#everything is fine!!!!!! until its not!!!!!!!!!

[fireya-x]

hold me close and tell me that it's real

【 AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist 】 ✦ John Price x Reader ✦ A message to a wrong number turns out to be just perfectly right. ✦ 4.7k words ✦ tags/cw: smut, neighbor!price, wrong number, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, strangers to lovers, aftercare

The bathroom air, thick with steam, clung to the cool tiles. The fogged mirror reflected a distorted image of you, a silhouette emerging from the swirling mist. You’d agonized over which photo to send the firefighter from Tinder, meticulously staging it until your body was just visible enough through the hazed mirror, the outline of your body a clear invitation. Biting your lip, a nervous blush warmed your cheeks. You usually weren’t one for such blatant displays of… yourself. 

But tonight, something felt different. Reckless. Desperate, even. Maybe it was the gnawing loneliness that had been settling in your bones lately — a constant, dull ache that no amount of casual encounters seemed to alleviate — that made you reckless. 

You reached for your phone and began typing a casual message, trying to sound as flirty and inviting as possible. Attaching the photo, you hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a familiar wave of self-doubt washing over you.  

Was this too much? Would he even be interested? Was your body even desirable enough?  

You’d always been self-conscious about your curves and softness, comparing yourself to the impossibly thin, toned figures gracing the pages of magazines, the women who seemed to attract the attention and affection you craved effortlessly. The string of meaningless dates, the empty encounters that had left you feeling more hollow than fulfilled, had only amplified your insecurities.  

You’re not enough. You’re too much. You’ll never find someone who truly wants all of you.

He was attractive, yes, this firefighter, with rugged handsomeness, but something still felt off. He wasn't him. He wasn't John Price, your enigmatic, handsome neighbor who sometimes fed your cat, whose presence electrified the air, sending a ripple of awareness through your senses whenever he was near. You’d always found him incredibly attractive, a silent, secret yearning simmering beneath the surface of your polite, neighborly interactions. But the brief, almost impersonal conversations you’d shared – about preferred cat food, the best local dry cleaner, the noise from the construction site down the street – had led you to believe that he saw you as nothing more than a friendly face in the hallway, a helpful neighbor. Certainly not someone he’d ever be interested in. 

But you couldn’t help it. Those stolen glimpses of him – carrying groceries, his strong hands gripping the bags, shirtless after he was out running or repairing his motorbike, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the worn leather of his jacket – were seared into your memory, each a silent, secret fantasy. John Price, with the fine lines etched into his face by age and experience, the crinkles around his eyes whenever he smiled, the intense gaze that seemed to see right through you, the sometimes rough beard you longed to touch, the effortless kindness that radiated from him — he was everything the men you'd dated were not.

Still, he was a mystery, a silent, smoldering ember that had been slowly igniting a fire within you for months. A fire you’d diligently tried to extinguish, knowing, or rather believing, that it would never be reciprocated.

You hit send. 

Your stomach plummeted. No. Panic seized you, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. You scrambled for your phone, your fingers damp, desperately trying to undo the unthinkable, but the dreaded "Delivered" notification appeared on the screen. 

Mortification washed over you, hot and stinging, a tidal wave of shame threatening to drown you in its intensity. You sank to the bathroom floor, naked and now shaking, the forgotten towel a crumpled heap beside you. The stinging cold bathroom tiles against your skin seemed to mock your misery, amplifying your sense of utter humiliation. Your breath hitched in your throat, a strangled sob escaping your lips.

The text had been delivered to John, not Josh from Tinder - your damned clumsy fingers hit the wrong recipient. 

Then, a soft vibration against your thigh. Your phone.

John: Well, hello there. I wasn't expecting this kind of payment for occasionally feeding your cat. 

A wave of heat flooded your cheeks, the blush burning against your skin. He was teasing you. Of course, he was. He was probably laughing at you, finding your blatant display of desperation pathetic. You wanted to disappear, to melt into the bathroom tiles and cease to exist.

You: oh my god, john. i am so incredibly sorry. this was a complete accident. wrong number!! i can’t believe this happened

John: An accident? How disappointing. I am rather enjoying the view.

You: i should have checked correctly. i’m so sorry

You: i'm so mortified

You: i’ll find someone else to look after Milo

You: i am so so sorry

John: Mortified? Don't be. You look beautiful. Breathtaking, actually.

You didn’t know what to say. Was he being serious? Or was he just toying with you, enjoying your discomfort? You couldn’t tell; his tone was so carefully neutral. Then, another text.

John: Lucky guy who was supposed to receive that photo. 

You: just another date. nothing special. who knows

You typed back, trying to sound nonchalant, but your fingers trembled on the keyboard.

John: Are they treating you right, at least?

The question, so unexpected, so caring , caught you off guard. A lump formed in your throat, and the casual encounters of the past few months suddenly felt even more hollow and meaningless than ever.

You: sometimes

You replied, just a single word,  yet it was heavy with unspoken longing for something better.

John: Tell me, what was the plan with that photo?

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. How could you explain the desperate want you felt sometimes, to be needed, to be loved, to be seen?

You: i don’t know… i just hoped it would make him want me 

The words tumbled out, raw and vulnerable.

John: Do you want to be wanted, love?

The question, so simple, so direct, pierced through your defenses, striking deep within you. Your body was aching for a touch that had always seemed just out of reach. You’d craved it, yes, the feeling of being wanted, of being desired, but the encounters you’d had, the fleeting moments of intimacy, had never truly satisfied that yearning.

Instead, they’d only left you feeling emptier, more alone.

You: yes

You cringed inwardly at the desperation you put forward without hesitation. There was a small silence before your phone buzzed again.

John: I’d kiss away the water drops from your sweet tits to show you just how much I’d want you.

Your eyes went wide, a blush, hot and intense, flooded your cheeks at his boldness. You certainly hadn’t expected a text like that . 

You took a deep breath.

He wasn’t just toying with you. He was serious. This wasn’t happening. Was it?

Another vibration of your phone.

John: Tell me what you want, love.

And then, the dam broke. All the pent-up desires, the unspoken longings, the secret fantasies you’d harbored for so long came pouring out in a torrent of words.

You: Your hands on me. Your mouth. Everywhere.

John: What a coincidence. I want to worship your gorgeous body.

You: I want to feel your lips on mine, your tongue exploring my mouth… 

A shiver ran down your spine as you typed the words, the image vivid in your mind.

John: Another coincidence, because I want to taste you, love. Every inch of you.

You: id lie if i said i have never thought about how you’d feel inside me before

You: you’d probably feel so good

Why did you tell him that? You didn’t know. The thought simply sent a wave of heat through your core. Any shame that was supposed to be there was long gone. 

John: Fuck. I wish you could feel how hard you make me.

You: i wish i could

The three dots appeared on the screen again, promising another text from him. You stared at them with an intensity that bordered on obsession, your heart pounding with anticipation. What would he say next? What would he do? The dots danced again, then vanished, leaving you suspended in silence.

A sudden, sharp knock on your door echoed through the quiet apartment, and your heart leapt. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the towel and wrapping it hastily around yourself. 

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest and your hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door.

John Price. Filling your doorway, his eyes dark with a desire that mirrored your own, his breathing ragged. He didn’t speak, didn't give you time to even register his arrival completely – the second the door was open, he reached for you, pulling you against him, his lips crashing against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss that stole your breath away.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice rough against your lips, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every curve, every inch of exposed skin. 

“You feel that?” He murmured against your lips, grinding his hips against yours, his erection pressing hard against your stomach. “That’s all you, love.”

Your mind went blank. You couldn't speak, only moan softly as his lips trailed down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear, his beard scratching the soft skin along the path. Your hands found their way to his back, pulling him closer, your fingers digging into the taut muscles beneath his shirt. You reached lower, grabbing him through his pants, desperate for more contact. He groaned, a low rumble of pure lust that echoed through you, making every nerve ending in your body sing.

“Mm, I’ve dreamt about touching you like this,” he groaned and pulled away, reaching behind him and closing the door, then carefully started walking forward while holding onto you, pushing you towards your bedroom with long strides, barely holding back himself. His hands were now ripping his clothes off and then your towel, leaving you completely naked in front of him – but you didn’t even register any of that. If you did, you probably wouldn’t care anyway.

He wasted no time, pushing you gently onto the bed, his body following quickly after. His weight was comforting and, at the same time, exhilarating. His lips found yours, hungry and demanding but with a tenderness that surprised you. It wasn't just lust; it was something more, something deeper. A connection you hadn't expected, but now, in this moment, felt undeniable. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles dance beneath his skin. 

It just felt right. Like a culmination of all the stolen glances, the unspoken desires, the secret admiration you'd harbored for so long.

Never in a million years had you thought he’d think about you the same way.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck again. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. "So fucking perfect.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. No one had ever spoken to you like this, with such raw, unfiltered adoration. It made you feel beautiful, desirable, worthy in a way you hadn't before.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze intense, drinking in the sight of your naked body beneath him. A blush crept up your neck, a mixture of shyness and excitement. Then, his gaze dropped lower, his eyes dark and hungry as he settled between your legs. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation coiling in your belly. His hands framed your hips, his fingers tracing the delicate skin of your inner thighs, sending shivers dancing across your skin. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your core, making your muscles clench in anticipation. The tip of his tongue darted out, a tentative touch that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your clit. You gasped, your hips lifting involuntarily towards him. 

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and then he delved deeper, his mouth working its magic, his tongue and lips creating a symphony of sensations. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, his rhythm building, the pressure increasing, his tongue a skilled artist painting pleasure across your most sensitive flesh. “John,” you moaned, his name a breathy whisper escaping your lips, a plea for more. He hummed against you, a low, guttural sound of approval. You tangled your fingers in his hair, your nails scratching his scalp as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last. His tongue and lips worked tirelessly until your body tensed and balanced at the edge of release. 

And then, with a final, exquisite flick of his tongue, he sent you spiralling over the edge. You came hard, your body convulsing around his mouth, your cries unfiltered and shamelessly loud, a release so intense it left you breathless and trembling, your mind a blissful blank.

He rose, his eyes dark with satisfaction, a triumphant glint in their depths. Before he moved higher, though, his fingers dipped between your legs, testing your wetness. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. A warm thrill coursed through your body at the sight, a tingling sensation that ran along your spine. 

He leaned in, his body hovering over yours, his lips meeting yours in a deep, lingering kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, the flavor intoxicating, a tangible reminder of the pleasure he'd just brought you – the combination of the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm and the feel of his lips on yours, his taste mingled with your own, was almost too much to bear.

As his tongue explored your mouth, he moved between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. With a soft groan, he pushed inside, slowly, carefully, his kiss deepening as he filled you. 

It was a perfect fit, a seamless joining of two bodies, punctuated by soft moans and your mingled breaths. 

And then, he began to move, his rhythm slow and steady, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your moans soft against his lips. It was almost… loving. A gentle exploration, a tender dance between two lost souls connecting.

Suddenly, you felt his hands explore your folds, gently touching our clit, wandering down below where your bodies connected – before a finger pressed against your other hole – and your breath hitched. 

He seemed to notice your reaction and chuckled lightly. He stopped moving to look right into your eyes. “Tell me, did any of the Tinder boys ever fuck you here?” He put more pressure on your asshole, seeking entrance, and your entire world almost fell apart.

“No…,” you whispered, voice shaky. “No one ever has.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. “Because I will, and I don't want anyone else touching you from this day forward. You're mine .”

He moved, his thrusts deep and powerful, his whispers raw and possessive, filling your ears with words of praise and adoration that made your heart ache with a happiness you’d never known. The way he moved within you, each thrust increasingly more intense – it was a declaration of his claim. You arched beneath him, your body molding to his, your moans a demonstration of the pleasure, echoing through the room. A heat bloomed within you, spreading through your limbs, pooling in your core, a fire ignited by his touch, his words, his sheer presence. 

You accepted your fate of being his, completely and utterly his, captured and taken - and yet in that moment, helpless and surrendered to the intoxicating power of his possession, you’d never felt so free .

He continued to thrust, his rhythm relentless, his body a perfect complement to yours, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your nails raking across his skin, leaving marks that mirrored the ones he was leaving on your soul. The world narrowed to the space between your bodies, the sound of your mingled breaths, the raw, unfiltered pleasure that was consuming you both.

Then, just as you felt yourself on the precipice of release, he pulled out, leaving you achingly empty, a void where his warmth and hardness had been just moments before. A whimper escaped your lips, a soft sound of protest, of longing. He turned you over, his hands gentle but firm, guiding you onto your stomach. A shiver of anticipation and a nervous thrill ran through you as you felt his breath hot against your ear, his voice a husky whisper that sent goosebumps rippling across your skin.

“Do you have any lube, love? I want this to be perfect for you.”

You nodded, barely able to point toward your nightstand. Your entire body trembled endlessly, not knowing if it came from pure arousal and lust or this unexplainable affection you felt towards him — how considerate he was with your pleasure and, more so, with your comfort. It left you speechless and breathless, exposed and bare, and longing to never come down from this high, no matter how hard the fall would eventually become. 

You silently cursed yourself and the universe for not letting you know there had been a connection between you so much earlier, so you could have been spared all the emptiness and loneliness the fleeting encounters with other men always left behind.

He reached for the nightstand drawer, pulling out a small tube of lubricant. He looked you directly in your eyes – it felt like an unspoken vow, a wordless agreement to give yourself to one another in the deepest possible sense. It felt utterly intimate – to let him , a man you were so painfully shy with just moments ago, perform such an act… how strange the universe worked – and how intensely right it all felt.

His touch was gentle as he lubricated his fingers, one after another, and then reached behind you – so carefully circling your puckered entrance, making you moan softly in surprise and wonder at the completely new feelings. It felt like being touched for the first time in places nobody ever cared to explore – let alone so masterfully gentle and knowing like this. A mix of strange anticipation, embarrassment, and the sheer thrill of being touched by this man sent shivers through your core.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured, pushing his first finger inside, slick with a mix of lube and your juices, so very gently at first. “Want me to fuck that pretty little hole, love?”

“Yes, please ,” you whined, sounding utterly desperate and shameless. With nobody before, you’d ever begged - yet with John, it slipped from your lips almost naturally. He chuckled, and his mouth twisted in a wicked smile, making your heart race.

He continued to prepare you, adding a second finger, slowly stretching you, his touch both firm and incredibly tender, your entire lower abdomen now twisting and pulling itself down in involuntary anticipation of being filled. You gasped, a small moan escaping from your lips. The feeling of being so tenderly explored made tears spring to your eyes. No one had ever treated you like this, with such reverence, such care. You put your head down on its side, trying to catch a glimpse of him, wondering why or how someone like John Price – the distant, mysterious neighbor who seemed to exist in a world of his own, someone who you deemed out of reach just an hour ago, now took such incredible, passionate care of you , making you feel precious . It was almost too much to handle, each gentle stroke making you feel more overwhelmed and wanted. It was everything you always fantasized about, what having a lover truly could feel like but never dared believe to be true. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” 

You gasped, your body convulsing, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. But it was a good pain, a delicious, welcome ache, a sensation unlike anything you’d ever experienced. He continued to explore your depths, stretching you, accustoming you to the unfamiliar feeling, his touch patient and understanding. His fingers slowly widened you, his movements deliberate and unhurried, giving you time to adjust, to relax into the sensation. All the while, his other hand was buried between your folds underneath you, and his thumb continued to caress your clit, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body, distracting you from any discomfort, replacing it with a growing anticipation.

“Tell me if it's too much,” he whispered. “I don't want to hurt you.”

His words, his tenderness, his concern for your pleasure, melted away the last of your apprehension. You moaned softly, over and over, your body arching against his touch, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

Then suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the lubed head of his cock, pressing gently against your entrance. “Ready, love?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart pounding in your chest. He pushed inside, slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust to his size, his fullness. You gasped, a small cry escaping your lips, but it wasn't pain, not exactly. It was a new sensation, intense and unfamiliar but somehow just right. He paused, waiting for you to relax, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip, his touch a silent reassurance. A feeling of belonging settled deep within you, a terrifying, exhilarating connection unfolding between you.

You knew, with certainty, that this would never be the same with anyone else.

He began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, his thrusts deep and powerful, filling you completely. You cried out, your voice a mixture of pleasure and surprise, your body arching against his, desperate for more. He whispered dirty praises against your skin, his words a heady mix of possessiveness and adoration, fueling the fire within you. “You're so fucking tight,” he groaned, “so perfect. All mine.”

With another groan, he pulled you flush against his chest, his arm wrapping tightly around your body, his large hand cupping your breasts, pressing you against him. He held you there and continued to move, but the rhythm changed, becoming a desperate, needy grinding, his hips pushing against yours, the friction building, the intensity escalating. You whimpered again, your head falling back against his shoulder, lost in the overwhelming sensations. It was too much, too intense, too good . You didn’t even know what was real anymore. All you knew was him , the feel of his body against yours, the sound of his breath and his growls in your ear, the raw, unfiltered pleasure that was consuming you.

His other hand moved between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, circling, rubbing, adding to the already overwhelming pleasure. You arched your back, your body writhing against his, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He added two fingers to your slick heat, swirling and stretching you, sending shocks of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. You cried out his name, over and over, lost in the sensations, lost in him.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, “just like that, love. Take it all.”

You shattered, your body convulsing around him, cries mingling with his groans in a symphony of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The release was an explosion of sensation so intense it left you breathless, trembling, mind blissfully blank. He continued to grind against you, each thrust echoing the receding waves of your orgasm. Then, he went still, holding you so tightly against him you forgot how to breathe. The sensation of him pulsating deep inside you, buried within your ass, was exquisitely intimate. It was a connection so profound, so utterly consuming; it sent another ripple of pleasure through your still-sensitive nerves. You felt the warmth of his release, a shared intimacy that brought tears to your eyes. Teeth nipped at your shoulder, followed by a growl that bordered on animalistic, a raw expression of his own pleasure. 

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his arm, holding yourself as close as physically possible as he shuddered through his climax. It was a moment of such raw vulnerability, such complete surrender. 

For a fleeting second, a flicker of fear sparked within you – the fear of losing this connection, this incredible intimacy. 

But he didn't let go. The expected detachment, the sudden chill of loneliness, didn't happen. Instead, he held you close, almost protectively, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His lips brushed against your ear. “You're incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “So fucking incredible.”

His words were a balm to your soul. He hadn't discarded you like the others. He held you as if you were precious, as if you were something to be treasured. You turned in his arms, burying your face in his chest. A warmth spread through you, a deep, abiding sense of peace you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. 

Fear whispered that you were overstepping, that this closeness was too much, too soon, but his arms held you captive.

The self-doubt that had plagued you for so long, the insecurities that had whispered insidious lies in your ear, the ghosts of endless, disappointing dates and fleeting encounters – all of it washed away, cleansed by his touch, his words, his sheer adoration. You held onto him, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline, the only solid thing in a world that had become fluid and uncertain. 

A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “So,” you murmured against his chest, your voice still shaky, “does this mean I can repay you like this for cat-sitting more often?”

He kissed your temple, a tender gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you. “Love,” he whispered against your hair, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin, “Not that it matters, but I'd fuck you for free.” He chuckled. 

“As often as you'll let me." He paused, his breath warm against your ear, and added, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "In fact, I have a feeling I'm going to need to. And want to. A lot." He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a possessiveness simmering in their depths. "What's mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense, "is mine."

His words were dark, almost dangerous, but the way he said them, the intensity in his voice, the possessiveness in his gaze, made something deep within you stir.

Belonging. It was a dream you'd almost given up on, a fantasy that had faded with each meaningless date, each disappointing encounter. 

His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “You said those other… dates … they only sometimes treat you right?”

His words, soft yet pointed, pricked at the carefully constructed wall around your heart. You swallowed, suddenly shy again. They… they don’t see me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m just… a body.” You hesitated, then continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I miss… talking. Laughing. Being held. Someone who looks at me like… like you just did.”

His face softened, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Then let me show you how you deserve to be treated.”

“Are you going to stay?” you whispered, the question barely audible, scared of his reaction.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze holding yours intensely. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed, your fingers finding the short strands of hair at his nape.

“What about your date?”

“You’re better than any date is ever going to be,” you said, the conviction in your voice surprising even yourself. “I never thought you’d… like me this way,” you whispered. 

“I always have,” he confessed, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip. “I’ve been dreaming about kissing these lips every time you smile at me in the hallway.” He paused, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “That photo… might have been your best mistake ever."

You smiled a genuine, happy smile that reached your eyes. “Keep it,” you whispered, your heart swelling with a joy that felt excitingly new. “And maybe... send me one back sometime?”

He grinned, a flash of heat in his eyes. “I'll see what I can do.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, his beard prickling against your skin. “Now,” he murmured, “where were we?”

[cupidhoons]

REMINDER ✶ LEE HEESEUNG

( M.LIST ) ╱ f! reader 𓈒𓈒𓈒 slightly toxic & suggestive themes skinship kissing ─── wc 1k> : sum. breaking up with your ex & going to a party was one bad idea enough, but going back to him for what seemed like the millionth time after seeing him with a girl that wasn't you was a story on its own.

YOU AND LEE HEESEUNG WERE SO OVER. At least, that's what you thought. After breaking up with him for the ninth time this week and constantly having an on and off relationship with him for the past month—you believed that this was the last and official breakup. Not a chance were you going to settle for a man who didn't know exactly what he wanted, and nor was Lee Heeseung going to settle for someone who loved to toy with him. 

It was a push and pull relationship, to say the least. Though, most times it seemed like there was more of a pull than push. It felt as if every time you saw him—or even near him for fact—you got into a zone. But not this time. 

Or so, that's what you thought.

Maybe you were just greedy for his love, but seeing him enter the party with a girl that wasn't you two weeks after the breakup was driving you insane. You eyed them from across the room, burning holes into the back of Heeseung’s head.

The music thrummed in the air, drowning out the noise of conversation and laughter. Your fingers tightened around the cup in your hand, crinkling the plastic till it seemed unusable. Heeseung was laughing, his head thrown back slightly as he leaned in closer to her. 

You told yourself you didn't care. That you wouldn't let him get to you anymore. But the way his hand rested so comfortably on her back, guiding her through the crowded room and how his arm snaked around her waist pissed you off.

You observed them closely, your eyes never leaving their figure even as you ordered another shot. Your friends could tell that you were so out of it, and they know the exact reason why, but all you said to them was “Everything is fine.” 

Lie. Nothing was fine, and seeing Heeseung give her a kiss on her cheek was enough to send you spiraling. You had enough of his bullshit. 

Setting down your drink on the nearest table, you straighten your posture as you take out a mirror for touch-ups before walking over to them. Each step felt heavy with jealousy and frustration, masked with your self confidence. 

Heeseung’s laugh faltered when he noticed your walking figure. His smile stiffened, his hand immediately slipping away from the girl’s waist to rest at his side. You could only widen your smirk. 

“Hey, Hee,” you said, your voice honey-sweet, as you placed a hand on his chest, making him flinch. “Can I borrow you for a second?” 

It was as if you didn't even notice his date, until she cleared her throat, catching your attention. “Oh, I’m sorry! You don't mind if I steal him for a moment, do you? We just have some…things to talk about.” You smiled. 

His date took a glance at you, then at Heeseung, sensing the tension between you two. “Uh…I’ll just…grab a drink,” she mumbled, stepping away from the scene. 

Heeseung turned back to you, his jaw tightening. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration. 

You leaned in slightly, letting your hands trial lightly over the fabric of his shirt, resting just above his heart. The warmth of his skin seeps through the material as his breath hitches at the sudden contact. 

“Remind me why we’re taking a break,” you muttered, tilting your head as if you were clueless to why.

His brows furrowed as he tried pulling away, but your hand stayed firmly on his chest, following the movement like a magnet. “We talked about this,” he said, his voice firmer than before, though the way his gaze flickered to your lips gave everything you needed to know. “You said it was better for the both of us.” 

“And you agreed,” you countered smoothly, your tone low and intimate as you closed the gap again. “But does it really feel better, Heeseung? Because it doesn't for me.” 

His eyes searched yours, conflicted. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted. Your thumb traced a small, absentminded circle against his chest, and you could feel his heart racing beneath your touch. 

“We’re not good for each other.” he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than you.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your lips curving into a sly smile as you trailed up to his jaw. “But that's never stopped us before, has it?” 

Heeseung exhaled shakily, his hands twitching at his sides as if debating if he should pull away from you or pull you closer. His gaze flickered down to your lips for what felt like the tenth time, then back up to meet your eyes. 

“Come on, Hee.” you whispered, almost like a plea as you leaned in your head closer to his. “Show me why I can’t seem to let go of you.” 

That was it. His hands finally moved—not to push you away, but to grip your waist, pulling you against him. His lips crashed onto yours, the kiss desperate, almost punishing. It was messy and filled with all the unresolved emotions neither of you had dared to admit aloud.

Nothing else existed as his lips were on yours. Not the party, not the girl he’d been with earlier, not even the reasons you’d broken up. Just the two of you, tangled up in each other once again.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “This is a mistake,” he murmured, though his hands on your waist told a different story.

“Then let’s make it together,” you whispered, pulling him back in before he could change his mind.

[gothghostiie]

babysitter!reader chronicles continue because I babysat the whole weekend and obviously cannot catch a break

cw: comfort, reader has a strong reaction to things breaking, gn!reader

thinking about price being gone overnight, having you sleep over so he doesn't stress about coming home. he knows you don't mind sleeping on his couch and he knows his little munchkin is safe with you. you get to spend the morning with the baby who decided to wake up extra early, making some easy breakfast for both of you, hanging out the whole day, it's routine by now. in the afternoon you make a snack and decide to make some tea for both of you - the little one definitely got it's love for tea from John.

It's all good and well, until you have to put the infant down for a second to fill the electric kettle with water. you put it right next to the sink and put the little one down, telling them that they'll be right back in your arms, just let you boil the water. the baby coos as you stand up and turn around: just to be met with the sounds of crashing and clattering, and with the sight of glass shards. you immediately pick up the baby and stumble back, eyes wide as you try to process what the fuck just happened, your heart racing and your hands shaking. you have to do everything in your power to not let out a string of courses as you look at the broken kettle, trying to figure out what to do.

you decide the best course is put the baby to the safety of it's high chair while you pick up the big shards, it goes just fine until you grab the vacuum cleaner to get the small shards. the baby starts fussing, making grabby hands at you, your heart clenches. so now you're vacuuming, baby on your hip, holding on tightly. its all fine until you put the vacuum cleaner away and have a moment to gather your thoughts, the waterworks start flowing big time.

you try your hardest to hold back as you make the tea and the food, sniffling while the occasional sob falls from your lips. the baby keeps looking at you confused, touching your face and tilting their head, babbling softly as if trying to ask why you're crying. you just keep a hold of them and try to smile at them, sitting down to eat with them as you try to figure out how to tell John you broke his electric kettle.

tears are still flowing as you type out a text, not brave enough to tell him face to face. you almost wanna throw your phone out after the text is sent, but you just put it into your pocket. you distract yourself with housework, with the baby, still occasionally tearing up, when your phone vibrates.

its a simple message from John; 'be home soon.'

you can feel the nausea rise in your belly, hands trembling again as your mind goes a mile a minute. he didn't even say anything to you telling him the kettle broke, just that he's home soon. your head goes from anything to you're being fired to you'll end up never being allowed around any child ever. you try your hardest to distract yourself, cleaning up a last time before putting on a kids' movie and sitting on the couch with the baby. you're fidgeting with your fingers, you're nervous, anxious, almost near tears - your heart stops when you hear the keys jingle in the door. you freeze up, glancing at him from your place on the couch as he walks in, boots thudding heavy on the floor. he stretches with a groan, putting down his bag and hanging up his jacket before making his way over to the two of you. he stops right in front of you, arms crossed as he bends down - just to coo at his baby.

"there's my little angel, missed me?" he smiles softly, but quickly frowns as he seed the expression on your face. he knits his brows, staying leaned down to the two of you. "hey, whats the matter? you look like a kicked puppy, love." he chuckles gently, trying to coax a smile out of you, but it doesn't work. you look down at the yawning baby, grabbing at John's arms, wanting to be held.

you mumble another apology, causing him to huff in confusion before it dawns on him. "love, this isn't about the broken kettle, is it?" he asks, sighing softly as you keep quiet. he finally picks up the cooing baby, it immediately nuzzles into him. "wait here." he mutters softly, putting the sleepy baby down for a nap in the nursery before coming back to you. his arms are crossed, hes frowning, you barely even look at him; not even when he sits down next to you. "c'mere, bird." he murmurs, patting the side of his thigh, lifting his arm.

your eyes widen a bit, you hesitate before scooting closer. a strong arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "there there. you're okay love, it's alright." he says softly, quietly, as if talking to his little one. "there's no need to be scared, yea? I'm not angry." you glance up at him, still unsure. he kisses your head gently. "it's just a kettle. I'll get a new one tomorrow." his strong hand keeps a hold of your arm, caging you against his side, the other resting on your knee with the thumb rubbing gentle circles.

you mutter another apology as tears threaten to spill again, he shushes you gently. "no, no. none of that. and no tears either, bird. its okay. these things happen." he holds you tighter, soothing you gently as you nod. he holds you like this until he feels the tension in your body lessen, finally accepting his words and that he's not mad. he presses another kiss onto your head.

"just do me a favour next time.." he hums, his tone teasing as he bites back a chuckle. "if you don't like my kettle, tell me. no need to break it.

[sammyluvr]

✶ out of my head — spencer reid

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental exhaustion, very little dialogue, unedited, 985 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “i can’t get you out of my head.”

the town is small, the case is hard, and the nights aren’t restful. for this week, it’s two to a seedy motel room. spencer’s your roommate this time around, which helps nothing at all. you should be used to how beautiful he looks when he’s sleepy and just woken up in the morning, but it makes your chest tighten to the point where you nearly stop breathing. it’s not as if you haven’t shared a room with him for a case before, but there’s some weird intimacy about sharing this room.

he’s in the bathroom, washing his hands, as he’s been doing often this trip. the first time you walked into the room with him, go-bags heavy after a long flight, he sprouted off some statistic regarding the cleanliness of motel rooms, or rather the lack thereof. you think he was trying to cover up how nervous it made him, and you offered to take his sheets and blanket to the laundromat you passed. the signage had told you that it’s always open late. you certainly wouldn’t mind extra clean sheets either.

he refused, though, saying he’d do it himself if he really needed to, and that you shouldn’t have to do that for him. but you don’t really think about it in terms of should or shouldn’t, more so that it makes you glad to do anything for him at all. you stay quiet though, and let this one slide. as long as he sleeps alright, it’s fine with you. 

sleeping well is a relative term, of course. it’s two in the morning right now, and you’ve just gotten back from the station. hotch sent you all to bed after a break in the case. the night shift detectives will keep working until you all get at least a bit of rest.

you drift over to the bathroom, its warm light casting spencer’s form in soft shadow. he hears your sigh before your quiet footsteps, and turns his neck to look at you. he gives you a soft smile, drying his hands on the small towel. you try not to stare; he has very pretty hands.

“hey,” he murmurs, making no move to leave the bathroom. he can tell by the way you padded over that you don’t actually need the room for anything. that, and you used it and brushed your teeth first thing after getting back. you’ve already donned your sleep clothes, too. you move forward, and he steps back, leaving room for you at the sink. the heels of your hands meet the cool ceramic of the sink as you lean against it, facing him from less than a foot away. the bathroom most definitely is not a generous size.

“hey,” you echo, voice just as soft as his. to him, you sound even more tired than usual. resigned, even. he’s trying to decide if you’ll respond decently to him asking if you’re okay. you speak again before he can decide. “spence?”

“yeah?” he wants to call you honey, but he doesn’t. but the way you say his name is begging for him to respond with equal sweetness and intimacy. or maybe honey is doubly sweet and intimate, but to him, your voice saying his nickname like that is the same as if you called him baby. he’s shy, but he wishes you’d call him that.

you look at him with sad eyes and he wishes that look would go away. i can’t get you out of my head, you want to say. “i’m tired,” is what comes out, anticlimactic and falling flat on the tile floor.

but his eyes fill with sympathy regardless and he gives a little frown on your behalf. even if you were going to say something else, the words that leave your lips are just as true. you are tired, very much so. not just from the case or the lumpy bed, but from everything, you suppose. it’s a bone deep type of exhaustion, and somehow your growing love for him is the only thing you can think about these days. it’s pressing to get out and make itself known, and now it feels heavy and oppressive.

“it’s been a long day,” spencer agrees. he knows how you feel, at least in terms of the exhaustions, and that it’s really not about just today. but he also knows that you know that, and that there’s not much to say. not right now, at least. it’s not the time for that sort of conversation, he can tell.

you swallow, suddenly nervous. you’re asking yourself why the hell you walked into this damn bathroom, put yourself so close to him without the option to actually close the distance. but you sort of just want to hug him. you want to get it off your chest, because you think it’ll make some of the exhaustion go away. though things could certainly get worse.

“i can’t get you out of my head, you know.” this time, the words slip out before you can stop them. you’re not sure if it’s the right thing to say, the right way to tell him, but you suppose the meaning is implied and that you’ve gone out and said it, finally. that makes your shoulders drop, and a relieved huff of breath leaves your lips. even if he doesn’t feel the same, at least you’ve said it.

most other days, spencer would’ve kissed you, maybe after clumsily telling you that he can’t get you out of his head either. but today, you’re sagging and tired, so he pulls you into his arms with a certain sort of ease that tells you he doesn’t mind being close to you. he likes it, even. he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your forehead, and that’s your answer. he’ll stay stuck in your head, but it will be far more bearable because he loves you back.

[loustica-lucia]

Answering these questions with Alba de Riva & Lucanis Dellamorte [he/they, spellblade fire mage, Friend of Red Jenny, Performer & Antivan Crow]:

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them? He does! Alba often has crushes and is a very physical person. He first fell for his looks and how cool and theatrical his entrance was when they first met, especially as a "theater kid" himself!

That's legit the face he had in game when Lucanis appeared on screen lmao

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook? I think Lucanis started catching feeling when he got to see more sides of Alba. They already got along well with their sense of humour, but he also noticed how devoted he was to helping people, especially in Treviso. Alba's eyes filled with an almost childish wonder at everything new they see, or even just sunset and sunrises. His infectious laughter and the way he always tried to make things appear less scary with a dumb joke. Alba made him smile, laugh, and other things he had long forgotten in his year of survival in the Ossuary...

How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand? After the infamous "almost kiss scene", Alba gives him more space, while continuing to flirt with him. He doesn't want to rush things with Lucanis. It's always been one of his main issue in his past romantic relationships. They officially kissed after "Inner Demons", when they went to the Cantori Diamond to meet Viago & Teia and got teased for the way they spaced out in the Tevinter tavern. They drunk a bit, but Alba resists alcohol well. Lucanis, maybe a little less. The next day, Lucanis wasn't sure if the kiss truly happened or not, until Alba walked to him for another kiss in the dining hall.

Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction? They're both Crows, but with very different backgrounds. While Lucanis was taught from a young age how to become a Crow without his approval, Alba joined them by his own will. He was dating Viago at the time, and wanted to put his knowledge of Thedas to good use [he was a traveling performer and a Friend of Red Jenny]. He's more theatrical in his murders than the other Crows would like him to be, but he gets the job done. I think it only affect their relationship in the sense that they understand each other's work and the importance of contracts, and they're both from Antiva/cares about its people.

Do they have different cultural backgrounds (e.g. a Rook who was raised in Antiva with Harding who was raised in Ferelden)? If so, do they ever share parts of their culture with each other? If they're similar, how do they celebrate their culture together? Alba travelled around Thedas a lot, from Antiva, to Orlais, Ferelden, Tevinter and even a bit of Rivain... He likes to tell old stories in the dining hall when they all eat together. Lucanis and him often talk about Antiva though, because Treviso is Lucanis' hometown, while Alba was found as a newborn in the capital. [He's an orphan.]

What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs? They like to clean their weapons and armours together, cook and drink their favourite hot beverages. I headcanon that Lucanis was taught how to play piano (there's a harpsichord in the Dellamorte Villa) and Alba knows how to play a few other instruments. I like to imagine them doing midnight duets in the music room when they cannot sleep.

Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead? Alba is very physical. Once they got together, he started randomly holding Lucanis hand then they were walking, hugging him or kissing him. Lucanis wasn't used to this, and was embarrassed at first, especially in public, but he accepted it quickly.

What does their ideal date look like? Do they go on much? Running around on rooftops in Treviso, racing to the horizon while the sunsets, only to go to a little café or bar and get a nice drink with music in the background. Alba probably dancing and inviting his partner to join him♥

Does your Rook bring them out often? How are they like on the battlefield? Do they banter much? Every time it's possible! Crows don't really get the occasion to work on the same contract very often, and he's heard many stories about the Demon of Vyrantium! Alba is excited to see the other aspect of Lucanis that weren't written in the newspapers in Tevinter. They talk a lot, often teasing each other for their fighting style, or worrying one got injured. Sometimes praising each other, but always with a catch.

Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more? They usually call each other Lu or Al — especially during battle because it's short, but sometimes they give themselves petnames like my heart/mi amor/honey/sweetheart.

Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first? Alba is very blunt and honest and can't keep his tongue in his mouth, so he'll probably say it first, and then Lucanis in the canon scene in Minrathous. Lucanis probably had a internal conflict when it happened between his thoughts, his body and Spite haha As to who thinks it first, probably both, but Lucanis didn't notice it as quickly as Alba, since it's still new to him? [Alba has had many partners in his life.]

Any inside jokes? Probably these two talking about Antivan Crow drama (eg. Zevran Arainai) while the rest of the group has no idea who these people are XD Quoting Antivan books and speaking Antivan language to maake joke the others cannot understand haha

What song(s) do you associate with them? I have a playlist for them, but if I had to pick only one, maybe "Unfolding Time" by Broken Iris. It reminds me of Alba, Lucanis, and Spite. How they overcome their own issues, with trust, time, and care.

"My whole life, all this time, I've been waiting to find a way to reach inside, to wield the hands unfolding time. The higher I am, the better view I find. As I lay down, observe it all unwind, no doubt or fear, my view is now clear. I've never felt so alive, looking in from the outside, watching my whole life pass me by, through the descendent of my eyes."

Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special? Alba gets Lucanis a few outfits he got tailored just for him, so they can match ♥ He also gives him a few new books, leather bags to carry his daggers and fancy boots from Antiva City. Lucanis gets Alba spices mix to remind him of his travels, chocolate and flowers. He also gave him a few masks from the Dellamorte Villa, since Alba collects them! Alba doesn't have much luggage, since he never properly settled anywhere, so any gift is very important to him and he cherish them dearly.

What was the partner's reaction to Rook being imprisoned in the Fade? How did they cope? How did they react upon seeing Rook again? Lucanis regretted taking so long to fully open to Alba, now that he was gone. He felt heartbroken and angry, letting his frustration get the best of him in some rage episodes. He needed to keep his mind busy to not think about it, but he didn't lose hope to see his Rook again. When Alba finally made it back, seemingly safe and sound, he jumped to hug him, his wings making him go so fast they both fell on the ground. He needed to know he was there, to feel him, for real.

How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner? Alba was used to feeling guilty, so the "prison of regrets" was nothing new to him. He felt sad to be apart from the team, from Lucanis. He had no idea that he's been stuck in the prison for weeks before the others filled him on the current state of Minrathous. He felt sorry and guilty again, for making him worry about his silly ass. The entire time in the Fade, he had that Fenris' "Nothing is going to keep me from you." state of mind.

What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook? Alba fell for Lucani's appearance first, but he fell harder for his softer side behind all the "Assassin/Demon of Vyrantium/Antivan Crow" masks. His kindness, his consideration for others and attention to details... his humour... that's what Alba loves the most about Lucanis. As for Lucanis, he fell under the charm of that seemingly over-confident brat who seemed to be able to fix any problem, admiring his ability to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with a sincere smile on his face. The way he didn't seem to care about the way people perceived him, or the way he dressed, the makeup he wore. Just being himself, his true self.

When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets? Alba and Lucanis stay in Antiva to get rid of the last Antaams in the streets of Treviso. They also travel around Thedas to help the Inquisition — like Alba did the last ten years, too. They often went back to the House de Riva or the Dellamorte Villa to get some time off, where they weren't "The Veilguard", or "Rook" or the "First Talon", but just Alba and Lucanis. They got married 3 years after the end of the game. During Veilguard, Alba adopted/became the guardian of Jacobus Egrativi, so Lucanis officially became his second father, too. They do not really have pets, outside of a few birds that like to come back to their balcony — their Roost.

Questions for your Rook and their partner:

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them?

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook?

How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand?

Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction?

Do they have different cultural backgrounds (e.g. a Rook who was raised in Antiva with Harding who was raised in Ferelden)? If so, do they ever share parts of their culture with each other? If they're similar, how do they celebrate their culture together?

What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs?

Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead?

What does their ideal date look like? Do they go on much?

Does your Rook bring them out often? How are they like on the battlefield? Do they banter much?

Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more?

Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first?

Any inside jokes?

What song(s) do you associate with them?

Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

What was the partner's reaction to Rook being imprisoned in the Fade? How did they cope? How did they react upon seeing Rook again?

How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner?

What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook?

When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets?

[dreamyvill]

Lights off

Lights off synopsis: Maryn Queen, "America's Princess," grapples with the suffocating pressure of her meticulously crafted public image. Aaron Pierre, a rising star in Hollywood, enjoys a more relaxed approach to fame. Their paths cross at a charity gala, and an immediate attraction sparks between them.

Warning this media contains mentions of: abuse of power, emotional manipulation and control, unnecessary mental health medicating, toxic work environment, and insecurity.

This is dark and will go over traumatic themes. each chapter will have their own warning so be sure to read those.

The pictures used were found on Pinterest.

Read time 4/5 minutes (if that)

lights off masterlist

Sitting in the back of the long limousine—a luxury I’d surely hear about later—I adjusted the snug bodice of my gown. The dress was black, its shimmering beads catching the soft light inside the car. They traced delicate patterns down to the floor-length hem, highlighting my curves without stepping over the invisible line Mabel had drawn.

The intricate beading trailed down to accentuate my pear-shaped figure, the floor-length gown paired with black Christian Louboutin So Kate pumps. No one would see the shoes, but Mable insisted they were important. My perfectly manicured French-tipped hands, adorned with immaculate jewelry, glistened under the dim car light—jewelry, I was sure, I’d also hear the cost of later.

I tried to calm my nerves, smoothing the fabric over my lap. This wasn’t my first event. I’d been doing this since I was nineteen. But no matter how many times I walked into the spotlight, I never felt completely at ease.

“Maryn, are you paying attention?” Mabel’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts. Her less-than-pleased face matching her tone, her tablet perched on her lap. “This is important. What are you supposed to do tonight?”

I didn’t look up, keeping my focus on my hands. “Be polite but not ditzy, speak when spoken to, and don’t eat anything ,” I recited quietly. Turning out for the moment imaging myself back at home in my bed. Letting Mabel go over all my expectations for the night.

“Good. Now remember, you need to introduce yourself to Marlon Beck. He’s sponsoring your next pageant, give him a thank you and you must capture his attention he moves in very fast.” She ordered no looking up at me scrolling on the electronic.

I frowned, confused. “Another pageant? I thought I was done with those.”

“That’s the problem—you think,” Mabel said, her tone clipped. “The label says you need to stay visible before your next album. Sales are everything. The Public needs to see their princess. ” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

“What if we used some of my songs. I feel like two album do the same thing is going to bore then and I have a real audience that wants to hear me sing like my first album.” I rushed my first album was called Waves and it was a mix between pop and r&b and the people loved it went gold within six months.

Her eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Your job is to sing what you’re given. Leave the decisions to us.”

The words stung, but I swallowed my frustration., Wave had been mine—raw and personal. But after signing with Media Records, I’d lost control. Every song, every move, was decided for me. They wanted to open me up to be the “next Taylor swift. And unfortunately for me the ink had already dried and I didn’t read the fine print until it was too late.

“Stop thinking,” Mabel said sharply, snapping me back to the present. “Ricardo, schedule an appointment with Dr. Black. Her medication isn’t working. I thought this dose would suppress your delusions.”

“My medicine is working! It is i promise,” I said quickly, my voice trembling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry.”

The car slowed, the hum of the engine replaced by the muffled chaos of shouting voices and flashing cameras.

“Maryn, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight!”

“Maryn, what about the rumors you’re seeing director Marlon Beck?”

“Maryn, what do you think about Prince Heffien proposing to you?”

“Are you and the prince engaged?” They rattled off.

“Do what you’re supposed to do you have two hours,” Mabel said, her gaze piercing as always. Nodding my head I crouched down ready to step out of the car. Ricardo, my bodyguard, stepped out first. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped into the storm of flashing lights

I smiled and walked the red carpet, ignoring the questions that swirled around me. The NAACP Gala was one of the few events where I could breathe, at least once I got inside. No phones, no gossip, no flashing cameras—just elegance and calm.

But for now, the chaos reminded me how far I was from my own freedom.

Inside, someone was watching. Aaron Pierre’s gaze kept drifting to Maryn, no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on the conversation around him. She moved through the room with practiced grace, her smile polite, her posture poised. But he could tell she was nervous.

Her presence drew his attention again and again, like a spotlight in the crowded room.

Maryn felt it—that sensation of being watched. Her chest tightened as she lifted her head, scanning the room. Her lips curved into a faint smile, From across the room, Aaron could see the weariness hiding behind her polished exterior.

When their eyes finally met, she froze, feeling as though he could see straight through her. His green eyes were steady, curious, and strangely warm. Her gaze flicked away, though, as she spotted Marlon Beck nearby—a man Mabel would expect her to greet immediately.

With measured steps, she crossed the room. Her gown flowed behind her, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. When she reached Marlon, his overpowering cologne hit her first, making her stomach churn.

“Maryn, lovely to see you,” Marlon said, opening his arms for a hug. She returned it, her smile practiced and polite, though her heart wasn’t in it. Turning to Aaron, she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Maryn. You must be Mr. Aaron Pierre.”

Aaron was momentarily stunned. Her voice was soft but sure, and the faint scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory. “That’s me. It’s great to meet you,” he said, offering a warm smile. Her handshake was firm, her touch lingering in his thoughts longer than it should have.

“I hear your pageant is on track to do very well,” Marlon said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His eyes felt slimy on her like she was selling herself.

Maryn nodded, her voice steady. “Yes, thanks to your support.”

“Are you competing this year?” he asked, his tone casual but knowing.

“No,” she replied with a small shake of her head. “I’ll be judging this year.” Marlon raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Mabel gave me the impression you’d be competing.” He glanced away, distracted by someone else in the crowd, and walked off without another word.

Maryn sighed, relief and frustration fighting for space in her chest. She knew Mabel wouldn’t be pleased. She only had to capture his attention and yet her ran off. She felt the weight of disappointment and fear take is normal place in her chest.

“Are you all right?” Aaron’s voice was gentle, drawing her focus back to him.

She blinked, meeting his gaze. His height and presence made the room feel smaller, as though they were the only two people there.

“I’m fine. How are you handling all this attention?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

Aaron smiled, his green eyes holding hers drinking her figure in like ice cold water on a hot day in Arizona. “I’m doing all right. And you?”

Her cheeks warmed under his steady gaze. She wanted to look away to stop the heat from creeping in her belly but she couldn’t. Taking a breath that didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m getting through it,” she said with a faint smile.

He clarified. “Your album was a huge international success. My sister must’ve played it forty times back home.”

Her lips parted in surprise, a genuine smile breaking through. “Thank you. I loved writing that album. Especially the soulful songs.”

“I especially loved All Night,” Aaron said, watching as her face lit up with delight.

“Really? I was nervous about including songs like that, but I’m glad I did,” she admitted, her voice filled with quiet pride.

They talked easily, the rest of the room fading into the background. But when Maryn checked her watch, reality rushed back. Like in some bad knockoff Disney movie she had only just met this strange handsome man and here she was spilling all of her life to him. Talking way too much, she was completely putting his well kept hands.

“I’m sorry, but my car is coming soon. I didn’t mean to take so much of your time,” she said, stepping away before he could respond.

Aaron stood there, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. Moments ago, she’d been radiant, her smile full of light. Now, she seemed to retreat, her joy replaced by something he couldn’t quite name.

𖦹

Poor Maryn… I hope you guys like it and let me know if you want to be tagged. In the updates of this story.

I don’t have set up update days yet, I don’t want to out to much pressure on myself and quit so yeah we’re just going with the flow.

Liking, commenting and reblogs are all welcomed here and please let me know what you think. Critiques to just don’t be rude.

[bigbrownboots]

after the newest video, i’ve seen some people jump to saying that Porter shouldn’t be the only one to apologise, and that he and Treasure were both in the wrong in their… argument.

of course this is absolutely correct and that should not be disputed, Porter and Treasure both said things that hurt the other.

however, i’ve seen some folks saying Treasure was as equally wrong as Porter in this fight, and i have to disagree. big ramble ahead.

fellas, is it a crime to want to get to know the person who you want to be in a relationship with?

before I say anything else, yes, Treasure should absolutely apologise for pushing Porter’s boundaries in their last meeting - BUT! before that argument, they’ve only ever asked him questions about how he’s feeling, probably because he’s constantly moody and mysterious! which is, i admit, very sexyandcool of him. sure. but it’s also Not Great when you’re trying to open up to this new person and they outright refuse to tell you anything further than a quick “i’m fine, Treasure, now lets move on to our regularly scheduled blood-drinking-face-slapping-sexy-time” whenever you try to get to know him - ya know, even after he’s gone and said that that’s something he also wants to do.

i won’t lie here. i’m willing to admit that i’m on Treasure’s side moreso than i am Porter’s, because there’s only so much “we can have this conversation later, darling” that i would be able to handle before i too would tell him that he’s running from his issues faster than a rollercoaster of its rails.

yes, Treasure pushed his boundaries. But if they hadn’t, realistically speaking, when would he have ever opened up? with anyone?? He would certainly NEVER turn to Vincent for advice for anything (which i remind myself excitedly that this argument is what now begins the slow forming of the bond of sibling-esque understanding and heartfelt meaning!!! aaaa!!) and frankly, i don’t think Porter would get to a place of understanding like this on his own.

Porter is the type of person to force himself into believing he is content with a situation, because he believes he has to be - that that is the only decision he will get to make in the matter, and so he makes it to reinforce his sense of agency, aka: ‘i am okay with this situation because i choose to be, thus it cannot hurt me in a way that matters, and so i am in control’ - until something snaps him out of it and makes him see reality.

It happened first with Sam, Vincent and Lovely leaving the Solaire House, forcing him to confront the fact that everything is not ‘fine’.

And now it’s happening with Treasure, too.

Porter’s world is shattering around him, and he cannot continue to lie to himself and sweep the broken shards under the rug. Because with enough pieces, and enough time, those shards cut through eventually - and soon there will be blood.

[authorbriannarae13]

Mind of Mine // we can do this shit forever if it's lust - joel miller

Joel Miller x female! reader

read part one here. or on AO3 here.

summary; "Fuck. You wear that for me?"

When Joel comes home covered in blood, you ask him about it. Instead, he gives you too many orgasms to count while making you beg. for every last one. or this is what is written at my horniest during ovulation and listening to 'LUST' off the 'DON'T TRY THIS' ep on repeat. for twelve hours.

also, all of my fics will have songs and i'm not sorry about it.

oh, and; you can't unconvince me that he's not a pleasure dom.

warnings; smut (MDNI); dom!joel; mostly soft!joel; actually all soft!joel; begging; overstimulation; toys; some edging; sparing degradation (whore and slut are both used once.)

word count; 1.3k

-

A week later, you watch – concerned as hell – as Joel walks through the door completely covered in blood.

“Baby,” you murmur loud enough so he can hear you, “what happened?”

He looks at you. Sighs. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, the concern morphing into confusion – or shock, you can’t tell. “You call being covered in blood nothing?”

“It’s nothin’ you should be worryin’ about. Been settled.”

You pause, taking his words in, “Sett-“ You cut yourself off, deciding to drop it. For now. “Fine. Tell me the full story later then.”

Letting out a low grunt in response, he holds out his hand for you.

You scoff. “I’m not doing anything with you until you wash the blood off.”

“Is that so?” As soon as his eyebrow cocks, you swallow.

Oh fuck. You’re in trouble with a capital T.

That damn smirk rears its smug head as the realization dawns on your face. “Yea, I’d rethink that statement if I w’re you, darlin’.”

“I’m not taking anything back.”

“’U’ll be rethinkin’ that one real soon.” With that, he hauls you up by your hand. “C’mon.”

Slowly, you follow suit while starting to regret ever trying.

At the same time, you realize something: Joel will always be the same stubborn ass Joel you married.

Great.

He leads you to the bedroom, setting you to the bed before you realize what he’s going to do.

“Oh, God,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything. But of course, he has to hear it.

“He ain’t here, y’know. It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

You slightly huff as he answers you.

“You only did this to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Keep runnin’ that smartass mouth of yours and you won’t be walkin’ tomorrow.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

“Oh, I think we’re both well aware of what I’m capable of.”

That finally shuts you up. And as soon as you do, it’s in his hand.

He grabbed the vibrator you kept meaning to get rid of. Eventually, you gave up and forgot – even though you knew you would never need it again.

Fuck.

He slowly looks up, taking in your expression. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“N-no,” you rush out, still focused on the vibrator in his hand.

He quirks a brow and hums. “Take it all off.”

You notice him motion down your body before you can even think to pose a question.

Oh.

Before you can second guess yourself, you pull up on the worn-out Miller Construction t-shirt, dragging it up, and – eventually – letting it fall to the floor. Since you ditched your pants and bra – because fuck that – as  soon as you changed, he can see just about everything.

But since you live to be a tease, it will never be that easy.

“Hurry.” His voice deepens – almost like he’s trying to control himself. And the precious self-control is starting to waver.

As the black lace of your underwear is noticed, he groans, the sound low and reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck. You wear that for me?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you think?”

“Don’t matter what I think. So, did ya?”

“Maybe I did. You’ll never know.”

He walks towards you, pushing you back onto the bed as he brings the silk rope – you failed to notice – out of his pocket, tying your wrists together, and securing them to the headboard.

Oh fuck.

“If you want to be a dirty girl, I’ll enjoy treatin’ ya like one.”

You smirk. “Bring it.”

Instead of dignifying you with another answer, his fingers reach out to grab your chin before letting go and trailing down to your underwear, sliding them down your legs – since he didn’t let you get that far.

And he never will. Since, despite the façade, his self-control is nonexistent. But only with you.

No one else gets the benefit.

After they’re off you and haphazardly discarded, he nudges your legs open. “C’mon, open up for me.”

Instinctively, they fall open, giving him access, and he lightly presses the vibrator to your clit. “You’re g’nna beg me real good, sugar.”

A moan is the only response you let out as he turns it on, lighting your nerve endings on fire.

Your hips slowly grind into it, following as the vibrations slowly start to get more intense.

“Fuck, fuckin’ fuck,” seem to be the only words that can leave your mouth as the orgasm builds.

“Look at what a mess you are, sweetheart.”

“Mmm,” is the only hum you can let out as his words barely reach your blissed out brain.

“Beg for it. Beg me to cum,” is the last thing you hear before he’s pulling it away. “Beg me.”

“Fuck,” you cry out before adding, “Please.”

He smirks, pressing it back against you. “Since you asked so nicely.”

The orgasm is all consuming, making your legs shake and back arch as he continues holding it there. “F-fuck.”

Your hips try to escape the torture, but he holds them in place. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.”

Your whine is lost in your throat as another orgasm builds. As sensitive as your cunt is, your brain hasn’t realized it needs to stop.

As your second orgasm builds faster and faster, the white-hot pleasure licking at all your nerve endings and their receptors. “Fuck. Please, please, please,” you chant as it threatens to explode.

“Cum for me.” As the waves cascade over you, he praises you, “Such a good fuckin’ girl for me.”

Everything’s so much more sensitive, so you try to buck him off again. “I can’t. I can’t- “

“Yes, you can,” he slowly soothes, trying to keep your hips in place. “Give me two more, darlin’.”

A sighed “Fuck,” is the response he gets back.

“Atta girl,” he praises as you try to relax, attempting to go as blissed out and boneless as possible again.

The waves of your third wash over you as violently as your second ones leave. And shockingly enough, he doesn’t make you beg this time.

“Good girl. You’re so fuckin’ perfect f’r me, sugar.”

You moan as the praise settles in your chest, your abs forcefully contracting as you continue to fight – and grind against – the vibrations hitting your clit.

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Let me cum on your cock.”

“Not a chance. This is all about you, babe.”

You start to whine, but it turns into a moan as he turns it up, making your legs tremble as your – hopefully – last orgasm in a row takes its sweet time to build.

Despite just how sensitive and heightened your senses are, it doesn’t stop your cunt from following the pleasure.

You start slower than usual, trying to savor the pressure forming in your abdomen – and spine, for that matter – as it coils and coils and fucking coils.

His hands trail down your body and between your thighs before his index and middle fingers are thrust into you. “Goddamn. You’re such a good fuckin’ slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you repeat as the coil slowly starts to unravel as his fingers move.

Joel groans, “Your cunt swallows my fingers like my favorite whore.”

That’s your official undoing. Your back arches until it’s almost painful while your toes curl and fists grip the sheets for dear life.

He keeps the vibrator there until you come back to the land of the living from your blissed out headspace.

“’S a good fuckin’ girl, sugar. You’re so good f’r me.”

By the time he pulls the vibe away, unties your wrists, and starts to softly massage the skin, you’ve barely come back down enough to remember he’s covered in blood. “How,” you start, your brain hazy as hell and struggling to form sentences, “How did you end up covered in blood?”

He sighs like he did when you asked earlier. “They threaten’d you.” Then, a smirk covers his face. “And we both know how well I respond when you’re at risk, pretty girl.”

You grimace, remembering how he beat the fuck out of the last guy who remember fucking with you, so you ask the dreaded question, “Are they dead?”

“Do you want them to be?”

“Joel!”

“They’re not dead, sweetheart, but they’ll think again before fuckin’ with what’s rightfully mine ever again.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll forever be impossible, won’t you?”

“Only for you, baby.”

“At least I know I’m protected,” you tease.

“You better believe it.”

[eternalegolas]

You dismissed @trrenchertrash's argument with no counter-argument until just now when I called you out on it. Being dismissive in a discussion is a bad faith response. I can extend good will far enough to accept that it wasn't intentional but that doesnt absolve it of being in bad faith. The same way you have ignored an entire paragraph of my response, which i will simply repost again for you.

If your issue with "hope" being the theme of the original Star Wars film is because you find it to be underdeveloped and simplistic, I would remind you that theme as a literary device is a central topic, subject, or message within a narrative (which the answer of "hope" covers) and is also often able to be expressed in a single word. In which case an argument that "hope" is too simplistic, implies a fundamental misunderstanding of literary theme and does not apply here. ...

You don't have to like it, thats fine. You are entitled to your own opinions and tastes but to dismiss what is objectively there based on your own personal opinion is disingenuous. And Lord of the Rings is absolutely about love. It is not the only theme in Lord of the Rings but it is a main one, which is very in line with Tolkien's intent to portray his own Christian values in his story.

Additionally, the existence of a character feeling hope is not the same as having hope as a theme in a story. Lots of characters have hope for various different things in The Phantom Menace, and yet hope is still not a theme of that movie because thats not how themes work. Hope existing in a story is not the same as a story being about hope. Almost every film includes learning from failure as well. If characters got everything right the first time we'd be surrounded by some pretty thin plots. The premise even exists in A New Hope, with Luke failing to deflect shots from the combat remote in the beginning, to then successfully destroying the Death Star on the same premise. That doesn't make "learning from failure" a theme of A New Hope.

Technology vs faith is is a weak theme with little supporting evidence in the movie because its not actually a theme in that movie. I'm unsure why you're holding onto the premise despite having disproved it yourself. You are seeking complexity at the expense of understanding what is being shown to you.

... Just because the themes aren't shrouded in layers and layers of complexity doesn't negate their value. Star Wars is meant to be an easily digestible and fun story for all ages. None of that makes it shallow in any sense.

Again, you can dislike it, thats your prerogative, but your personal opinion does not equal an objective fact. I laid out the existence of hope as the theme of A New Hope and you ignored that to refer back to your position of "its too simplistic", completely dismissing that i had already addressed that point as well, which is, you guessed it, disingenuous.

People scream “show don’t tell!” all the damn time, but the second a show actually DOES just show you stuff and make you use your brain to piece things together you scream “bad writing! Bad writing!”

Fuck you. You don’t want a story to “show don’t tell,” you’re literally angry they won’t just spoon feed you the answers on a silver platter.

[ghost-bxrd]

To fuel your JJK and Batfam crossovers, what if Jason became like what Rika is to Yuta to Dick and Bruce. They say Batman got more violent after Robin's death, and while it's true, Jason's the one who is actually almost killing them for trying to hurt Bruce in his eyes. Especially when Bane broke his back, Jason breaks every bone in Bane's body. Blockbuster bombs Dick's apartment, Jason bombs his everything, with a bomb like the one that killed him, and almost rips Catalina to pieces for what she tried to do. When Bruce steps into the JL base after Jason haunts him as a curse, Zatana and Constantine have the same reaction and fear as the second years when they saw Yuta, Raven when she sees Dick with curse!Jason. When Tim and other batfam members join the family, they also get Jason's "curse", with varying reactions. Bruce is horrified that his son would easily kill, but even worse cause it's for him, but can't bring himself to exorcise Jason. Dick as well, buts it's mixed with an awe of how deep Jason loves him. Tim is super happy with having someone who cares about him this much and will stay with him whenever he calls for it, even if the some of the love language is extreme violence towards enemies, and when Jason no diffs the LOA for Damian he feels like a king, gaining the best bodyguard that even Ra's can't harm. Bonus points if Jason appears in his human form to the Batfam unless he's angry, but others can't see him until he attacks so they're near death. And he is monstrousin this form, the same kid who cooks with Alfred in the morning can be a 10 foot tall beast when anyone threatens his family. His curse form looks like how he died, his injuries from the crowbar bleeding on display, but so much bigger with so many eyes and teeth and claws, an explosion happens every time his curse form appears. Anyway curse!Jason AU

I am on my KNEES for this idea holy shit!!!!

Anybody who’s been here long enough for eldritch!Jason and fae!Dick will know how much I love creatures with too many eyes and teeth 👁️

So let’s spin this further!!!! There’s been so many different theories of how Rika came to be and if love could truly be a catalyst for becoming a curse because humanity views love as something sacrosanct.

But the concept of “Love is the most twisted curse of all” is just— so wonderfully applicable for this scenario. Because we’ve got it confirmed time and time again that Jason is the most emotional out of the Bats. And love, in its many forms—a lot of them beautiful—also comes with the duality that can manifest as possessiveness, obsession, jealousy etc. Two sides of the same coin.

Soooooo, fast forward to Jason’s death and transformation into a cursed spirit— let’s have him come to terms with his new existence first. He’ll be scared, full of rage, full of why is this happening to me!?

And maybe for the first few weeks/months he’ll be alone, staying close to his family but trying to get a grip on how and when he appears. Figuring out his existence works, and why explosions seem to suddenly be hard wired into his very being even though, logically, he should be terrified of them.

And!!! The batfam!!!!! Jason’s watching from the sidelines of course, but Bruce operating in Gotham and Dick in Blüdhaven would usually mean that he can’t exist in two places at once. But now that he’s a curse, mere mention of his name is enough to draw Jason’s attention. One second he’ll be watching Bruce bring down a gang in the Bowery, the next he’s blowing Blockbuster and Catalina sky-high. He’s fine tuned into every single bat’s emotional state of being.

And calming him down again??? Hooooo, boy. When curse!Jason falls into a protective frenzy, it has the potential to become bad enough to wipe an entire city off the map, and only the Bats have any hope of calming him down. ((Let’s imagine a ten foot, burned monstrosity being cooed at and skillfully lulled away from the carnage by an exhausted Nightwing asking for cuddles))

(((The Justice League keep urging Bruce to do something about Jason, but all the protectiveness goes both ways: the batfam are NOT losing Jason again.)))

[liviawildrose]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲

take yourself seriously. every inch of you. every dream of yours. every damn thing.

this isn’t just a pep talk; it’s a full-on life shift. if you’re not taking yourself seriously, no one else will either. i’m actually kinda irritated how us women in general don’t value ourselves enough cause bitch it’s a privilege to have a woman in your life like please, we have the power to create a life inside our bodies so best believe we also have the power to change our entire lives. it’s you versus you, babe, and it’s time to step into the main character role you’ve been putting off. here’s how you shift the vibe:

1. start by loving yourself to the fullest

every single inch of you deserves to be loved and respected by you. you want someone to love you? you want people to respect you? start by loving and respecting yourself first. how you treat yourself sets the tone for how others treat you. the mirror won’t smile unless you do. seriously like what’s stopping you from loving, cherishing and prioritising yourself? it’s your body, mind and soul ITS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO TAKE UTMOST CARE OF IT.

take your body seriously. work out, not because society says so, but because your body carries you through this world. strengthen it, nourish it, adore it.

do workout, stretching and yoga to strengthen your body. eat good quality food, healthy food to nourish your body and speak words of affirmation to adore that work of art aka your body. cause why the fuck not? go to a dermatologist, gynaecologist, dentist etc get your check ups done become the most hottest version of yourself. this will keep you strong and healthy ensuring a healthy and fulfilling long life while achieving your body, beauty and physical goals would be just an added benefit (the best possible benefit is your body will thank you when you’re old cause all this workout, yoga regular check ups led you to age like a fine wine without any health concerns)

take your appearance seriously. it’s not about vanity it’s about self-expression and confidence. dress like you care, because you should care. look in the mirror and know you’re that bitch.

do yourself a favour and stop following trends and start becoming more you, pro tip start wearing clothes and makeup according to your venus, rising or mid heaven to suit you better, take your skin care, body care, hair care seriously too. take your time to understand your style, your self care routine. understand your body type, face shape and get clothes that suit you, understand your skin and get skin care that suit you and your skin concerns, understand your hair type and develop a great hair care routine too. do you colour analysis and understand which colour palette suit you the best. START TAKING YOUR APPEARANCE SERIOUSLY.

do your colour analysis done for free with the help of chat gpt

understand your body shape and proportions to dress accordingly

figure out your face shape and get your haircut, eyebrows, eyelashes done accordingly (even getting the best shades or reading glasses)

understand your hair porosity and hair type (even your scalp type) and your hair issues to buy hair products accordingly

understand your skin type and issues you’re facing to buy skin care products accordingly

understand you body too, sometimes you face is oily type but body is dry (like me) so different products

experiment and see what suits you over time (another reason to start using journal, check if certain products are actually showing results if not replace) even certain workouts

2. take your goals seriously

whatever you want to achieve, treat it like your life’s purpose, because it is. no one else will believe in your dreams until you do. stop waiting for validation from the outside.

take your career seriously. what are you doing every day to move the needle forward? no more procrastinating or making excuses. schedule your time. commit to your craft.

become the best at everything you do, dedicate time to becoming better everyday single day. become addicted to getting better becoming the top 1% develop a mindset of getting better everyday single day. keep developing your crafts your passion and practice daily

take your learning seriously. every book, every lesson, every skill it’s building the future version of you. treat your studies, hobbies, and passions like they’re sacred, because they are.

one thing that i’m doing these days is taking my learning seriously, be it academic and school stuff but also watching youtube videos on manifestation and learning better my top recommendation for understanding manifestation better is this channel called nero knowledge. now the thing all of his videos are long videos surpassing 30 mins average easily but that’s one way up putting it i’m trying to get my attention i’ve lost to short term 1-2 mins content back (and you should do it too) learn new skills, cooking, baking, new language, or whatever seriously why? cause this will help you get better as a human and as a player in the game of life. no skill is a waste or not that great like someone told “cooking is not that great of a skill” but guess what it is. you can use this skill to feed yourself but also this is such a flex skill it’s a patriarchal world unfortunately and just because we as women hate it doesn’t mean the patriarchy will go away. knowing how to cook is a survival skill which is important for both the genders but for some weird reason when women do it it’s “hot” and “ domestic” so let’s just use this skill to use and throw men and society in general. similarly drawing is a skill that you can use to show off too. skills is not just about learning language or coding etc

3. curate your reality like it’s your personal museum

your life is your masterpiece. everything you consume; what you eat, what you watch, what you listen to, who you hang around is shaping your reality. be intentional about it.

• what are you watching? is it inspiring you or draining you? binge less nonsense and more content that pushes you to grow.

again, if you haven’t made your mindmovie, please make it. ask chatgpt to make you a beautiful story where you have everything you desire and read it every single day. listen to subliminals. watch long form educational content like nero knowledge. be very intentional with whatever put in your brain. i’m not even kidding. your brain will shape your reality, so be very intentional. with whatever things you say to it, movies you watch, songs you listen to. everything. also be very intentional with your friends and people you surround yourself with because they can also influence you a lot. you are the average of five people you spend your most time with so be very fucking intentional.

• what are you eating? fuel your body like you care about living long enough to see your dreams come true.

as i mentioned earlier, eat your food intentionally and eat your food. if you’re planning to lose weight, eat food accordingly, if you’re planning to gain weight, eat food accordingly. (make a meal plan and get a nutritionist too if needed) if you’re like me who wants to become a singer, stop eating ice cream and stuff that will affect your throat. eat your food like your medicine or you have to eat medicine as your food. be intentional with your food as well. don’t eat unhygienic food either eat home-cooked food. and if you’re eating outside, make sure that the food is hygienic and the ingredients are also good quality being very mindful with whatever the heck you are putting in your body my love. 

• who are you around? energy is contagious, babe. surround yourself with people who make you want to level up, not stay stagnant.

i’m not saying, cut off all your friends. but i’m saying that distance yourself at least with people who are not ready to grow. people who are way too comfortable in their own comfort zone. and people who are not ready to see anyone else grow. people who constantly put other people down. and people who try to undermine you. be friends with people who want to grow. if you are at a certain level get friends who are also at your level, but are willing to change. or get friends how are at higher level than you who can help you grow too. and is that means you have to cut ties with your old friends it’s okay

4. respect yourself enough to show up

it’s not about perfection; it’s about consistency. every single day is a new chance to prove to yourself that you’re worth the effort.

• wake up earlier. give yourself time to breathe and plan before the world starts pulling you in every direction.

half of the game is literally to show up every single day. most of us fail to do so. consistency is what matters the most. so show up every single day respect yourself. don’t disrespect yourself by showing that “oh i am just a lazy bitch.” no, you’re not. respect yourself enough to show up every single day. for example you respect your professor and that is why no matter how drained you are, you will still show up to the class or at least hand in the work on time because you know that professor have the power to deduct or increase your marks just like that in your life, the professor is all your goals and in order to please this professor (goals) you need to show up every fucking day so that the professor aka your goals, give you the results that you want 

• set boundaries. protect your peace. say no to what drains you, and hell yes to what fuels you.

respect yourself enough to set boundaries and protect your peace, no matter what. this is actually the very first step of levelling up and i have mentioned this in the first steps. have enough courage to say no to things, people and circumstances that are not aligned with who you wanna be and the goals you have. for example, if a friend asks you that or do you wanna drink? say no. especially if you’re like me, and you wanna become a singer, alcohol damage your vocal chords, and i cannot take that risk. start saying no to plans that do not align with your goals and the person you are trying to become. it’s a way of showing respect to the person you’re trying to be. again if your show respect to the person you’re tryna become or the reality your chasing you will not have it, your actions and beliefs should be in alignment with the reality you seek

• prioritize self-care like it’s non-negotiable. rest, hydrate, and treat yourself kindly.

again i’ve mentioned this earlier too in the first steps so please read that, no matter how much you train and hustle you need to give yourself enough time to recover even athletes do this after intense training, they do spend some time recovering so that they muscles and overall stamina get used to everything. if you’re only working like a robot and you refuse to give yourself time to rest, it’s not gonna work. moreover, it’s not healthy. give yourself time to rest. hydrate and do self-care. treat yourself, kindly. as i mentioned in my become your own mother blog. you have to become a mother to your own self, who says. “i want you to work hard, because you deserve a better life” but also a mother who says “you should rest and take some moment to relax because you’ve worked hard and you deserve it” it’s all about balance. even in my game of life blog, i mention fun and recreation category, because having fun and treating yourself kindly, relaxing all these things matter too. because you just can’t keep on working and not have fun and relax in your life. that’s not how i want you to live this life. i want you to hustle hard and the party even harder.

5. start dating yourself

no, seriously. treat yourself like the love of your life.

• take yourself on solo dates. dress up, and go somewhere that makes you happy.

ask yourself, when you’re in love with someone what do you do? you try to become better to get their attention (my sister aka me changed her entire music taste to get validation from this guy, yeah i know embarrassing) but seriously you take care of the way you dress, what you post on social media, your words etc. so now put that same “im obsessed with you” energy towards yourself. workout get a better physique FOR YOU, better your conversation skills FOR YOU, score good marks FOR YOU, become rich FOR YOU.

• journal your thoughts and dreams like you’re getting to know someone deeply because you are.

start journaling, shadow working etc to understand yourself better cause that’s exactly what you’d do if you’re the love of your life, understanding yourself your flaws, your dark side, your patterns, your attachment style etc why? cause you love yourself. do scrap book journaling to honour your life. paste photos of your achievements etc (i’ll make a post about my journals too) but y’all got the idea. start journaling you thoughts and feelings, you don’t need a “how was your day?” text to write about your day in your journal

• spoil yourself. don’t wait for someone else to buy you flowers or treat you to nice things. do it for yourself.

stop letting life happen to you, go live your life yourself, go audition alone, go start a business alone do things alone and be okay with that, if you do have a friend who is in this journey of growth with you together that’s great but please don’t wait for a man or a friend to start living your life be okay with doing with on your own and as well as in a group

6. heal for the little you inside

your inner child is still here, waiting for you to show her the love and care she deserved

just read become your own mother. i have explained this topic in detail. but seriously, one way to honour yourself is to honour your inner child too

7. your energy will mirror back to you

the way you treat yourself is the way the world will treat you.

• if you neglect yourself, people will neglect you.

it starts with you, babe. how you show up for yourself sets the standard for how others show up for you. if you don’t take your boundaries seriously no one else will. if you’re not putting effort in showing up for yourself no one else will, that is why one way to manifest your dream life (your dream reality) is by wearing what your alter ego (your higher self would wear) i have written about alter ego in first steps and the game of life so read it if you’re new here

• if you don’t respect yourself, people will disrespect you.

as awful it may sound, but you have to earn your respect. why do you think your professors will take you seriously? if you don’t score good marks it’s not like they will treat you like a piece of shit, but they won’t take your opinion seriously because you haven’t improved yourself enough for that yet i’m not even kidding. if you really wanna be heard, you have to do something that is remarkable. i know it’s a hard to swallow and it might feel like what the heck?. everyone should deserve respect equally. and that’s true. i agree with you. i personally would never look down on someone just because he or she haven’t done something remarkable, or they aren’t as rich or pretty. i would never do that, but that is not the same case with how society thinks if you wanna step up, you have to do things and show the world that: yes, i am capable. for that, you have to respect yourself enough to take the first step in order to achieve greatness. and then people would respect you more because the energy you’re putting will mirror back to you.

• if you don’t take your dreams seriously, no one else will.

i mean, seriously, just start taking your dreams, seriously. no one else will take your life, your dream, your looks, your income, seriously, if you don’t. it’s not like other people owe you success. you have to do that. you have to become your own knight in the shining armour. and change your life completely. because if you’re not taking your dream, seriously, why will anyone? you have to take initiative. you have put yourself up there. and get that bag. 

8. stop waiting for permission

you don’t need someone to tell you it’s okay to go after your dreams. you don’t need a cheerleader to remind you that you’re worthy. you have to affirm it to yourself, every single day: “i am capable. i am worthy. i am doing this.”

• stop hesitating. the perfect moment will never come. just start.

for example, i want to become a singer. but that doesn’t mean that i will wait for a label to notice me and change my life upside down. no, i will start making covers. i will start practising my craft, i will email managers and people in that field to notice me because it’s on me. i have to do that. i’ll have to do the research and look up for any audition. and by the time, i am gifted with a perfect moment or opportunity i will be ready to snatch that opportunity because i kept on levelling up my skills, so when the opportunity comes, i will be more than qualified for it. 

• don’t wait for external validation. be your own biggest hype squad.

there are gonna be days. no one is gonna hype you up, and you have to do that. actually, you have to do that every single day. if you wake up early and get your morning routine done give yourself a pat on the back every. single. day. tell yourself, “i’m so proud of myself.” you studied for three hours? give yourself a pat on the back. like come on, if no one else gonna appreciate you, you can! you can appreciate yourself every. single. day. and yes, every single day, i’m not exaggerating. i want you to keep on hyping yourself up every fucking day. and i’ll keep hyping you up too because i love y’all

9. get 1-2% better every day

you don’t need to overhaul your entire life overnight. just focus on being a tiny bit better than you were yesterday.

• drank one more glass of water? better.

• walked an extra block? better.

• studied for an hour extra? better.

those small wins add up, babe. before you know it, you’ll look back and barely recognize the person you used to be. it’s me vs me

10. make yourself proud

this is your life. your story. your masterpiece. stop living like you’re a side character and start owning the spotlight.

• take yourself seriously because you’re worth it.

i think i have explained this quite a number of times throughout the blog. but I’ll say it again. take yourself seriously. take your thoughts seriously. take your mental health seriously. take your body seriously. take your mind seriously, your spiritual beliefs seriously, your presence seriously, your ideas seriously every single thing i mean it every single thing seriously and get rid of anything that is trying to come between you and your goals (your dream life)

• work for your inner child, your future self, and the person you’re becoming.

be intentional with everything you do, the people you hang out with if the same people have hurt you or you’re inner child get rid of them. if these people will affect your future and your future self, basically, the person you’re trying to become get rid of them. similarly, if a thing or particular circumstance is affecting you, please get rid of those things. be intentional with how you talk to yourself and the things you listen, to the videos you watch, the food you eat, the songs you listen to, all of them should align with the person you’re trying to become. start aligning yourself in the same frequency as your dream self i.e your future self by wearing clothes that she might wear, by talking and watching videos that she might watch and basically embody her habits, believes and mindset. while doing all this, keep working on your shadow self (do shadow work) and healing your inner child simultaneously. (healing is a daily practice)

• every single thing you do for yourself now is setting the foundation for the empire you’re building.

also, the same thing be intentional with whatever you’re doing. if you wanna become a millionaire, your habit should look like one. if you are trying to become a good person, a loving person, your habits should look like one. If you’re trying to become a singer, your habits should look like one. It’s all in what we do daily and our habits literally.

if you want to join me on this journey of becoming my higher self. please comment, like, reblog, and follow let's embrace the glow of together.

[yua0ra]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨

WARNINGS: mattheo x ravenclaw!fem!reader, breaking the rules, reader is brutally hit by an angry bludger (lol), established relationship. SFW. not proofread.

fluff ☏

SUMMARY: After a brutal bludger hit leaves you unconscious and in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey bans all visitors to ensure your recovery. However, just as you’re grappling with the “no more flying for a while” rule, Mattheo sneaks in, grinning like he owns the place. He’s armed with stolen sweets and endless teasing, and espite your protests, his playful banter, plotting and expected charm, makes recovery far less boring.

WC: +1.2K AN: ENJOY! <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The damage was done. The bludger collided with your head, its impact sharp and unrelenting. You hadn’t even seen it coming, and before you had time to brace yourself, your body was thrown off your broom, spiraling uncontrollably through the air. The ground rushed up to meet you far too quickly, and everything went black as you hit the dirt.

When you awoke, you found yourself lying in the cool, sterile bed of the hospital wing. The soft rustling of Madam Pomfrey’s robes filled the air as she hovered over you, fussing with her potions and muttering to herself in a language you couldn’t quite follow. Pain pulsed in your head, making it hard to concentrate, but you could still feel the weight of her magic working to heal you.

“You’re lucky,” Madam Pomfrey said with a tone that was a mix of relief and reprimand. “That was a nasty knock to the head, but you’ll be fine. No flying for a while, though.”

You barely heard her, your mind too foggy from the injury. Still, as the haze began to clear, one thought nagged at you: Mattheo. You hadn’t seen him since the incident, and despite the fact that he was on the opposing Slytherin team, you couldn’t shake the worry that he might be concerned. After all, Mattheo, sometimes was far from the usual Slytherin arrogance believe it or not. He had a unique, unpredictable way of showing he cared, a way that more often than not, got him in trouble.

But it wasn’t just him you had to worry about; it was Madam Pomfrey’s strict rules. She had already made it clear that no one was allowed to visit you while you recovered. And most importantly, what did she mean by “no flying”? The season was just starting and you couldn’t afford losing too much practice.

As time passed, you began to drift in and out of consciousness, the pain in your head still throbbing, though less intense. That was until you heard a soft, familiar voice break through the silence.

“You look terrible.”

Mattheo’s voice was low, full of that signature smirk of his, even though you could tell he was trying to suppress it. You didn’t even need to open your eyes to know who it was. You could hear the unmistakable sound of his footsteps, deliberate and quiet, obviously trying not to alert Madam Pomfrey. Your eyes flickered open slowly, surprised but somehow not surprised at all. There, leaning casually against the curtain that separated your bed from the rest of the wing, was Mattheo, his mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“I feel terrible, and you’re not supposed to be here,” you muttered, the words thick and sluggish as you tried to sit up. “Never stopped me before,” he said with a wink.

“Besides, I’m just checking on my favorite girl.” He looked down at you with concern, his gaze softening as he caught sight of the bandages wrapped around your head.

You tried to shoot him a glare, but the effort only made your head pound more. “Madam Pomfrey will catch you.”

“She can’t catch me if she doesn’t know I’m here,” Mattheo said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “And I’ve got my ways. Don’t worry.” His eyes twinkled with that spark of mischief that always seemed to follow him like a shadow.

Despite yourself, you smiled faintly. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, you mean,” he quipped, his grin widening.

“Merlin’s tits Matty”

“I couldn’t leave you alone in here,” Mattheo ignored your comment, his voice quieter now. “Besides, I think I might have a little surprise for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “A surprise?”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a small package of Fizzing Whizzbees “don’t worry, it’s not illegal… well, mostly not illegal, I stole them from Honeydukes,” he laughed. “Just a little something to make you feel better.”

“Aw… thank you baby!” You could have sworn you saw a pretty red hue decorating his cheeks but before you could comment on it, he cleared his throat “don’t get too comfortable, though. You’ll be back on that broom before you know it.”

“Madam Pomfrey said “no flying”, so… how am I supposed to do that?” you asked, the sarcasm in your voice evident as you glanced at the bandages still wrapped tightly around your head.

Mattheo’s grin grew wider. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re a Ravenclaw, after all. You’ve got that whole ‘brains over brawn’ thing going for you, right?”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, brains don’t exactly help when your head feels like it’s about to explode. But thanks for the encouragement, I guess.”

“Ah, well, if anyone can figure out how to get back on a broom while half-dead, it’s you.” He leaned against the bedframe, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Maybe you could borrow my broom. I’ll give you a head start and all.” You chuckled despite yourself. “I’m pretty sure the last time you let me ride your broom with you, we ended up in a tree.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” he protested, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “It was the wind, or maybe some stray magic. Who can say? Anyway, I’m positive that wasn’t my broom’s fault. Just a… little accident.”

“A little accident?” you laughed. “Mattheo, you flew me straight into a tree while trying to ‘show off’ your skills.”

“Well, you can’t deny that my skills are impressive.” He shot you a cocky grin before straightening up. “Besides, I was just trying to make it exciting. Who wants a boring, uneventful flight, anyway?”

“You’re lucky I’m even talking to you after that stunt,” you said, shaking your head with a smirk. “I should’ve gotten you expelled for that, you know.”

“Oh, come on, love, you know I’ve got a face that gets me out of trouble.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, clearly proud of himself. “It’s my best weapon. Don’t act like you’re not impressed.” You rolled your eyes, but despite the teasing, a laugh bubbled up. “Well, you certainly make trouble look entertaining.”

“That’s the goal, obviously,” he said with a wink. “But seriously, once you’re back in shape, I’ll be there to make sure you don’t take any more unplanned naps on the ground. You’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine,” you said, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips. “But I can’t promise I won’t need a little bit of help staying out of trees next time.” Mattheo grinned, his tone turning playful again. “I’ll keep that in mind. You never know when a tree might decide to attack you.” He gave you a dramatic look of concern. “You might need a bodyguard for that. I volunteer as tribute.”

“Oh, please. You’d probably end up trying to fly into the tree again to impress me,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? It’s a gift. But don’t worry, I’ve got a much more foolproof plan for next time.”

“And what would that be?” you asked, intrigued despite yourself.

“Easy,” he said, putting his hands behind his back like a magician preparing for a big reveal. “I’ll just get you a helmet. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself on those crazy tree branches, would we?”

“Not sure if you’re insulting me or trying to protect my dignity, but thanks,” you replied dryly, though you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, I’m just saying, we can’t have you falling off the broom again,” he said, his grin widening at the sight of you trying not to laugh. “You never know what could happen on your next ‘adventure.’”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, finally letting out a small chuckle. “Just make sure to stay out of my way when I get back on that broom. I’m aiming for no more tree incidents, thanks to your ‘help.’”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to catch you—whether you like it or not,” Mattheo said, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he headed for the door.

You shook your head as he disappeared down the hallway, already planning his next ridiculous idea to “help” you back on your broom. For all his teasing and mischievous ways, you had to admit, it was nice to know you wouldn’t be alone in recovering from this latest incident.

Maybe mischievous Mattheo wasn’t as bad as you’d thought. Even if he still had a penchant for getting into trouble, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you secretly enjoyed every second of it.

[esosage]

I need a vamp robotnik au set in the crab so bad. Like i crave that shit carnally. You dont understand.

Just envison the ship potential. Like i cant imagine that stone could live in close proximity with a vamp robotnik withought getting bitten once or twice. Especially when the only reliable food source robotnik has when in hiding from the government IS STONE! A fact that could be made even better if you make it so that robotnik hasnt bitten anyone before, up until that point.

Just imagine robotnik having gone through YEARS of fighting his urges. Of makeing sure that he wont let something as biological as "hunger" control him. Doing everything he can to avoid drinking from a human, only to be put in a situation years down the line where thats the only solution. And the worst part is that it's his assistant of all people! Like how would robotnik feel? What lengths would he go to in order to avoid the inevitable? How would he react when the time comes? Hell, how would stone react? How would he feel about robotnik starving himself? What would he do?

And when it inevitablly does happen, and robotnik is forced to feed from stone what happens? Does stone become a vampire, or is he fine? And what about robotnik? Does he, after practically being given his first drop of water in a desert after drinking sand his whole life, get addicted? Can he, after being given the best tasting blood he's ever had, still control the urge to feed from stone again? Does it become routine? Does he embrace the oprotunity to feed from stone with open arms from then on? or, does he lie awake at night, tossing in bed next to stone as he tries his best to not sink his teeth in?

Ugh i need to knooow. Besides, theres so much shennanigens you can have with someone living that close to a vampire, for that long. Its driving me crazy.

(Also if robotniks a vampire, is gerald a vampire aswell? I mean it would explain how he's still alive. Is the whole robotnik family vampires? Are they the only vampires out there? And if so, because robotnik was too young to know any of them, how much does robotnik know about vampirism? If much at all? I mean sure, some things he understands naturally, but i doubt it would be everything.. Hell, there could even be some things that robotnik missunderstands about his own biology, since the only real reference for vampires he would have would be the ones in cartoons. Maybe that could be an additional reason as to why he brushes stone asside in favor of gerald, outside of wanting to bond with his long lost grandpop. He finnally has someone who's like him! Who knows and understands what's going on, and can even answer some of robotniks questions about vampirism that no one before him {not even robotnik himself,} ever could! Kinda like a mentor figure in a way. I'm sure robotnik would be thrilled to find out that he's not the only vampire. Especially since it must have been pretty lonely and ostrasizing to have been a vampire growing up. To be so fundementaly different from the rest of his peers, with "quirks" that no one could explain. So there deffinetly would be a sense of kinship that ivo would hold twards gerald in that regard.)

[tobiasdrake]

Another fun tidbit from the novel is the counting system. This is one of my favorite elements, because it goes to show how things were already a fucking disaster before Nedry's sabotage ever even happened. Jurassic Park is, by narrative design, a shithole of the worst techbro bullshit you've ever heard.

JP's systems were all created blindly. Hammond underpaid contractors to make the systems that he wanted without telling them anything about what the systems would be used for. Then he had to spend money flying them out to the park when inevitably nothing fucking worked right.

The goal was complete automation. Ideally, they'd be able to run this park with minimal human staff, because human staff require paychecks. To that end, the park was full of complex systems designed to run things in place of human personnel.

(This is why the tour cars have no drivers and just run on a track. Hammond isn't dishing out money for contextually responsive tour guides who can answer questions and direct visitors! The he'd have to pay salaries!)

One of those systems was the counting system. Its job was to make sure that the animal populations remained stable. The way it works is that it periodically takes a headcount.

If there's supposed to be thirteen velociraptors then it counts one, two, three, until it hits thirteen. Thirteen raptors! All present and accounted for. We have no problems.

...yeah, if you've seen the movie, you probably already know what went wrong with that. The system simply wasn't programmed for the possibility that there might be more animals than expected. When it found the number it expected to find, it stopped counting.

So staff kept trucking along, secure in the knowledge that everything was fine and dandy. Blissfully unaware that they were bleeding animals, as escaped dinosaurs kept stowing away on boats and getting free on the mainland.

Because when you actually have 42 velociraptors and the system expects to find 13, it's really easy for a bunch of them to slip out unnoticed.

[sufferu]

I have a fanfic idea for you.

Growing up, Anastasia would dream of a boy in a world different from her own; while Subaru would get visits from a ghostly purple haired girl. They would soon grow to be like siblings, with Subaru showing the wonders of his world and its inventions, while Ana would tell him of her world and its wonders and dangers. She would then use her knowledge of the modern world to help her become more successful as a merchant, while helping Subaru with his own issues and how to better interact with others.

Come the day where Subaru finds himself in Lugunica, he would be more cautious and set out to find the only friend he has in this new world.

There are details to this story that probably needs fine-tuning or outright changes. And I honestly don't know if Subaru would fair better or if he still dies a number of times.

Of course, whether or not you are interested in the idea, I was wondering what your thoughts are on it, and whether or not it would be a good fanfic or at least a one-shot chapter.

I probably won’t write this simply because I’m already doing A Lot, but I think it does actually have a lot of potential! What I’d suggest is to keep a couple of things in mind:

What do Anastasia and Subaru get out of this relationship as they grow up? I imagine that Anastasia’s influence would make Subaru significantly cleverer and wilier, and that she’d assist him in making smart choices while also building his confidence in acting as HE sees fit instead of acting how other people expect him (especially since a lot of his insecurities come from his father and Anastasia is an orphan). Bonus: this would likely mean that he doesn’t actually become a drop-out like he does in canon, both because her influence would target the very flaws that led to such an event and because it would emphasize that their relationship really has had an impact on their lives. Meanwhile, Subaru’s openness and authenticity would probably help Anastasia lower the guards around her heart and be more openly charitable towards others rather than couching everything in “What can THEY do for ME?” and might even influence things like her sense of humor. Hell, maybe some of his interests inspire some of her business ventures, like his love of Light Novels. Not to mention the whole thing with him being from beyond the Great Waterfall, which she now has an exclusive window to see into.

How has their influence shaped the trajectory of one another’s lives? Like above, I’d suggest looking at their canon past experiences and seeing where you can maybe…reshape some events, in a way that’s noticeably more Subaru- or Anastasia-like. I’ve mentioned the drop-out thing and the expansive of Anastasia’s business endeavors, but perhaps Anastasia’s whole philosophy for how to rule a nation gets a bit tweaked as a result of Subaru’s influence as well.

How would Subaru know that this is Anastasia’s homeland? Perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps the possibility doesn’t even cross his mind: that seems very much like Subaru. Perhaps he doesn’t even recognize her at first. Does she recognize him? Is she miffed that he doesn’t also realize what’s going on? Does she not realize who he is until after Julius has already challenged him to a duel? How does this influence their interactions? Or — does someone like Ricardo figure out what’s going on before either of them ever do?

Do the visions stop when Subaru enters this new world? Does Subaru mourn their loss during the months before the Royal Selection Ceremony, adding to his accumulating stress? Does Anastasia panic about what might have happened to her old friend? —Or do they keep going, and now Anastasia is watching her old friend unravel before her eyes?

How does this impact Anastasia and Emilia’s relationship? I imagine Subaru gushed before about how he likes girls with silver hair, especially since he and Anastasia have a sibling-like relationship here (good choice btw). So does she see Emilia and go “Ah…” Is she resentful that Subaru is in EMILIA’s camp, and not her own? Does she respond by adapting and using it as a way to strengthen ties with another political camp? Does she grow fond of Emilia faster, or slower?

Anyway, I think there are a lot of things you could do with this fic! I’m basically never going to say that any idea is bad from the outset — execution is everything — but I can see a number of ways that this could go. I hope you give it a shot!

[calliecwrites]

Shifter HRT, part 7 – Tipping Point (9 Months)

Things are finally going – or should I say goo-ing. It’s like I’ve been pushing a boulder uphill, and now I’ve reached the top and it’s rolling down on its own. My body is finally catching up with my mind. Just existing isn’t a struggle anymore. I’m a weird gooey mess, and, yes, there’s plenty that’s uncomfortable, but I’m doing good. It’s way too long since I’ve been able to say that.

I ache all over. Parts of me have changed completely, mostly skin and muscles. My organs are still mostly untouched – but even there the filaments of fluid are everywhere, and they’re getting denser all the time. My whole body is equally sensitive to touch now. Before, my hands and face were the most sensitive, as usual, but now it’s all the same. I can feel the same amount of detail wherever.

And the parts that changed? That’s where things get interesting.

When I’m not paying attention, they stay as a sort of smooth shiny version of human skin, and underneath have the same texture as human flesh. At a glance, you might not notice the difference, not with human senses. My shifter body is defaulting to human form, which I suppose makes sense since it needs to keep the human parts of me alive until everything is converted. Wouldn’t want it all falling apart half way through.

When I do pay attention, I can make things change. I relax – but it’s not my muscles I’m relaxing, it’s my form. There’s no other word for it. The parts of me that changed get softer and more flexible. Let go completely, and they turn completely fluid.

And now for the goo-d part!

To my hands (which are still human), the fluid feels viscous, but not wet or oily or sticky – there’s no residue. When completely relaxed, it’s almost as thick as syrup. It’s cooler to the touch than normal human body temperature, but that feels fine. Right now it’s always slightly paler than my skin – I haven’t figured out how to change colour yet. I can push my fingers – or other things – all the way into the fluid, and the pressure is comfortable. Squeeze it between my fingers, and it’ll slowly mould into shape against them.

Except this is part of me. I don’t just have to squish passively around things – I can change shape on purpose, and resist external forces. Right now my hands are stronger than the fluid – I can mess up any form I’m trying to hold just by squeezing it with my fingers – but I’ve got the feeling that’s going to change. I can feel everything I touch, in more detail than I could with my human fingers before all this started.

When I tense up fully – not really the right word, but it’s the best I’ve found – it all becomes solid again. I’m back in my usual human form. I’m aware that I’m actively holding this form now – it’s no longer just a passive default. For this form, it’s almost effortless. Other forms are harder. That’s going to take practice.

* * *

I lie down on the sofa. I relax, and let go of my form. All the parts of me that can be fluid, are. I focus on one part, and stretch it out over the nearby skin. My human parts can only move how the muscles and joints allow, but the fluid is completely flexible, and I can move or shape it in any direction. There is no difference between moving and shaping – they’re the same thing.

I stretch out further to form a little tentacle, curling out from my side, and lift it up to poke at other parts of my body – which I’m fully aware of because of my sense of form. I feel my way over the sofa to a little table. Occasionally I can taste what I’m touching – which my brain still insists is coming from my mouth, just to confuse things. The table is wooden, which tastes weird – though not bad, like I imagine it would if I tried to bite it. There’s a lamp there, and closer to the lamp, I can tell it’s lighter – eventually that’ll become sight. I try to push my way into a join in the wood, but can’t. I’m limited to big blobby shapes for now – fine control will come later.

But the biggest limit is that I’m working with a fixed amount of fluid. Shifters can get much bigger or much smaller, so that’ll change eventually – and don’t even ask how the physics of that works – but for the moment, anything I move into one place has to come from somewhere else. If I want a bigger tentacle, say, something like the length of my arm, I’ll need a whole bunch more goo than I’ve got in any one place.

So I stretch my tentacle towards another patch of goo, and stretch out that patch till they’re touching. Now there’s an arch of goo between two parts of my body. Then I let go at the bottom of the second patch, and it all merges together into one longer limb. And that’s fine – goo is goo, it doesn’t belong in one place or another – though now there’s a big gap in my side where I took it all from, right down to the level that’s still human. A thin layer of fluid that I can’t move holds the human parts in, and the network of tendrils spreads out from there through the inside of my body. Not that I’m bothered by the gap – the shifter part of me already doesn’t have a fixed form, and as long as the human parts aren’t disturbed, I feel comfortable however.

But one thing I noticed pretty quickly – all the parts of me that have changed, whether fluid or solid, have to stay connected to each other. Still-human patches of skin, like my hands, don’t count as connected, which is why I have to move the fluid around the way I do. I can’t disconnect any of it completely from the rest of me. I’ll be able to do that eventually, but right now even thinking about that feels like a really bad idea, at a deep level I’m not going to mess with. That’ll come later.

So I repeat the process all over my body, till: tentacle complete! And now for phase two:

I reach over to the table, wrap my tentacle around a glass, carefully pick it up, and take a sip. It’s taken me days to get this far without spilling things everywhere. I put the glass down – and can’t help giggling. It worked! Callie the tentacle monster!

I know exactly what I want to try next. I manage to split the end of my tentacle in two. Because what’s an arm but a tentacle with fingers, after all?

I form the rough shape of a hand. Five fingers is too much to focus on all at once, so four will have to do. Bones would be helpful here, too. I know how bones feel, because I know how everything in me feels. I tense up to make the middle of each section more solid – though the fingers are so small that’s really pushing the limits of what I can do. Then I manage to solidify the outside into shiny smooth ‘skin’.

However hard I try, I can’t do fine details yet, so it ends up looking more like a cartoon arm than a human one. But it’s unmistakably an arm.

I move it slowly, making sure to hold the form as I do, and close the fingers around one of my other arms.

And if three arms, why not more? Collect more goo, repeat, and:

I’ve got four arms! Oh my god I’ve got four arms! And it wasn’t even that hard – since I already know what an arm feels like, and this is just… more of them. And it feels great! My mind has no problem at all adapting, as long as I remember to hold the form. I get up and walk around, slightly giddy. I grin at myself in the mirror. I pick things up, shake my own hands crosswise, hug myself – and I’d hug someone else, too, if there was anyone around. I take a few photos – though I use my old hands for that; wouldn’t have the dexterity yet in my new ones – and guess who’s got transition photos, at last!

After a few minutes I’m exhausted, and let everything go. I’m aching all over again. My arms turn fluid, and I slowly pull it all back to my body. I slump on the sofa, goo hanging out all over the place. Yeah, I’m a mess. There are gaps all over my body where I’ve taken the fluid from. But I’m grinning, and can barely believe I actually did it.

Now that I’m not holding a form, the fluid is balancing out, slowly moving through the filaments inside my body till all the gaps are filled and I look human again. Back to the default, for now. But even though I’m limited, even though I can’t do much yet, there’s a huge difference between ‘fixed form’ and ‘default form’, and I’m already so much more comfortable. Now just to wait for the rest!

* * *

When the urge to absorb things comes on, well, I still can’t, but now at least I can go half way. I can flow around things, hold them inside my body, squeeze them as tightly as I can, until I’ve fitted myself to all the details down to the limits of what I can feel. I think that’s all the detail I could handle right now. And it helps. The dysphoria isn’t as bad, and at least I can do part of what my body wants. Things with complex shapes and lots of little holes are best. I can sit there for hours just doing that. I’m easily entertained.

I’ve told more of my friends, and even hinted to some of my family. As for work, fortunately I’ve been working from home since my job went remote during lockdown, so once again it’s put on a safe face for the camera while absolutely anything could be going on off screen, just like in my first transition – and oh boy, if only they knew! How many arms or legs have I got today? They don’t need to know! Or pretending to be all serious with my boss while twisting and flowing through half a dozen gratings I picked up somewhere – they have no idea! No idea at all.

And as for the rest – I’m tired now. Shapeshifting takes a lot out of me when I’ve never done it before, who’d have guessed. But I’m definitely not human anymore – and now no one can deny it.

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It's back! I won't be posting as regularly as the first time round – but hopefully there won't be any more months-long gaps between posts like with this one. So: coming soon, Part 8: Return to Hyper City!

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