teeth, probably very straight or they just look endearing, and a pretty mouth too. Despite having a pretty mouth not all of them have thick lips, it's more about the shape of their mouth. I feel like they tend to smile a lot. It kind of reminds me of Julia Roberts a bit who is known for her smile.

Some celebrities that have similar vibes to them are Carlos Sainz, Julia Roberts, Anok Yai, Adut Akech, Dominik Szoboszlai and Michael B. Jordan. 

When it comes to their vibes they seem to be youthful and always in their own world. It's almost like they aren't really paying attention to what's going on around them. They also seem to be a bit introverted or closed-off in public, despite all the eyes that they attract. If surrounded by friends they may be a bit more open and might be cracking up jokes with them. No matter what they seem to be really nice and will always give a small smile to other people, like the waiter at the restaurant for example.

(extended reading here)

Pile 3

The Shadow of Your Smile - Nancy Sinatra

Four of Pentacles, King of Swords rx, Ace of Pentacles

Pile 3, your person doesn't seem to be very tall. They're either medium height or actually small. It may also be that their vertical line is short even if they are in fact on the taller side they seem shorter than they really are. But, the most noticeable thing about them is that they seem to always have a serious expression on their face - some of them even have a resting bitch face. I think that they have very expressive eyebrows, they may even move them without meaning to. You'll be able to tell what they think by their eyebrows. Like, they may have look super serious almost as if they're upset but by their eyebrows you can actually tell that they're just relaxed. Speaking of their eyebrows they also seem to be very full or bushy. I don't think that there's a monobrow here, but it could also be the case.

When it comes to their face your FS has really strong facial features, especially their jaw and nose. The jaw reminds me a bit of Angelina Jolie for the women and for the men it seems to be a bit of a mix between Timothée Chalamet and Henry Cavill. For some it's more square while for others it's sharper. The noses here tend to be either aquiline or roman, but either way they're also quite prominent. Think a bit Gisele Bundchen, Jenny Slate or Alba Flores for example, or Hrithik Roshan and Dev Patel.

I don't know how to explain it but they also have a very earthy vibe, like tanned skin, freckles, calloused hands, it's like they just came back from working in the garden, if that makes sense. They also have brown or black hair, and the men tend to have beards (nothing too big though). They also have super clear and healthy looking skin.

Besides the eyebrows I also think that they have really noticeable hands. Their hands may be big or just very pretty in general, they may be veiny too. Their nails are healthy and well kept, and they probably have long and thick fingers. The way they move their hands may also be very attractive, like their gestures or just by being very dextrous with their hands. When it comes to their body they tend to be thicker or chubbier, I'm seeing like amazing and really thick thighs for both men and women. I also feel like your FS exercises a lot or they move a lot because of their work and so they tend to be chubby with a lot of muscle underneath.

In general, I think that their vibe is just very chill. They have a "don't fuck with me" vibe, but they're just doing their own thing and don't really want anyone to bother them. They also seem to be very hard-workers and earthy as I said, like down-to-earth too. These aren't people with delusions of grandeur.

(extended reading here)

Pile 4

Crazy - Aerosmith

Lovers rx, Empress rx, Knight of Cups

Pile 4, this is my androgynous and gender non-conforming pile. If you're familiar with the Kibbe body types or essences, these people would be the Ethereal or Angelic essence. Do you know the Lord of the Rings elves? Yeah, basically that's the vibe. Their features are delicate and they can look a bit otherworldly. Think of Tilda Swinton, Willow Smith, Halle Bailey or Lisa Bonnet. For the men you have again Lee Pace and Orlando Bloom as elves, but also Eddie Redmayne, Cillian Murphy, Jared Leto and Ethan Torchio. For me, Ethan Torchio from Maneskin is the best example for men here. He embodies the facial features and hair that makes him look quite androgynous, and also a bold and avant-garde style.

In general, your person tends to look a bit flirty or mischievous. Again, they have this elf or fairy vibe to them. They tend to look playful and approachable. This isn't the type of person you'd be afraid of talking to, they just seem super nice and open. 

No matter the skin color your person also tends to be pale, this is more their complexion really. Some of them may look a bit like vampires think Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire. They also have clear skin and the men tend not to have beards. When it comes to hair it tends to be long, especially for the men. For the women, I actually think that they may tend to have shorter hair or even a shaved head.

Their faces are beautiful, but not really conventionally attractive. They have something otherworldly about them that just pulls you to them. They may also have asymmetrical faces, especially when it comes to the eyes or jaw. Also, speaking of eyes they have really intense eyes. The type that seems that they can look right through you. Besides pile 1, this is the pile that seems like they may have light eyes.

When it comes to their body shape they are leaner instead of muscly or thick. They may have muscle definition, but they're just lean and maybe a bit lanky. They seem like they have a high vertical line or they're tall. In general though, they're just long. They have long legs, long arms, even long fingers.

(extended reading here)

[coryosmin]

Late Nights In The Office - Lawyer Coriolanus Snow x Secretary/Assistant Reader

summary: coriolanus is caught up in a case and ends up staying late. but whenever coriolanus stays late, his assistant and secretary does too. some late night work turns into something else when reader buys coriolanus dinner.

warnings: nsfw, mdni, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f), fingering (f), pussy drunk coryo, praise kink, etc.

word count: 3,600

Being a secretary and personal assistant to Coriolanus Snow, your hours strongly depended on his. Truthfully, he was a workaholic. Being a lawyer, he constantly ensured perfection to all of his work no matter the case he received. And this case was no different. He was filing paperwork, gathering the evidence to defend a man who was wrongfully convicted of a murder he did not commit. Coriolanus was always a hard worker. He dedicates himself wholeheartedly to the things he is passionate about and that was one of the many things you admire about your boss.

Coriolanus was known to be many things around the office. Working for the Plinth Legal Services alongside Strabo Plinth and Sejanus Plinth, Coriolanus Snow was known for being a hardass. He was usually hard on his employees, expecting nothing else but perfection at all times. More often than not, he’s categorized as rude. However, to you, he’s anything but. Perhaps it’s the fact that you make sure you do your job perfectly. It’s the perfectionist in you that allows you to ensure all documents are filed and organized to Coriolanus’s liking or perhaps that you’re the only one who has memorized his coffee order (It’s strangely very specific). Coriolanus was kind to you, respected you, even flirted with you. And you didn’t dislike it.

You sat at your desk, typing up Coriolanus’s schedule for the next day in Microsoft Excel as you glanced at the time. It was already past the time you usually went home as the time was hitting seven p.m. You frowned, realizing that Coriolanus likely didn’t even notice the time yet. You got up out of your chair, soothing out your pencil skirt before making your way to Coriolanus’s office. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor as you walked. You knocked on the door, popping your head in to see Coriolanus wearing his reading glasses as he read the documents from the case.

“Yes?” He asked without looking up, keeping his attention on the file.

You stepped into the office. “It’s already seven p.m, sir,” you said, looking at the blond.

Coriolanus looked up from the file to the clock on the wall, looking at the time. “Oh,” he said before looking at you. “I just have a few more pages to read and then we’ll be out.” He said with a small smile.

You smiled back, nodding your head. “Alright,” you said. “Do you need anything?”

Coriolanus shook his head. “Not at the moment, no,” he said.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” and with that, you walked out of his office and back to your desk, going back to what you were doing before.

As the clock turned from seven p.m to eight p.m and then eventually to nine p.m, you sighed. At this rate, there was no telling at what time you’d be going home. And neither of you had eaten dinner yet. So you took it upon yourself to order food. You ordered takeout from Coriolanus’s favorite Italian restaurant, getting him his favorite chicken francese while you ordered yourself chicken alfredo. The food arrived within forty minutes, making it about ten p.m by the time you could have dinner.

Holding the food in hand, you walked to Coriolanus’s office and knocked on the door. “Come in,” came the muffled reply of Coriolanus’s voice.

You opened the door with the bag of food in hand. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet,” you said softly, looking at Coriolanus. “And it’s already ten p.m. I think it’s time you take a break, sir,” you exclaimed.

Coriolanus took a deep breath as he glanced at the clock and then back at you. As if on cue, his stomach growled, causing him to let out a breathless chuckle. He took off his reading glasses, placing them on his desk before standing up and stretching. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, walking over to the couch in his office. “Did you order yourself something as well?” He asked as he took a seat.

You nodded your head, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of the couch. “With your card, too,” you grinned, taking the containers of food out of the bag. You handed Coriolanus his meal. “Got you your usual,” you said. “I’ll leave you to it,” you said, grabbing the bag that still had your food in it and turning around to leave.

Coriolanus grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Stay,” he said, letting go of your hand and patting the seat next to him. “Eat with me?”

You bit your lip, nodding your head before placing the bag back onto the coffee table and taking a seat next to Coriolanus on the black leather couch. The two of you ate together. It was awkward at first, the both of you not knowing quite what to say. Until Coriolanus said, “You know, with a highly intelligent woman such as yourself, I wonder quite often why you’re nothing but a mere secretary.”

You were chewing as Coriolanus spoke, swallowing before replying. “Aren’t you glad that I’m your secretary?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at Coriolanus.

Coriolanus nodded his head, cutting his chicken. “I am very grateful,” he exclaimed. “You’re the only person to ever do anything correctly,” He said with a slight annoyed tone as he thought about the incompetent people within the office. “But isn’t there anything else you’d rather be doing?” He asked, glancing at you.

You took a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure, truthfully,” you replied, looking at Coriolanus. “I like what I do, even if I don’t have much of a social life because of it,” you teased, giving Coriolanus a small smile.

You and Coriolanus continued talking, learning more about one another. When the clock hit twelve in the morning, you realized that rather than getting work done, the two of you spent the past two hours doing nothing but talking. “Oh, it’s very late now,” you exclaimed, looking at the clock with a smile on your face. Coriolanus too had a genuine smile on his face, something he didn’t often do.

Coriolanus hummed in agreement. “I suppose it is,” he said, adjusting himself so he sat a bit closer to you. “However, I must say, I’ve been enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “I’ve been enjoying it too, sir,” you said softly.

“Coriolanus, please,” Coriolanus murmured into your ear. “When it’s just you and I, I’d rather you call me Coriolanus.” He whispered. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke to you.

“Okay, Coriolanus,” you whispered back, turning your head to look at him. Your faces were mere inches away from one another, just one movement and your professional relationship would be completely ruined. Your cheeks reddened at the close proximity, turning your head away and looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus, however, put his fingers underneath your chin, turning your head to face him. You looked into his blue eyes as he looked into your shiny ones. And without saying anything, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips. You froze, unsure of how to react. Your boss was kissing you. The logical side of you should pull away and scream “what the fuck” but the woman in you is screaming to kiss him back.

After all, Coriolanus Snow is indeed an attractive man.

After a few moments, you relaxed, kissing Coriolanus back just as gently. Your lips moved in sync with his as your eyes fluttered shut. Coriolanus cupped your right cheek while his other hand went to your waist. Your right hand rested on his shoulder while your other hand made its way to his hair, entangling your fingers in his golden locks. Eventually the kiss got heated as Coriolanus pushed you gently onto the couch cushions, laying down on top of you as the two of you continued kissing. He kissed you with more heat, biting down on your bottom lip slightly. You let out a soft gasp and Coriolanus took that as an opportunity to let his tongue explore your mouth.

Coriolanus’s hand slowly traveled up your body and to your chest, massaging your right boobs through your blouse. You let out a soft moan in the kiss, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. Coriolanus pressed himself against you. You could feel his bulge through his trousers on your thigh as he kissed you. He pulled away from the kiss to press a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck. Coriolanus’s hand moved back down your body and underneath your skirt. You bit your lip, letting out a soft moan when his fingers found your clothed pussy.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers beginning to rub circles on your clothed clit. “Soaking through your panties.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding your head. “Yeah,” you replied, looking at Coriolanus. This should be wrong. He’s your boss and you’re his secretary. But how could it be so wrong when it feels so good? Coriolanus pulled your panties to the side, running a finger up and down your slit to spread your wetness around before inserting a finger inside of you. You bit your lip to avoid making sounds. Truthfully, you were a little embarrassed about how compliant you’re being under Coriolanus’s touch. Shouldn’t you be fighting it?

Truthfully, you’ve been wanting this for a while. Coriolanus was a very attractive man. Being 6’0, blond, a skinny but athletic build, you couldn’t help but be physically attracted to the man. Not to mention, his personality wasn’t so bad either when you get to know him. Yes, he’s absolutely a dick to everyone he knows, including to Sejanus who’s his best friend. But he was always so kind to you. Or at least what can be considered kindness in his eyes. So maybe you have always had a crush on your boss. But how could you not?

Coriolanus thrusted his finger in and out of you gently. You held back a moan, not wanting to make any noise. Coriolanus kissed your neck as he fingered you, adding a second finger and curling them inside of you. You inhaled sharply, biting back a moan. “Don’t be shy, darling,” Coriolanus murmured in your ear. “Want to hear those pretty noises,” he said as he sped up his movements with his fingers, hitting that spongy spot repeatedly. Unable to help yourself, you moaned, cheeks flushing in embarrassment from your noises. “So good,” Coriolanus cooed before sucking on your pulse point.

The office was filled with the sounds of your moans and the squelching of your pussy as Coriolanus fingered you. You could feel yourself getting close, arching your back in the process. “So close,” you said, practically whining.

Coriolanus smirked against your skin as he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. “I want to taste you,” Coriolanus breathed out, pressing a kiss onto your lips. He undid the buttons on your blouse, revealing your black lace bra. You watched Coriolanus as he took in the curvature of your breasts, admiring your form. “So beautiful,” he murmured, taking your shirt and tossing it to the side. Coriolanus licked his lips as his hands made their way to your skirt, hiking it up enough to reveal your matching black lace panties. He moved down your body so that his face was near your thighs as he hooked his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them down. Coriolanus let out a shaky breath as he saw your glistening pussy. He took your panties off of you, stuffing them into his trouser pocket as he spread your legs.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Coriolanus said, licking his lips in anticipation. His eyes were fixated on your pussy, as though already drunk.

“Please,” you said, biting your lip.

And without any further hesitation, Coriolanus took your “please” as a signal to dive right in. He immediately buried his face into your cunt, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit before assaulting your clit with his tongue. Unable to help it, you moaned loudly, bringing a hand down to grip Coriolanus’s curls, tugging on them. Coriolanus let out a moan against your pussy, sending vibrations through you.

The blond sucked and tongued at your clit, eating you out messily but oh-so-good. You relished in the feeling, not a single thought in your brain other than about Coriolanus’s skilled mouth against your cunt. Coriolanus’s tongue dipped into your hole, his nose rubbing against your clit. You moaned loudly, grinding your hips against Coriolanus’s face. “Oh my god,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly as you arched your back and threw your head back in pleasure. And soon, your thighs were clamping around Coriolanus’s head as you came undone on his tongue. Coriolanus groaned against your pussy, eating you out through your orgasm.

And when you finished, you relaxed against the cushions of the leather couch. Coriolanus pulled away from your cunt, his lips and face glistening from your juices. His eyes were displayed and glossy, most definitely drunk off of the taste of your cunt. He stood up, his bulge very prominent in his black trousers. “You taste so good,” he said thickly, looking at you.

You breathed heavily as you came down from your high, looking up at Coriolanus. “Uh…” you began, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you,” you said shyly.

Coriolanus smirked as he reached up to unbutton his button-up shirt. “I’m not done with you yet though.”

You couldn’t help the grin forming on your face as you looked at your boss. “I didn’t expect you to be,” you replied.

Coriolanus finished unbuttoning his shirt but kept it on, revealing his well-toned chest. You bit your lip as you looked at him. He then unbuckled his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down along with his boxers, revealing his large red and angry cock. Your eyes widened at how big Coriolanus was. You’re obviously weren’t a virgin. However, all of your sexual partners were not as largely endowed as Coriolanus was. Noticing you staring at his cock, Coriolanus spoke, “Everything okay?”

Your gaze moved from his cock to his eyes as you processed what Coriolanus had asked. “Huh? Oh. Yes,” you said, swallowing. “You’re just much bigger than what I’m used to,” you said shyly.

Coriolanus smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment then,” he said, making his way over to you. “Will I still be able to fuck you?” He asked softly, making his way back onto the couch and crawling on top of you.

You nodded your head. “Yes,” you murmured, looking up at Coriolanus with doe eyes.

Coriolanus smirked back, pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Good,” he said as he reached between your bodies, gripping his cock and guiding it to your pussy. He rubbed the tip along your cunt, spreading your wetness around. You let out a shaky breath as his cock rubbed your clit. Coriolanus let out a soft groan as he moved his cock to your hole, slowly easing himself inside of you. There was a slight stretch, causing you to whine a little bit. He was bigger than what you’re used to so it hurt a little bit. When Coriolanus bottomed out, he stayed still, gently kissing your lips.

You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Coriolanus stayed still for a few minutes as you adjusted to his size and when he felt you relax, he slowly moved his hips. He pulled away from the kiss to look at you. Your pretty face was looking up at him as he moved his hips slowly. “Truthfully, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Coriolanus murmured, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck.

You let out a soft moan as Coriolanus began moving his hips, wrapping a leg around him. “Been wanting this for a while too,” you sighed, closing your eyes as your hand made its way to his curls, entangling your fingers in his hair once more. Coriolanus let out a shaky moan, moving his hips faster as he got into a rhythm. You both let out moans as he moved.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” Coriolanus said, kissing your neck. “Clenching me so good,” he said, burying his cock deep inside of you with each thrust.

You moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as you relished in Coriolanus’s big cock deep inside of you. It felt so good to finally be stretched out so well. “You feel so good,” you said, pressing a kiss onto Coriolanus’s shoulder.

For what was supposed to be just a hookup with your boss, it certainly seemed much more intimate than it should be.

Just as you thought that, Coriolanus pulled back, pulling out of you completely. “Stand up for me,” he said as he got off of you. Confused, you stood up. Your pencil skirt was still hiked around your waist and your bra was still on. Coriolanus sat down on the couch, motioning for you to sit on his lap. You complied, sitting down on Coriolanus’s lap. He wrapped an arm around you, using his other hand to grip his cock and insert himself back into your pussy.

You both moaned as you sunk down onto his cock. And when he was fully inside of you, you took it upon yourself to start riding him. You bounced your hips up and down slowly, your hands resting on Coriolanus’s shoulders for stability. Coriolanus’s hands gripped your ass, kneading at the flesh as you rode him. “Doing so good, darling,” Coriolanus groaned, closing his eyes in pleasure. “So fucking wet.”

Coriolanus’s cock, in this angle, was going inside of you deeper. You whined at the pleasure, loving the feeling. “So deep,” you said, bouncing your hips a bit faster.

Coriolanus opened his eyes to look at you. You looked so beautiful riding his cock. With your cheeks flushed, lips plump, whiny from his length inside of you, your tits bouncing in the confines of your bra, threatening to spill out. He couldn’t help but meet your movements with his own thrusts, holding onto you. He began thrusting into you, causing you to moan loudly. “You’re so beautiful,” he groaned, reaching up your back to undo your bra skillfully. The material fell forward off of your shoulders and onto Coriolanus. He grabbed the bra and tossed it aside, looking at your tits bouncing with each thrust.

As Coriolanus began thrusting up into you, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. He moved his hips hard and fast, making you unable to hold back your almost obnoxiously loud moans. Thankfully, no one else was at the office.

“Good girl,” Coriolanus moaned. “Taking me so good,” he said, breathless as he fucked up into you. “Your cunt was made for my cock, hmm?”

“Yes!” You moaned out. “Love how good it feels.” You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly as Coriolanus’s cock kept thrusting into that spongy spot of yours.

Coriolanus licked his lips, grabbing one of your boobs and massaging the flesh. “You close?” He asked. “Tightening around my cock so beautifully. I’m close too, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Gonna let me cum in that pussy of yours?”

“Yes, please,” you whined at the idea, grateful you were on birth control because you wanted nothing more than to be filled up with Coriolanus’s cum. “So close, Coryo,” you said.

“Oh I know, baby, I know,” he said, thrusting his hips a bit faster. “You can do it, you can cum on my cock like a good girl.”

And with a loud whine, you came a second time that night, moaning loudly as you arched your back. Your body was shaking as you came, your pussy gushing around Coriolanus’s cock. After a few more thrusts, Coriolanus came inside of you with a loud groan, filling you up with ropes and ropes of his cum. When you both came down from your highs, you slid off of Coriolanus’s cock, sitting down next to him on the couch as you both stared at the ceiling, basking in the post orgasmic glow.

When you both calmed down, Coriolanus turned his head to look at you and you turned your head to look at him. Neither of you spoke as you just let out soft chuckles at one another.

The following morning at work happened as normal as could possibly be. You had arrived to work as though absolutely nothing had happened. And when Coriolanus arrived, he acted as though nothing had happened. You both had gone along with your days. That was until around lunch time when you received a note from Coriolanus that wrote “Let me take you out on a proper date tonight for dinner, my treat. We’ll go after work. Come to my office with your response. - Coriolanus”

It was safe to say that Coriolanus Snow most definitely took you out to dinner at a very high end restaurant. Which most certainly led to him taking you home that night and fucking you so good that you were able to see stars.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 6

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: (I’m kind of rusty about appropriate warnings so let me know if there’s something I need to add or correct) You dose yourself with poison, he cuts his arm with a knife, you drink his blood, knife play, oral sex female receiving, dirty talk, p in v, some light praise, dubious consent, inappropriate use of a dagger/anal, he fucks you and the dagger essentially fucks him, breeding/pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, black cum ofc, no aftercare

A/N: Alright this chapter is…a lot. The knife scenario I read a few years ago in “Den of Vipers” by K.A Knight and it completely changed my brain chemistry. It inspired me to include a similar situation because it’s so Feyd coded😂😭

Also credits to @sansaorgana for mentioning how Harkonnen blood would be thick and effected by Giedi Prime’s environment and pollution. I love discussing Feyd’s body fluids

Weeks pass before Feyd-Rautha corners you in one of the Baron’s sparse gardens. Garden being a slight exaggeration — really, it’s more of a barren courtyard with a bench. Until your fearsome betrothed strode in, your only company was a few scraggly bushes and the fledgling pilingtam tree keeping you in the shade.

Feyd-Rautha hooks his finger in your book and pulls it away. “Come with me.”

You glare balefully at him. “I was reading that.” It’s the only Harkonnen novel you’ve found that you can stomach. “You can’t just beckon me whenever. Or — and this is blasphemy, I know — you could just ask me if I want to go with you.”

Feyd-Rautha closes the book. “No.”

“You lost my page,” you say with a pout. You debate teaching manners to him again, briefly, before sensing that you’re fighting a losing battle. So instead you snatch the book from his hands.

“Two hundred and thirty eight. Now,” he fixes you with a stern look, “let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

Frankly, you don’t care where he’s taking you. Since the Crucible, you’ve been anxiously waiting for something to do besides answering questions about your upcoming nuptials. Your body aches for purpose. Movement. You also realize, with mixed feelings, that you would probably follow Feyd-Rautha wherever he asked you.

What did that say about your state of mind?

“It’s time for training,” he says.

You trail after him, vaguely disappointed that you weren’t going to finish your book. You tuck it under your arm. How bad could poison training be? Maybe you’d have time to flip through a few pages. Feyd-Rautha eyes you as if he can tell what you’re thinking, but doesn’t comment on it.

The fortress is in full swing for the wedding, which looms only a month and a half away. You would think that’s plenty of time to prepare. But servants are hanging decorations, comparing tasks, and cleaning everything in sight. They quiet as you and Feyd-Rautha stroll past them, and you search their faces for Asha.

She’s been just as busy as everyone else. Everyone but you, of course, who, despite your prominent involvement in the wedding, has been left to your own devices. You weren’t exactly thrilled to dose yourself with poison, but at least it gave you something to look forward to.

“How did you first go about this?” You ask the na-Baron. It’s a strange comfort to be in the presence of someone so unperturbed, confident and assured to a fault, sure, but you knew what to expect from him. He was an asshole, but he would be one regardless.

“Poison tolerance?” He asks.

“No, long walks through the fortress.”

Feyd-Rautha ignores you. “It’s a precaution, mostly. Poison-snoopers can be faulty or influenced. It also gives me an…edge…over others.”

“The others being…?”

“Political allies. Enemies.” You catch the hint of a grin on his lips. “It cuts a formidable image when your guest has no concern for poison.”

“As if you don’t already,” you retort.

“You flatter me.”

“Oh, like you’re not aware.” You roll your eyes. “Where are we even going?”

“Somewhere private,” he says.

You raise your brows. Feyd-Rautha pushes his shoulder suddenly against what you thought until that point was a wall, but it swings open on an invisible seam. “Not like that,” he says, amusement coloring his tone. “Although I could never refuse you, wife.”

The room he leads you into is mostly bare except for a few maps on the walls and a table in the center. You recognize the surface of the table as the topography of Giedi Prime, the vast plains and tiny boxes representing the plethora of factories. You ghost your fingers over it. “What is this place?”

“My strategy room.” When you glance at him imploringly, he sighs and adds in a resigned tone, “Sometimes I find working with the other nobles tedious. I spend my time alone if possible.”

“Hm.” You sit down at the table and try to imagine Feyd-Rautha presiding over it, testing out battle strategies and war maneuvers.

You must sink too far into your own thoughts because it startles you when he sets down a small glass in front of you, nestled in the space between two miniature factories. “We need to start small,” he tells you.

“What is this?”

“Poison.”

You shoot him an annoyed look. “It would just be nice to know what poison I’m ingesting, is all.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He plants his hands on the table and assumes a position that you have a hard time believing he doesn’t know stirs something dark within you. “I’m going to be giving you small doses of poisons most typically used throughout the Known Universe.”

“You’re so kind,” you mutter.

He nudges the glass closer to you. “This is the weakest one of them all. We can work our way up, gauge their effects on you.”

“Like what?” You think back to the day in the arena with Ze’ev, how the flip-dart hidden in his clothing quickly incapacitated you, turning your thoughts to sludge.

“Fatigue. Nausea. Potential fevers, chills, heart palpitations.”

“Oh,” you say miserably, “is that all?”

“No, actually,” he replies, oblivious to your fear, “but sometimes it’s better not to know. Drink.”

Your stomach twists with nerves. But he’s watching you in that anxiety-inducing way he tends to, so you tip the contents of the glass down your throat. He smiles.

Poison training is hell.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s not this — constantly being gripped by fatigue and nausea, your body battling persistently against the poisons.

The beginning was the worst. You had never thrown up so much in your life. Feyd-Rautha assured you that you were tolerating the poison better than most, but you highly doubted that. You were couch-ridden for days on end, too weak to move or do much more than eat the food he forced you to. But, slowly, you adjusted to the poison, and Feyd-Rautha gave you higher doses, stronger strains.

A week away from your wedding, he declares that he won’t give you anything new. “But you must continue to take the poisons from before,” he tells you. “Or your body will lose the tolerance and also go through withdrawals.”

Today, however, is one of the worst days you’ve had. You did everything right, but for some reason you were rendered completely helpless, body racked by intense shivers. You are huddled in the corner of the couch in the antechamber when Feyd-Rautha finds you, stopping him in his tracks.

“H-H-Hi,” you sputter.

He crosses the room in a single stride, ripping off your blanket and assessing your shuddering form. “You used too much,” he says accusingly.

“I-I-I did what you-you told me,” you protest, albeit weakly.

His frown pierces you. You’re afraid he’s going to reprimand you, but instead he takes a step backward. “Go to the bed.”

“I-I’m f-f-fine. I can s-stay here.”

He looses a sigh then, effortlessly, sweeps you off the couch and over his shoulder. You want to fight against him but it’s taking all of your strength not to shiver and let him know just how poorly you are.

“Put me d-down,” you try your best to say, but with your face buried in his back, it comes out muffled.

Feyd-Rautha resists your pitiful attempts of subterfuge, and carries you into the bedroom like you weigh nothing. It’s your first time actually being on the bed, and his faintly medicinal scent pervades your senses. Had you ever even seen him sleep in here before? How did it smell so strongly of him?

He props you up against the pillows. You attempt to pull up the bedding to ward off your chill, but he stops you, which requires little effort on his part. You blink. In reply, he reaches into the top drawer of his bedside table and takes out a blunt-looking dagger.

“W-What are y-you doing?”

Feyd-Rautha presses the blade of the dagger against his forearm, cuts a thin line that weeps with a thick, dark liquid that you realize is his blood. You feel dizzy.

“Wh-What —”

“Just stop talking,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “We clot quickly. Drink.”

Drink? You're not entirely sure how well your emotions are coming across in your current state, but he must know how insane he sounds. Well, more insane than usual.

"I-I'm not —" Before your eyes, his dark-colored blood ceases. He utters something under his breath and then puts the dagger to his skin again, cutting it back open like slotting an envelope.

He captures a drop of it on his thumb and pushes it between your lips.

It doesn’t taste quite as bitterly sweet as his cum, you decide, but possesses the same sharp bite. It sears slightly as it dances on your tongue, down your throat.

“More,” he says. He sits down at the edge of the bed and raises his forearm to your mouth.

With no other choices, you obey.

The blood is thicker here, his skin warm beneath your mouth as you lick at the shallow wound. Any strangeness you felt at his request vanishes as the potency of his blood hits you. You hungrily take your fill, and by the time the wound closes again, it’s chased away your chills and the murkiness evading your mind.

“There,” he rasps. He sets the dagger down on the bed, still sporting a trace of his blood.

“Why…why?”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “Harkonnen blood is its own sort of poison, courtesy of our planet’s pollution and smog. I suspected it would be enough to counterbalance the poison already in your system.”

You fixate on the wound, how the blood has already congealed. “It stopped,” you say stupidly. But how could you be expected to think properly — you had just drank from his arm, from his blood, to stave off poison that you’d willing ingested.

Feyd-Rautha nods. “Another benefit.”

“Anywhere on your body? It does that?”

He indicates the dagger. “See for yourself.”

A chill runs through you, but now for an entirely different reason. You inch closer to him, tucking your legs under you. He’s agonizingly close, his dark gaze flickering across your face as you take the dagger and touch the tip of the blade to his chin.

“Is that just a ploy so that I’ll cut you?” You ask, heart pounding furiously. You discover with a sickening twist that you do want to cut him, want to slide the blade across his smooth skin and watch the way the blood rises to greet you.

Feyd-Rautha breathes, “Perhaps.”

You’ve never seen him so transfixed, so compliant. Eager. And with his very blood in your veins, emboldening you, issuing a high like you’ve never felt before — you press the blade into his skin. Blood trickles out, and you use your tongue to lick it up, the metallic taste of the blade mingling with the sharpness of his blood.

Next you take the dagger across his jaw, down the column of his throat to the divot that flutters with his pulse. And then down down down to his chest, shearing his shirt with a single slice.

Feyd-Rautha has an infuriatingly perfect chest — muscled, small, tight nipples that you tease with the edge of the blade. He inhales sharply.

“You’re disgusting,” you say without conviction, your free hand gliding down his toned stomach.

He tilts his face up to you. The gesture is so vulnerable, his expression so devastatingly beautiful, that you climb into his lap. His cock, straining against his pants, nudges your center.

“I hate you,” you tell him.

He whispers, “I know.”

There’s no telling who kisses who first — an impasse to your game of trading punishments. His hands are on you in an instant, over your body and in your hair, clamoring to touch you as if you might disappear at any moment. You’re equally as fervent, notching your thumbs by his jaw on either side and holding him to you, mouths open and hungry. His tongue dances over your lips, behind your teeth.

Feyd-Rautha is his own kind of poison, infiltrating you slowly and feasting on your insides. And you take him in like his kisses are the anecdote, the touch of his hands soothing the ache that his particular brand of poison causes.

Though, if he is poison, you can never imagine adapting to this — his passionate, consuming touch, the whine of his desperation, how he embraces you like it’s everything he’s ever wanted. No, if he is poison, you never want to learn to tolerate him.

His fingers work deftly at your clothes. The air rushes to caress your breast, hardening your nipples. Feyd-Rautha closes his lips on one as he palms his hand over the other, and the wet warmth of his mouth sends you to the edge. Your back bows in response, urging him closer. He bites down at your nipple, tugs on it, swipes his tongue over it like a soothing balm, then repeats the process on the other side.

As soon as your mind clears enough to form a rational thought, you fumble to unbuckle his pants. He helps you — one hand on your ass for support as he lifts up his hips and you wriggle his pants down over them.

His cock, liberated from his pants, slaps against his stomach. He fists the base and indulges in a series of lazy strokes.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud.

Feyd-Rautha, returning his mouth to yours, smirks against you. “Your turn.”

He flips you over onto your back in a seamless maneuver, securing your legs around his waist. Feyd-Rautha lingers above you. His dark gaze roams your form as you shimmy out of your dress, leaving you only in your panties. Sometime before he grabbed the dagger, and now uses it to trace a line from between your breasts to your navel.

You gasp. Pain radiates from the thin cut he made, a terrible, delicious heat.

It’s his turn to tend to you now, hands coasting your body as he licks a stripe up your wound and back down, your blood blanketing his tongue. He pauses at your panties, uses both hands to seize you by the hips and drag you to the very edge of the bed, then kneels before you.

You’re already slick with desire and you want to be ashamed but you can’t, not when he ghosts his mouth over your center and you cry out in need.

“So wet for me, wife,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “You want this cock inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. You claw at the bedding, pulling it taunt around you.

“Oh, but I’ve been waiting for this. To taste you. God, you don’t know how hard it’s been knowing that you’re always just on the other side of that door.” Feyd-Rautha replaces his mouth with the dagger’s blade and you clench in anticipation. The tip of it traces the edges of your panties, your lips, nudges against your entrance. “You infuriate me. I cannot stop thinking of you.”

You’re too overwhelmed to make sense of his admission, but it sends a ripple of delight through you nonetheless. You buck your hips, desperate for the friction that only his mouth can provide.

“Please,” you beg.

The blade of the dagger stills. “Please what?”

“Please.”

You can’t think of anything else to say.

He urges, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I want your mouth on my —”

Feyd-Rautha impatiently cuts away your panties, effectively silencing you. His mouth encloses on your clit. Your words turn into a wail of surprise, of pleasure when he applies pressure with his tongue and then sucks.

Ecstasy spirals through you.

It shouldn’t be a shock that he’s skillful at pleasuring you, at lapping between your lungs like your cunt is the sweetest dessert, yet it still resonates — how he knows exactly when and where to lick, to suckle, to coax more pleading moans from you with his tongue.

And when you come you unravel completely.

“So greedy,” he murmurs as you rise your hips back up to him, beckoning him to continue. “You try to rebel against the idea but you want this cock buried deep inside you, coating you with my cum. Is that right?”

“Yes —”

He slams himself up to the hilt inside you. You cry out in equal parts agony and desire, back bowing, walls stretching to accommodate him. Feyd-Rautha doesn’t wait for you to adjust, drawing out and back in with feverish vigor. His hands pin you to the bed to keep you from arching away, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“You feel incredible,” he says, your name falling from your lips like a prayer. “So nice and tight.”

You clench around him. Feyd-Rautha mumbles his appreciation, slows his movements. “I won’t be able to last if you keep doing that,” he tells you, “you feel so good. So fucking good.”

You put up a protest as he withdraws, leaving you feeling horribly empty. Feyd-Rautha turns you onto your belly, ensures that your knees are at the edge of the bed, ass up. A mortifying heat surges through you — completely exposed, vulnerable to his wandering gaze. He runs his hand over your ass, drifts to your soaked cunt.

“I want to possess you wholly.”

You whimper in response. You hear movement from behind, and, in the absence of his attention, dip your hand down to your cunt to alleviate the mounting pressure, but you’re declined the pleasure.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself.”

He lines himself with your entrance. This time when he seats himself inside you it’s painfully slow, deliberate, every inch driving you closer to another orgasm. Feyd-Rautha starts a slow pace, pulling his cock out till his swollen head brushes past your lips, then back in. Eventually he increases his speed until he’s snapping his hips against you, penetrating you deeply, fully, invoking breathless sounds from both of you.

Feyd-Rautha pursues his pleasure the same way he fights — violent, ruthless in its execution. You’re aware, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, that you’re going to be a quivering mess tomorrow. But in the moment you can only immerse yourself in this man: Feyd-Rautha, the na-Baron, a monster in his own right.

In a burst of bright light, an orgasm cleaves you in half, Feyd-Rautha pumping into you until it surrenders to his darkness. Before you can even recover, you feel the familiar coldness of the dagger’s blade biting into your back, down your spine, circling your ass.

He brushes his thumb over your ass. “Have you ever been taken here before?”

Your breath hitches. “Once.”

Feyd-Rautha emits a satisfied hum. From your peripheral you watch him reach into the bedside table again, this time to fish out a cloth to wipe down the dagger. Your walls clench.

“I want to see this dagger in that pretty ass of yours.”

Feyd-Rautha traces your cunt, gathering your wetness on his fingers to coat the handle of the dagger. He spits on your ass, rubs it over you. “You have to relax,” he rasps. The handle of the dagger pushes against you and you instinctively flex as the first ridge enters you. “Relax, wife.“

You oblige, and he’s able to ease the rest of it inside. It’s tight, full, uncomfortable, but not unbearable. When you feel Feyd-Rautha notch himself at your entrance, alarm seizes you. “What are you —?”

He plunges himself inside you.

And as he does, the blade of the knife punctures his skin with a soft squelch.

You gasp. A growl rumbles through his chest. You can’t see, but you can hear the blade pierce him with each ministration of his hips. You can’t believe him, what he’s doing, but the sounds he makes as he enters you and the dagger enters him at the same time are inescapable, intoxicating. And with the added fullness of his cock and the handle of the dagger, you build towards your orgasm, toes curling.

Feyd-Rautha sinks into you again and again, dagger piercing his side. It prompts a steady stream of his blood that joins with your slickness. His breath quickens. “You take my cock so well. Look at you, so full, so beautiful.”

He slows to remove the dagger from you, taking his time as not to harm you. You shudder. The dagger is tossed to the side still covered in his blood.

“I get to fuck this pretty pussy as much as I want,” he rasps, more to himself than you. “Fill you with my seed, over and over until it takes, then fuck you when you’re pregnant and round with my child. Fuck. I want to see you. I want to see your face as I cum inside you for the first time.”

The image he paints has you gasping for breath. Eager to please, you turn onto your back and present yourself to him. Feyd-Rautha is a god of war, of wrath, wreathed in shadows, and he buries himself into you like he’s seeking redemption. You cry out as he nears his own orgasm, tears blurring your eyes — he sheathes himself fully one final time then spills his seed in your cunt.

Your walls pulse, clamping down around him. He holds you close as he finishes, warm breath fanning your skin, jolting slightly. It’s only when he removes himself, bites playfully at your breast, that you realize the wetness you feel dripping onto your belly is his blood.

“Feyd — what, what were you thinking?” You shove him off you.

He stands, naked form on display, blood dribbling down from the wound in his stomach. It’s distracting, frankly, and it just reminds you of how it had gotten there.

“I wasn’t,” he says simply.

You open your mouth to say something else, reprimand him, maybe, but then he runs his fingers along your thigh and scoops up the cum that’s escaped from inside you. He pushes it back into your cunt, which is still beating with the memory of his cock, blissfully sore.

Feyd-Rautha says, “Don’t worry about me, wife. I will heal. You worry about keeping me inside you.”

He stands to walk away and as he does, you mutter to no one, “I wasn’t worried” although you were. You tilt your hips up. Getting pregnant isn’t exactly your top priority right now, but the alternative is having his cum dribble down your thighs, and the black fluid is a little concerning to see smeared across your skin.

What child could be born from such a substance?

You angle your head to see Feyd-Rautha. He stands at the threshold of the bathroom, back turned to you. You admire his physique. For all of his misgivings — his psychotic tendencies, the murder, the way he plays his games with you — he’s irritatingly attractive. You close your eyes and let your head thump onto the bed.

You open them again when you hear the bedroom door swing open. “Are you leaving?” You ask, exasperated.

“Yes,” Feyd-Rautha says. He’s dressed, sadly. “I have other business to tend to.”

You scowl at the implication of being business.

“I’ll be back before the wedding. Keep up with your tolerance. Just know that I won’t fuck you every time you over dose,” he tells you. A million questions jump to mind — and quite a few curses — but he’s gone before you can say any of them.

Spent and still reeling from your recent fucking, you collapse back onto the bed and throw your arm over your eyes. What were you doing?

You were going to marry him.

Part 7

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper

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[pink-amethyst-tarot]

♡ What's Coming Next For You In Love ♡

P I L E 1 ~ P I L E 2 ~ P I L E 3

♡ P I L E 1 ♡ All I really need to know is that you believe

Ten Of Pentacles, Seven of Wands, Nine of Pentacles (Reversed), Eight of Cups (Reversed), Page of Swords

Bottom of the Deck: Knight of Swords

This Relationship will be a prosperous one and this person will fight for you. They will let you know that you are a top priority for them. I'm getting that you will be so very dedicated to this person coming in BUT you are being warned to no lose yourself in them and to no be too in your own head when it comes to this relationship. It's fine to daydream and to be in love but it's important to remember that you matter, too. Your family and friends are just as important as your cutie pie.

Something you'll love is how intellectual this person is and will love talking to them. I can see you two sitting closer together and talking and smiling. I have a feeling that this person will not want to be open at first or will be scared to let their guard down. They may have had people tell them to "tone it down", so they won't show all of themself all at once but once open up, they'll really see how special they are.

I'm also getting a channeled message saying that some of you need to let go of an ex before getting with someone new. If you don't you could lose someone really great.

Channeled song: I Would Die 4 U by Prince

I'm not your lover // I'm not your friend // I am something that you'll never comprehend // No need to worry // No need to cry // I'm your Messiah and you're the reason why //

♡ P I L E 2 ♡ Come out of hiding, I'm right here, beside you

The Star, Seven of Wands, Strength, The Sun, Page of Wands (Reversed)

Bottom of the Deck: Nine of Cups

In the past, you may have been in lack luster relationships; relationships that lacked passion or chemistry. WELL, THAT'S ALL IN THE PAST NOW BAYBEEE!!! The person coming in for you is a wish come true. Like, imagine the person you wrote about in your diary in middle school but so much better. They are all you ever wanted and more! For many of you, I would even say this is a soulmate connection! (AMAZING!) In this next connection, this person will see you as their hope and their inspiration; you are their muse. Not only will you being in love with your person, but you will also be best friends with your person!! I'm getting that a lot of you already know who this person is.

This person has some serious "golden retriever" energy! You may take trips together too but it's not just the both of you but with friends too because you guys are like a big family and you all just love being together. I'm getting that this person could be a Leo (Sun, Moon, Rising, or Venus). I keep coming back to the "golden retriever" energy! They just have a bright personality, and they are so warm and inviting. They are just so fun to be with and they are the life of the party. This person also has such a weak spot for you. You're their kryptonite. They will do anything for you and will fight to keep you if they have to. I feel like even when the two of you are official, they want to still prove to you that they desire you and they still care about you. They want to make it really clear that they want you always and always will.

Channeled song: You Matter To Me from Waitress: The Musical by Sara Bareilles ft. Jason Mraz

because you matter to me // simple and plain // not much to ask from somebody // you matter to me // I promise you do, you // you matter too // I promise you do // you'll see // you matter to me //

♡ P I L E 3 ♡

Ace of Pentacles, Five of Cups, Queen of Cups (Reversed). Six of wands, Ace of Wands

Bottom of the Deck: The Chariot

What seemed like a hot fling, is going to quickly change into a stable relationship. I can hear you now. "What do you mean? I'm having fun! I don't want anything serious right now!" Well, too bad. This love is ready for you, and I think you're ready for it. You may be scared of settling down with someone because of a past heartbreak. I'm getting that this person was kind of a bum, for lack of a better word. This person was not good for you nor were they good to you and they really did some damage when they were in your life. They didn't give you what you needed in the relationship. They didn't provide balance to the relationship. You gave all of yourself to this person, only to receive nothing in return. It won't be like that with this new person. This is a love worth celebrating and trust me when I say that you will feel celebrated by your beau. They are going to show you off and remind you of how important you are, how special you are. They are going to remind you of how much they love you and care for you every single chance that they get. While writing this, I'm channeling that your person wants to say that you have a beautiful heart and they are going to keep it safe. Know that this person sees being with you as a great victory.

OMG, I hope you like a flirt because they are gonna make you blush like you committed a sin! It will be like two teenagers in love but with more stability and maturity. This will be something very long term. This person is dedicated to you and your relationship. I'm getting that not all of you are the type to want to get married but for those of you who do, expect to hear those wedding bells ringing! The colors, emerald green, gold, pink, white and a cool grey could be significant to you.

Channeled Message: "Baby, our love is older than this life we live in now. It dates back further than our human minds can comprehend. Don't run from this; from us. We choose each other every lifetime. Don't let this time be any different."

Channeled song: Still by Tamia

Feels like the first time we met // When I kissed // and I told you I love you //

If you want a personalized reading, you can get one on Etsy at PinkAmethystTarot

Page Divider by: @eloquentreverie

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. these readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [2] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find. it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader, mxm (this chapter); wooyoung x reader, yunho x reader; 11.4k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping, emotional turmoil, injuries, slight descriptions of gore

Desire is such a futile thing. Grasping at a fleeting fit of passion that will be over in just a few breaths. Yearning for a moment ever so brief, it was like it never even began. It only continues to ponder you as you stare at the book of forgotten history, tucked between an old Jane Eyre and newly found poetry. It's an odd place, but Soobin himself is odd. He thought that it would allow someone to find a new interest – resting unlike books next to one another. You yourself didn't even know the book existed until you stumbled upon it. Your fingers glide along the pages, many dog-eared. A part of you hopes that whenever Soobin comes back he could tell you why he noted these particular pages. If he ever does, that is. The lump in your throat continues. You flip a page with hopes to distract yourself.

The multitude of Fae folk is still unknown. Ranging from the dozens to hundreds, not one researcher agrees on how many exactly exist, or if they truly exist at all. But what we all know is that it begins with disappearances.

Until a town is drained dry.

You close the book, the familiar chill creeping up again. The store is closed now and you've checked twice to make sure it's empty. There is no real reason why you feel fear. But you're not one to ignore it. You tuck the book away, locking up the front gates to the store and exiting promptly, the apartment above the store left abandoned.

It has been over a month now since Soobin has disappeared. You've been interviewed by the local sheriff's department for your involvement and your plea for innocence was believed. No one could say nor prove it was your fault that Soobin suddenly vanished. Nothing tied you to it. Even the townsfolk, as bitter as they may be that you weren't the one to leave, told the police that you were at various stores in town when he was no longer around. You could only thank them. Perhaps your reputation isn't as heinous as you once thought.

Contacting his family was your biggest fear. His parents told you that Soobin called at the time, explaining he needed time away then never called again. They aren't as worried as you, apologizing for the way he broke up with you. Neither of you understand why he just left. It's not like him. He fights tooth and nail and never just leaves. Foul play has been ruled out but you just can't wrap your head around it. The two of you loved one another. Giving up that easily… Do you even know the real Choi Soobin?

Have you ever?

"Haven't I told you not to walk home alone?"

Seonghwa appears next to you as he always does. Hands tucked in his sleek trench coat, the same friendly smile on his lips. His strange appearance is nothing new. A few times a week he seemingly conjures up on empty streets and sidewalks to walk you home. Only another check on your list of him not being human. He never threatened you nor persuaded you with anything nefarious as of yet, but his presence still brought fear. One day the visits wouldn't be so meaningless. One day he won't be as kind.

"There's no one ever around for me to be scared, Hwa," you say. "Unless you want me to be afraid of you."

"You should be mindful. Not everyone is as they seem. You should know from experience."

Whether or not his words are a purposeful jab is frivolous, but they do sting. "Feels like a warning for me to stay away from you, Seonghwa."

He doesn't stop walking, his voice is softer this time. "I didn't mean it that way. You know that."

You do. Since you've met the mysterious man all he's done is stand up for you. Irritate the locals with his snarky remarks, enough so that many began to leave you alone. Sure, the lack of customers is quite severe at this moment, it was better than having to force a smile on your lips as they mentioned how Soobin ran the store better than you ever have. There's only so many strained smiles you could muster.

But trusting Seonghwa? The creature of the night who you are ninety-five percent sure is a Faerie? An Unseelie one at that? You can only hold back your scoff. What you have found about them is helpful. One of which you haven't tested yet – whether or not they could lie. Now is a prime opportunity. You glance at the man walking next to you, before speaking. Low ball questions first, before you can gradually ask the important ones.

"Do you think I'm doing well?" You ask.

His brow raises. "Change of subject?"

"A bit, but not really. I just… it's been a lot, being on my own now. I was self-sufficient before I met him and still am, but things are different. I wanted this dream with him. I wanted to struggle with him. Sometimes I wonder if all of this is worth it. If I should even wait for him."

"You are doing well," he murmurs. "As well as a human can under these circumstances."

Your chest begins to tighten at his words. The thought of proving yourself right is gone. The sincerity of his goes in one ear and out the other. Only one word you can focus on. One sticking out in the sentence, bile gathering at the back of your throat.

Human.

No one you've met in your entire life speaks of people that way. You struggle to hold your poker face. Pretend that nothing is wrong. You take a slow breath. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem. Ah, I must go now though, my family will be wondering where I am by now," he glances at his watch, before shooting you a small smile. "I will see you soon, y/n. Have a good rest."

He turns on his heels before you can say more, disappearing into the night. You hold your bag closer to yourself, steps quickening. You have little option left. You can't leave the town no matter how much you want to – that'll mean leaving the bookstore behind. A sound minded person would forget about it and just leave but you can't. Despite how disappointed you are for Soobin leaving you alone, you can't leave the store. It's silly, but you still care about him. It'll hurt you to see the store fall apart. You just hope he'll come back soon.

Maybe then he'll be able to tell you if you're being delusional or not.

-

"She knows." Seonghwa enters his home, frustration coating his features. "I fucked it up and now she knows."

"Told you~" Wooyoung's falsetto tone rings through the corridors. "I should have gone to her instead."

The glare Seonghwa sends him is enough for Wooyoung to drop his grin, exiting the room. Jongho and Yunho are the only other two in the room, both focused on reading. They're underdressed for this time of night; Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong planned another visit to the human world for food. And it's their turn to join them, though they look too involved in their own separate readings to even change out of their sleepwear. Yunho looks up from the writings.

"On a scale from Hongjoong tripping on a rock to Mingi setting fire to a village, how bad?"

Seonghwa sighs. "I said humans in front of her."

Jongho winces, "No coming back from that. What did you do after?"

"I panicked and left. Her heart rate picked up and her perspiration began coating her forehead. I thought I would be able to last longer–"

"She is quite intelligent. It wouldn't have taken her longer than another week to put the pieces together. You just sped up the process," Yunho murmurs. "But the question still remains: How do we explain this to everyone else?"

"We don't," Jongho closes his book softly, glancing between them. "Wooyoung is very likely running around our home right now telling every living soul what happened. We'll just have to deal with the repercussions. She knows now, which means that she will avoid you Seonghwa. And will very likely be wary of any new people hovering around her. It won't be as easy this time to convince her to come here."

"We keep her here then?" Yunho suggests.

"No…" Seonghwa stops pacing, thinking. "She trusts me. At least more than the rest of us. I can convince her to come here willingly."

"Can you?"

Seonghwa frowns. He's not too sure. He's broken it at this point. Struggling to mend it back together will just take too long. You'll slip right through their fingers. So despite how much he does not want to consider this choice, it's all he has. Perhaps the incessant little voice in the back of his head is correct.

"Wooyoung may be able to. I know we've avoided his particular methods, but there's little left to be done. The rest of us aren't as friendly as him, aside from Yunho. And you often avoid humans entirely because of your attachment issues."

Yunho frowns, "Thanks for pointing that out."

"Your decision has come too late," Another voice interrupts them, their gaze moving to the door. San leans on the threshold, cross arms against his chest. "The little turnip has already left our home. It's only a matter of time that he stumbles upon her path."

Their combined groans echo around the room.

-

Wooyoung sits on the edge of the stone fence, leg swinging. He can recall Seonghwa saying that he saw you meander by this path often, but it’s been several days now and Wooyoung himself hasn’t seen you once. Perhaps it was a different path? His fingers run along the stone, humming. Moss covers the gray now, the elements turning it into a darkened, brown color. He whispers into his fingers, pressing them back to the stone. His gaze softens when he sees the color slowly coming back.

“Humans,” he murmurs, scowling. A sweet smell fills his nose. He looks up from the rock, licking his lips. You stand at the end of the path, frozen in your spot. Your hands grip the straps of your bag. Eyes widened in fear. His match yours, but instead in glee, hopping off his spot. You don’t move – even as he slides down the hill, stopping just in front of you.

His hair is long and wavy, framing his cheeks. Kind eyes that seem to be without malice. But you’re not too sure of that. Faeries have a way of concealing their true intentions without much effort. He pushes strands away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. His wear is unusual – mossy green transparent attire adorning his slim frame, barefoot, though no sign of torn skin from the rough ground. You wrinkle your nose. Dwelling on odd observations won't pull you out of this situation.

“y/n. Seonghwa never told me you were easy on the eyes. It’ll be sadder for me to dance with you now,” he frowns, gaze flicking over your face. Dance?

He leans forward. “Your aura is bright. You remind me of a sunset.”

You try and pretend the familiar name does not phase you. It's difficult – you've suspected endlessly that Seonghwa is a faerie and his words are merely confirmation. So maybe this is a friend of his, or family? Either way it doesn't matter to you. Sticking around is the last thing you want.

“I have to be somewhere,” you say through tight lips. He shrugs, taking another step toward you. Panic settles in your chest. No one is around, no one would stop him even if they were. You're all alone in this. “Sir, pardon me–”

“Oh!” He grins, laughing. “Sir? Do not tease me, human. My name is Wooyoung. Ah wait, look at this my lux solaris.” He turns his hand over, palm facing you. You look away from it, a sigh echoing around you. “I won’t kill you, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t hurt me.” A quick thought crosses your mind: where’s Soobin when you need him? Just as the silly thought appears it's gone. Nowhere. Nowhere around here for all you know. You hate how your mind next moves to the kind Seonghwa. Would he do anything? Or will he only allow this to happen? And why are you depending so much on a man – no, faerie.

He purses his lips, “You know the way of the fae. Fine, I won’t hurt you or ensnare you or kill you in any way right now. Now look,” he nudges you slightly. You finally move your eyes down to his hand. Using his other hand, he drags his pointer finger across his palm. A bright yellow path follows it, disappearing off the edge of his palm. His eyes flick to yours, grin widening.

“It is solaris, like you.” he closes his fist, “I’ve practiced that trick for hundreds of years now, you know. It’s hard for humans to see the Will o’ the Wisp without falling prey. So you must be quite special."

You back away from him, "It was a trick?"

"No, because I can't lie as you know," he rolls his eyes. "I just knew you wouldn't fall underneath the spell because we have tried it already on you, silly."

…

"Excuse me?"

"You are resistant to our will, solaris. And none of us quite know why. I'm here to pretend to woo you and guide you back to our home to do testing. By any means necessary. And if my surly words don't work, I'll do it by force."

Everything he says confuses you more and more. "Why would you tell me you're to lure me?"

His smile slips. "What would you rather me do, lie? You know yourself that Unseelie cannot lie. So why shall I tread around the truth?"

"Will Seonghwa be there?"

He rolls his eyes. "Of course. He needs to be there so he can see that my method works much better than he has ever done or ever will."

"... Is there any way for me to get out of this?"

He pouts, shaking his head. "Of course not."

Debating on running would be also silly then. He lets you ponder, folded hands resting behind him as he paces. You look back at the path. Just as you're about to turn, Wooyoung appears by your side. His sudden presence makes you stumble, falling back to the sidewalk. He sighs, watching as you gather your things and stand again.

"Running would be useless. I can just make you come with me solaris. But I want to make this easy."

"Kidnapping someone is never easy," you murmur between tight lips. Why did you ever decide to enter this town? It seems like every signal mythical creature around is appearing. It wouldn't shock you if Soobin suddenly appeared, explaining his disappearance is due to him being a merman. The thought makes you snort.

Wooyoung grins. "Now you understand! Let's go!" He touches your elbow lightly, and before you can shove him off, an uneasy feeling settles over you. It grips your skin, painfully pulling against the surface before your surroundings change. You can barely breathe, falling to the grass beneath you. The sidewalk from before is gone, replaced with thickened underbrush and endless woods. You swallow, mouth dry.

"Hm," he bends down, eyes roaming over you once. "Perhaps Hongjoong was right when he told me humans couldn't demanifest."

"You're sick," you manage to speak, coughing. Your body slowly begins to feel like your own, trembles cascading through you. Wooyoung does nothing to help, looking you over as you finally bring yourself back to the reality in front of you. It's difficult to stand but you manage. Your bag is gone, probably somewhere between the split of reality he just dragged you through. "Never do that again."

"I won't. Demanifestation seemed to have done a number on you and I apologize for that. But it appears that a part of you was left behind."

You immediately touch your body. Your clothes are intact, fingers touching your hair. You look at him in confusion, his wicked smile stretching across his cheeks. The breath that comes out feels louder than before.

"You tricked me."

"No," his brows furrow. "Your bag. It's still back on the sidewalk. But your town is … well, I'm sure it will remain in the same place."

There's no reason to reply, steadying yourself. You look around, the forest too dense for you to see any opening. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with the faerie. He knows it as well.

"We're done after this?"

He doesn't say a word.

—

“Our home is quite simple since we live in the middle of the Rowan trees. We have to make sure it’s hidden enough from both humans and other faeries,” he explains. You notice how light his steps are, as if he is floating over bricks, barely making an imprint in the dirt. Unlike yourself – stumbling ungracefully over rocks and forestry, trying your best to stabilize yourself. Wooyoung doesn’t point out your lack of coordination, still speaking about the grandeur of a house that’s … the opposite? You're not too sure on the nuances.

“There’s no need to worry,” he says after a moment, stopping just in front of you. "I'm not bringing you to your death."

"You vaporized me and transported me to the middle of a forest, and shortly after told me you didn't realize it would bother me. So I'm sorry if I don't exactly trust anything you say to me."

"It's true," he whines. You stare at him strangely. He has to be much older than you – Unseelie live to unfathomable ages from what you've read. They're conniving and humorous to capture you but after, ruthless and unforgiving. Now that Wooyoung has you, you can't see why he's still acting so silly. Humorous even. You might even enjoy his company if you weren't in the situation you are right now.

"Okay," you murmur.

He holds out his hand. Fear curls in you as you take his. His skin is warm, fingers entwining in yours with ease. He stares ahead, humming. "Humans can't see our home since we're quite close to neighborhoods. Hold onto me until we pass the threshold, alright? And don't let go until I tell you. It'll feel as if your body is being torn apart if you don't pass through properly. Do you understand?" There isn't any teasing like before, eyes focused. You nod, and he matches you. With his free hand, he holds it out.

The air seems to shimmer and bend beneath his fingertips, twisting reality. Just as quick as he does it, your surroundings change. What was once endless forest is now a large structure in the middle of overgrown trees. The home looks pristine despite its surroundings, vines covering and growing into the brickface. It looks to be three floors, a wrap around porch, all of the windows and doors ajar. Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief. His fingers begin to slip from yours. Your own grip tightens and he furrows his brows, confused.

“Hm?” His lips part, recognition. “Ah, I’ve pulled you through the fabric of reality already, solaris. You can let go whenever you like. Though I don’t mind continuing to hold you.”

You let go, his laugh echoing through the forest. Without pause he walks toward the home, not bothering to turn and see if you’d follow. You do, of course. There’s no reason for you to try and run away now, you’re deep enough in the woods that you’d lose your sense of direction and end up lost. The smell of something sweet glides through the low breeze. Cinnamon-like. Wooyoung enters through the front doors, glancing around before turning down a hallway.

“No one’s around,” he murmurs, glancing back at you. “Seonghwa should be here soon though, he’s not out with the others.”

You pass by an open kitchen. Everything is neat and tidy, table set with lavish flatware and utensils. As you squint, you’re sure it’s made out of some type of gemstone. He continues down the hall.

“He’ll be going to his library first, so we should wait there.”

You stick closer to him now, carefully maneuvering so that your shoes don’t stumble over loose vines moving in and out of the hardwood. The doors down this hallway are closed, locks hanging from the knobs. You don’t say a word but he seems to notice your expression, grinning.

“Unseelie are quite forgetful when it comes to locks. We’ve locked ourselves out enough from places around here that we thought it best to just leave the keys in the knob.”

“None of you are afraid of an intruder?”

He chuckles, “No one would dare enter without our permission, solaris. That’s just a death wish.”

He opens the doors at the end of the hall, beckoning you inside and closing the door behind the two of you. The room is enormous, stories high shelving, endless literature surrounding you. Some titles you recognize from your own bookstore, others unfamiliar. There’s a lot in languages you cannot begin to understand or recognize. It seems endless as your eyes roam. Your stomach twists. Soobin would have loved to see this for himself.

“Ah, he must have cleaned up,” Wooyoung murmurs. “Wonder if he saw the mess Jongho left.”

You walk around slowly, careful not to disturb anything. “How many of you live here?”

“Why? Want a room?” Wooyoung sits on the edge of a table, legs swinging. “I don’t mind it.”

“Just want to know what I’m dealing with,” you frown.

“Hm,” he stretches his fingers, counting beneath his breath, “One, two… Eight. Including me.”

Eight Unseelies. And that's just the amount that live near your home. You can only imagine how many roam the streets, disguised as humans. Dwelling among you. You called the townspeople silly for believing in such superstitions. Now they would just laugh in your face if they knew the truth.

"The people missing…?" You trail off.

Wooyoung doesn't respond to your inquiry. He's moved towards a desk, flipping through the pages in silence. You almost repeat it until he turns to you, eyes flicking between yours.

"We simply ask for a dance. It's their decision on whether they'd like to take our hand. You are your own maker. It's more fun that way.”

A chill passes over you.

He balances a flask between his fingers, humming an unfamiliar tune. Allowing him to drag you through the forbidden Rowan trees into their home is not exactly what you planned, but is there any other choice? Figuring out what he is, what they are, is another point added to your list. There’s just no plan after it. So what if they’re Unseelie? The townsfolk would rather sacrifice you than their own family members. And you can’t blame them. They’ve already blamed the disappearances on you. This will only be something else added to their endless list of hating you.

"You scare me."

Wooyoung looks at you, eyes seemingly somewhere else entirely. "A wise choice."

The door slides open, familiar hands gripping the panel before sliding it back. His eyes slide over to Wooyoung, before looking at you. He lets out the loudest sound you’ve heard from him, groans bouncing against the walls. It’s a bit surprising to see him in such fancy wear, close to what he wore when you first met. His fingers gently rub his temples, obscenities mumbled under his breath.

“You’re just getting worse by every moment,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “If I were Hongjoong you would have been thrown to the Seelie by now.”

“You wouldn’t!” Wooyoung gasps. It’s very much exaggerated, eyes wide. The moment that just passed between the two of you long gone.

“I would. Fortunate for you that I cannot,” he barely glances at you. “You’d follow a stranger into the woods? Have you not listened to any of the words I’ve said?” His tone is harsher than before, formerly kind eyes filled with mire. It was quite silly of you to think that for a second he actually did enjoy your presence. Unseelie are the way they are. He is no different than the rest.

“I had no choice, he threatened the town.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “Of course he did. Why do you even care for a town that doesn’t care for you?”

“Why am I even here?” you say. Seonghwa does not bother to reply to you, fingers gracing one of the leather bound books. He walks past the two of you, lounging in the chair in the farthest corner.

“Hello?”

“Seonghwa wants to experiment on you,” Wooyoung shrugs. “Each attempt that he’s tried to use his abilities on you has faltered. It’s like you’re immune to it. That’s why he’s been spending so much time with you, learning the way you work, your habits and schedules. To see if there’s some explanation for your resistance. Unfortunately he hasn’t found a lead yet. So, I decided to bring you here to see if any of the others can penetrate that strong will of yours, and for him to continue to conduct his research.”

"You're joking."

Wooyoung shakes his head. "Not in the slightest."

You grab your bag, ignoring the pleading eyes Wooyoung attempts to send you. He steps in your way and you only slide beneath his outstretched arms, leaving the room all together. Wooyoung turns around to catch Seonghwa's gaze, pout burned into his lips. Said man still doesn't look up from his book. Of course, Wooyoung could have stopped you if he truly wanted to. An Unseelie versus a human is an easy match. But his mate likes the theatrics of it all, so Seonghwa sinks further into his seat, frames resting on the tip of his nose. It's for show – none of the Unseelie have bad eyesight.

Wooyoung slumps over, knees hitting the mossy floors. "Hyung, please," he whines.

"Typical Wooyoung. Only respecting me when he needs something," Seonghwa murmurs, flipping a page. "Go after her, I'm not your babysitter. Preferably sooner rather than later, unless you want Jongho or Mingi to stumble across a human in our home."

"You're supposed to help me."

"Your mess, not mine," he points out. "Why do you expect me to clean it up? Do it yourself."

"What will you do if they think she's food?"

Seonghwa shrugs. “They know who she is already.”

"Your experiment!"

Seonghwa pauses in his reading for a moment, looking up. He does want to see what exactly is different about you. A clan member taking your life before it happens isn't what he wants. But he's grown tired of fixing things that aren't his problem. Especially one as monumental as this. He gets up, pushing past his grinning mate and exiting the room. It isn't hard to trace your tracks, your heartbeat louder than anyone else's in this home. He just hopes that he gets to you first.

—

Walking through the home is easy and straightforward. You don't bother glancing to the side, previously closed doors ajar casting fear in your heart. Wooyoung so easily lets his words flow, telling you that Seonghwa planned on experimenting, perhaps even dissecting you. All of it is too much, too soon. Too overwhelming for you to comprehend without losing your mind. You step out the front doors, suddenly stopping.

Wooyoung warned you of stepping through without holding his hand. Is that danger gone, or do you still have to worry? Are you forced to stay here against your will?

You should never have gone to that silly bonfire.

"You'll die if you leave without our permission."

You turn, Seonghwa standing there. His hands are tucked in the pocket of his cardigan, glancing over your shoulder. "We never leave it open. A few more yards and you'd be vaporized."

"Wouldn't you enjoy that?"

His lip quips, "Wooyoung told you that I wanted to experiment on you. It would be difficult to achieve that if you're only dust in the wind."

The change of personalities is still difficult to grasp.

"Then what do you propose?" You say.

"Stay longer. I'll let you go after I've tried a few things. None of it involves seriously injuring you. It's just blood sampling and majik tests. Should be no more than an hour. Once that is complete I will do further tests, but that will be in a few days."

"... and then you will let me go?"

He nods, "I have no reason for you to stay. You're not a real burden to us since no other faeries are around. As of now you’re no threat."

The alarms are blaring in your head as you stare at him, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. His words aren't enough to convince you, but you have little choice. You need one of them to help you leave. And you're positive they wouldn't until you let Seonghwa do whatever he needs to test and see why you're resistant to them. There's nothing else to debate or dwell on. The front porch creaks, Wooyoung leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. The same smug look on his face.

–

"Pretty," Yunho whispers to himself, sitting on the edge of the roof. He leans forward, dust and leaves from the tiles cascading down to the ground. It's as if in slow motion, your gaze flicking to the fallen leaves. Surprisingly, you don't look up to see where they've come from. Instead, you catch one between your fingers. Examining it for a brief moment you tuck it in your pocket, following Seonghwa into their home. Yunho almost slips as he follows your movements, flustered. He sighs, pressing his hands against his cheeks. They're quite warm despite the drop in degrees tonight.

Too pretty, he thinks. Humans aren't this pretty. The others said you weren't a faerie, but were you something else? He lets his thoughts linger, until the loud stomping of Mingi's feet distract him. He glances back, his friend sitting to the right of him. His clothing is freshly pressed. No evidence of tonight's events covering him.

"You're getting distracted already," Mingi points out, the front door closing behind you and Seonghwa. "This isn't something to attach yourself to, Yunho. An experiment and nothing else."

Yunho rolls his eyes, "I know I know, and I'm not getting distracted. She's just a human." He narrows his eyes. Right.

You're just a human.

—

"Arm."

Wooyoung’s eyes widen as he stands there, almost perturbed at the thought. “Pardon?”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “I need a baseline for the testing. Having your blood is necessary to see the differences and compare.”

“I don’t want to be used in your experiments on her!” Wooyoung’s voice rises, glancing at you. “Sorry.”

“No need,” you shrug. Your arm is wrapped, Seonghwa already pricked you with the small needle. Bottles of your blood sit on the side, labeled with symbols you recognize from Unseelie literature scattered about. He didn’t say anything to you as he took it from you, passed you a sugary drink and a cookie. It would have been endearing if he didn’t look so frustrated while doing it. You debated on calling him out at the look but again, you’d rather not irritate a being you know nothing of. The Seonghwa you’ve met is gone. Replaced with this angry and quite bitter Unseelie.

“Why do you make everything so difficult,” Seonghwa rubs his forehead. “Why are you even standing there if you’re not willing to help-”

“I’ll volunteer.”

Another voice enters the conversation, your gaze moving to the man who just entered the room. He’s taller than Seonghwa, quite tall actually. His face is kind, brown eyes filled with glee as they look at you. Unlike Wooyoung’s teasing which seems a bit unnerving at times, his look is easy. As if his lips naturally sit in a small smile. He lifts his sleeve, stepping around Wooyoung.

“Nice to finally see the shining star. I’m Yunho,” he holds out his hand and you take it. You can’t help but notice how despite how you always insisted that your hands are pretty big, he just engulfs yours.

“Hi. I’m y/n.”

He laughs softly, “That I know.”

Wooyoung’s voice rises. “Wait-”

“We don’t have time for the back and forth with you,” Seonghwa murmurs, beckoning Yunho closer. “Next time just say you’re okay with it and move on.”

Wooyoung’s frown only seems to deepen. He huffs, glancing between all of you before exiting the room. The door slams quite loudly, unable to stop yourself from flinching.

“It’ll be quick, you already know what to do,” Seonghwa says. Without another word he slides the needle into Yunho’s skin. You notice that his blood is clear, a thicker consistency than yours. Seonghwa pulls out several vials of it, the silence growing. Just as quick as he began it’s over. He grabs the vials, glancing between the two of you. “I’ll be back in a moment, talk amongst yourselves.” He walks off, murmuring something about refrigeration.

Yunho’s gaze easily slides over to yours. “I’m sorry about Wooyoung. He gets a bit antsy when it comes to things like this. We are wary of sharing their blood.”

“Can I ask why?”

He nods. “You might know a bit about us already from interacting, but when it comes to our essence it is sacred. Faeries are sensitive to blood exchanges because it is only something you do with a fae you are mated to. The majority of us would never willingly give up our blood for something like this. That’s why Seonghwa didn’t offer himself, and why Wooyoung was so flabbergasted at the thought of your blood mixing with his. It’s a quite sensitive topic.”

“And yet…” You trail off. And yet you did it without a second thought.

“Mhm,” he agrees, still staring at you. “The others think you’re special. So I would love to have the honor to be the baseline for the experimentation,” he chuckles, sliding his sleeve back down. “Seonghwa isn’t coming back, by the way. He’s told me to guide you out the forest and back to your home.”

Trying to decipher the wording is too much for your tired mind to comprehend right now.

“Demanifestation again?” Your stomach lurches at the thought. You’re not sure you’d survive it a second time.

Yunho shakes his head quickly. “Never. Wooyoung is a fool to have done that to you. We’ll be traveling on foot. Your home isn’t too far away from where we reside. I just need to help you through the barrier.”

You agree, standing slowly. Yunho reaches out his arm and you take it, thanking him softly. The hallways are quiet as you walk through, glancing at him. You can see his gaze glued to one of the doors you pass by, giving you a quick smile as he picks up the pace. You exit their home, and he does the same as Wooyoung did. The forest warps, the home disappearing behind you.

“You can continue to walk straight. The forest will guide you home,” he says softly, bowing. “I wish I could accompany you, but some Unseelie has been making a bit of a mess in our home and I need to fix it before Hongjoong comes.”

Hongjoong. You’ve heard the name a few times. Enough so that you can guess he’s their leader of sorts. But you’ve involved yourself enough. “Thanks for helping me. Straight you said?”

He nods, “Straight. See you soon, y/n.” He turns on his heels, dissipating into the forest. You can only imagine what the town would say if you told them of this encounter. Staring at the spot he once was, you turn back around, walking straight.

-

Yunho winces at the noise, shutting the front door. All of the doors of the home are open, various items thrown carelessly on the hardwood floor. He notices that the door to the library is shut. Seonghwa has had enough of it, it appears. Yunho does not blame him in the slightest. He steps over the broken vases and torn books, head aching already.

“What an incompetent Unseelie. Thriving in chaos does not mean we want it all over our floors,” Seonghwa’s voice echoes through the hallway. Ah, perhaps he is trying to deal with it now?

Yunho steps around the corner, entering Wooyoung’s room. It’s in a dire state, clothing and potion spilled, sheets ripped in half. Just as Yunho steps through the threshold, he’s thrown against the wall. Wooyoung’s hand wraps around his neck, his claw digging into Yunho’s skin. It doesn’t hurt, no, but it is a bit uncomfortable.

“What’s the reason?” he says through struggling breaths. He pulls his hand off with ease, coughing. “Shit.”

“You are always there, always stealing things from me. Could you not rest? Why in every lifetime do you have to take her away from me?” His voice cracks at the end. Yunho’s brow furrows at his words, confusion mounting. “It is always you, everytime. You always ruin my fun.”

“You’re acting like a child because I willingly exchanged blood with the human?” Yunho scoffs. “You shouldn’t have made it such a pressing issue if you wanted to do it.”

“You…” Wooyoung points his hand at him, slowly dropping it. “Give me a chance this time. Don’t steal her from me again.”

“We’ve just met this woman, Wooyoung,” Yunho says. “She is not anyone else.”

His eyes narrow, “You know what I mean.”

The front door slams loudly. Yunho closes his eyes, knowing his headache will only grow once Hongjoong enters the room. He looks at Wooyoung, blinding slowly. “You can do whatever you want with her, I don’t care. The blood exchange is complete now. You’ll have to find another way to bond with her. Figure it out yourself,” he steps out the way, feeling the wrath of his leader just behind him. Hongjoong gives him a look and he does not bother saying anything else, leaving the room.

The door cracks against the frame as it shuts.

--

It’s been a few days since you’ve heard from the Unseelie. You’ve been on edge all the while, tensing everytime the bell rings against the door. Only your fellow townsfolk have entered your shop now, picking up essentials and other things they need. The talk about Soobin has significantly decreased, much to your surprise. You expected for the talk to continue until the end of time. Or maybe they’re just not saying it to your face this time. You still look at your phone every time it rings, hoping to see an unknown number. You answer every time, waiting for the soft voice of Soobin on the opposite side. Instead it’s mostly robocalls. The sinking feeling has not gone away when it comes to him.

Why would he leave you?

The bell rings, and you barely glance at the door. You turn around to place a book on the shelf, dropping the one you have in your hand. He catches it with two fingers, holding it out to you. Taking a step back, you take it from him.

Wooyoung’s barely a foot in front of you, hands tucked in his pockets. He grins, brows wiggling. “Long time no see, solaris.”

He’s wearing casual clothing quite similar to Seonghwa’s wear. Instinctively, you glance down at his feet. He wears shoes this time. In fact, you’re sure you’ve seen Seonghwa wear the exact same outfit. He catches your eye, slipping from the aisle and standing in the middle of the store.

“You like?” he asks, spinning in a circle quickly. “I dressed Seonghwa in my clothes whenever he visited you. He only had those strange trench coats. Stuck out like a sore thumb.” He does the same, thumb in the air for emphasis.

You place your book on the shelf, not sure what to say to him. “Didn’t expect to see you,” you admit. “I thought Yunho or Seonghwa would come around again.”

“Seonghwa won’t dare enter human owned land again after his brief experience,” Wooyoung says. “He hates it. And Yunho isn’t really permitted to leave our land unless he’s given explicit permission. Me on the other hand,” he tilts his head. “I allow myself to enter whenever and wherever I’d like.”

They seem more restricted than you previously thought, minus Wooyoung. How he’s roaming around while - even as briefly as you’ve met him - Yunho not being able to, is a bit strange. The difference in temperament is noticeable. You saw how Seonghwa physically relaxed while taking blood from Yunho. The friendly giant feels more human-like than Wooyoung ever did.

“Why are you here?” You ask, pushing your cart into the next aisle. “Does Seonghwa need me for something?”

“Can’t I just come and visit you, solaris? Is that such a crazy idea?”

“Crazy no. Weird, yes.” You glance at him, eye twitching when you see his leg resting on the loveseat. “You act like you haven’t been around us in thousands of years. I can’t see why you’d want to hang out in a bookstore when there’s so many places in town to go to.”

“The bookstore is the only place that has the sun,” he shrugs.

“You say even stranger things,” you murmur. “And would you stop calling me that?”

“No,” he says immediately.

All you can do is sigh, continuing to place books on your shelves. Wooyoung interrupts you every now and then, either poking fun at you, or telling you another fact about them. Apparently, they’re the only group of Unseelie in town. Unseelie are rare in the faerie species, most eradicated by Seelie. He states the fact with a bit of a somber look in his eyes.

“There were thousands of us at one point,” he explains. “Then the Great War happened. Years ago, so far beyond your comprehension. So many of us fought to the death to survive. The hatred for each other runs quite deep. Most of the time when we stumble upon each other it ends in death. Now that our numbers have dropped so low - we’re not even sure how many of us are left now. Our species of faerie is dying.”

“Is that why Seonghwa is persistent in finding out why I am the way I am?” You ask, and he nods.

“If humans are developing resistance to our abilities, we will die. And not just Unseelie. Faeries as a whole thrive off of human auras. Having that removed from our societies will be detrimental. Mermaids, Seelie, Cave dwellers, Unseelie - so many of us will be gone. If there is a way to prevent that from happening we would do anything for it. But,” he shrugs. “None of us are majikians. Majik can only take us so far. Even if we find a cure, we’re in a new world. Humans will eventually discover us in masses. There will be a war, that I know of. Then Unseelie will be completely eradicated. We will be nothing.”

He twists his body to look at you. “That is why you are my solaris. My sun. You are capable of bringing us life and prosperity. You are also capable of destroying everything we have ever known. Right now you shine brightly. Let us hope that you continue to.”

“I didn’t know this was so important.” Is all that you say.

“Would you have if I didn’t just tell you?” his brow raises. “I’m not here to convince you either way. You would have to come with me whether you’d prefer it or not. It’s just nice to give you some background,” he gets up from his seat, moving around the shop. “It’s quaint here. Small town places always make me feel warm inside.”

The sudden shift of conversation is something you should get used to around them. “Soobin designed it that way. He’s been wanting this place for a while. It’s his home.”

“Soobin is your partner,” he states. Your back is turned, so you don’t see the shift in his expression. How terrifying it would be to see the ghost of a grin on his lips. “He’s not around anymore.”

You take his statements as questions. “Yeah, he is. Well, was. We had a disagreement and…” You stop in your talking. “You should know already, I’m sure Seonghwa told you about it.”

“He did, I just like hearing you talk. It’s much more soothing than his irritated, quick words everytime he speaks to me,” he murmurs. “Why aren’t you afraid?” he asks after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Before,” he slowly walks up to the opposite side of the counter, sitting on the stool. “You were afraid of me when I showed up. I heard your heart beating against your chest, but it’s silent now,” he raises a brow. “What changed?”

“You said I was in no danger with you,” you say, and he nods, waiting for you to continue. “I didn’t see a reason to continue to be scared, so …”

“That is perfect then,” he smiles, resting his head against his palm. “I’m glad you feel that way. I don’t want you to be afraid of me anymore-” He stops, turning around. This time your heart does rattle against your chest. His teasing is gone, sliding off the chair. The door swings open, bell ringing. You cannot see the door from where you are, the opposite side of the store covered by the wide shelves. Not skipping a beat, Wooyoung turns to you.

“Hide. Now.”

You immediately turn, heading to the back office. Despite how much you want to turn around and look, you don’t. You hear a loud crash, the sound echoing through you. Your back office door is open and you enter, shutting it and locking it behind you. There aren't many places to hide in this room, except for exiting the store through the door. Hearing Wooyoung’s words in your head, it wouldn’t be safe for you to just leave. But there’s people out there. It’s evening. Whatever is here wouldn’t attack out in the open, right? Taking the chance, you swing the door open.

The figure standing there is terrifying enough to make you halt your escape. Its claws grip your throat, pushing you back against the back wall as it enters. Wide, golden streaks dripped down its pale body, several limbs severed and dragging along the floor behind it. Its touch is cold, nails sinking into your skin. You can’t say a word even if you wanted to, fear unlike anything you’ve ever experienced sinking into you. Its mouth opens, rows of jagged teeth lining its jaw, stench horrid.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” it hisses. Its finger slips, ripping your skin even more. You cry, hands gripping the one on your neck. It leans forward. You cannot tell whether it’s looking at you or not, holes where eyes would usually be.

“This is what they were floundering over. This is what the Unseelie are concerned about,” It spat, “Weak just like the other filthy humans.”

Its mouth stretches, the hole large enough to swallow you whole. Tears roll down your cheeks. You feel its spit drip against your forehead. Just as you have accepted your fate, you’re thrown out of the creature’s hand, body slammed against the floors.

“Repulsive.” Yunho holds the creature against the far wall, face twisted in disgust. The look is unfamiliar to you, already used to the warm gaze he shot you. He grips its neck, twisting it harshly to the side. The sound of bone and flesh being torn apart fills the air. It’s enough to make you look away. The distraction is gone, pain increasing rapidly as you look down at your injuries.

“Yunho shouldn’t be here,” Another voice appears. Seonghwa looks around the room, eyes immediately roaming over your figure. “Hell.” His body is soaked in what you can only assume is blood, immediately crouching down over you. “Think you can stand?”

You nod. You rest your hands on either side of your body, muscles straining to lift yourself up. Seonghwa merely sighs, reaching out an arm and pulling you up with ease. You stumble, pressing yourself against his chest. He doesn’t say anything more, lifting you into his arms. Your eyes roam behind him, Yunho’s face unrecognizable as he rips the being apart. Wooyoung must have entered without your knowledge, pulling his friend off the creature.

“Relax Yunho – it’s in ruins now. You don’t have to continue.” He pulls on Yunho’s arm again, this time thrown back against the floor at his attempt. Yunho does not bother turning around, continuing to rip into the thing.

“Fuck off, Wooyoung.”

“Time to get Mingi,” he sighs, glancing back at you. His brows contort in worry, “Oh my solaris, it stole your shine.”

“Get him under control enough, Mingi should be arriving soon,” Seonghwa helps you through the door, easily carrying you. You notice townspeople walking, none bothering to glance your way. Too tired to question it, your body slumps in his arms.

“The Seelie almost tore you apart,” he starts, waiting for a car to pass before crossing the street. “Wooyoung called for us just in time. Ah, your neck,” he winces as he looks at it. He lifts a hand and lightly touches your skin, mumbling words underneath his breath. “That should seal it up enough. We’re almost there.”

Your mind is too clouded with the events to give him a response. He takes it in stride, stepping into the forest. You aren’t sure how long it has taken to get to their home, but you see the familiar woods, trees gathered around the house that sits in between. He says something to another in passing, stepping into the library and shutting the door behind him. Seonghwa places you in a seat.

His hand lightly touches your temple, exhaustion slowly fading away. You blink quickly, glancing around. The room is lined with glass, contents unknown. He turns around to grab a small case, finger dragging across the surface. Inside are several bandages and other first-aid kit items. You want to thank him but your mouth is dry. Only a small wheeze escapes your lips. He glances back at you, wiggling his pointer finger.

“It is a binding spell. No words can escape until I let it be so. The claws of that Seelie dug in deep. If you speak, it may only worsen your condition.”

He rests on one knee, humming to himself. The jar he has in his hand is written in unknown scripture. He picks up the ointment with two fingers, slowly brushing it against your skin. “This is toad puss. Disgusting name and scent, but it will seal your wound much quicker than ordinary human antibiotics. Ah,” he glances behind you. “Took you long enough to arrive.”

You cannot twist your neck, moreso out of fear of tearing your skin. Wooyoung appears beside Seonghwa, glancing over your wounds. “The Seelie almost shredded her. I looked around the bookstore as I cleaned up but there was no sign of any carvings. There’s nothing on her body either. I’m not sure why they came or how they found her. ”

“Us, silly,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. He grabs the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your neck. “One of the Seelie found out that we knew of a human like her. They followed one of us, or both of us, and located where she resides. Though I don’t know for sure if they followed you today and or followed me weeks ago. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Her bookstore is compromised.”

“Then what do we do?” Wooyoung asks, eyes still on yours.

“We talk to Hongjoong.”

You can see how his body deflates immediately. “But –”

“He’ll be furious, yes, but we need to tell him that the Seelie are back. And what steps we take from there. Actually, I think I heard him rummaging around his room. After I get her fixed up, I’ll go speak to him. I’m sure he’s already listening in on our conversation anyway.”

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything else, but you can see how Seonghwa’s words weigh heavy on him. You wish you could speak up for yourself. Your mind is leaning towards yelling at them for putting you in this mess in the first place. Wooyoung leaves without another word, the tap of the door closing behind him.

“What a mess,” Seonghwa sighs. He looks at you, humming again. “You are probably furious right now, aren’t you?”

You nod, and he merely laughs.

"Well you might as well get used to it. No such thing as happy endings for demonic creatures like us. Unfortunately for you, you’re now associated," he rips off the gauze wrapping with his teeth, spitting flyaway pieces to the side. His fingers slowly lift your leg. His touch is soft in comparison to his words, glancing at your face for any signs of discomfort. Not seeing one, he continues. "We Unseelie exist to balance the universe. We are not inherently evil, no. But our mere presence is distasteful, disastrous. We cannot feed without hurting humans, we cannot survive without interfering in your lives. We breathe chaos. It is all we've known and all we'll ever know – oh, did that hurt?" His voice is soft for a brief moment, seeing your brow furrow at his pressure. "Tight?"

You don’t say anything. His eyes widen for a moment, fingers brushing against a sliver of skin peeking out from the bandages on your neck. “Apologies. I was wondering why you remained so quiet.”

Your voice escapes you, quite low. "I’m fine."

He narrows his eyes but continues, much slower this time. You're not sure where this conversation stems from, but you don't dare interrupt. It's the most any of them have spoken to you about their kind. "It's not like a human would understand that it's natural for us. We enjoy killing because it is in our nature. We cannot live without it. It's a shame, really. So many Unseelie have tried to pull away, tried to stop killing. But all attempts have failed. Each one has died in the process. It is like if humans decided to stop feeding on plants and meat and decided to eat air instead. It won't work. It's unsustainable."

"I understand."

He pauses. "No, you don't. Not really."

You clear your throat. "Who are we to tell you what to do? We've considered ourselves the top of the food chain for so long, we can't think of something stronger or faster or wiser than us. What am I to do? Kill off every faerie I see?"

He nods. "That's what many human hunters have done. What many have decided to do over centuries."

"But not me."

His eyes flick between yours, expression unreadable. You don't bother to fill the silence and neither does he, hooking the gauze together with a small metal clip. You think the conversation is over, until he speaks up again.

"You are a strange one. It is of no wonder so many of us admire you."

“What –”

"It is funny what humans think of us,” he interrupts, not allowing you to comment though you desperately want to. “There is no good versus evil. Despite how much we hate the rigidness of the Seelie, they are faeries just like us. But they are not innately good just as we are not innately evil. If the world was that simple, we would have been eradicated long ago," Seonghwa muses. "Us Unseelie value chaos, sacrifice. We fight for our positions when necessary, and enjoy power. Though we all dislike humans, perhaps hate in some cases, we do welcome you. Even if it is temporary. Just because we live in forestry hills does not mean our heads are filled with dirt."

"Do you like me then?"

He grins. "I enjoy you as an experiment if that would make you feel a bit better."

"Ecstatic," you murmur.

"Well you know we cannot lie, so it must give you some reprieve. Unfortunately for us, you can lie," his eyes narrow. "What is your ex-partner's name again? Soobin?"

You say nothing. Allowing him into your head, letting him question you – it is exactly what you should not do when meeting a faerie.

"Ignoring my words?"

"You should know why I am."

He narrows his gaze, "Filthy humans and their silly rules."

"They keep us safe."

"They ruin the fun we have,” he sighs. “I can’t have you back at that bookstore, or your home,” Seonghwa stands, fingers dragging through his hair. “It’s no longer safe for you. You’ll have to stay with us for now.”

You want to debate with him, want to say that you’d rather tough it out and deal with it on your own. But you cannot forget how utterly terrified you were when that Seelie attacked. How you froze. If they weren’t there, you would’ve been long gone by now. Your family would mourn your disappearance, desperate for answers that you wouldn’t have been able to give them. Perhaps wondered if you left with Soobin, wherever he went.

It’s not something you’d ever want.

“Okay.”

He nods. “Okay then.”

He stands, about to leave. "Seonghwa."

He turns around.

"Before, Wooyoung was telling me how you would never enter the human owned land again because you despised it. But you did today. Why is that?"

A strange look crosses his face. "Wooyoung told you such words?"

You nod. "He did."

A breathy laugh follows suit, "That seems like something he would do. I'll set up your temporary room and be back." Seonghwa doesn't say another word, exiting the room. His avoidance of the question only creates more confusion.

-

“You are all making a fuss for a human you don’t even know. Curiosity can only stretch so far. What else are you going to do? Sacrifice yourselves so that she can live? This is more than silly. It’s stupid.”

Hongjoong paces back and forth in the library, Seonghwa flipping through several documents to see if there is any solution to what’s happening now. If he can find some semblance of an answer, perhaps she wouldn’t have to stay at all. But as of now he has found nothing of consequence. Nothing to stop the Seelie from coming after you.

“If the Seelie are after her and want to kill her, then there’s something there. Why give up now?” Seonghwa says, barely looking up from his literature. “It doesn’t have to involve you if you don’t want it to. We can keep her away from this side of the house.”

“That’s not my point and you're more than the wiser to understand that."

“Then what is?”

“You are undermining me,” Hongjoong’s eyes narrow. “You all made me the leader of our spark. And it is my duty to protect us all from harm. Ever since this human has come around, things have been happening. You should have just killed it when you first stumbled across it. And now Yunho is all out of sorts and Mingi has to watch him. Seelie have emerged again. None of this is okay.”

Seonghwa merely rolls his eyes. “We are Unseelie, we’re trained for this.”

Hongjoong stops pacing, shaking his head. “We are very few in number, Seonghwa. We cannot risk our extinction. Not for a useless human. Once the news has spread that you three have killed Seelie, there will be war. There is only so much I can protect us from.”

“We can protect ourselves. And it is too late anyway,” Seonghwa says simply. “We killed the Seelie for a reason.”

“You could have let them kill her and we would have had this problem eradicated.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Hongjoong pauses. He stares at his friend, his mate. Seonghwa does not often express his care. Has not for a while. “Unless you care for it?”

Seonghwa frowns. “Stop suggesting silly things.”

“Say you don’t care for it and I’ll believe you.”

Seonghwa stares at him, desperate for the words to escape him. But his true nature prevents him from doing so. He can only hope that Hongjoong does not push the issue further. He’s already dealt with endless pestering today. He thought he'd at least get a bit of reprieve from Hongjoong. Instead he is only being scowled. It's no wonder he actively avoids his presence every chance he gets.

“Say it, Seonghwa.”

“Haven’t we all irked him enough today?” Yunho enters the room, Wooyoung close behind. Not seeing Mingi hanging around is a bit odd, but neither of them mention it. “Pestering him about this is a mute point. We all have to keep an eye on her for now. Until all of this is settled. Maybe we should pick up the talks tomorrow.”

Seonghwa grabs the book he has in his hand and leaves the room, Hongjoong exiting in the opposite direction. Yunho sighs softly, exhaustion riddling his body. He doesn’t acknowledge Wooyoung trailing behind him, lounging on the long sofa. Said Unseelie paces around his resting figure, picking at the skin by his nails.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Yunho murmurs, one lid opening to look at his friend. “I’m okay now.”

Wooyoung sits in front of him, head pressed against his thigh. Yunho reaches down, fingers massaging Wooyoung’s scalp. It's a common routine. Anytime he's overwhelmed, Yunho hears the soft tapping of his knuckles against his bedroom door. Most times he needs the comfort of their bodies against one another's, breathes mingled in the low light. But this is one of those rare moments that Yunho isn't able to provide such a comfort. His mind is too consumed with thoughts unlike his own. And Wooyoung seems to know it as well, trembling underneath the scratch of Yunho's nails against his scalp.

He lets out a long breath, looking up at his mate. Yunho's eyes look heavy. Exhausted. “It is not her I am worried about right now, Yunho. I shouldn’t have called you.” Wooyoung starts.

“You only thought of the first person on your mind. It’s alright.”

“It should have been Mingi or Jongho first. We all know how these things affect you and I messed up again. Much, much worse than last time.”

Yunho's fingers pause in combing his hair. A horrid reminder. He swallows slowly, pushing those thoughts away.

“Wooyoung,” Yunho shakes his head. “You can’t continue to blame yourself. The past is the past.”

He closes his eyes, lower lip trembling. “You could have lost yourself completely. Yunho, Mingi had to injure you to stop you. I should know what to do when you’re like that, I should be able to stop you–”

"Your presence was enough."

He shakes his head. "The Seelie was barely recognizable. It was a pile of mashed flesh –"

“Hey, stop,” he pulls his fingers from his hair, resting on the bottom of his chin. His strength is barely used as he tilts his head up to look at him. “I’m fine. We’re fine. I can’t tell you to stop thinking about it because I know you and I know you will, but I’m okay, Woo. I’m fine. Please don't let those thoughts burden you. You could not pull me out of it, but it's not your fault. I listened to your call. I decided to come. I could have told one of the others first. It was my choice.”

  "Yun…"

"Mmm," He lets go of his chin, arms opening. Wooyoung wastes no time in sinking into his embrace, chest rising and falling calmly. "I'm okay."

“Are you sure?” His voice is softer this time. His fingers dig deeply into the fabric of his blouse. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Unseelie can’t lie.”

Wooyoung narrows his eyes, Yunho’s warm laugh echoing around the room. “Fine. I am okay, and I’m not lying to you.”

"Promise?" He's persistent, hands cupping Yunho's face. "Promise me?"

"I promise, pretty faerie."

Wooyoung hides himself in the sleeve of Yunho’s shirt. "You're trying to distract me."

"It seems to be working," Yunho teases.

They enjoy each other's silence, Wooyoung lifting his head up again. "I'm sorry for before. For getting angry at you like that. I just let my feelings overtake me and blew up. I'm sorry."

"Already forgiven."

"You shouldn't, though. I hurt you," Wooyoung's eyes roam Yunho's neck. Though he has already healed, the puncture marks of his claws are still scars against his skin. Wooyoung leans up, pressing his lips lightly against the risen skin, Yunho's body trembling beneath the touch. "I hurt you."

"You can't help it."

"But I didn't try to stop myself."

"The human brings out the worst in us, it seems."

Wooyoung laughs, the sound not at all reaching his eyes. He ponders for a moment. "I like her."

Yunho takes his words with hesitance. It's been very apparent since he's seen you that Wooyoung has grown a soft spot for you. Though he can't quite understand how it happened so quickly. The Unseelie has barely spent more than a day with you. "I know."

"I want her to like me too."

"Good luck with that."

He frowns. "She will like me, Yunho."

"I know. You're too easy to like, Wooyoung. She will eventually feel the same as you."

"You think?" he gives Yunho a toothy grin.

"I know."

—

You sit on the porch, staring out into the night. The breeze is quieter than before, whistling through the branches and leaves. The throbbing pain in your neck has subsided greatly. You can only thank Seonghwa silently, fingers brushing against the gauze tight on your neck. You can still see the way that Seelie looked at you, the ferocity in its eyes. How easily it could have snapped you in half if it truly wanted to. Have you brought this all upon yourself? Letting Seonghwa creep into your life? Was the loneliness too much to bear that you've attached yourself to the next person who was a bit kinder to you? You rub your eyes, chest rising and falling slowly.

"Pathetic," you mumble, tucking your knees close to your chest. Your desperation for a reason why Soobin left you alone led you here. Stuck in a house filled with mythical beings. None of which care for you. You should have just gone home once he disappeared. Maybe then you wouldn't be stuck here. The stinging feeling in your throat burns. You hold it back. You can't cry. Not here. Not around them.

"Thoughts fogging your mind so deeply that you didn't hear me knock?"

You look up, Wooyoung's head peeking out from the overhang on the porch. His hair is wild, flowing in the breeze. He takes your non answer as acceptance of his presence, dropping down from the roof to sit on the railing. He tilts his head as he stares down at you. "You look upset."

"I'm stuck in a place I don't know with people I don't know because creatures I don't know are attacking me for a reason I don't know. So yes, maybe I'm just a little upset about my circumstances."

"You do know why they attacked you," he points out. "They want you dead."

"Reassuring," you give him a half smile. "Thanks for that."

"I'm… I'm not trying to get on your bad side, solaris. I'm trying to make you like me. I want you to be comfortable around me."

"You shouldn't care how I feel about you, Wooyoung. You've already done your job luring me here. Now leave me alone."

His lips frown, sighing softly. "What else can I do to help?"

"Is it not enough that you've trapped me here? I would thank you for saving my life, but you all are the reason those things came after me. I would have lived normally without your meddling. Seonghwa should have…" He should have killed you and gotten it over with.

"You don't mean that." He looks at you with such a pitiful, worried look that for a moment, you believe in his concern. Believe that he actually is upset for you. But you know it's not at all true. You know it's another ploy to make you feel comforted by him, by them. And you're not foolish, no. Unseelie do not care for humans.

They never will.

"I do."

"Solaris–"

"And call me by my name, Wooyoung." You slowly stand up, ignoring his hand reaching out to steady you. "Now goodnight." You slowly limp towards the French doors, shutting them behind you. You stare into his eyes as you turn the lock, shutting the curtains.

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 7

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: swearing, slight angst from being overworked

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: closed

W♡RD C♡UNT: 3,007

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

One thing you love about touring is how easy it is for you to walk into a cafe or restaurant and work without having to worry about anyone being able to read or understand you. If you were back in Seoul, you'd be confined to your desk at your job or stuck in your apartment out of fear someone would notice what you're working on and leak it. But overseas, you have much more freedom in your workspace. Hell, if you could find a park with free wifi, you'd work in the grass.

Still, cautious that someone might recognize one of the kids' faces, you find a spot off in the corner and try your best to sit with your back away from people so they wouldn't be able to see your screen.

What you currently hate is that Seoul is in the same timezone as Tokyo so you can't use the excuse of not joining a work Zoom by saying that it's at an inconvenient time for you.

"So we have pretty much all of the pages done and laid out. Of course, there are a lot of blank pages but we're using them as templates right now. The graphic design team wants to show you how they look." Mina, the team leader in charge of everyone back in Seoul while you're traveling, announces.

"Yeah, sure," You say as you take a sip of your nearly empty coffee. You gave them a vague layout of the ordering of what you want and how some of the pages should look, but you still mostly gave them creative freedom over most of it.

You watch as one of the graphic design artists searches his screen for something, probably looking for the share screen button, before a large black, white, and red image takes over your screen. You're looking at what you assume is the full group version zine, but really it looks like it could be just tour merch. You flip your notebook to a blank page, ready to take notes on what you see.

"Right so, let's start with the group version. You said you wanted to keep the color scheme and theme of the tour running throughout this version so we tried to do that like this..." One of the graphic artists explains.

You nod along, scribbling your notes, and pay attention to what everyone is saying. You're not opposed to team meetings, they can be helpful in trying to get a clear line of communication. But really, this entire meeting could have been an email. You could have viewed what everyone had done so far, emailed them their notes, and gone back to your business. But instead, you have to sit here and actively listen while everyone explains every little detail on the screen.

Your eyes drift to your now empty coffee cup. You got to the cafe about an hour before the meeting so you could get some work done. Normally, you wouldn't work so early but because there is a show later today, you're not going to have much time after to do anything other than prepare. And while you wish so desperately to be able to run off and order another one, you can't exactly leave the meeting you're running. Especially not with your boss sitting quietly in the corner of your screen evaluating you.

"For the member-specific versions, you said you wanted to draw inspiration from their solo stages. So this is what we have going on for Bang Chan ssi." Someone else explains. They probably divided themselves into teams so they could get more done. Must be nice.

Tap.

A full glass of iced coffee appears next to your notebook. You stare at it for a moment, confused because the cafe you're sitting in doesn't have table service. You quickly glance up and are met face to face with a man completely covered in black sweatpants, an oversized plain black t-shirt, a black baseball cap, and a matching black paper face mask. The color in his straight hair has long since faded into an almost ashy color. With the voice of whoever is talking in the meeting right now and the sudden coffee being placed in front of you, you almost don't register that it's Changbin standing in front of you.

"Can I sit here?" He asks quietly, slightly dropping his mask so you can hear him better.

You quietly nod and gesture for him to sit, confused as to why he would even want to. The cafe is relatively empty. The only other people in there are the baristas and an older man reading a newspaper while eating a croissant. There are plenty of other tables for him to sit at.

You rip out a blank piece of paper from your notebook and quickly scribble a 'thank you' and a note saying that you're in a meeting. Changbin reads it and nods like he understands but he doesn't move.

Great.

Changbin quietly sits across from you scrolling through his phone and drinking his iced coffee. Your back hurts from how straight you’re sitting and your neck is starting to get tired from all the nodding you’re doing while listening through each concept. Luckily, they didn't show you every single page, only showing you what they have done so far for each member and a few blank spreads.

"So, what do you think so far?" One of the younger members of the graphics team asks. You don't recognize her. She might be an intern. Then again, it's not your department so you don't know everyone there.

"Overall, I think it's a good starting point. We do have some room for improvement." You say as politely as possible. The last thing you want is a reputation as a micromanaging bitch. Or worse, a foreigner who thinks they know better than everyone else.

"For example?" Mina pushes.

You pick up your notebook and pretend to flip through it, you already know the key points you want to touch on now. "I like the color schemes you've pulled out from the solo numbers. I think we should keep the color scheme the way it is for the concert portions of each version but for the rest of the travel pages maybe we should go with a lighter shade? Especially for Bang Chan and Changbins. It'll be a little easier to lay out the travel pictures and bring a different vibe for that part."

You watch as everyone takes their own notes of what you just said, some nodding along as well.

"Anything else?" Someone mumbles.

"Just one more big thing actually. I noticed that a lot of the pictures used for the concert portions, especially with...Bang Chan, I.N, and Hyunjin, the pictures are a bit more...well not exactly risque but it shows off really one side of their performances. Maybe try to showcase some of their duality when they're performing? Like the pictures of them performing "I Like It" or one of the pictures I took of Felix and Seungmin chasing each other with water bottles. I'll have some more pictures for you to use later if what I sent before wasn't enough." It bugged you when you first saw it. Chan and Jeongin's pages somehow came out more like an ad for a live adult show and you know neither of them would be comfortable with that. You weren't comfortable either and you know that you would have received some backlash over it as well. At the end of the day, it's your name that's going out there.

"We'll fix that as soon as possible. Anything else?" Mina asks once again.

"Nothing major. I'll type out the rest of my list, along with my earlier notes, and send them in an email." Just like this meeting could have been. "Oh, really quickly, whoever's idea it was to give the solo songs their own layout like that, great job!"

A quiet 'thank you' rings in your ear but you can't see who said it.

"Alright. Oh before we go, we did have a request to make." Mina says slowly, a slightly annoyed smile plastered on her face that probably mirrored you. You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead glance at Changbin who is now watching you with an amused look on his face.

"Yes?"

"Can you ask some of the members to redo their writing? I know you wanted to have a little transcribed section next to the parts that they wrote down their answers but some of it's illegible." She says softly.

"I could but the members are very busy at the moment. Their schedules are pretty packed in every city we're in and I don't want to have to bother them any more than I already am. I'm assuming the writing belongs to either Lee Know, Han, Hyunjin, or..." You glance up one more time and make eye contact with Changbin again. "Changbin."

"You're probably right. I haven't seen the writing myself but it seems like it's about half of them."

"Understandable. They all have rather...unique writing styles. I'll make you a little guide later once I have some time and if that still doesn't help then I'll transcribe them myself. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Please, for the love of God don't.

"No, that's fine. Great meeting everyone. We'll touch back in a few weeks, Y/n ssi."

"Okay." You exhale in relief. You watch as people start to disappear from the meeting. "Ah, bujangnim, I have a question for you in private if you have a moment."

"Yes, Y/n ssi?" Your boss asks, caught by surprise to have finally been acknowledged.

You gain control over the meeting now that Mina left. You make sure to stop the recording before turning your attention back to your boss. You wish you could kick Changbin off from the table but something tells you that if you didn't it would cause another issue.

"I was wondering if you read my email about possibly reassigning some more of my responsibilities to other members of the department?" You speak carefully, watching your tone and choosing each of your words carefully. Your mouth feels like it's filled with cotton all of a sudden. You might choke if you speak too fast. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, I'm glad for all of the opportunities you've given me. It's just that I'm doing so much for this project by myself and there are so many comebacks and debuts happening all at once."

You watch as your boss' lips press together and he leans into his chair. You glance up at Changbin again, embarrassed to have him sitting so close to you during this meeting, but he's back to minding his own business on his phone.

"I did see your email and I was just about to send one back to you." He sits back up in his chair and leans over the table he's sitting at, resting his elbows on it. "Unfortunately, you do your job too well."

"Excuse me?" Reflectively, your head tilts to the side as you try to understand.

"What I mean is, you've created a brand for yourself at the Star. Outside of the scandals that most of the department thrives on, your album reviews, concert reviews, and small articles about up-and-coming idols bring in a lot of foot traffic to the music section. We did outsource some of your projects to interns and other writers in the department and we have people begging for Jeong Ilsung back. In all honesty, I'm regretting letting you go off on that little passion project of yours."

"I-I see," Your voice cracks unintentionally. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself calm, the pain offering a slight distraction from the dull needles hitting the back of your eyes.

"Because you're currently overseas, there's only so much you can do. But I'd like for you to continue with your album reviews. We have some interns doing the other stuff until you get back." He explains cheerfully, trying to really sell the plus side of the Sisyphean mountain of work ahead of you.

"Of course," You can almost feel the skin tighten around your fake smile. You've been wearing it so long today, you might be permanently stuck like that.

"Was there anything else?" He asks, you can almost hear the exhaustion in his voice.

I wonder if that's how I sound?

"No, that will be all. Thank you, bujang--" Your boss leaves the call just before you can finish saying goodbye.

You squeeze your eyes tightly as you tilt your head to the ceiling. You pinch the bridge of your nose and inhale deeply, your head slowly starts to feel like a bubble. Maybe if you hold your breath long enough, everything will stop for a moment. Maybe you'll pass out and you can miss tonight's show. Surely, they don't need you for every single night. Maybe--

"Noona?"

Pop!

You finally exhale and sit upright again. You almost completely forgot that Changbin was still sitting with you. His face is the softest you've seen directed at you the entire time you've known him. He almost looks like the soft, cuddly, sweet man everyone describes him as.

"Right, sorry." You take a sip of your now mostly melted coffee.

"No, it's fine, you were busy." He shifts in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position.

"So," You lean back into your seat and relax your face. No need to wear a smiling mask, Changbin already knows he's your least favorite person and you know that you're his. "What did you need?"

"I just wanted to bring you a coffee and apologize." He gestures at the drink he bought you earlier. "You know, for the thing with your phone."

"What thing with my phone?"

You remember exactly what he's referring to. You'll probably never forget the most hurtful insult you've ever received in your professional career. You just want to hear him admit it.

"You know, when I called you ou--" Changbin stops himself and clears his throat instead. "I mean when I implied that you were recording us."

"You're forgiven. I get it, you don't trust me. It was a simple mistake." You say simply. You sit up and save what you're working on.

"Thank you,"

The silence is awkward between you two. You're waiting for Changbin to be done so you can head back to the hotel and rest before the show. Changbin is...well, like usual, you have no idea what's going on through Changbin's mind.

"Did you have something else you wanted to talk about?" You ask politely as you continue to shut down your laptop.

"I didn't know if you had anything you wanted to say." He says almost innocently as he takes a sip from his cup.

It takes you a little too long to connect the dots in your head to understand what Changbin is implying. Or rather what he's asking for. You let out a loud, scoff in disbelief that comes out more like an evil laugh. You weren't even aware you could make a noise like that. But apparently, if someone pisses you off enough...

"You are absolutely fucking unbelieve..." You mutter under your breath before you turn your complete attention onto Changbin. "If that's how you apologize, then I can tell you several places you and your apology can go. I'm not going to sit here and apologize for something I didn't do."

"So polite," He smirks like he's winning.

"Do you realize how insulting what you accused me of is?" You clap your hands together and keep them there. If you don't you might jump over the table and strangle Changbin. "To put it into perspective, it's as if I accused you of plagiarizing songs from other people. Both are very illegal, by the way. And the most hurtful thing to hear when you know how long and hard you've worked to get where you are with your career."

Changbin's smirk falls off of his face and he back to an unreadable expression. Still, he doesn't offer up a second apology. You look around the cafe to find something, anything to calm yourself. You didn't realize how loud you were getting but the looks from the few other patrons and the staff is enough to let you know how much of a scene you're causing.

You muster all your emotions into one deep sigh and turn back to Changbin. "You don't have to like me, I certainly do not like you right now. But I need you to trust me so I can do my job. And when this is all over, you won't have to see or hear from me ever again."

Still, Changbin stays quiet, only this time, he's having trouble meeting your eyes. Like he might actually feel guilty if he looks you in the eyes. Or maybe you'll turn him to stone.

"Look, I don't know how else to get you to trust me." You safely eject your thumb drive from your laptop and set it on the table. You shut your computer down all the way and shove it into your bag, pulling out both of your completed notebooks to make space. "Here are most of the notes I've taken of you guys so far and here are all of my current drafts. Read them or don't. I don't care. But if you do, you'll see that I really don't mean any harm to you or any of the other kids. I can give you the notebook I'm currently working with after I'm done if you want. Some of my notes are in English so if you need help, just ask Chan or Felix. Now if you'll excuse me."

Exhausted and not wanting to deal with anything else for the next few hours, you toss the strap for your bag over your head and push yourself off the table, leaving Changbin alone in the cafe.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes. 

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly. 

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have.  She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.  

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully. 

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them. 

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer. 

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site. 

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe. 

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story. 

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street. 

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you. 

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places. 

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters. 

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening. 

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks. 

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him. 

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you. 

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face. 

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.” 

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning. 

“What do you think you’re doin’?” 

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch. 

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans.  “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all. 

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue. 

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him. 

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins. 

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy. 

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries. 

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate. 

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake. 

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a  t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me. 

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him. 

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside. 

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands. 

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age. 

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open. 

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do? 

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza. 

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce. 

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address. 

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color. 

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him. 

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?” 

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar. 

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you. 

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs. 

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway. 

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover. 

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head. 

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!

[marshcap]

STATION 19 - but make it comic.

This comic sequence has been in my wip folder for like one year and half. I believe it’s also one of the most recurring headcanons so I thought I’d give it a go. (I’m not a comic artist so I apologize for any mistakes that a professional eye might catch quickly).

It started as a one piece fan art but it quickly turned into a five page comic which eventually turned into an eight page sequence.

And don’t forget to: https://www.change.org/p/save-station-19

[starhoppin]

pick a picture; how does your crush feel about you?

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「 pile one 」

justice (cb: two of cups rv, seven of swords), eight of pentacles (cb: six of cups, wheel of fortune rv), the high priestess rv (cb: queen of swords, three of pentacles)

they feel like there is a disconnect or imbalance in your connection. you might feel as though they're keeping secrets from you, but it looks like they're simply feeling overwhelmed with their responsibilities at the moment. i believe that it's only a matter of time before they come forward and explain their recent behavior. this person wants to work on a relationship with you, but they seem to be holding themselves back. past romantic experiences and/or a negative mindset may be causing this person to feel as though they have bad luck when it comes to love. consequently, they seem hesitant to share their feelings since they're concerned about past cycles repeating. they're feeling confused and disconnected from their intuition. you may not be very expressive with your feelings towards them, and that is causing their hesitancy. they're concerned about whether you'll accept them or not if they come forward with an offer. also, when i was reading, i heard the song burnin' up by the jonas brothers, specifically the opening lyrics "i'm hot, you're cold." that song may resonate with some of you.

[potential initials] J, P, Q, E, U, W

[potential zodiac signs] leo, aries, cancer

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

「 pile two 」

knight of pentacles (cb: the devil, knight of wands), page of swords (cb: nine of wands, the fool rv), the emperor (cb: three of cups, the moon, the tower)

this person is working on making you an offer. both the knight of pentacles and the knight of wands appeared so it looks like this person is presenting them as a calm and patient suitor, but i think this person is fighting the urge to just rush into a relationship with you. you may be like an obsession for this person (i'm not seeing it in a negative manner), but they have to tamp down their impulses when it comes to you. you make this person feel reckless. your crush may have had a habit of rushing into relationships in the past and it didn't end well. they don't want that to happen with you. they could be observing you from afar, purposefully keeping their distance and slowly getting to know you better as they work on themselves. this person wants a traditional relationship with you; however, they may be concerned about how they should approach you. because of their passion, they're worried that they'll come in hot and heavy and potentially scare you off. you might actually be friends with this person. it seems as though they feel like they have everything to lose if things don't work in their favor; if they confess and you reject them, they're not only losing you as a romantic partner, but they'll also ruin your friendship.

[potential initials] G, R, J, I, S oddly specific message for someone: as i was pulling these initials, i heard the name "riri." that might be a nickname for you or your person.

[potential zodiac signs] libra, aquarius, scorpio, taurus

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

「 pile three 」

the star rv (cb: ten of swords rv, page of wands), the world (cb: eight swords, five of wands rv), two of cups rv (cb: the high priestess rv, ten of wands)

your crush is feeling a bit hopeless regarding your connection. as i was shuffling, i heard the song 1000 times by sara bareilles - i highly recommend you listen to it. the lyrics that stuck out to me were in the first verse "back of the room, looking at you. counting the steps between us" and "in another life, my teeth and tongue. speak aloud what until now i've only sung." something has occurred between you that has caused them a lot of pain. it feels like this person wants to be courageous and pursue something with you, but something is holding them back from taking this leap and confessing. they feel like they no longer have access to you in some way. this person seems to be trapped by this mindset. they feel as though they're biting their tongue and staying silent to prevent an argument or conflict between you two. because of their perception of your connection, this person may be actively trying to repress their feelings but it's taking a huge mental toll on them. they feel like if they can just pretend they don't have feelings for you, they'll no longer feel burdened.

[potential initials] B, J, T, U, R

[potential zodiac signs] cancer, capricorn, virgo, aquarius

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

tarot deck used in this reading: cirque du tarot

[homestuckreplay]

check out my 13-monitor gaming setup

(page 872-876)

Bad news. Everyone’s IP address and physical location are being tracked by an all powerful/evil gaming corporation who are using it to send meteors down to our houses for the crime of gaming. There’s a lot to be said about the capacity for surveillance that all the Skaian technology has, and the ways these kids have been monitored without even knowing it. There are SO MANY meteors on this screen, meaning a LOT of people are playing this game. But there are more meteors than games, suggesting that Sburb was built around the pre-existing meteors – presumably so some people could be saved from this apocalypse, I don’t think it is so kind as wanting everyone to have a great final day on Earth.

The physical setup of the lab terminal is similar to those in WV’s bunker – industrial pipes feeding soulless gray screens where every pixel is visible – but Rose’s has a lot more screens, some just displaying spirographs. Comparing page 874 with 733, both stations feature coordinates, both have the same transparent projection of the world map on the left, and both have similar diagrams on the right of small orbs radiating from a central orb. I theorized this as the Skaian cosmology as WV’s screen features four surrounding orbs, like the four planets they drew on the walls – in the lab, there are eight surrounding orbs. It’s interesting that there’s a discrepancy between the terminals – is there some information, some secret planets, hidden from WV that are available to the lab operators?

This lab is monitoring sessions, but its own meteor is already close to impact, so the lab isn’t necessary for the sessions to continue. Some setup work was done here and now Skaia is tidying up after itself with a meteor unrelated to Rose’s house/Sburb session. Speaking of which, not all meteors have sessions, but do they all have potential sessions? The tiny meteorites in the forest probably aren’t, unless the bugs are playing Sburb. So is this conclusive proof that Rose will play Sburb, because she has a session meteor, and this will definitely happen no matter what? Or is it just prophesized that she will play (by at least Nanna and Jade) but that prophecy could still be undercut? Rose understandably isn’t trying to change this prophecy, but it is an important distinction in terms of free will.

I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that the two biggest meteors correspond to Dave and Jade’s locations. We know from previous coordinates that Jade lives in the southwest Pacific, and the meteor there has a while before touchdown – it may even be the last to fall. The presumably first Skaian meteor also fell there, and led to construction of the frog statue (p.757) and established Skaia’s power on Earth, so it’d make sense that the final meteor would be cleaning up its own mess. The second biggest meteor has no coordinates, but looks like west Texas geographically, a place Dave could reasonably live. There’s always room for a fakeout, but so far every story beat (except within media, like the Midnight Crew) has taken place in one of the four kids’ locations, so it’s a fair bet.

Hey, what’s up with the pink teapot and teacups in this lab? This inclusion is such bait for the adventure game/user command format of Homestuck. Such an anomalous item is just begging for someone to click on it and try to interact. Like so.

> Rose: See if the tea in the pot is still hot.

[fruitcoops]

Opening your page always reminds me of Jules- and we haven't seen him in a while!! Can he come back in one of your fics soon ?

Jules <3 Always a legend, always beloved here. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove, Hattie belongs to me, and the cinnamon roll recipe is lifted directly from this video by Claire Saffitz on the NYT channel! Bon appetit!

“Hello MTV, and welcome to my crib.” Remus paused, then turned to Julian. “Do you understand that reference?”

“No.”

“That’s so depressing. Why are you so young?”

“Why are you so old?”

Remus wrinkled his nose and turned back to the camera. “Welcome to a new installment of Lion Pride’s baking series. I’m Remus Lupin, and I’m here today with my little brother to make everyone’s favorite breakfast food���”

“Pancakes.”

“—cinnamon rolls.” Remus frowned down at where his brother was kneeling on a stool and rocking gently back and forth. “You knew that. We practiced.”

Julian arched a brow at him. “My favorite breakfast food isn’t cinnamon rolls.”

“Not everything is about you.” A light poke to his forehead made Julian stick his tongue out. Remus stifled a smile. “You ready?”

“To eat a spoonful of icing? Duh.”

“We’ll get there eventually.” Remus pulled a large ceramic bowl from the collection of dishware to his left; the pattern was faded around the rim from years of use, but the bowl itself was shiny and clearly cared-for. “Alright,” he began. “I’m not a huge baker, but Jules and I grew up with Saturday cinnamon rolls, so this is a bit of a family recipe. Someone is probably going to type it up for you guys since my handwriting is iffy—”

“Literally unreadable,” Julian coughed.

“Shut up. The recipe will be somewhere on the Lion Pride website, or linked in the description below. In the meantime, we’re going to do a step-by-step demonstration for anyone who would like to try this at home. Milk?”

Julian passed the half-gallon over before looking to the camera. “This recipe is also going to be on our mom’s Instagram, if you look up ‘baking with Hope’. All one word, no caps.”

Remus snorted as he measured the milk into a pan waiting on the stovetop. “Nice. Love the shameless plug.”

“I made a bet with Dad that she’d have more followers than you by the end of the year.”

“Of course you did.” Remus shook his head, but it was more fond than anything. “We’re measuring a cup of milk into a pot on the stove, and then we’re going to warm it up until there are tiny bubbles on the sides.”

“That’s called a simmer, for anyone watching,” Julian informed the camera.

“It’s called bubbles, for the rest of us plebians.”

“What’s a plebian?”

“You.” Remus took a whisk from a small bowl on the side and stirred gently. “Timing for this step kind of depends on your stove, so just keep an eye out and make sure it doesn’t burn. We’re going to keep the milk at the small bubble stage—”

“Simmering.”

“—for….a minute? Ish?” He shrugged. “Until it steams. Then we’ll turn the heat off and measure out a third of a cup.”

Julian pushed his elbows onto the countertop, leaning over to watch. “You should tell the people we’re doing this at night.”

“What? Oh, yeah, this is an overnight thing. It’s currently…” Remus squinted to something off-screen. “Just before eight in the evening. We’re going to let the dough rest overnight, then finish in the morning.”

“We’re staying over for the P-L-A-Y-O-F-F’s,” Julian said. They reached down to knock on the cabinets in unison with near-identical grins.

“We deserve some cinnamon rolls.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Ew, don’t swear on camera.”

“That’s not swearing.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and gave a threatening shake of the whisk. “If you drop a swear word right now, I’m hitting you with this. That’s a promise.”

“You’re the one that taught me all the swear words!”

“So not true.” Remus stirred the milk once more, tapping the whisk gently on the side of the pot. “Dad is responsible for at least half. Okay, this has been bubbling for a little while, so I’m going to turn the heat off and pour about a third of a cup into the bowl over here. Then Jules is going to add some flour to the main pot and give it a stir.”

Julian took the whisk from him with unbridled glee and dumped the flour in; Remus held the pot handle for him while he mixed, still leaning on the countertop to adjust for height. “It’s getting thicker,” Julian noted with a glance at the camera. “It’s kinda like…paste? Or Nutella.”

Remus’ mouth twitched with a smile. “Nutella is a paste.”

“Nutella is a butter.”

“It’s literally hazelnut and chocolate paste.”

“Butter is just milk paste.”

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” Remus laughed. “God. Okay. Once your milk and flour looks thick like this, you’re going to add it to the big bowl with the other milk in it and add some cold water so your rolls aren’t messed up.”

“That was so scientific,” Julian said dryly.

“This is a lot of criticism from a kid that doesn’t even like cinnamon rolls.”

“I like them. They’re just not my favorite.”

“Then you’re lame, and I don’t want to hear it.” Remus clapped his hands on either side of the bowl and looked into the lens. “Wow, this is going to take forever. I’m not a baker. Bear with me. We’re adding three eggs to the bowl and whisking that, which I’m going to do because I don’t trust people under the age of twelve with raw egg.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “I’m coming back here in three days and cracking very egg you own.”

Remus smiled. “Happy almost-birthday. Anyway, the bowl is mostly cool now, so we’re going to add all that flour in here—yep, thanks, bud—and then a half-packet of yeast so it gets fluffy.”

“Why isn’t Sirius doing this? He’s better at baking than you are.”

“Wow.”

“He is!”

“You’re not getting a single bite of this frosting.”

“Don’t hide from the truth.”

Remus shook his head at the camera. “This was supposed to be a cute family bonding video. I’m going to mix this now, because apparently I suck at any kind of baking more complicated than that.”

“I didn’t say that, I just asked why Sirius isn’t doing the stuff he likes doing.”

Remus turned the hand-mixer to a lower, quieter setting and rested his hip against the edge of the counter. “How often does Sirius voluntarily get in front of a camera?”

Julian inhaled, then faltered with a grimace. “Hmm. Yeah. Never mind. He’s still better at it than you are.”

“You’re still not getting frosting.” Remus clicked the mixer a notch higher. “We’re keeping this at a pretty low setting so the dough stays soft, and we’re only going to let it run until the dough is one big lump. Now that that’s together, we’re turning the mixer off and covering the bowl with a towel for about five minutes while we get our sugar, salt, and softened butter ready.”

The camera cut briefly; when it returned, Julian was scraping fine crystals off the countertop into a towel Remus was holding over the edge. “Slight problem,” Julian said through a laugh. “Uh, we got a little bit excited about the sugar.”

“Oh, god, it’s getting all over the floor—” Remus straightened slightly and whistled. “Hattie! Treats!”

The house was silent for a moment before the sound of skittering paws reached the camera. Both Remus and Julian broke into wide grins, and Julian dusted his hands onto the floor so he could reach down and pet the pointed ears just barely visible over the counter edge. “Hi, baby,” he cooed, leaning over until he was mostly out of frame. “Aw, little vacuum cleaner. Is sugar bad for dogs?”

“She has eaten so much worse.” The inky tip of Hattie’s tail was the happiest metronome in the world while Remus dumped a small container of salt and sugar into the dough. “We’re going to blend this until the dough gets stretchy instead of lumpy, still on low speed, and—hi, honey, I don’t have anything in my pockets. I promise. No, you can’t eat my keys. There’s definitely still some stuff on the floor for you, though.”

A black nose appeared by Julian’s knee and he giggled as it wandered down the side of his pants, honing in on each pocket. Hattie sneezed when she reached his sock and gave the hem of his pantleg a light nibble. Julian beamed up at Remus. “Can I bring her home with me?”

“If you steal my dog, I’m donating you to Goodwill. Okay, this is going to go for about twenty minutes and they’re definitely going to speed that up in editing, so here’s the rundown: mix this for 20 minutes, add your butter in tablespoon chunks, mix it until the dough is soft, then let it sit on your counter for an hour before putting it in the fridge.”

“Why don’t we just put it right in the fridge?”

“Because the yeast would die.”

Julian’s eyes went wide. “Yeast is alive?”

--

The kitchen was much brighter when the video returned—the new camera angle allowed sunlight to stream in through the side window unhindered, as well as giving an unobstructed view of Hattie on the floor by Remus’ slipper-clad feet. Her yawn squeaked, pink tongue lolling, but her full attention was fixed on the activity above.

“It’s about eight in the morning now, hence the pajamas,” Remus informed the camera. “I took the dough out of the fridge about ten minutes ago, and you can see it’s close to doubled in size.”

Julian gave the bowl a mournful look. The cowlick on the side of his head matched Remus’ with frightening accuracy. “How long is this going to take?”

“You can go back to sleep once it goes in the oven. We’re going to do the filling right now, though.” Remus held a hand out; Julian passed him a crinkly plastic cracker sleeve. “These are airplane cookies. Or biscotti, or whatever the fancy name is. They have cinnamon roll spices in them because I’m too lazy to track down all the individual bottles from the spice cabinet this early. You can probably find them in the recipe. I don’t know. You can crush them in a food processor if you want to wake up your entire family, or you can just use a rolling pin.”

Remus set the sleeve of cookies on the countertop and handed over the rolling pin—one half-started “wait” and an enormous THUD later, both of them were frozen, staring at the ruptured end of the plastic sleeve where shards of cinnamon cookie had burst forth.

“Oops,” Julian whispered.

“Or,” Remus began. “You can give your little brother a rolling pin and kill two birds with one stone.”

“…my bad.”

Remus glanced at the ceiling. They were silent for a handful of seconds. “Honestly, dude, I don’t think anyone noticed.”

Julian muffled a laugh in the crook of his elbow and Remus turned away for a moment to compose himself, filling the kitchen with quiet snickering as Hattie cleaned up the few crumbs that had fallen onto the floor by her paws. Finally, Julian picked up the rolling pin and began gingerly crushing the rest of the cookies. “I’m gonna keep going until it’s kinda powdery, I think.”

“Good plan.” Remus shot a quick, small smile at the camera while he watched Julian work, brow creasing with the effort. “We’ve got a stick and a half of soft butter here when you’re ready.”

It didn’t take long; Julian carefully poured the crushed cookie into a bowl and folded the butter through with a faintly rainbow-tinted spatula. Remus took a pan from the ever-shrinking pile of dishes beside them and lined it with parchment paper, ripping the edges so they would fold nicely in the corners.

“Kay.” Julian tilted his head at the filling and nodded. “It’s smooth.”

“Sick. Scootch over, I’ll roll this out.” Remus tossed a small handful of flour onto the countertop before dumping the dough out, dropping a playful elbow to Julian’s side. “Ope, sorry.”

“You’re so mean to me.”

“Whatever. We’re going to make this into a rectangle so it’s easier, and it should be fine for rolling because it was in the fridge all night. I’m going to flatten this until it’ll fit in the pan. It’ll be…an inch thick? Half an inch, maybe? And then Jules, you’re gonna spread the filling over it.”

Julian frowned. “We’re cooking it flat?”

“What? Why would we do that?”

“You said it should be the length of the pan.”

“Yeah, so that all the pieces will fit.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.”

“We’re not making cinnamon pita.”

Julian tipped his head back and forth. “Doesn’t sound bad, actually.”

“You’re eleven, you’re basically a garbage disposal.”

“I’m basically twelve.”

“Three days.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Despite the back-and-forth, Julian tucked himself close to Remus’ side while Remus rolled the dough into an even rectangle, and spread the filling across it with intense focus. “Leave a little space on the sides to roll it up,” Remus suggested gently. Julian’s tongue poked out at the corner as he scraped the edge clean and gave a last sweep with the spatula before leaning away.

“Good?”

“Perfect.” Remus loosened the edge closest to him and began to roll it up with steady, methodical hands. “You want to go slow with this part, or else it won’t spiral. And once we get it to the end here, we’re going make sure it’s all nice and even before cutting. Uh, I’m using unflavored dental floss right now because that’s what I have, but you can use string or whatever. If you use a knife, you might squish the inside and get a wonky shape.”

“Dad uses fishing line.”

“Mhmm.” Their concentrated frowns matched while Remus slid the floss beneath the roll and wrapped it around, allowing the floss to slice cleanly through the dough. Julian buried a yawn in Remus’ shoulder and gave a slow, sleepy blink. Once the rolls were cut, they filled the parchment-lined pan to the edges. Remus cracked his knuckles and looked up at the camera. “We’re going to take a quick breakfast break while these double in size, and I’ll put them in the oven at 350 degrees for 15 minutes after that. We’ll see you for the frosting!”

“Your TV voice is weird.”

“Your TV voice is weird,” Remus mimicked, prodding him until Julian hopped off his stool with a laugh. “Go eat your Cheerios.”

The video sped through their break—Remus collected a few items from the fridge and returned to the counter to mix a handful of ingredients into a bowl. The pan steamed, the coffeepot bubbled, and Hattie waited dutifully by his side for her allotted bits of ham, hand-fed alongside a few Cheerios from Julian. The rolls went in and came out without a fuss as Remus finished the scramble and smiled to someone off-screen.

“Frosting,” he announced when the video returned to normal speed. “Super easy. Cream cheese, powdered sugar, vanilla. Mix it up, then add a stick of butter, because this recipe is delicious and also personally clogs your arteries. Jules, touch the rolls for me.”

“Why?”

“To check if they’re cooled down.”

“But they might be hot.”

“Right, which is why I’m making you do it.”

Julian scrunched his nose at him, but gave the rolls a tentative poke. “They’re fine.”

“Sweet.” Remus tugged the pan to the middle of their workspace and scooped a lump of frosting into the center. Overall, it kept its shape as he slathered it to each edge and corner. Julian gave an expectant look; Remus paused, but scraped the last bits off the sides of the bowl and handed the laden spatula to him with an affectionate roll of his eyes. “Don’t tell mom.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jules said around a mouthful of thick sugar.

Remus pushed the rolls toward the camera with a smile that dimpled one cheek. “That’s all for today, folks. Hope you enjoyed making cinnamon rolls with us, or at least enjoyed seeing the real star of the show—”

“Me.”

“—Hattie. Make sure to tune in for our home game in Gryff tomorrow night!"

[burnt-sierra]

P🍉lestinian Support Masterpost (Pt.1)

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Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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Go to part 2 🇵🇸