#people are more than welcome to give their own opinions on this by the way!

[thatfrailsoul]

– The journey of a soul

new year tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

pictures from pinterest → one, two, three

Sometimes we crave that something… We feel the need to create, to speak, to make our steps in a certain way. With more intention, more meaning, more magic in it. Something that can give to all of this, to every single little detail and moment in our routines, more significance. And by doing so, give our own selves more motivation, strength, courage and energy to keep on going. Feeling that it is not at all useless. Feeling that there is something more in this life than just the material, at times repetitive or stagnant world. But even when we have so much desire for it… It is still not so easy to understand which is that one way to do things that can really help us see and feel again this world from the perspective of our soul, and not our consumed and tired thoughts. What we can do to connect, nourish and embrace ourselves. Through the expression of our soul.

This is our very first reading for this new year, requested by one of you to whom I’m so grateful for this idea and chance to tap for a moment in the more spiritual aspect of our life. No matter if you already have someone or something that you believe in, accepting their guidance in your life; if you always felt connected so deeply only to your own self; if you never felt this desire to look at life differently until this point… You are welcomed here, and there will be the right message for you. As no matter if we look at it from the spiritual and religious perspective, or more logical and psychological one, there is still something that can help you express, nourish and celebrate yourself more. Something that can help you find more peace within this year, transforming it into the strength to go through this life and the easy or challenging moments it sometimes gifts.

So slow down. Breathe. Allow yourself to let go for a moment of judgment, analysis or control. And just follow that one pile that attracts your gaze more. The one that is hiding the message from your soul.

P.s. A little question for you.♡

As I’m trying to improve the experience of the extended versions of our readings, it would be deeply helpful for me to know your opinion about their format! For example, when and if you’ll ever buy an extended version of a reading, what would be more comfortable for you to find in them? Just the additional message? Or it might be helpful to have the original one included too, so you have everything in one place in case you want to read again the whole reading, or check more than one pile?

{ Thank you so much for letting me know!♡ }

�� Pile One,

the coffin: the king of wands and the temperance

This past year… There were so many things that you were forced to say goodbye to. People, connections, ideas and opportunities, journeys and goals… So many things didn't work, for one reason or another. So many of them needed a different approach, much more than you expected or could do. So many of them seemed to not want you at all, pushing you back no matter how many times you tried to make them work.

But even if it was frustrating and scary, you adapted to all the failures and changes. You tried to remain on the surface in any way you could, looking for something else, accepting whatever alternative seemed good enough for you. And even though you did your best, you managed to make things work either way, accepting them and being grateful even though they are not exactly like you wanted or imagined… It still remains a reality that is not quite yours. Just the one you surrendered to and embraced in the absence of other things that you truly wanted to live and achieve. And in the long run… It is tiring you. To need to keep up with a life that you don't feel truly fitting for yourself, your desires or goals. Because no matter how many positive aspects you can find in them, no matter how strong and capable you are, to make use of them and endure them... It still remains a heavy phase of life, the one that you are going through.

If we’d to ask ourselves what are the things in our life that we don't want or don't feel quite right… We would think almost immediately and only about the big ones. Work, home, studies, relationships that we can’t really control… But there is much more between these big and main goals or concerns that consume all of our focus. There are those little actions and decisions that we do each day, in our routine that we are not really even aware of anymore, allowing it to guide us blindly through one day and the one after that. And there are a lot of aspects of them that we let pass by, without looking at what they are made of. And how many things of those are really aligned with who we want to be or how we want to live this life.

It is normal that we can’t just stand up and change everything in our life, there are too many things that depend not only on us. But we don't need to change those in order to be able to feel safe and at peace, finally enjoying this life. We can and should do it in the little steps we take each day that we wake up.

So take a moment, sit down with yourself, grab a pen, a phone, your pc or whatever you feel more comfortable in using to organise your thoughts. And ask yourself, truly, who is that person that you feel to be in your mind and heart, in your inner world, and that each year you try so hard to bring into the real one. Look at them, describe them, so you can see yourself clearly. Not the version that was made by this reality, these circumstances that decided who and how you needed to be in order to survive and make it through. But the one that you are truly, without any if or but. Without any limit or consequence. Without any judgment or image to keep up with. See them, every detail about how they feel, towards others or just in their own skin. How they deal with obstacles or troubles. What helps them to unwind and relax. The things that they do and really feel satisfied after, proud of what they did no matter if it was a lot or little… And just keep them in mind. Make that version of you be your guide and idol, the one you look up to throughout this year. Each day of it. Because it is not just a dream or a delusion, your desire to be one day like that version that you have in your mind. It is actually your inner self that wants to be this way, and knows deep down that it is possible to feel so confident and safe. Because it's not that you are not like you want, and so is your life, while this is just a delusion that helps you sleep at night. It is still and always you, even if it is only in your dreams and goals for now. Both versions are you, just one needs some time and nourishment to grow up to be the other one.

Even if it might seem not so spiritual, to change your routine, to make room for the things that for so long you wanted to do but never had the time or space, or to just let yourself throw away the judgment and limits on what you do or how… It is still a spiritual, magical, practice. A practical way of taking care of yourself through the things that you can control, choose and decide. It is still a way of expressing and connecting to your own self. While simultaneously making little but significant changes in your life, allowing you to feel safe and comfortable not only within your mind or heart, but also in the things of the every day life.

And this, this can really make an incredible impact on the things that you can’t control too. Just because the wait will be more enjoyable, once you are staying in a place where not everything is frustrating and pressuring. Once you don't feel caught up between two things that give you only anxiety and unsatisfaction, but there is still something that is worth it, to go through these days one after another, while waiting for the big changes to begin.

This reality is hardly the one that you chose for yourself, but through little changes you can make it be more like what you want. So there is more of good and worthy, of safe and enjoyable, that keeps your attention better than the stagnant or bad ones, alleviating the pressure those have on your shoulders, on your heart and on your mind.

The spirituality is not only about practices, rituals, of following the guidance and “rules” of who and what you believe in… It is also and always taking care of yourself, in whatever way you need or can now. And in this year, in the one that once again you have so much hope for, the most needed and easiest for you way to nourish yourself is by making your current reality more safe and enjoyable for you, no matter if the other “big” things will change or stay the same. Because we can’t always control our journey, but we can change the way we go through it. And in your case, you can start doing it through the little things done for yourself, for that version of you that you want so much to manifest.

{ ♡ }

– Pile Two,

the cross: the lovers and the ten of swords

It is not the first time that this desire blooms within you. The one to be devoted to something close and true to your soul. To allow it to guide you, teach you. To allow it to protect you and take care of you as you go through these difficult days. It is not the first time you feel the pure and genuine desire to not feel so alone, so doomed, so lost. But to have someone or something to look after you, to light the right journey for you…

You already tried so many things. Opened up your mind and your heart to new ideas and beliefs. You held them close to your heart, let it in, right into your soul, and listened patiently, waiting for an answer, for a sign that this is something that is right and true for you, something that you can trust to guide you…

But although so many of them felt so exciting and interesting to learn about, there was always that one little detail that never fitted, never was quite right for you. Making it so difficult to stick with them, to truly dedicate your time and energy to them. To truly feel that faith that is needed in order to believe… The first moments of enthusiasm always faded. The new routines that seemed so easy to respect became more tedious and difficult to keep up with. The words that first resonated so strongly with your heart… Always sooner or later found their nemesis in your thoughts, in your fearful and anxious questions that never found answers that could satisfy them.

And you felt only more coldness around and within you. As this flame of connecting with your soul somehow, more significantly, in a more sacred way, didn't receive its nourishment. Becoming smaller with each day that you wanted to understand yourself and this world better, but were unable to crack the code…

But no matter how many things you tried, how much you learned about so many ways of creating through your soul or manifest your true self unapologetically into this world… It is still the very start for you. You are only at the beginning of this journey. As through your hard work you learned all the possible ways, methods, practices and ideas… But you never learned what, or who, is it that you want to connect to. You never took a moment to just look at your own self and what you hold within your body, mind and heart. There are many religions, many practices, many believes that could fit in your life, that could really help you. But it is difficult to find out which is the right one, when you don't really know the size you need, right?

Although it is admirable your openness and desire to learn and experiment… There is no need for you now to decide already who or what to follow. Because first you need to be able to listen to your own self, without any voice or interpretations of others in between. You need to focus on yourself, this year, on who you are, before trusting others and their truths. As they can so easily make you lose sight of who you are, when you don’t have what to hold to in the first place.

For now observe yourself. Your feelings, thoughts, perceptions and reactions when interacting with this world. Observe them also when you are all alone. When there is no one else apart your self… What do you feel, what do you desire or need, when facing all of it? Because you really do think that it is not needed, that there is noone that knows you best. But in this search for someone else that can translate the way your soul talks, someone who understands it… You didn’t notice how much you have changed. How much the motives and explanations of what you feel or think have changed, narrating a different story about who you are, and what your soul strives for now.

{ ♡ }

– Pile Three,

The child: the two of wands and the five of cups

So many plans, so many guidelines, so many routines… Always so many things to learn and to adapt to, so many limits needed for you so you wouldn't make mistakes… They really got you used to it. To have a clear vision of what you are going to do, or how, with all the needed steps to follow. They got you used so much to it, that you can’t help but do it regarding your own self, your own soul too. The way you express it, create with it… The things that you do to connect with it.

You can’t help but to rely on something or someone, just even the tiniest advice or guidance, before you do that one first step on the path that you are thinking to choose. But it doesn't really work with more intimate, less material things, doesn't it? It only kind of kills the enthusiasm and lightness in your heart by putting so many dos and don’ts into your mind.

There is nothing wrong in looking out for it… In looking around you, discovering different ideas and ways others do it. But it does become more heavy and strict when instead of being inspired and experimenting in your own way with it, you are trying to follow each someone's step, just to be sure to not be disrespectful, ignorant, or just weird.

Interests that help your mind to grow or hobbies that allow your heart to express itself and unwind… Routines that give you stability or practices that give you confidence… They all change so much, depending on who is doing them. For someone they are natural and easy. For others they are so difficult to stick with no matter how much one tries. And yet you still feel uneasy, you still believe that the reason you can’t find that one right thing, create that one safe space for yourself… Is you and the mistakes that, you are so sure of, you make.

And what if it is true anyway? What if you really do manage in doing only one thing and not the other? What if only one half of someone’s truth sits right with you? It is your life. Your soul. And it is obvious that it won’t be so easy to follow the example of someone else when trying to take care of it.

You tried so many things, explored so many different ideas and believes. And while you see yourself being able to welcome them in your life only partially as your incapability or inadequacy… You shouldn't ignore so confidently all those little things and details that still did resonate with you, even if each one of them comes from different cultures or practices. Your soul is the fusion of all your lives, your experiences, thoughts and feelings in each one of them. And the way it feels more safe to look at this world, and respect and nourish the one within you… Can indeed be a puzzle of all the different things that you learned or saw, but that fit so well together when you are that one connecting point.

Don’t busy yourself with finding, choosing and sticking to only one thing or way to take care of yourself, only one set of rules, only one school of thoughts. Because even though it might be the only one for someone, their whole life and armor, their story or personality, it doesn't necessarily need to be yours too. It can be strong, stable and beautiful enough even if it is made from different materials. A spirituality and magic that is all yours. The one that connects you to so many different parts of this world and to those that live or that used to, leaving to us their example and story to learn from.

Just go for your own way. Keep on remaining open, so enthusiastic and curious. Keep on learning and trying new and different ways, discovering how many things there truly are in this world that can be helpful and good for your body, mind or heart. Keep on enjoying them, or contrary, learning what are those things that are not quite aligned with you. And create as you go this beautiful and unique puzzle of wholeness and wellbeing, of a truth and guidance that is just yours, while still being connected to all.

{ ♡ }

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: I | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 7,213

—  warnings: strong language, mention of death, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of blood, several mentions of abortion, and crying

—  author’s note: here it is the first chapter of this series! <3 i’m actually very excited about this entire universe, i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve been taking my time to write each part 🤗 the beginning is inspired by Jane the Virgin and the Flash as they are both my favorite shows ✨ i hope you’ll enjoy this part & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think 😊  

taglist is closed!

Chapter I: when worlds collide

SERIES MASTERLIST | next

Sitting in your car, you’ve been looking blinkingly at the windshield, hands trembling against the steering wheel. For ten whole minutes, you’ve been frozen like this as if moving would shatter the fragile sense of calm you’ve barely managed to hold together.

Your life is about to drastically change; you know it deep down.  

“The deed is done,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, and your reflection in the rearview mirror catches your eye. You look exhausted, your eyes wide and glistening.

For two years, this moment has been building. You have thoughtfully considered having a child on your own. At first, it was just a random thought that crossed your mind, a curiosity born on one of those quiet, lonely moments where life felt both too much and not enough. Then, you deeply thought about it. The idea rooted itself deep within you, anchoring into something raw and tender: a longing to create a family on your own terms. 

After much research and consideration, you decided to go for it.

Many people couldn’t understand your choice, but honestly, you don’t give two shits about others’ opinions. What did matter to you was the support of close family and friends.

Felix, the man who raised you after your parents were stolen from you, proposed to accompany you to the fertility clinic, but you gently declined his offer. This was something you wanted to do by yourself. Well, you just came alone to be inseminated. Other than that, he has been by your side every step of the way.

He helped you to go through the countless donor profiles, and every document needed for this adventure of yours.

The process was a bit long and emotionally draining. The first steps were more like an evaluation, mostly for the clinic to understand your reasons and ensure you’ve deeply thought about all the aspects. Having a kid alone isn’t just about fulfilling your dreams but also about building a life for a child.

Once you’ve successfully completed those steps, you had to choose the donor. There were a lot of choices; it was like going grocery shopping. You were handed a catalog of potential donors with their medical histories and first names. It felt odd to be choosing the progenitor like this. After going through every profile, one of them stood out.

Following the donor selection, your cycles and hormone levels were tracked. When all was good, you’d get inseminated on your ovulation period, which technically is happening this week.  

So, ten minutes ago, you walked out of the clinic after being artificially knocked up.

If your egg is fertilized, in nine months, you’ll welcome your very much desired baby. A tiny human who will call you mom. You already picked the names, one for a girl, one for a boy. You simply can’t wait to welcome a tiny human in your life. Hopefully, the life of your baby will be better than yours.

You lean your head against the steering wheel, closing your eyes as the ghosts of your past surface.

Twenty years ago, your life was turned upside down when a terrible murderer put an end to your parents’ lives. Nobody ever found him or her; it’s like the person completely vanished into the night. That person left behind a little girl with questions nobody could ever answer and scars nobody could understand.  

Since you didn’t have any family left, you were raised by your father’s best friend, Felix. Over time, he became like a second father to you. Even though you were full of anger when he took you over, he stayed by your side and helped you navigate this sad reality; one where your parents weren’t part of anymore.

His daughter, Lexi is your age. You were already so close, and living under the same roof brought you even closer. She’s your super best friend, almost like a sister today. A smile grows on your face as you think of her. Your life would have been a nightmare without her.

Lexi was the first person to be aware of this desire to become a single mother. She even pushed you to do it as soon as you could, and she has encouraged you like nobody else. She also helped you select a donor; she even made fun of the names of some of them.

Your phone buzzes; the name and picture of Lexi appearing on the screen.

“Hi,” you say when you pick up.

“Soo,” she says. “How did it go?”

“Good, I guess?” you say with clear hesitation. “The doctor just inserted a thin catheter, looked at the screen, and said it was done,” you explain. “Now we just have to wait.”

Waiting is now the worst part, especially since you decided not to take any pregnancy test until the next appointment. Meaning, you have to wait two full weeks.

“Let’s hope the donor’s little swimmers are good ones,” she says.

While you always wanted to have a kid, Lexi never wanted one. You and her are total opposites but that’s what helped create such a strong bond between you. “Yeah, let’s hope for that,” you smile.  

Two weeks later

A couple of days ago, you took a blood test, and now, you’re in the waiting room, patiently waiting for the doctor to call you up.

These past two weeks, you’ve been internally battling to take a pregnancy test. It’s been hard to fight the urge to discover beforehand if you’re expecting or not. On your way to the clinic, your heart was beating extremely fast with nervousness. Even the music playing in the car didn’t seem to calm you down.

Even though you’re extremely nervous, a part of you knows. You can’t explain it, but you feel it deep down. Two nights ago, you were lying in bed completely exhausted after an intense day at work. The rhythm of your heartbeat was rocking you to sleep. Amidst the thrum of your own heart, you swear you could hear a faint, smaller, and quicker rhythm.

You instantly opened your eyes, scanning the room. The sound wasn’t coming from outside. It felt like it was inside you. You stayed perfectly still, listening to that tiny sound. That night, you were rocked to sleep by that new rhythm.

The morning after, as you caught your reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, something felt off. Your brows furrowed as you noticed your own scent was different. It felt like it was mixed with somebody else’s scent, but it wasn’t as strong as yours or any other living human. It was extremely odd.

After a little while, the doctor says your name, and with shaky legs, you walk to her office. Your heart is beating at a very crazy pace, ready to burst at any moment. This is so stressful; it feels like time is moving so slowly.

“Hello yn,” the doctor smiles at you while you’re entering the room. “How have you been feeling?” you now take a seat.

“I’m good, thanks,” you smile back at her.

She sits down at her desk and takes a look at her computer.

“So, did you take any pregnancy test?” she asks.

“No, no,” you answer. “I wanted to keep the surprise for today.”

“I see,” she looks again at her screen before taping on her keyboard.

She seems to quickly read something before her smile widens. Your heart is going completely crazy. It really makes you nervous, and you try to mentally prepare yourself to receive the bad news as well. It’ll definitely break your heart but you’ll try again.  

This entire process is quite expensive, but the payment can be spread out over time rather than made in one shot. With this first payment, you have the right to three attempts. If pregnancy isn’t achieved after those attempts, you’ll have to go through another round and pay for additional attempts.

The doctor mentioned that usually, it takes about three to six attempts to achieve a successful pregnancy. Hopefully, you’ll get pregnant within those first three tries. You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to afford another round of insemination.   

“Well, it looks like it only took you one try to conceive,” she informs you.

And right there, your heart bursts with joy. There’s indeed a little human being growing inside you. You’ll become a mother in nine months. You can’t believe it.

A little tear runs down your face as you hear the good news. It’s such a relief. You won't have to worry about coming back for another round.

“That’s good news,” you clean the tear on your cheek.

“It is indeed,” she says. “In four weeks more or less, we’ll plan an ultrasound to confirm the embryo’s implantation and check for a heartbeat,” she adds.

Well, you’ll still get worried about that because maybe until there, your baby will not survive. But you need to remain positive. No need to start stressing about it; you promised yourself that you’ll try to remain calm the entirety of the process and pregnancy so you’ll offer a great beginning of life to your baby.

“I’m very hopeful everything will go well because both you and the donor are in good health,” she says.

“Let’s hope for that,” you answer.

You then proceed to schedule the next appointment in four weeks. You can’t hide the immense smile on your face. This is the best news you got today. Nothing else will ever be possible to ruin this day.

When you leave the clinic, you instantly call Lexi.

“I AM PREGNANT!” you scream with excitement.

“Yeeeah,” she screams as well. “I’m going to be an aunty!” she adds.

“I’m so relieved that this first attempt was successful,” you admit.

Once you get inside your car, you touch your belly to caress it.

“That baby is so lucky to have you as a mother,” she says after. “And even more lucky to join our family.”

For sure, your family will extremely love this baby. It’s such a desired baby, and everybody has been so excited.

“They’ll be so loved,” you reply.

“There’s absolutely no doubt,” she says. “Dad will be so happy about this news; he’s been so excited to become a grandpa.”

Felix has expressed lately that he couldn’t wait to welcome a baby and become a granddad. This man has raised you for twenty years, and you consider him as a second father. There’s no doubt that your baby will see him as their grandfather even if, biologically speaking, he isn’t.

When you hang up, you stare into the void for a couple of minutes. In this moment, you wish your parents would be here. They would have been so happy to become grandparents, but they won’t be by your side for this new chapter of your life.

They are also the reason why you’re doing all of this. Since they passed, there’s been a tremendous emptiness inside you that even the love of Felix couldn’t fill in. This void stems mostly from the fact that you were left alone when they were killed. You’ve been feeling so lonely since then.

Throughout your life, you tried to fill it with relationships but they all failed. As far as you can remember, you wanted to follow the traditional path to build a family. However, it never worked out. Then, one day, you saw a brochure about single mothers, and you’ve been thinking about it since then.

You’ve seen motherhood as a role that will fill this emotional void you’ve been carrying for years. Plus, you’ve also seen it as a way to finally control your life. Twenty years ago, someone decided for you what your life would become. This wasn’t fair.

And you also want to give your baby the life you never got. You want to give them a loving family that won’t disappear the second the parents die. Outside of your parents, you didn’t have a family. Based on what Felix told you, your grandparents were against your parents' relationship so they moved into another city to live freely and build a family.

Life hasn’t been fair for you, but you want to make it fair for your baby.

Two weeks later

The clinic called you this morning to urgently come in the afternoon, only making you grow concerned during the day. You kept wondering what the reason for such urgency would be. Did they notice something when they did the blood test? Did they get the wrong blood test? Are you even really pregnant? 

However, you’re a hundred percent sure you’re carrying a life inside you. You haven’t had the ‘normal’ early symptoms yet, but you can feel your baby inside you. The faint heartbeat can still be heard, and there’s still that subtle scent interwoven with yours.

For the past two weeks, you’ve repeatedly inhaled this new scent, almost to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Most of the time, you wondered if it wasn’t something like blood, sweat, or the smell of your new shampoo. It was definitely an earthly one. One that only a human can possess.

Once inside the clinic, you’re instantly installed in the doctor’s room. Your heart is crazily beating inside your chest; you’re so nervous right now. Seconds later, a man joins you in the room.

At first glance, you’d think he is the CEO of a huge company. He’s fully dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, his hands casually placed in his pants pockets. This man is extremely charismatic; something about him draws you in.  

The man looks at you while frowning, his eyes moving from your eyes to your belly. By reflex, you cover your stomach with your hands. He’s making you uncomfortable with his intense stare.

He has a very strong bestial scent, it predominates his cologne. Everything about him is imposing, even the way his heart beats; it’s so calm while yours is completely erratic. The man’s eyes are clued on you.

The doctor arrives right after and closes the door behind her. Her face is quite serious; she even seems concerned.

“Miss y/l/n,” she takes a seat at her desk. “Mister Jeon,” she looks at the man behind you. “Please take a seat.”

The two of you sit down next to each other with apprehension. You can hear his heart beating a little faster, but he remains extremely calm on the outside.  

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The doctor pauses, giving you time to absorb the gravity of the statement. Her tone is gentle, but at the same time professional.  

The sterile, cold walls of the room seem to close in around you as the doctor’s words pierce through your thoughts.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” your breath is caught in your throat, your hands trembling. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

Your eyes look at the man sitting next to you. All you can see in his eyes is the same disbelief that reflects your own. So, this is your child’s father.  

Many questions cross your mind, but they remain unspoken, lodged in your throat.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

You desired nothing more than being alone in this adventure; you didn’t want a present father. That was the whole point of a donor. Now, you know the father of your child, and he’d probably like to be present.

For the past months, you went through a series of questions regarding the fact that you’ll raise your child alone. They asked you many times how you’d explain to your child that they don’t have a father. This now feels like a complete waste of time.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment’s costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

Those words seem so heavy and yet, they represent the reality of the choice you now have to face. A knot tightens in your stomach at the thought of undoing something you wished for so long. The baby is now growing inside of you, you’ve got used to falling asleep with their tiny heartbeat. The only thought of not having it anymore breaks your heart beyond comprehension.

Right now, everything—your carefully constructed plans, your hopes, the small life growing inside you—seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Mister Jeon is silent beside you, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He seems as stunned as you, but you can’t help but think that there’s something else there too. Something deeper and darker.

You ignore if he’s thinking the same thing as you, but you can feel it: the strange twist of fate pulling you both into an unknown world, one you both hadn’t planned for.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

Time seems irrelevant now. There’s a choice you need to make; a choice you didn’t expect to face. You swallow hard, your heart racing inside your chest. Your hands caress your belly through your shirt while you only hear the baby’s fragile heartbeat.

This isn’t supposed to happen. This can’t be real.

Jungkook’s face went pale as the doctor’s words sank in.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

Just like you, the room’s white walls feel suffocating, the air thick with a tension he can’t shake. A mistake. His mistake. He tried to avoid this situation. He was supposed to go through surrogacy to guarantee a child that would uphold his lineage. His werewolf lineage, pure and untouched by human blood.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” the doctor’s words hang up in the air like a death sentence. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

His eyes quickly look at you, and he notices how much you’re shaking. It seems like you’re in a more devasted state than he is.  

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

Jungkook blinks, trying to absorb what is happening. A human child. Nonetheless, his child. Having children with humans isn’t just a personal choice; it’s a fundamental rule of the werewolf society. The very foundation of his power as the king depends on the purity of his bloodline. To break the rule is to risk everything.

He knows better than anyone what happens to the werewolf-human hybrid kids together with the parents. They are killed by the pack. Being a king doesn’t make him the exception to the rule. If this pregnancy goes to full term, not only will he be killed, but the baby and the lady sitting next to him will too.  

You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t deserve to die because of a mistake. 

His gaze filled with frustration and panic moves toward you once more as his pulse quickens. He wanted control over the situation. He never intended to father a hybrid child. And now, not only is he involved in this pregnancy, but the child is going to carry his blood mixed with human genetics. God only knows what can happen to this kid, genetically speaking.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

‘This can’t be happening’, he thinks.

His eyes move back to the doctors, his hands clenched into fists. The thought of the entire werewolf community learning of this is unbearable. And what is his mother going to think of this?

She was the first person to support him in this surrogacy journey. She knew how important it was for him to have a child as soon as possible because he’d been struggling to find someone with whom he’d mate. Having an heir is the first thing a king should do to ensure the legacy.

Now, he’s about to have a child with a human. That’s not possible. This child won’t have a pure bloodline, this child can’t ever be an heir.     

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

The idea of termination seems dreadful, but the possibility of a hybrid child heir seems even worse. His responsibility as king, and the traditions that have been in place for centuries don’t allow for such breach. To raise a kid with human blood would mean instant disgrace, not only for him but for his entire family. How could he even be respected after this?

His entire world is slipping through his fingers. His position as king is now in jeopardy. This baby will destabilize the entire werewolf community. Nobody will respect him and will only see him as weak. Weak for having a human child.

There’s no going back. His mind tries to find a solution to fix this, or how to undo this. The idea of raising a child with a human—no matter how much it is his responsibility—is unthinkable. He never desired this and hasn’t even considered it. He has been so focused on maintaining his bloodline that the idea of a mistake happening never crossed his mind.

Your presence beside him destabilizes him beyond comprehension. He can see the confusion in your eyes mixed with disbelief. You can’t comprehend the extension of this entire problem. You can’t even comprehend the danger of mixing bloodlines, because you aren’t a werewolf.

Jungkook stands in silence for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. Terminating this pregnancy isn’t something he desires, but having a child with a human is simply impossible. His heart beats too crazily, and he can hear yours beating just as fast. His heart and duty are pulling him in two different directions.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. His voice is soft but it carries a heavy weight. “We need to decide. This affects both of us.”

After what felt like an eternity, you both leave the room completely shaken up by the news you just got. How could this be happening?

As you’re both walking in the clinic in the parking lot’s direction, none of you dares to speak. You’re a complete stranger to Jungkook. All he knows is that you’re a human carrying his child. 

“I can’t have that child,” he finally breaks the silence.

His words cause you to stop.

“It’s too early for me to consider terminating this pregnancy,” you admit. “I need time.”

Jungkook understands your perspective. It’s not a decision you lightly take, especially if you’ve come to this clinic to have a child. It’d be completely absurd to abort after going through this entire process.

“Of course,” he says. “But I want you to know my point of view.”

You nod, understanding his perspective as well. This is such a horrible situation. Jungkook wanted to have an heir while you simply wanted to have a child on your own. On top of that, he doesn’t look like the donor you selected.

“So if I decide to keep it, would you be out?” you ask.

Jungkook considers your words. There’s a possibility that the baby could still exist, but he wouldn’t be part of their life. He’d still be losing because he wants a child, but at least this way, his position wouldn’t be jeopardized, and no one would get hurt or killed.  

“It’s possible,” he honestly answers.

You nod once more. Even though he decides not to be part of his child’s life, he’d still know that he has a kid somewhere. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding you; he already knows your smell, and he has the means to find you.

“Okay,” you say.

Jungkook watches you take a pen and paper from your purse before writing something.

“This is my phone number,” you hand him the piece of paper. “In case you change your mind or take a decision.”

The man takes the piece of paper while you give him a small smile. You start walking away, his eyes following you until you disappear inside a car.

In this situation, he definitely would like to ask his mother for advice, but he can’t. He already knows the answer she’ll give him. ‘This baby can’t exist.’ And she’s right, but he can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy. It’s your body after all.

In the eventuality that you decide to proceed with the pregnancy, he guesses he’ll let you be a mother alone and pretend like this kid doesn’t exist.

You’ve spent the last two days crying in bed. The conversation with the doctor and this mysterious Mister Jeon has been playing over and over in your head. You can still picture everything so clearly; the white walls of the doctor’s room, the apologies from the doctor, and Mister Jeon’s piercing gaze.

‘There’s been a mistake,’ ‘There was a mix-up with the sample,’ the words still echo in your mind.

You’ve been trying to make sense of how such a monumental mistake has happened. But nothing seems to make sense. The clinic did this; the clinic took control over your decision. This chapter of your life was about you gaining control, but once more, someone decided for you. It’s been making you angry.

You’re furious at the clinic and their negligence. You trusted them with your project of building your own family. However, they decided otherwise.  

But underneath that anger, there’s another fury; one directed to yourself. You were so focused on having a child on your own terms that you didn’t stop to consider the what-ifs. You didn’t stop to consider that something might go wrong. And now, you are here.    

You’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours now, your mind trying to find a solution. Do you keep this baby? Do you terminate the pregnancy?

This choice feels impossible. It feels like no matter what your life will completely change.  

But deep down, you somehow feel some kind of relief. Because when Mister Jeon—this intense and charismatic man—said there was a possibility he’d walk away, that he’d leave you to raise this child alone, you felt lighter.

His potential absence is appealing. It aligns with your original choice, to be a single mother. A choice where your child is yours, and yours alone. But then, there’s also a possibility where he stays, or that he comes back later. What would happen then?

You press your hands against your face while a guttural growl leaves your lips. This is so damn frustrating. This should be simple. Because now, you’re left wondering what you want. Do you want to walk away from this and stick to the original plan? Or do you want to embrace this chaos, and see where this might lead?

Your hands slide down to your stomach, caressing it while you hear again the tiny heartbeat. This sound comforts you which makes you close your eyes.

For now, you don’t have any answers to all your questions. You’re not even sure you’ll have them tomorrow. For now, you’ll let yourself breathe. You’ll let yourself feel. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the answers.  

The sound of your phone ringing pushes you out of your own thoughts, informing you that you received a message. You sit on your bed before grabbing the phone on the nightstand. You received a message from an unknown number. By curiosity, you unlock your phone to read it. To your surprise, it’s the famous and mysterious Mister Jeon.  

From unknown: hi miss y/l/n, this is jeon jungkook, the father of your child. i’d like to meet you to discuss the matter. would you be free tonight?

Your heart hammers inside your chest, ready to burst at any second. He contacted you sooner than expected. You were thinking that you wouldn’t hear anything from him for at least a week. You thought you’d have more time to make a decision before meeting him. Now, it seems you don’t, and that you’ll have a very interesting conversation with him tonight.

With shaky hands, you start typing your answer.

To unknown: hello mister jeon, we could meet tonight

When you press ‘send’, you stare at the conversation, waiting for an answer. Mister Jeon responds instantly to your message, proposing to meet in a town square. You accept the suggestion and quickly go to your clothes cupboard to pick up an outfit.

The man seems very impressive, and you want to be presentable. He’s after all the progenitor of the life growing inside you.

A couple of hours later, you take the road to the meeting point. Surprisingly, you’ve remained calm for the entire drive. Driving is actually the only thing able to calm your tormented soul. Whenever you go through something very intense, you just drive to clear your mind.

However, since this pregnancy thing, even driving hasn’t been able to help you out. You tried to drive yesterday, but it only made things worse. So it definitely surprises you that you’ve been able to clear your mind before meeting Mister Jeon.

When you arrive, he’s already there waiting for you. He’s not wearing a suit, quite the contrary. His outfit is only made of a grey sweater with a blue pair of jeans. His hair isn’t perfectly pushed back as it was two days ago. It feels like you’re meeting a completely different person.

When he sees you, he stands up. As he does so, you notice he holds a box in his right hand. It’s a small one, but it still intrigues you.

“Good evening, miss y/l/n,” he says.

“Good evening, mister Jeon,” you say back.

His presence is still very imposing, but the fact that he isn’t wearing a suit anymore changes it a bit. He seems more approachable than he was in the clinic.

“Please call me Jungkook,” he offers you a small smile.

It’s the first time you see him smiling, and it feels like a very warm one. Beneath it all and in the midst of the city noise, you can perceive his heartbeat. It’s quite rapid which makes you tilt your head. Is he nervous?

“You can call me yn as well,” you smile back at him.  

“I’ve brought you a box with some pastries,” he hands you the box. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Your smile grows wider at his simple but heartwarming gesture. This wasn’t expected, but it lightens the mood. Jungkook seems to be a nice person which contrasts with the cold and unreadable person he seemed two days ago.

“Thanks,” you say while grabbing the little box. “You didn’t need to,” your eyes look up at him.

After that, you both sit down on the bench he was on before you arrived. By the way he rubs his hands on his tights, you can tell that he’s a bit nervous. You try not to overanalyze him, because you know your mind will go crazy, full of questions.

“What is happening is really crazy,” he admits with obvious nervousness. “I never imagined things would go this way,” you nod.

Jungkook looks everywhere, except at you. It seems like he isn’t brave enough to face you, almost like a teenager confessing his love.

“As I told you two days ago, I can’t have this child,” he finally speaks. “I really would love to, but I’d put the three of us in danger.”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. What does he mean by ‘putting you in danger’? Does he come from a crazy family? Is he part of the mafia? This is scaring the hell out of you.

“We didn’t know each other up until two days ago, and you don’t deserve to be put in danger because of a stupid mistake the clinic did,” he seems angry when he mentions the mistake. “But I can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy, it’s your body, and it was also your wish to have a child. I can’t take that away from you.”

It kind of surprises you how respectful he is. Any other man in his position could have forced or paid you to put an end to this pregnancy. It’s really admirable.

“In case you want to keep going with it, I just want you to know that I’ll step away, and I will never come back to reclaim a role I refused from the beginning.”

You wonder what the reasons behind his decision could be. This man desired to have a child but is now refusing to have one with you because of a mistake.

“To be honest with you, I don’t know what to do,” you admit.

His piercing eyes finally look at you. For a split second, you can swear that they were red. Red like blood. This destabilizes you, and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re not sure if you’re being delirious or if this is real.

“I wanted to become a mother, but not like this,” you continue, still destabilized by what you just saw. “So it leaves me wondering what I should do. But if you walk away, I’ll be more tempted to keep the baby because, in the end, it’ll go as I planned.”

In an unexplainable way, this man puts you at ease. It feels like you can confess how you truly feel about this situation without being judged by him. This man exudes serenity which draws you even more to him.

“I get that,” he says.

For a brief moment, you only look at him while your heart peacefully beats in your chest. His dark eyes stare right into your soul, and it feels like the world completely stopped. There’s just the two of you. But Jungkook breaks the contact, looking in another direction.

“If you decide to keep the child and need any financial help, I can give it to you,” he speaks.

This man definitely seems like a good guy, and you wonder even more why he’s walking away from this.

“I won’t,” you answer. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t have any means to take care of the baby.”

For sure you need financial stability to be a single mother, and you would have never embarked on this adventure without having it.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his fluffy hair, avoiding still your gaze. “Can I ask why you want to become a single mom?”

The question catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting this man—this stranger—to be interested in you.

“I didn’t have an easy life and I grew up without my parents,” you confess. “Motherhood was something I aspired to have in my life since I’m very young, and I’ve desired to give to my child everything I didn’t have. No matter if it was with someone or alone.”

Your eyes shift from Jungkook to the square full of people. It’s never easy to express out loud and to a complete stranger why you embarked on this adventure. Mentioning your parents is actually never easy; even after all this time.

Suddenly, you feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you in complete silence. For once in your life, people’s heartbeats and scents don’t suffocate you. You can hear and smell them, but it’s like it doesn’t matter.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve had those developed skills. You can hear stuff from afar, and you can strongly smell people’s natural body’s scent. Since it’s kind of ‘normal’ to you, you got used to it; but sometimes, and especially when you’re in the middle of heavy crowds, it suffocates you. It becomes simply too much.

This is something you never told anyone, too scared to be judged. Undoubtedly, people would say you’ve gone crazy due to the trauma of losing your parents. Not even Felix or Lexi knows about it. They just think you’re agoraphobic.

However, lately, you’ve been trying to go to some crowded place to overcome this suffocating feeling. You ignore why you’ve been doing it, but you’ve been doing it. It’s still too much, but today, next to this complete stranger, it doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” he whispers.

You turn to look at him to offer him a little smile.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Can I also ask you why you’re doing this?” you dare to ask.

Jungkook nods before looking away once more. It definitely looks like it’s hard for him to hold your gaze.

“In my world,” he starts saying. “I have heavy responsibilities, and having a child is one of them. But I can’t have one with anybody. I’m very limited in who is the biological mother so that’s why I can’t have one with you.”

You almost feel offended by his words. In which kind of world can’t you be the mother of his child? It’s completely crazy!

“Oh,” you simply say.

“You could have been the surrogate…” you can hear some kind of chuckle. “But never the progenitor.”

“It’s seems like a tough world.”

His eyes look again at you; you can see that he seems to hesitate with the answer.

“It isn’t,” he finally says. “But it is with me.”

Obviously, he carefully chose his words.

“Well, I hope you’ll find the right mother for your child,” you offer him once more a little smile.

“Thanks,” he smiles back at you.

The two of you look back again at the people walking in the town square. They are walking around you, ignoring totally what you’re going through, what tough decision you have to make. They ignore everything about you, just as you ignore everything about them…  

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he adds.

“It’s not your fault,” you answer. “It’s the clinic’s.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the people walking in front of you. His heart is racing and piercing through your ears. He’s even more nervous than he was before, and it concerns you a bit. But you don’t say anything, too afraid to scare him off if you reveal you can hear his heartbeat.  

“Yn…” he starts. “There’s something you need to know,” his voice is deep and low at the same time. It’s so low that it almost drowns out by the distant chatter of people passing by.

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing. “Okay,” you whisper.  

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he exhales. His eyes don’t meet yours immediately, but when he does, there’s an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

“When I said my world is different,” he swallows with difficulty. “I don’t mean it in a metaphorical sense. My world, my reality is not the same as yours.”

You frown even more, confusion plastered all over your face. You’re definitely incredibly confused. How could his world be different than yours? You live on the same planet, and breathe the same air. How could it be not the same?  

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gets closer, his voice dropping even lower, barely audible. However, you still hear it perfectly.

“I am not entirely human, yn.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You stare at him while waiting for him to elaborate. However, Jungkook just stares at you, waiting for your reaction.

“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’?” you tilt your head.

For a couple of seconds, he doesn’t speak, almost as if he’s scared to reveal his true nature to you.

“I’m a werewolf.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. It leaves you wondering if this man is of sound mind. Right now, you’re slightly concerned about his mental health, and the future of your child, if you keep them.

Your first reaction is to laugh, dismissing his words as if it is some kind of twisted joke. But the look on his face tells you that he’s deadly serious. This isn’t a joke.

“A werewolf?” you repeat to make sure you hear it well.

Jungkook nods. He looks tense and he maintains his deep glance on you.

“It’s why I can’t have this child,” he starts to explain. “In my world, bloodlines matter. Werewolf bloodlines are sacred, and the continuation of my lineage isn’t just about having a child. It’s about having the right child with the right kind of mother.”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a tidal wave. You stand up, your hands running through your hair. Your mind is spinning, and your pulse thunders in your ears. This is something you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today.

Werewolves? You’re carrying the child of a werewolf?

This sounds like it comes straight from a fantasy movie.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you whisper to yourself but Jungkook hears it.  

“I didn’t want you to be dragged into this world, but you deserve the truth.”

You keep your back turned to him while you cross your arms against your chest.

“This is something you need to consider if you decide to keep the baby.”

At his words, you freeze. Instinctively, your hands down move to your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes follow your hands.

“Is this…” your voice trembles. “Is this a viable child?”

If you want to keep going with this pregnancy, you need to know if this baby can survive.

“There wouldn’t be any reason why this child wouldn’t survive because of mixed blood,” he stands up and gets close to you. “But as they grow up, they’ll develop werewolf abilities. And, one day, they’ll probably turn into one. It’s pretty unpredictable, though. There’s never been a human-werewolf hybrid before.”

Damn, this is leaving you speechless. How can this be real? Werewolves are supposed to exist in movies, not in real life.   

“This is insane,” you rub your hands on your face. “This can’t be real.”

Jungkook steps closer. His presence is grounding but nonetheless overwhelming.  

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you demand, your voice filled with panic.  

Before you can blink, he gets even closer to you. He’s in front of you in an instant, his hand gently grabbing yours. Your eyes look down at his hand as you notice it changing. His fingers elongate, his nails sharpen into claws, and the texture of his skin turns into something more beastly. Slowly, your eyes look up, and what you see completely freezes your body.  His eyes glow a deep, predatory red, and there’s something undeniably wolfish about them.

You take a step back while setting your hand free. As you do so, Jungkook shifts back, his hand returns to its normal form, and his eyes fade back to a human form. The transformation is so quick that it almost feels like you imagined it.

“So what happens now?” you ask.

Jungkook’s gaze softens at your words.

“That depends on you, yn.”

Please note that the taglist is closed

[puckleberryfinnie]

What Is This Feeling?

summary: you're the one thing he can't have, but he'll do anything to get you anyway, fem!reader x emperor geta

notes: for (this) request, thank you so much for sending that in again, love you for that! this definitely will not be history or character accurate, but I know most of you are just here for the vibes so here's this for you <3 if anyone wants more of him, you're more than welcome to send something in, make sure to take a look at my holiday event too!

part two is finally here! yippee!

Geta had everything he could ever want- food, clothing, women. Many women. All the divine things of the world were his, and it pleased him to know as such. All of Rome was at his beck and call.

Now, despite his interest in expanding empires to new locations, he'd never found himself interested in the contents of these areas. It seemed illogical, when he had everything he wanted and much, much more already.

As the power of Rome grew, however, the time came for a delegation to be put into place. It would be built in order to generate alliances among other strong empires, much like their own. It wasn't something of much interest of Geta- he'd have to give them an audience at some point, he'd imagined, but any might greater than his own was simply unimaginable in his mind.

It wasn't surprising for the people of your empire to know you'd be headed off along with the rest of the delegation sent to Rome. They knew your adventurous nature, and with your three older brothers limiting your chance of leading one day, there was no true reason for you not to be sent off, if not just for the year you'd be gone. Your father, as emperor, was weary, of course.

"Venturing into harsher lands might calm your restless nature, which is something that must happen as you become an important figure to your people, dear. Besides, you'll be protected under the royal court of Rome in any regard, to be sure."

The trip had been troublesome, despite the amenities offered for a trip of so many noble people. It was truly its length that made it quite so unbearable, being over a week of slow travelling. Upon entering into your destination, however, your opinions on the matter immediately had been washed away by incoming fascination. Your empire had been fantastic in its own ways, of course, but this went beyond every notion of an idea you'd had for it. The streets were filled with excitement, and the people of the streets were beyond respectful, bowing their heads as you passed them.

Your fascination only grew as you came closer to the center of the land. There were buildings, each taller than the last and adorned with the most extraordinary pieces of decoration. Large, open areas housed groups of patricians, you were sure, wearing extravagant clothing that draped over their bodies perfectly. Their jewelry was even more extravagant, to be sure, shiny accessories adorning every finger and neck.

It's not that you weren't used to such lavishness, but your people had been less... open about it, in many regards. It was unlikely to find open rooms with expensive items on display as they had here. It's no matter, though. You'd fit in, to be sure. Your empire had sent you in their finest garments, matching these people's clothing perfectly fine.

The audience with this neighboring empire had been something of great discussion among the court of Rome. With the newest news coming in of the emperor's daughter visiting, the excitement only grew. There were stories, of course, of her people favoring her, for her beauty and kindness was a blessing for them. It intrigued Geta, in some regards. He'd expected old men and boring meetings discussing topics that he was not the least bit interested in. But a woman? He was indefinitely more interested in that.

Him and his brother were leaning lazily against their large thrones, women and men strew across them, vying for their attention. As your party entered, they both stayed in their position, watching disinterestedly, nodding as the people continued to enter.

It was customary that you entered last, in all your glory. You entered gracefully, all heads turned towards you, all in awe of your divine nature. Geta wasn't any exception as he immediately sat up straighter, trying to get a better look at you. As you stopped in front of them, dipping your head in respect, he continued to lean closer, eyes wide as they went over your features carefully.

"Thank you for your gracious invitation, emperors."

As your eyes rose to greet the twins, they immediately met Geta's. His own pair were watching your every movement, a interested glint in them unlike ever you'd ever seen in the eyes of a man. It caught you, making you freeze under his gaze. He slowly pushed off whoever had been on him, getting up as he slowly made his way towards you.

"The pleasure is all our own. I hope you know we've been anxiously awaiting you, my lady."

His eyebrows rose, anticipating your reaction. When you simply smiled, bowing your head once again in recognition before being carted away by your supervisors, he was beyond surprised. Any normal woman would've been flattered and flushing at his words, but you'd walked away with that calming nature still radiating.

His brother wasn't paying much attention, but that wasn't too much of surprise as Geta turned towards him, watching Caracalla place some grapes in his mouth as he looked off to the side. He turned back to your retreating form once more, shouting at you in order to get your attention.

"I hope you enjoy your stay, my lady. I'll be sure to call on you later."

You simply smiled once again, letting out a small laugh. "I'd appreciate that, Emperor. Thank you." You along with the rest of your party exited after a moment, exhausted after your long trip and in need of rest.

After you were long gone, likely softly sleeping in one of their more extravagant guest rooms, as Geta had imagined, he was approached by one of his many advisors, named Claudius. Claudius was one of the more brave council members, who would speak out against the emperors for the benefit of Rome. It was a surprise that his head hadn't been chopped off yet.

"I only want the best for your empire, Your Grace, and with such I must make it known that interacting with the daughter of such a powerful ruler has its risks. If word got out to the Emperor that you were treating her as you would with a common woman, it surely would bring their strong empire's wrath down unto our sacred land."

"You must have no faith in the glory of Rome, Claudius. Any attack on their part would be stopped immediately, you should know this."

"Since we've last spoken their forces have doubled in size, Your Grace. Do what you will, but we need to make sure this alliance goes as it's supposed to."

He was effectively being told 'no,' and he did not enjoy it at all. Everything in his life had been handed to him on a silver platter, so it went against his nature to not take what he wanted- in this case, that being you. His hands were clenched as he walked through the hallways, headed to his sleeping chambers.

You'd been headed back from your light sleep, hoping to find some sort of entertainment when a body had rammed at you at full speed, knocking you to the ground. There was the emperor, looking angrily at the figure underneath him. This angry look slowly faded as he realized it was you, turning into a devilish smile as he slowly pulled himself up, his hands resting on either side of your head.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, my lady. How have you found your stay so far?" He was vibrating with a sort of enticing energy, almost as though he was purring. It was rather strange, but you couldn't bring yourself to move, frozen once again in his gaze.

"Oh- well, this place is magnificent, Your Grace. It's truly wonderful to be here."

"Mm.. well I'm very glad you decided to come, you've made all this alliance work much more... interesting." He finally pulled himself off you, keeping his eyes glued to yours as he reached for your hand to pull you up with him in a sudden movement. "And you must call me Geta, princess." His hand held onto yours, subtly moving a thumb across its surface.

"Of course Y- Geta. And you shall call me by mine, yes?" Your calm nature had been broken, just as he'd hoped it would. His smile only grew at your flustered state.

"If that's what you'd like I'll faithfully oblige, though I do think Princess suits you much better. I'd do anything you asked of me, though, darling." With that he brought your hand to his face, keeping eye contact as he left a kiss on its back side.

To Hell with Rome. He got what he wanted, and he wanted you.

woah ok so I think this is the most I've every written, hopefully it was still a bit interesting for you guys! thank you so much for reading, and let me know if you want more stuff from him or anyone else in Gladiator (the obsession is crazy right noww) (also, wicked themed title to feed into another obsession don’t mind me)

if you guys want any more of this one, please let me know, I can even create a tag list if that interests anyone <3

love ya!!

[peoplesgraves]

Imagine being a Royal who can’t escape obsession

Yandere Knight who’s been trained for the honor of protecting the royals their entire life. Who’s had any semblance of self beaten out of them instead being filled with nothing but reverence for their favorite. At first their obsession is devoid of romance, solely based on their divine duty to protect you. They’re happy just to stay by your side and content with forgoing their own life in favor of yours. That would all change the moment they actually get hurt protecting you. They expect to be broken just like when they were a kid, destroyed and remade stronger, better for you. Instead you are gentle and kind, you help nurse their wounds and their obsession transitions from one of duty to one of love. No longer content to die for you, now they must live for you, their beloved royal. No matter how many people they have to cut down your knight will never forsake their love.

Yandere Advisor a few years older than you but much much younger than your other advisors. They were a prodigy, groomed from a simple stable hand to the person they were today. Their incredible intelligence, tactical mind and people skills make them invaluable to the kingdom but they find themself laying awake night after night. Not worrying for the people but for you instead. They care not for the opinion of other royals or their peers but only of yours. They view everyone as below them, sure their friendly and compassionate on the surface but below the skin lies a bubbling darkness. Every meeting with you that’s interrupted by some silly problem or royal ball they’re forced to miss due to work, they find their facade cracking. They contemplate abandoning the wretched kingdom you loved, whisking you far far away so they can finally have what they love. For now though they’ll wear their cracked mask and guide you as gently as they can, both in your role as a royal and towards your devoted advisor.

Your families resident Yandere Wizard is a strange creature. Equally out of their mind as they are terrifyingly cunning. They slip between the two states so easily that it’s not quite clear which is their true self, maybe they’re both just hiding what truly lurks below their calculating eyes and outrageous outfits. Despite being perfectly capable of turning whatever enemy crossed their path into nothing more than a pile of dust, they prefer to use their magic in more…joyful ways. Turning your dress into whatever color you fancied at the moment or making flowers appears out of thin air whenever you seemed down. Some may call it a waste of their gift but they knew the truth, knew that nothing was a waste if it was done for love. They turn their tower into an inviting place for you and makes sure you know you’re always welcome, that they’ll always have time for their royal. They contemplate keeping you up in their tower forever and using their magic to bring you bliss until the end of days. They would give you whatever you wanted because all they wanted was you.

A Yandere Witch who’d started as a simple forest witch. Content to live in her small cabin among the trees and animals, only ever going into the royal city when they needed supplies or to sell off potions at the marketplace. Sometimes people would come to them for help with their maladies or to try and observe their strange skills for themselves and usually they’d abide before sending them on their way and going back to their solitude. Lately though their solitude wasn’t the great comfort it had once been. Something was missing or rather someone. They found themself going into the royal city more and more, not just flitting in and out of the market place but becoming a frequent fixture. So frequent in fact that under cover of night and a cloak you’d come to seek them, hearing of their skills on one of your visits to greet the subjects. They indulged you, allowing you to watch their work until the sun starts to peak through the horizon and to their joy you keep coming back whenever you can. They becomes so fond of your company that they consider getting rid of that pesky wizard of yours and offering themself for the royal court instead.

A Yandere Maid and your closest confidant, a fact they very much likes to rub in to anyone who will listen. They’d been raised for this since birth, the knight was raised to protect you sure but they were raised to serve. To handle every tedious, boring or undesirable aspect of your life so you’d never be anything less than content. It was a job they took very seriously, keeping detailed lists of what you liked and didn’t like, paying the shadiest people to vet any new people you came into contact with before you ever met them and of course helping in more normal ways too. Because you trust them so implicitly it’s startlingly easy to get rid of any favors of affection from anyone else, after all you didn’t need anyone else. Only they could take care of you the way you needed, it was their purpose, you were their purpose.

The Yandere Jester is perhaps the least assuming of yanderes. Always joking and smiling and laughing and prodding oh so subtly. Telling you stories of when they were sent to the gallows and their escape even fantastical tales of robbed royals, mysterious murders and other various crimes and misfortunes. Ultimately these were assumed to be humorous fibs from a misguided jester but still some nobles would whisper theories while looking at the jester fearfully, saying they were an escaped madman or perhaps a demon in human form. Truthfully no one but you seemed to like them much, always acting as if they were a rabid bloodthirsty beast and they were, to anyone else at least. To you they were a lapdog, hungry only for your laughter and joy. Eventually their stories get to be less about the past and more about the future, talks of how funny it’d be to steal away their beloved and leave all these silly nobles heads spinning. They don’t sound quite as funny telling that one, but still you smile politely and they love you even more for it.

Yandere Suitors sent from other kingdoms, mostly weaker ones seeking to form an alliance but also a few from stronger kingdoms, even empires who simply had a spare and figured it couldn’t hurt or needed agreements on something specific from your kingdom such as a rare resource. Eventually as more and more suitors came and then refused to return home even after rejection, they ended up as more of an unwanted harem situation. Constantly making and breaking alliances with each other to try and gain favor, flitting around the palace ordering servants around to make sure everything perfect all the time for you. Each trying to be seen as the best spouse for you, dreaming of the day you pick them and send the rest home, in pieces if required. Always whispering gossip in your ear, offering to warm your bed or accompany you out of the palace. Theyd do anything to be your favorite, just one step closer.

Throngs of adoring, Yandere Royal Subjects, even people from the far away villages and outer edge territories make their way to the royal city when you make a grand appearance in town. Cheering and waving colorful flags made from scrap, some huddled in groups giving blessings for your safety and health hoping they’d be extra effective with you so close. Parents hold up their kids as high up as they can hoping you’d bless them through the carriage window as they’d seen you do before. People insist on giving gifts and offering, although not to you directly once the royal entourage passes many march to the castles gates and leave them there, in place for your return. While many have negative views on other royals or monarchy in general, none ever seem to extend to you, their beloved royal. Any citizen led attacks or rebellions to the crown always seem to happen when you’re away and never touch your preferred parts of the castle or castle grounds, the very worst that’d ever happened to you was when a small outlier group raided your room and stole a few things. Those same outliers were later found bled out in the middle of town,in the middle of the day, with absolutely no witnesses. Everyone in town knows what happened of course, justice was served.

Yandere Assassin who was the best, never once caught or suspected for the hundred deaths they’d directly caused, so disconnected from themself and from the world that every new identity and culture they found themself ingratiated in felt just as much like home as anywhere else, nothing felt real or right so what did it matter who they were or who they killed. Not until they were assigned to your kingdom, to your family, did they finally start to understand what it meant to be alive and just how precious life was. Years of blood on their hands hadn’t taught them to live but a week with you and their heart was beating for the first time. They mostly watched from the sidelines, acting as just another servant. They watched how the other royals misuse their power to mistreat the people, each other and most egregiously, you. They watch as the others ignore and placate you, watches as they lie and cheat and subjugate the masses and they’re disgusted. It’s amazingly easy to poison their wine, everyone who could possibly be a threat to your ascension. They know you’ll be upset for a while at the loss of your ‘family’ but they promise to be there for you and now that they’ve taken a permanent position in the castle they’ll have all the time in the world to look out for you.

A local Yandere Dragon who kidnaps you every few weeks or so. Of course the first time you’d been terrified, a huge thundering monster snatches you from your visit to the courtyard and just flies off, with you in its talons. Though once back at their surprisingly not horrible cave, you come to understand them a bit. At least more than any other human had ever bothered to. Some knights from your kingdom had stolen from their horde and they wanted whatever it was back, sure being kidnapped wasn’t great but at least they were negotiating instead of just destroying the place in revenge. They are gruff and unpracticed but ultimately harmless to you and after a guarantee of their stolen treasures return you too are returned home. Though every few weeks the dragon seems to have some new grievance that requires the beloved royal as collateral and in that time they grow to be more and more comfortable around you, their little human. Should your kingdom ever wise up to their trick and try to fight against the dragon for you it wouldn’t be pretty. Last time someone stole from their horde they negotiated, that time, they’d burn the kingdom to the ground and take what was theirs, permanently.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere poly Nico and will from Percy Jackson please 🙏🏼 I love your work 🥰

❝ 💀 — lady l: It's almost 4am and I haven't slept yet, but I needed to write this before I forget lol. I got a little carried away, but I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🤎🖤

❝tw: toxic relationships, polyamourous, manipulation, obsessive and possessive behavior, forced relationship (?).

❝☀️pairing: yandere!nico di angelo/yandere!will solace x male!reader.

Nico and Will were quite satisfied with their current relationship. They matched, they had common interests and future plans to be realized. That said, they weren't thinking about adding a third demigod to their relationship or being obsessed with you in general. You shared many of the same interests as them and had a personality that complemented the couple's dynamic. It was as if you were made by the gods themselves to complete them.

Nico thoroughly enjoyed your company and he felt comfortable around you, something he felt with few people. You made him laugh, feel happy and understood and di Angelo found himself wanting more and more that feeling you brought in him. A feeling of belonging to something, that he belonged to you.

Will, on the other hand, was a little more skeptical at first. That didn't mean he didn't like you, he was just more cautious. As he got closer to you, mainly because of his boyfriend, Solace understood what Nico saw in you. You had something that attracted people to you, that attracted them to you.

In conversations about different topics, both Nico and Will found themselves mentioning you more and more. You were a constant presence in their lives, and your company was always pleasant and welcome. It was then that they began to consider the possibility of including you in their relationship in a more intimate and meaningful way.

Nico and Will wouldn't force you into a relationship with them. If they can't have you romantically, that's okay, they have other ways of keeping you with them. As long as you were theirs, they would be fine with it.

For Nico and Will, it was important that this new phase of their relationship was based on respect, consent and mutual love. They believed you could bring a new dimension to their relationship, enriching their lives in ways they had never imagined. They were eager to see how this new configuration could further strengthen the bonds between them.

And when you said yes, when you accepted them, it was the happiest moment of both of their lives. You were finally theirs to love, to own, and to adore.

The relationship with them is quite dynamic and comfortable, you suppose. They respected you and respected your limits and choices, although they would always give you their opinions. You have a lot of freedom, you can hang out with your friends and go on missions, although Nico doesn't particularly like it, he knows he can't lock you away. or can he?

Nico is the clingiest of the three of you and it shows when he loves to snuggle next to you or just stay by your side, even if in silence. He likes to steal t-shirts from you, as a mild form of marking you as his, and also because he likes them.

In addition to being clingy, Nico is also quite overprotective and as a result, he can become possessive. He just wants you to be safe, why is this so hard? Nico has already lost someone he loved, he won't lose you too. It doesn't matter if you know how to fight, he won't allow it.

Will is already more subtle in his displays of affection, but that doesn't make him any less clingy. He likes to hold your hand, sing hymns, and appreciate your beauty when no one is watching. You can expect many poems written by him, all of them describing how much he loves you.

Solace is more jealous and possessive than Nico, although he doesn't show it as much. His normally warm and gentle gaze will harden, his mouth will form a thin line, and his grip on you will tighten. He doesn't like to show his jealous moments, but he can't help the hatred that arises within him when someone gets too close to you.

They both make a wonderful duo and they knew how to manipulate you if they so choose. Nico is the most emotional manipulator, he will make you feel guilty when you are being stubborn. Will is already the cruelest manipulator, he knows how to make you feel bad about yourself and he will use that to his advantage to keep you with them.

They adore you, love you, albeit in their twisted way. They will spoil you and adore you from head to toe, all you have to do is be good to them and listen to them. You won't be allowed to go on missions without them by your side, nor will you be allowed to make friends that they don't approve of. Your life should revolve around them.

You don't want to get on their bad side. Nico is the son of Hades, he has his own means of taking whoever he wants from you, whoever he thinks is interfering in your relationship. And Will knows very well how to manipulate people to keep them away from you. And they are not against killing to keep with them.

You are theirs the moment they met you but you officially became theirs when you agreed to enter into their relationship. A relationship you can never end. Nico and Will will take good care of you, however, don't worry.

[annefolklore]

Just thinking about soft and loving sex with Bakugo.

Like just imagine he starts to softly cry because he’s never been genuinely praised (outside because of his quirk) and intimate like that with someone. Like when you say I love you while looking at him through his eyes, they actually start watering

Warnings: afab reader, you call him baby and he calls you sweetheart, missionary position if you squint.

! Minors dni !

“Katsuki?” You muttered when he backed up a bit to breath air.

The way his name rolled on your tongue on itself was enough for Bakugo to feel this strange but welcoming warm feeling in his stomach. Your puffy lips from kissing each other, were parted as you breathed and moaned at each of his slow but deep thrust into your heat and the blond couldn’t stop himself from pecking them before answering with his deep voice

“Yeah?”

But you were already zoning out because of his mesmerizing face, because let’s get this straight: Katsuki Bakugo is a beautiful man. Handsome or sexy weren’t good enough to capture his features. From the sharpness of his jawline, his plump pink lips to his captivating crimson eyes, he sure was a piece of art to look at. No wonder he has contracts with multiple modeling agencies for him to be their new front page on magazines.

But these photographers could never really capture you fiancé’s beauty. There is just something about him doing simply…nothing. It could be the way he adjust his glasses when answering emails on his laptop, or him ruffling his hair in the morning in front of the mirror with this tired expression. Or maybe how he smiles when you say terrible jokes while shaking his head. There’s just something with you man that’s breathtaking!

Let’s not even start about his personality! Everyone may describe him as this loud brute, but with you?…Girl that’s another story.

“I love you” you softly say, looking at the ruby orbs a few centimeters from your face.

Oh you love this man and he loves you more even if you guys playfully argues about which one of you loves the other more.

And Katsuki? He loves you so freaking much, he cannot explain it. At the beginning of the relationship, it even scared him a bit about how much he would think about you and care about you opinion on things.

He loves the way your eyes lit up when he shows you the new hairstyle he wants to try and how they sparkle when he comes back from the barber. He loves how you steal his shirts and hoodies to wear as if they’re your own. He loves how you’re always thoughtful about the gifts you give him even though your presence is the best gift he ever had.

But what Bakugo love the most about you isn’t even your features. It’s how you’re always praising him even for the smallest things and how it’s not often about his ability to make explosions.

“You love me?” He echoes and his voice cracks a little.

It wasn’t a secret that Bakugo’s quirk was powerful and that’s why people even talk to him in the first place. “You’re so strong” they said. “I wish I had your quirk” they said. And Katsuki had grown tired of it. Yes, he’s impressive and mighty…but what else? No one tells him how they appreciate him. No one put his name and funny in the same sentence, unlike his friend Kaminari. No one calls him sweet like any other heroes…but you.

You nod your head and your eyes were filling with water, encircling his neck with your arms . “So so much” you continue before joining your lips with his again for a delicate kiss and his tongue immediately went to yours.

Why you were crying? Because you couldn’t understand how nobody ever saw Katsuki as him. He’s so much more than being Dynamight and it just breaks your heart how he never heard such endearing words from somebody else.

“I love you so much, baby” you moan when he perfectly hit again your spongey spot inside of you.

No matter how many times you’d say that sentence in a day, Bakugo will never grow bored of it. He finally has someone who loves him. His warm and calloused hands quickly enveloped your own when he felt his own eyes starting to water. It wasn’t like when he was a teenager, crying late at night because he wasn’t enough. No, this time, it was because he realised that he finally has what he wishes for the most: someone that truly loves him.

“I love you too sweetheart” he whimpers in your ear, at the edge of his orgasm and he could feel you being there too. “So fucking fucking m-much” he moans as he makes his last thrust harder.

He moans your name as he comes inside of you and your heat spasm around his thick member. Katsuki continues to thrust into you to make the pleasure last longer before he lets himself fall on top of you.

Deep breathing was the only sound in the room as you guys catch your breath.

[the-real-couchrat]

Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

2

Ladonb Kokosa (TikTok account, LOTS of great videos )

Giving the mouthwashing characters what they deserve (TikTok)

Edit: I am no longer seeking out these posts, and new ones will only be added if I’m tagged or such

[my-castles-crumbling]

📝🦊Cas🏳‍🌈🎵 - they/them/she/he - queer - married

Click to view only Marauders/Harry Potter content

Click to only view asks/advice

Age: Over 21

Fandoms: Marauders with a side of drarry.

Ships: Jegulus, Jegulily, wolfstar, rosekiller, pandalily, dorlene, drarry.

Music: Taylor Swift, Conan Gray, Olivia Rodrigo, Lana Del Ray, Hozier, Renee Rapp, Chappell Roan, Gracie Abrams

AO3: my_castlescrumbling

Writing: Requests open!

Link to list of crisis hotlines for many different countries Link to Marauders Knowledge Quiz Link to list of requests (requests are open)

***Please allow me 3-5 days to get back to advice asks! Remember to check back if you write anonymously, you won't be tagged. If I don't reply after 5 days, please resend, sometimes tumblr eats my inbox messages 🙄

(Also please note that I am not a professional. All advice is just one random person's opinion. When you send me an ask you are acknowledging I am not liable for whatever happens if you chose to listen to a random person on the internet 😋)

Please do not post any of my work on fanfiction.net/wattpad. I welcome collaboration, podfics, and translation with permission. I do not support the use of AI in fanfiction/fanart. I do not want to join any websites that involve writing fanfiction for pay.

If you are a minor, please do not interact with any content I mark explicit-minors DNI. This is for both my protection and yours.

Below the cut:

My ao3 Fics

My Microfics

Fic Recs

Request/reading boundaries

Advice/ask boundaries

LGBTQIA+ resources

Writing tips

Song covers

My ao3 Fics:

Note- I am writing all fic ratings. If you are a minor, please take heed. If the fic is rated E and you are a minor, do not interact with it.

AHHHH this got to long! Click here to go to my google doc version of my masterlist!

My Microfics:

Jegulus Microfic Archive

Wolfstar Microfic Archive

Rosekiller Microfic Archive

Jegulily Microfic Archive

Explicit Microfic Archive - Minors DNI

Kinktober Microfic Archive - Minors DNI

Fic Recommendations:

AHHHH guys this list got too long! Please click here for a link to a google doc I made with all recs!

Request/Reading Boundaries:

A lot of people have asked to send me things to read or requests for writing. I LOVE when people send me these things, but just a few boundaries:

No MCD

No incest

No illegal age gaps

No noncon, in any sense

No EDs, SH, or SI

Advice/Ask Boundaries:

Advice about sex (how-to, positions, etc)

Personal topics like my own intimate life, my own personal information (IRL name, names of family members, etc)

Topics that I am not educated on, or do not have a right to give my opinion on. While I am happy to talk and give advice about LGBTQIA+ issues, I am uncomfortable sharing my opinion on issues that I am still working to learn about, because I don't want to spread false information or be unintentionally hurtful. Also, since I hold a lot of privilege, there are certain topics that I would rather amplify the voices of others about, rather than taking up my own space.

LGBTQIA+ Resources:

Here are the websites I often link to when giving people advice. I'll add to these as I find more!

Need help? The Trevor Project has Crisis Counselors

The genderbread person- (sexual attraction versus gender versus romantic attraction)

List of nonbinary identities and definitions

List of ace identities and definitions

A highly-reviewed chest binder that ships to like a hundred countries

Pronouns explained

LGBTQIA+ travel safety guide- world

LBGTQIA+ rights/safety by state in US

United States LGBTQIA+ student rights

The Trevor Project- Sexual Orientation Information

The Trevor Project- Gender Identity Information

Pronoun closet (try different pronouns)

Writing Tips:

Write a lot.

Don't worry about mistakes or editing. Just write a lot to get your ideas out. Practice makes better, and writing a lot will help you gain confidence. You don't have to post it anywhere of you don't want to!

2. Try microfics!

Microfics are a great way to practice writing certain ships, or just practice in general. They're also lovely for getting a feel of posting! They're low-pressure and low-commitment, which is lovely!

3. Find people to write with.

Whether it's people online or in person, find people to talk about writing and write with. It's very motivating and helps hold you accountable.

4. Be gentle with yourself!

This is supposed to be fun. Don't beat yourself up or be too hard on yourself.

5. Write down your ideas.

Ideas come at weird times. Write them down, because you'll forget them.

Song Covers

Sometimes I sing...

People Watching - Conan Gray

Gravity - Sara Bareilles

Blank Space- Taylor Swift

Idontwannabeyouanymore- Billie Eilish

Sparks Fly - Taylor Swift

So Long, London - Taylor Swift

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Your aura/vibe"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read about your aura's possible characteristics and your vibe, how people may perceive you even at a first glance/first impression. thanks @ghostlygardendelusion-blog for the suggestion.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

I think your aura may have tones between yellow and green. On the first meeting people see your strength and determination, you may look a bit more reserved or closed off or even "showing off" in a way. But you have a big heart and some can see it too especially through your eyes or some specific behaviours (if you let them). You may have a bit of a wall in front of you caused by your past.

For some, you may seem a bit "too much" at first, or even too self confident/absorbed or too reserved, but it's generally a self-defense mechanism you adopted to hide your insecurity/shiness, and your pain. Probably you've been judged/gaslighted a lot. I think the way you grew up made it hard for you to speak about your needs and desires, about who you really are even, so you just started closing off and stopped talking but tried to fulfill your needs yourself the way you could (at least on your best days). Some may still be in that phase, others reacted by being more "out there" with their ideas and opinions too (and maybe even slightly stubborn about them). You may also be dressing in what society may consider a particular way or have a peculiar interest that not many may understand.

You look pretty independent because of your past, like if you don't feel too good, you rather keep it for yourself and put on a smile on your face and be there for others. Others don't ask you much of how you feel or similar cause you wouldn't answer them anyway or you'd tell them you're good so to not be a burden or something like that (actually, you're never a burden, no matter what you learned in your past). To be honest, you probably have started healing this side of you and this is why at times, on a first impression, you look a bit too full of yourself or closed off: you still need to balance yourself again but don't worry, you'll make it. Take your time and don't give up. People will be able to see your big heart and love the real you. Ofc, some of you are already showing it more and that's indeed the sign of the start of a new chapter for you.

For a few, you may still feel a bit lonely atm: please try to not give up and keep reaching for other people anytime you feel like. You'll meet your people this way, by keep trying to be out there, be more vulnerable/welcoming, and practicing socializing. You cannot always wait for others to reach out first nor you have to be there for them when you don't feel like: talk about your needs, even if it means needing a couple of days off on your own. Know ad appreciate your whole real self so to share it with others fully too. Speak more about yourself, the right people will love to listen. Find your audience.

And btw, I'm proud of how you made it 'till today. :)

song: thinking out loud | ed sheeran

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

Your aura may have tones between pink and red, for some a bit dark orange-ish too. At first you may look cute and sweet, maybe even little/on the younger side, very welcoming/comforting, like the old friend you have been close to for a lot. You have an healing presence. You have shiny eyes. People may approach you and talk with you easily, maybe while you're in line at the supermarket or such. People feel like trusting you, some may feel connected to you and others may feel (also physically) attracted by you or want to protect you or save you. You may have venus in scorpio/venus 8th house or similar placements, but not necessarily. Some people may not like you to the point of hating you or may be envious of you for no apparent reason even (so sorry about it).

For others, people notice your drive and passion, how focused and hard working you are, how prepared you are especially in a school or work setting. Whether you work in a team or not, you may shine often in the eyes of your boss or professor. You're very goal-oriented, and are rarely distracted but ofc it can happen (ADHD I hear). You may work or study better, or just be more proficient in general, in structured setting or when you have a plan set and know what to do from start to end. Not having that or having to improvise may make you a bit nervous cause you don't have control over what you're doing (and maybe lack trust in yourself). Remember where you are, what you were able to reach in your past: there's nothing you cannot do if you put your mind to it and try to stay/work calmly and in a balanced manner. Breathe, as you may tend to stress a bit too much here and there and overthink (lot of air/mercury in your chart? I understand, dw). There're perfectionism tendencies here too, and some people may notice them as well (especially those who work with you). Confront your demons, those that tell you you're not able to handle certain situations: you can. You totally can. The moment you're sure about it, you'll be able to receive whatever wish you ever wanted. And you don't have to be perfect either. It's okay to make mistakes.

Also, people love you in general: just try to not be too self aware. You may occasionally fear others pointing out/focusing on your physical flaws or mistakes (we're all imperfect humans, so if they do this let them be in their mold as it's only their own issue: let go of control on others -you cannot control them and their thoughts of you anyway- and just enjoy, be in contact with your body and love your whole self. Others will mirror you and forget about any random flaw or error you may see in yourself/make. You're perfect as you are, there's no other definition of perfection).

And if you feel like you're too unexperienced (or for a few, others may think this of you and let you down), again let go and remember you can and have time to learn more and make any experience you want to do. Those people aren't for you anyway.

Don't mind others too much (especially if what they say is not objectively helping you in any way), just keep spreading your contagious smile, beauty, knowledge, passion, heart around. Envious people will always be envious, it's not your fault. Keep up the great work!

song: enchanted | taylor swift

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

Your aura may be on the tones of light blue, blue or something like that. Maybe even indigo. Probably you're connected with the 5d/spiritual world too. You're thoughtful and you have a way with words that always gets people. Maybe you even work with words (writing/translating/teaching/communication/marketing/media/music...). You maybe also help others putting into words their emotions/feelings and help them feel better.

You look knowledgeable, you probably also have an higher education or are trying to reach it. You may love reading books and/or studying/learning. You look like someone that can be of support, with whom one can talk and share theirselves and not be judged. Someone who is able to make their reality come true. You feel very powerful and empowered, but you're also able of empowering others. You probably work in service fields, to help others too. Maybe you're a doctor/nurse or a psychologist. Anyway, you are balanced cause you know how to give yourself as well (or at least you're working on this: in the past you may have had people pleasing tendencies); I feel you may be saying some more "no's" and putting yourself first when you need, and that's good. Other see you as an angel, very open and helping. A true force of nature when necessary. Successful, in charge of your own destiny, and healing. Some perceive you as an example to follow in their life. For some, you're also a manifestation of a desire, a wish fulfillment. You may have the ability to pop up into someone's life when they need it the most, and maybe even disappear after your "job" with them is done. You may look like a loner or maybe it seems like you don't have many friends, but still you know a lot of people and are seen and thought very highly by them.

At times you may be feeling easily overwhelmed or overthink a lot, and those closer to you may realize it cause you tend to shut down or be a bit more on your own. Remember you can talk with people about your problems when you need (despite I feel like you may like to write your thoughts and analyze them the most, or are used this way). You seem to be pretty strong and wise, like you've been through a lot in your life and you're not that easily shaken by life anymore. But at times ofc it may happen... still, your mind is there to serve you, not to make it worse: remember you're in charge of your thoughts when things get tough.

Some people may really love you/fall for your ways and words. For some, you have become a source of support and help to those around you. You may be like a guide. Even if you may not be too close with people or the ones you've met, you're still a very important part of their life and/or a good memory they carry in their heart. For some of you, you may be(come) kinda famous/known at least in your area/field/school/workplace and people may be talking about you a lot. But generally, except a few ones, they will have good words about you and what you do.

song: butterflies pt.2 | queen naija

[aesethewitch]

Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

With that said, if you did enjoy this post, consider throwing a couple dollars at my tip jar. Tips, commissions, and shop purchases get you 30 days of access to my entire backlog of exclusive posts and upcoming ones. Monthly members get continuous access plus extra benefits! All support helps me keep the lights on, so it's very much appreciated.

If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden Embers

Series summary: You return to your home state the summer after graduating college. The relentless Texas heat, the suburban southern bubble and your treacherous relationship with your mom give you the feeling this will be a long summer. That's until Joel Miller enters the picture.

Summary: Your welcome-back party brings a re-encounter with one of your dad’s old friends, one you don’t remember looking so good.

A/N: Hello strangers, haven't seen you in a long long time. This is something that's been on the works for months now. Ideally, I wanted to put this series out when I had a good enough chunk of the story finished since I'm the most undecisive person ever. However, I wanna start posting some chapters on here as I go and then post the full completed thing on AO3. I will warn you though, it is very likely that as I write the story, I will keep on making some changes to previously posted chapters just so in the end it all makes sense and it's cohesive, I will let you guys know whenever there has been a major change. Take this as me asking the tumblr girlies to beta read this series before i publish it over on AO3. In any case, I hope the ones who decide to start reading here instead of waiting for the full thing enjoy it very much, I'm very open to suggestions, opinions and constructive critisism. :)

Warnings: Age-gap (Reader is 22, Joel is 46), Dbf!Joel, mommy issues

It was your first summer back home after graduation. The relentless Texas heat was bringing memories from your childhood that had been buried away until now, some of them felt more like dreams at this point. You had never been too good with the heat, but spending four years in chilly, gloomy New England had certainly birthed a new appreciation for it.

You weren’t sure you wanted to come back and stay for the entire summer, but your southern-to-the-core mother has a knack for getting her way. Something about “You were away for four whole years, I’m sure you can spare us a couple months before you jump right into a job in god knows where. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up moving back and finding something around here, a nice guy to settle down with and finally get your life going.” 

God forbid. 

Naturally, in true southern fashion, your parents had to make your graduation celebration a neighborhood affair. A big barbeque, with all the nice people your parents grew up with, went to highschool and college with, who married and had kids with each other. People who haven’t, a day in their lives, given a single thought to what might exist outside of their perfect suburban bubbles. 

You weren’t trying to act ungrateful – it was a celebration of one of your most important milestones after all. People were coming together to congratulate you and your achievements. But if it were up to you, none of them would have been invited and you wouldn’t have celebrated it like this. Honestly, you missed the trips you used to take with your dad as a kid, all the way out in the countryside. Just the two of you for a week during the summer, staying in an old cabin that creaked and shook whenever your steps were too heavy. You don't remember why you stopped going, but you wished you still did. It would have been a much nicer celebration.

None of today’s guests knew you as anything other than your parent’s daughter, the shiny new thing your mother was choosing to show off. You knew that’s how it was gonna be the second your mother told you there was no point in attending your college’s graduation party, why would you when they could make you your own celebration back home with all the nice neighborhood people instead of a room full of strangers?

Your dad had good intentions, you knew that… deep, deep down. But it had always just been the three of you, and even when it was blatantly obvious your mother was in the wrong, even when there was no way of justifying her behavior, he still stood behind her, echoing her words. 

And that's how you ended up here, prepping food for your own graduation barbeque, decorating your own garden, cleaning up your own house so it would be squeaky clean for people you hadn’t seen in well over a decade. It’s what a “Do it for me, i’ll make it up to you I promise. The community is just really important to your mom” from your dad gets out of you. 

You had probably been looking at yourself for a good twenty minutes now. Nothing you tried on felt quite right. It was either too formal, too casual, too revealing or too childish. This was a direct consequence of moving out of the south at the ripe age of 10; No one in Virginia taught you how to dress for a neighborhood barbeque. 

Last minute you land on a blue sundress, delicate white flowers scattered around, long enough to cover your knees but not enough to make you look like you just walked out of Sunday school. You took that as a win. 

At the sound of your mother loudly complaining about no one in the house ever helping (a comment undoubtedly directed at you), you decide to drag yourself downstairs. The sooner you get this party started, the sooner you could be done with it.

Rushing down the stairs, distractedly gathering your hair up with a tie, you unexpectedly bump into something – or rather someone.  

"Easy, there. Where's the fire?"

That familiar voice… same old Joel Miller. A few more grays overpowering the darkness of his hair, a couple more wrinkles here and there and a deeper tan painting his skin a more caramel-y shade. But it was still him. 

You knew very little about Joel, just that he was your dad’s best friend for as long as you could remember. The periodic phone calls they filled with hour-long football discussions, the christmas cards exchanged and birthday wishes texted. You remember him being around the house a lot before moving out of Texas, although the specifics of it escape your memory.

Now he’s standing right in front of you, firm hands holding you by your arms to make sure you won't lose your balance, and you’re faced with the fact that twenty-two-year-old you might be seeing Joel Miller through a different lens. 

Your brain isn’t really doing what it’s meant to do, which in this exact moment would be produce an acceptable response for the six-foot-something man with broad shoulders, dark brooding eyes and a musky, woody scent that made you wanna… No. Focus.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t even see you there… I didn’t think anyone would arrive until five.” you finally reply to his expectant stare. 

“No need to be sorry.” He says back, letting go of your arms once he’s sure you’re able to stand on your own. “Well, welcome home. Haven’t seen you since you were running around in mermaid tees” 

Yeah, now seemed like the right time to look for a hole in the ground to crawl into. 

“Oh, that’s not fair, I grew out of my mermaid phase long before we moved.  I was well into boyband territory last time you saw me” you try to joke your way through the conversation, hoping the burning sensation crawling up to your cheeks isn’t as obvious as it feels. 

The embarrassment of the moment would have churned your insides for much longer if Joel's mouth hadn't quirked up in a charming smirk, so captivating it was hard to believe he wasn't aware of its effect. 

That on its own was already causing some conflicting feelings to boil up inside you, but then he had the nerve to let out a small chuckle he seemed to have been trying to hold back. He was chuckling... Texas’ resident grump was chuckling at your joke, which wasn't even that funny if we’re being fully earnest. Why did you like that thought so much?

You were about to say something, anything really, in a shameless attempt to see if you could earn one more of those, when your mother's approaching voice snapped you out of the haze.

“Are you gonna make me drag you in here, or will you do me the courtesy of helping out... Oh, goodness me! Joel! I didn’t hear you come in, you’re here early.” She switched gears faster than a professional racer. Suddenly, she was back to being the neighborhood’s sweetheart, her voice dripping with that sickly sweet drawl.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry for the intrusion,” Joel replies, slipping back into his usual, almost stiff demeanor. Whatever new side you had seen of him a second ago was quickly gone. “Hank asked me to drop by a bit earlier to bring him the grill. Said mine’s better suited for the amount of meat he’s buying.”

“Oh, how that man refuses to listen. I told him we didn’t need that much meat. I'm making a whole lotta side dishes,” she whines, waving her hand dismissively. “Well, I guess everyone will be taking leftovers home then. Hank went over to the store to grab me some stuff I was missing. He should be back in a heartbeat.” She glances back at you and, in that passive-aggressive tone that almost anybody else would miss, said, “Well, sweetheart, don’t just stand there. Go help Joel unload his grill and show him what a good host you are.” 

It was only your third day back home. Somehow, four years of freedom had made living in this household even more unbearable. 

Smile, turn around, walk away. Choose your peace, choose your peace, choose your peace.

Heavy footsteps echo yours all the way to the garage, where Joel's truck waited. You let him walk past you to unlock the tailgate. “Your mom hasn’t changed one bit, has she?” Joel says distractedly while grabbing some metal pieces that looked like parts of his grill. 

“Oh, if you only knew.” you say back, trying your best to conceal the sharpness of your tone. 

He hands you the cold metal parts, surprisingly lighter than you anticipated. You were convinced he only made you carry them to let you feel useful. “Believe me, I know. Known your mom since way before you were even a thought runnin’ through her mind.” 

Right. Because Joel happens to be your parents’ age and over twice your senior. One of the many reasons why getting distracted by the way his muscles flexed while picking up the grill was so beyond wrong. 

“You uh… you still live a few houses up the street?” You asked, trying your best to redirect your reckless thoughts. 

“Same old house.” He replies with a slightly strained voice from carrying the weight. Once he set it down in the backyard, he turned around to take the pieces you were holding onto. “Renovated some of it, built a new pool out back.” 

“That sounds nice, might have to check it out sometime.” You said it without even thinking much. What compelled you to think it was acceptable to tell a man you haven't seen in over a decade you would like to ‘check out’ his pool, was beyond you.

You thought Joel would chuckle it off or maybe not even acknowledge it, which he would’ve been well within his right to do, but he looked up to you from his leaning position next to the grill and said “Yeah, I think you might.” 

You couldn’t shake off Joel’s words throughout the whole afternoon. 

First chance you got to zone out in between introductions, awkward small talk and getting asked the same thing for the thousandth time, your mind drifted back to Joel’s words. 

He was just being polite, right? He has always been a gentleman after all. Maybe it was just the southern hospitality in him, maybe he didn’t even mean it and was just trying to be nice.

Yeah, I think you might

You were probably just reading too much into it, but the way he said it seemed like a lot more than just being polite. Or, and this is a very big possibility, it’s been way too long since you’ve let anyone take you to bed and you’re latching onto the first man who looks your way. 

You try to distract your brain with the old lady in front of you instead, who’s been chatting you up about her four cats for over fifteen minutes. She’s surprisingly nice but you think you’d be enjoying her chatter a lot more if your mind wasn’t so distracted.

She notices as much.  “You doin’ alright there, sweetheart?” 

You  brush it off as best as you can. “Oh, I'm alright. I just think the trip and the unpacking is finally catching up to me.” You stand up from the lawn chair you’d been lounging on. “I’ll go grab myself a drink, can I grab you anything?” 

She smiles sweetly up at you and replies “No, sweetness, you go ahead.” 

The chatter outside dulls out as you close the glass doors behind you. You don’t bother turning on the kitchen overhead lights, relying only on light seeping in from the back yard.

The chill from the fridge hits your chest as you crack the door open to grab a can of coke. Just as you pop the tab, a shadow leaning against the door frame makes you jump. 

“Jesus, give a girl a warning.” you say bringing your hand to your chest trying to slow your heartbeat back down. 

“Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to scare you.” Joel's voice comes from the shadow

Darlin’ ? Lord, were you screwed. 

You hoped the dim lighting was doing enough to hide the burning red that was probably staining your cheeks already, especially since Joel was pushing off of the door frame and walking over to you. 

“Needed a break from the crowd too?” you ask softly, cutting through the quiet.

The corner of his lips curves up in one of his killer smirks and you can already tell that’s gonna be one of your favorite things about him. “You readin’ me like a book.” 

You give him a tiny smile and take a sip of your Coke, the cold liquid a welcome distraction. “I thought you’d be manning the grill.”

He grumbles softly, the sound reverberating in his chest. “Hank’s got it covered for now. Figured I’d come check on you.”

You look up at him confused. “Check on me? Why?”

He shrugged, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright. This can’t be easy, coming back after all this time.”

More than the charming smirks or the pet names or the indecipherable jabs, this knocked the air out of your chest. You were so used to everyone telling you how lucky you were, how wonderful your parents were and how great it was they could put you through college, how perfect of a life you had and how easy it seemed for you to deal with it all. You get it, that’s how it looked from the outside and you didn’t blame people for thinking that. But the truth was you had just become shockingly skilled at hiding your struggles, pretending you had everything under control and plastering a big, dazzling smile on your face.

Somehow, in the few hours that Joel has been around you, at least in this past decade, he managed to see right through this smoke screen you’ve been building your entire life to keep people from seeing what’s going on inside. 

It leaves you speechless for a second. “Oh, um…” you can’t take your eyes off of him now, far too unconcerned to notice if you’re staring. “It’s been… exhausting and a bit hectic but, you know... I’m alright. Thank you for asking, Joel.” His name slips out of your lips so easily, like you could picture yourself saying it over and over again without ever burning out. 

He looks down, almost like he isn’t used to doing this either, like he’s searching for something else to say. Then his hoarse voice breaks through the silence “Well, if you’re not, you know where to find me.” 

With one last glance, a lingering one at that, Joel turns back and leaves where he came from. Like he didn’t just tip your entire world out of balance. 

And you’re left there in the dark, trying to figure out what the hell this feeling on your chest is and why, on god's green earth, your father’s best friend won’t leave your head. 

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: I was wondering if I could request something for Gyutaro, Gaara, Kakashi, Sebastian with a darling who is up front caring, affectionate, and welcoming towards them but as they get really close with their darling it turns out that s/o is actually more of a morbid and just more melancholy kind of person than they thought, and eventually one day when they were stalking s/o a person asks s/o out, s/o rejects the person swiftly and tells the person how they were taught love is a waste of time revealing they have a cynical view of love and relationships?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, abduction, death

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @kanaosprotector

Love is a waste of my time

Hatake Kakashi

📖​Everyone Kakashi has ever loved has died and it is the trauma of the loss of all of his loved ones that has worn him down as his heart is almost afraid to let someone else in again. After all why should he get attached only to have the few shreds of his heart ripped out of his chest again when they die on him? Your open and caring disposition scares him, the allure of it all a temptation that he fears would end in another heartbreak of his. Initially the shinobi avoids you, his fear pushing him away from you. The damage has already been done though as you have managed to worm your way into his heart and mind. Dead faces of people he loved haunt him and in his dreams their faces blur until it is your lifeless face that stares back at him. He doesn't want to lose you. Behind the lazy and lax facade lies a man who is from that day on struck with overprotective paranoia. Stalking becomes a daily occurence as he has probably spent more time watching you than actually being with you. He always tries to make it as casual as possible when he bumps into you though to not rouse your suspicion. Your affectionate nature still overwhelms and flusters him though and you can clearly tell that he isn't used to it.

📖​Every person has another side to them though. Years of living and killing have taught Kakashi that there is always something slumbering beneath the surface. He is familiar with his own monsters and having been a former Anbu, he has been exposed to the dark sides of humanity. Maybe it was foolish to begin with to think that you would be different and that there wouldn't be anything within you that would remind him of that. Kakashi is a realist though who knows that hope is sadly only that and nothing more. You also have another side to you and aren't only the welcoming and kind person he thought you to be, even though a part of him dearly wished you to be. His initial instinct is to pinpoint the source of the problem. Usually there is always a reason for a person to be the way they are after all and if he knows that reason, he can analyse the situation fully and then come up with a solution. Kakashi approaches everything as if he were on a mission for the Anbu as soon as he has discovered that you aren't all that innocent as he thought you to be. There is no time for disappointment though as his mind is instantly fearing that there is a rather traumatic experience behind your other emotions.

📖​Stalking is as natural as breathing for Kakashi and you have yet to sense him. What starts with him plotting threats and murder when he catches someone having the nerve to ask you out, expected as he is quite possessive, ends with the unpleasant discovery of your opinion on love. He feels no relief when you reject the person, he doesn't have the time when you reveal that you see love as a waste of time. Your words sound frighteningly much like his own bitter thoughts he harbored before he met you and even though he is the last person who has the right to tell you otherwise, Kakashi still feels the urge to do so. Now that you have admitted though that you were raised this way, his overprotective antics target the people who taught you to give up on love before you even had a chance to experience it. He sorts them into the category of people who he should keep away from you as he tells you that they are bad influence for you. It is quite a cruel irony that he has opened his heart only to find out that your heart is closed and that you don't want to give him what he desires. He reminds himself though that at least you are still alive and that as long as he can keep you, he will eventually find a way.

Gaara

🐼​If you would have met him a few years earlier when he was still stuck in the darkness, he would have likely been a lot less tolerant and accepting than he is now. For that you are rather lucky to meet Gaara after he has changed his way and now wants to help people as the new Kazekage. People have changed the way they see him, although some still hold a deep-rooted grudge and fear against him as his past has left blood he will never be able to cleanse himself of. You have been from the very beginning very open-hearted and caring though and if the pink blush on his cheeks is anything to judge by, it has definitely affected the Kazekage. Temari and Kankuro are a tad bit more apprehensive as they question your instant kindness and wonder if you have ulterior motives and they even warn Gaara to be careful around you. By that point Gaara is already besotted with you though as his obsession has already gotten out of control. He wants you close to him to bask in the affection you shower him with. The paranoid part of him also would like to keep a constant eye on you as he knows that you might be targeted by people who desire to extract revenge on him. Conflicts will after all never fully disappear.

🐼​The warnings of his siblings and their advice that you may hide something used to be words that Gaara didn't believe, or rather, didn't want to believe. Whilst he appreciated it as he knew that they were worried for him, he was too blinded by his obsession at that time to truly consider their words at that time. Those feelings for you have never faded but it is hard to ignore the new aspects to your personality that he did not spot before. Gaara has tried to brush them off as small coincidences for the first few time but now it has become obvious that you have a rather morbid side to you. It doesn't push him away from you though as he isn't about to be a hypocrite. After all he is utterly convinced that you are in your heart a good person who wants to help others but just has another side to them. Instead discovering that you have a darker side to you that sometimes tends to make you space out and dive deep into your thoughts, motivates him to help you. Just like Naruto helped him to see the light in the darkness, Gaara wants to help you now too. Unknown to you he also gathers more information on your childhood to see if there is something that happened in your childhood.

🐼​His heart sinks when he catches you in the middle of being asked out but his relief when you reject the other person is very short-lived as you immediately after reveal to them your grim view on love to shatter his hopes. Similar to Kakashi though, Gaara can identify some similarities between your current mindset on the topic of love and his younger opinion he used to have on it. And as stupid as it sounds, it is because he sees the similarities that he gets his hopes up that he can help you. After all he was able to let go of the hatred and the cynical ruthlessness in his heart so you should be able to do the same. It unnerves him though that you were raised to think of love in such a way and even though he should know best that not every child grows up in a safe and loved environment, he has always thought that you should never go through anything in your life yet apparently you already did. Safe to say that from that day on you are kept away from the people who taught you to never desire love as he tries to convince you that their presence would only be toxic for you. Gaara treats you as if you are someone that has to be helped and he is rather overbearing with it all.

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛​The mouth may lie and the face may deceive others but the soul always tells the truth. That is why Sebastian knows from the very beginning that there is more to you than the mortal eye is able to see. Your soul is a fascinating mixture of warmth and brightness yet also a cold cynicism. Those are two things that normally do not balance well together yet both of those things reside within your soul as they coexist seamlessly within you. You and your soul are rather intriguing and that is the only reason why Sebastian initially finds himself seeking you out as often as he does. He would like to discover the secret that resides within that soul of you and maybe even claim it as his own after he has fulfilled his contract with the young earl. It is rather impressive though how you hide your darker side so perfectly when he gets to know you and he can't even blame other humans for getting fooled into believing you to be something when in reality that side of yours is only half of what you truly are. As a creature of darkness himself though, Sebastian thrives on such negative feelings that he has used over the centuries of his existence to lure people into his trap that ultimately promised him their souls.

🐈‍⬛​It only takes so long for Sebastian to realise though that there is a thread of fate that binds your soul to his own black one. He can't say that he is unhappy about the discovery that you are his mate though as you have caught his interest from the very first day he sensed your unique soul. Now that he knows though just how special you are, he finds his longing intensifying. As your mate he should know everything about you after all and he wants to as well. He wants to know the darkest secrets you keep within your soul and wants to see every part of you. It all belongs to him after all, your brightness as well as your wickedness. There are cracks and flashes of your dark side as he spends his time with you, moments where he senses the morbid part of your personality stirring up and red eyes make sure to memorise the glimmer in your eyes in those moments or the sneer on your face when you express the other part of you that not everybody knows about. It is captivating and beautiful in a different way than your affectionate and kind side is as he can already feel that this part of you will be a little challenge when you fully reveal it. He enjoys his games though.

🐈‍⬛​The mortal human is definitely going to get punished for their impertinence later on as the demon has little to no tolerance for anyone who dares to claim what is rightfully his. It is your little speech though that steals all of his attention as he finally figures out what he sought to to know about you ever since he caught you. It is a rather interesting way of seeing love, although he has lived long enough to detect the truth in your words. How many fools has he witnessed who destroyed themselves over a fickle feeling your kind calls love when it was but a fleeting pleasure and pastime. It doesn't deter his own confidence though as he knows that his own emotions transcend what your kind is capable of feeling. Love may be rare for his kind but once they find their mate, they stay with them for their entire life as demons intertwine their soul with the one of their beloved. It is a sacred act of intimacy and commitment humans couldn't even fathom. Even if you may think of love as a waste of your time, he will be sure to change your mind eventually. After all you will have all of his eternity to understand that the love of a demon is beyond everything you have ever been taught.

Gyutaro

🟢​Gyutaro has lived his entire life being rejected and feared and it has installed a bitterness into his soul that has convinced him that he will only ever be capable of being the unloved monster. You are supposed to be nothing more than a midnight snack for him simply because you have been aggravating him for a certain while now. Why? Because he can't get you out of his mind. He has been watching you through Daki as you are working in the same house as she is and it is your kindness and affection that you give everyone around you that has been bothering him so much. He doesn't believe that any of your gestures are real. Humans are superficial and pathetic creatures who never do anything out of kindness. He's convinced that you are faking your personality for ulterior motives or that you are just a desperate little thing hoping to be loved by being as nice as you are. As he stands there right in front of you, he's convinced that you'll start screaming and insulting him at any moment, he wants you to so that he can prove his point. Instead he can only recoil in shock when you dodge all of his expectations and greet him politely as if he were anyone else.

🟢Daki and him get into an argument as she blames him for not killing you on that night despite his previous claims that he'd eat you. Despite knowing what he told his sister before he went after you on that night, Gyutaro reacts rather defensive as he tries to come up with an excuse that will hide the true reason why he didn't kill you on that night. He couldn't kill you because you made the poor excuse of a crippled heart inside of him hesitate when you looked at him with eyes that weren't judging him nor giving him the frightened and mortified gaze he had gotten used to because of his looks. Eyes that revealed a new vulnerability that he hadn't known of before and that ultimately had led him to retreat, a growl the last thing you received before he disappeared. Gyutaro has never felt that way before. He never had a problem before to kill humans and as if to hold on to his own convictions, he starts stalking you to prove to himself that everything you are is a farce. Then he can kill you and finally make peace. Yet the longer he watches you, the more he finds himself silently wishing that you won't be like the rest even as he witnesses moments of yours that might prove his theory correct.

🟢Nails dig into his skin and scratch it bloody when someone asks you out whilst he is stalking you, his jealousy agitating him as he silently decides to kill that piecce of shit as soon as he can. That is when you do something unexpected though. You reveal your true face to the person and, even without your knowledge, to the demon as well. So you have been pretending. You have been lying to him, feeding him false hopes. He shouldn't be surprised yet there is an undeniable pain throbbing in his chest, his emotions spinning out of control as the scratching gets worse. For a few dangerous seconds the impulse to leap down and kill both you and the other person burns brightly but it eventually dies down as he feels the tug of hesitation on his heart again. Why? Hasn't he heard with his own ears that you believe love to be a waste of your time? His head knows that but his heart clearly refuses to accept as the obsession that has been building for you still remains and prevents him from killing you. Fine then. Why should he care anyways whether you love him or not? He doesn't need your love. The only thing he cares about is that no one else can have you besides him.

[mangoshorthand]

A Hargreeves Christmas Carol | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader | Ch. 1

SUMMARY: Luther is the sort of idiot who goes around with a 'Merry Christmas' and a goofy smile on his lips. In your opinion, he should be roasted with his own turkey and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. Who better to teach you the error of your ways than Luther's brother, the man who holds the power of Christmases Past, Present, and Yet to Come in the palm of his hand? Info/Announcement Post

Chapter One (Rated G-T, 3.4k words)

Marley's Ghost

Luther was annoying to begin with, there was no doubt whatsoever about that. Despite this, you developed a grudging friendship with him over the years, based mainly on the fact he was impossible to spurn. 

He was a regular in your little bar, and his good moods were completely unflappable. No matter how surly and taciturn you might be with him on a bad day, he always greeted you like his best friend the next time you saw him. In this fashion, his company became gradually bearable to you over the years you knew him, and you learned to welcome his bright-eyed, towering figure with no bad grace.

“Hey!” he said, cheerfully, as he bounced through the door early on Christmas Eve, bringing with him a blast of cold air from the slush-filled streets outside. 

You looked up at him and nodded, suppressing a roll of your eyes at his appearance. He was wearing a luxuriant velvet Santa hat and an obnoxious Christmas sweater depicting gingerbread houses, elves, and snowflakes in lurid colors particularly offensive to the eye.

Long ago, you’d concluded that the holidays were for idiots, and, although you liked him, Luther more than qualified. 

Yes, you’d decorated the bar, but as sparsely as it was possible to get away with: few coloured lights here and there and some limp tinsel around the window frames, but that was it. When your employee Robbie tried timidly to introduce a Christmas tree, that bullshit was in the dumpster out back before a half hour had passed.

“Merry Christmas,” Luther said, beaming, “happy holidays, and happy New Year!”

“Merry Christmas, Luther.” Robbie replied, looking up from serving another customer to give him a wave, which Luther returned gleefully. 

“Enough with that bullshit already,” you grumbled, filling him a glass of his usual beer/

“Christmas?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief, “Bullshit? Surely you don’t mean that?”

“Sure I do,” you said, setting his beer down on the bar in front of him and holding out your hand expectantly, “I don’t see what’s particularly ‘merry’ about it. It’s just some commercialised holiday. Idiots going into debt just to buy their kid the latest trash.”

Luther frowned and pulled out a bill.

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t be merry.” he said, though sounding a little disquieted, “You own this place, right? You must see people coming in to celebrate all the time. That sort of happiness is infectious. It must at least make you happy to see other people happy?”

You just scoffed and turned away, busying yourself about the bar taps. 

“Come on,” Luther called after you, in a conciliatory tone, “are you annoyed with me?”

You were, but when you turned back to him, you tried to keep your tone light. 

“Do you have any idea how shit it is working a bar at Christmas? The only thing that makes it worth it is the extra money. People make a mess, they make a lot of noise, they get drunk and they sing. They fuck you up the ass with a candy cane, shove a holly jolly dick in your mouth and expect you to just smile through it.”

There was a moment of silence while Luther absorbed this colorful language, and then he spoke again. 

“I guess you got a point. Customer service at Christmas has gotta be hard. But the day itself is fun, right? It’s a time for family. It’s a time to show people that you care about them”

You let out a loud “pfft.”

“If I’m anywhere on Christmas day, it’s as far away from my family as it’s possible to be. I’ll be at home alone, thank god.”

Luther looked at you, and you found yourself even more irritated by the expression of sympathy in his blue eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, genuinely, “everyone should be with someone they care about on Christmas, even if they don’t celebrate.”

You let out another sound of derision, and Luther looked briefly down at the bar.

“Christmas can make people kinder,” he said, quietly, “and I know they should be kind all year round, but it reminds people to be more open hearted. Peace and goodwill to all men, y'know? And so, yeah, Christmas is commercialised and stuff, but it’s a reminder to love one another and appreciate the people around us. And in this world, I think that’s important.”

As he gave this speech, his voice became more confident, and by the end he was sitting up straighter on his bar stool, looking at you with earnestness that did nothing to improve your mood. 

“Well said Luther,” piped up Robbie, enthusiastically, giving him a little round of applause. 

You shot him a look, and he quickly stopped and went back to cleaning the bar. 

“Bullshit,” you said again, dismissing his sickly speech.

But Luther was undeterred.

“Listen,” he continued, gently, “I’m spending Christmas with my family. It’s low key, and we all bring guests. I’m cooking, and there’s enough to feed twenty. The way I see it, the more the merrier.”

Your nostrils flared. Was he really doing what you thought he was doing?

“I like you,” he said, “you remind me of Five. You remember Five, right?”

You nodded tightly. You more than remembered Five. Over the years he visited the bar with Luther and occasionally alone. You had to admit you found him…intriguing. You’d decided some time ago that you were done with men, but that didn’t mean you didn’t occasionally stop to enjoy the view. 

You and he shared the same cynical sense of humor, and though he wasn’t exactly friendly, he was polite, tipped well, flirted like a pro, and was easy enough on the eye that his occasional acerbic comments were interesting rather than irritating. 

“Five’s a grumpy asshole too,” Luther continued, “but he and I both know what it’s like to be alone. It can break you, and I don’t want to see that happen to you. Why don’t you drop in on us tomorrow?”

He paused here, smiling winningly and giving you time to answer. He looked so much like a gleeful puppy that you half expected him to let his tongue loll out and start panting with excitement. 

But your just-restrained anger had broken its bounds; your face felt flushed, and his canine expression did nothing but prod the angry hound inside of you, raising your hackles.

“Come over,” he said, cajolingly, a hopeful expression starting on his face, “We won’t sing until we get really drunk, and I promise nobody will threaten to sodomise you with a candy cane.” 

He paused and then amended his last statement:

“I can almost promise you nobody will threaten to sodomise you with a candy cane. But come anyway.”

Your lips tightened. You weren’t some charity case. When you finally got the words out, you spoke with low, dangerous emphasis. 

“I think I’d rather see you in hell than see you for Christmas.”

Luther looked hurt, but you didn’t care. Who was he to come into your bar, and lecture you about family and kindness and all that sentimental bullshit. He had no idea. You felt your fists clenching at your sides, and when you continued, your shaking voice got louder with every word:

“What makes you think I want to spend time with you and your weird-ass family?”

“I was just trying to be a friend to you.” Luther said, crestfallen.

“I don’t need friends!” you cried, furious now, “You seriously have to grow up, Luther. Grown-ups don’t believe in Santa Claus, and grown-ups don’t think one day playing nice around a Christmas tree means jack shit. So why not keep all your Christmas shit to yourself and mind your own goddamn business?”

Luther blinked, cut to the quick, and you began to polish the bar in a determined sort of way. 

“Why are you pushing me away?” he asked.

You didn’t answer, so Luther stood, leaving half his beer on the bar.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” he said, wounded, but dignified, “I can see now that Christmas doesn’t mean to you what it means to me. But still, I hope you have a good day, whether you celebrate or not.”

You didn’t answer him, pretending to be intent on your work, and his hulking figure retreated, leaving the bar with a quick, sad wave to Robbie. 

You ignored Robbie’s reproachful looks and continued about your business, counting down the hours to closing time when you could get home and get away from all the idiot revellers. 

Meanwhile, the snow thickened outside, and the sky darkened rapidly. It was already a cold day, with thick, portentous clouds, but the evening was bitter, and the night even more so; harsh and biting. 

The Christmas eve party goers were wrapped in layers upon layers of clothing, but even the most stout of them thinned out as the night wore on, scared off by the wind and snowstorm, no doubt fearful of getting stranded in the city if the bad weather persisted.

By the time you closed up, there was nobody there to throw out. All was quiet and still but for the wilting tinsel shifting minutely in the tiny draft at the window frame. The bar was deserted - as dead as a doornail, you might say.

Robbie left as soon as you gave him the nod, head bowed, holding onto his scarf for dear life as it whirled and bucked in the wind that threatened at every moment to tear it from his neck. 

When the door blew closed behind him with an abrupt, wall-shaking slam, you were totally alone. 

The bar was part of an old city block, and thus odd noises were audible in your apartment above at the best of times. As bad as the weather was that night, you could hear strange grindings and creakings as soon as you mounted the stairs. 

The back of your neck prickled, warning you of who knew what, even as you told yourself firmly not to be so ridiculous. 

You shivered, wishing very much that you’d gotten around to changing the light bulb in the windowless stairwell, meaning that you were in full dark as you made your way haltingly up the stairs. 

The stairs were old too: wooden, uneven and whining in protest with every step. Though you weren’t usually one for superstition or hyperbole, your mind couldn’t help but dwell upon the sounds: they sounded increasingly like the wails of desperate, neglected children as you progressed higher and higher towards the top landing. 

At that moment, with your hand at last on the doorknob, there was a strange frisson in the air, something that was half sound and half sensation. 

And your blood ran cold.

This sound was unlike any that could be the result of bad weather on an old building. It was a zap and a crack, and it made all the hairs on your arms stand on end, like the few seconds of eerie anticipation before a lightning strike. 

You froze, suddenly wary of what might be inside. Very slowly, you pressed your ear to the door and listened, yet heard nothing but the wind’s ambient noise.

“Pull yourself together,” you chided yourself under your breath. 

You unlocked and opened the door quietly and hurriedly, not daring to flick on lights in case it alerted an intruder to your presence. Indeed, you found the living space within quiet and empty to the eye, lit slightly by the street lamps outside.

You even checked behind the door, just to reassure yourself that there was nobody lurking behind it.There was nobody there, of course: no sound but for the rushing wind whistling down the street, and no sign that anything might be amiss. 

No sign but that creeping sensation on the back of your neck, of course. 

You sighed, frustrated with your own silliness. 

Still, unable to shake that feeling, you carefully, soundlessly picked up the baseball bat you kept behind your coat stand and crept from living room, to bathroom, to bedroom, just to prove to yourself that you were just being foolish. You even looked behind the couch, behind the shower curtain and under the bed, just for good measure. 

At one point, you gave a violent start at what sounded like an electric whoosh as you stood in front of the wardrobe, but when you opened the door with the bat raised, there was nothing inside that shouldn’t be there.

But there was a smell, you thought. A whiff of something vaguely familiar, and then it was gone. The smell of mint or eucalyptus lingering in the air. 

Again, there was that creeping sensation at the back of your neck, flesh needling, as if you were being…

As if you were being watched.

You whirled around, but again the room and doorway were perfectly empty, and no sound suggested the presence of anybody but yourself and the ceaseless wind outside. 

“It’s nothing but the smell of bullshit,” you muttered to yourself, dismissively. 

When you were finally satisfied that your apartment was indeed quiet and still, you double locked the front door, even putting it on the chain, a precaution you didn’t usually take.

Slightly comforted by this, you moved into the living room to unwind before bed, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV, reaching likewise to turn on a lamp beside you. 

And then, in the glow from the TV, you saw him.

As large as life, there was a man sitting in the darkest corner of your living room. 

He was well dressed, wearing a three piece suit and a grim expression. But for his very solid appearance, you might have believed he was a ghost, lit as he was in an unearthly hue by the TV’s blue light, throwing his face into a strange distortion of light and shadow. 

You opened your mouth to scream, but before sound could come out, he vanished and reappeared above you, clapping one hand over your mouth with one hand and grabbing your wrists with the other, looking down at you from beneath heavy brows, his strong jaw working with the effort of keeping your flailing hands contained. 

It was then that you recognised him. 

“Fiph?” you cried, muffled from behind his hand, “whadafu?”

It was Five himself. 

He raised his eyebrows, handsome jaw angled upwards. It was an unspoken question: can you be quiet?”

You nodded, and he took his hand away from your mouth. 

“What the fuck, Five?”

And there it was: a waft of mint and eucalyptus that at once explained why it smelled familiar, as well as the noise from your wardrobe. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you shrieked, panicked again, and he quickly clamped his hand back over your mouth.

“I’m here to talk. Keep your goddamn voice down and turn on that lamp. I can’t see for shit.”

Your whole arm trembling, you turned on the lamp beside you, and Five’s face was lit in a more natural glow.

As always when confronted with Five, you couldn’t help but notice his appearance: his clear, smooth skin; his noble, expressive brow; his intelligent green eyes, shaded by hair and reflecting the lamplight. His long fingers were hooked around your jaw, and you could feel the warmth of his palm against your lips. 

It was this that made you stop trembling.

Sensing this, he removed his hand again, and when you didn’t scream, he sat down on the other end of the couch. Before he settled, he reached back to the armchair he’d just vacated to pull a briefcase across the carpet so that it rested against his feet. 

“What do you want with me?” you asked, half anger, half fear.

“Much,” Five said, simply. 

You stared at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, surveying you with those eyes, holding yours with quiet authority. 

“You might say I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” he said, “You’ve fucked up.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, half angry, half afraid.

“Well,” he said, settling his hands on his top leg, “I never told you this, but I work for an organization that handles the timeline, and its raison d'être is to make sure that everything happens as it’s supposed to. That’s why I have this briefcase,” he said, tapping it with his foot, “it allows me to travel back and forth in time, and fix fuck ups like yours. 

“I thought you could already travel in time,” you said, “isn’t that, like, your whole thing?”

There was a flicker of annoyance on his face then, and you were glad to see it: it was evidence that you’d pricked his ego, and it was enough to make him seem a little less intimidating.

“I do have natural time travel ability,” he said, carefully, struggling to maintain the almost professional air he’d adopted, “but the briefcase allows me to be precise.”

“So, basically, you suck at time travel without your security blanket?” you said, pressing your advantage. 

Nobody broke into your home and got away without being taken down a peg or two. 

Five scowled, and you felt a brief sense of triumph as he continued. 

“Oh, because you’re so good at time travel?” he snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“No,” you said, causticly, “I own a bar. It’s not exactly in the job description. But if I couldn't make you decent Manhattan without clinging to a recipe book, you might start to think I’m under-qualified.”

Five’s scowl deepened, and even though this should theoretically make him more frightening, it didn’t: it further levelled the playing field.

“As pleasant as this little back and forth is,” he said with a hint of his old flirtation, we’re getting off the point. Little actions can have far-reaching consequences. For example, you spoil one manchild’s Christmas spirit, and then boom, we could have nuclear armageddon on our hands.”

“What?” you asked, taken aback.

“Yep,” he said, seriously, “you’d be amazed how even the most insignificant events can fuck the future beyond all recognition. And, that’s exactly what happened with your angry little diatribe to my brother.”

As you took a couple of seconds to absorb this, Five leaned towards you fractionally, his eyes regaining more of that lost authority.  

You looked back at him, and the air grew heavy at the moment your eyes connected. You felt like a fish on a hook in the pull of his gaze, the sound of wind outside coming into greater prominence in that single, suspended moment. 

There was another bolt of electricity, another raising of the hairs on the back of your neck. Though this time it wasn’t caused by you sensing Five’s power. 

Well, not his superpower, at least. 

Five glanced away and cleared his throat, and the spell was broken. Your mind became a fraction less cloudy and, in doing so, butted against a roadblock in his credibility.

“This is bullshit!” you cried, incredulously “Seriously, an armageddon?”

 Five shrugged.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Actions have consequences, and they snowball. Time is chaos, and one wrong move can fuck up everything.”

You shook your head in denial.

“Do you really expect me to believe that not playing at some sickly, cloying, Christmas with your clown car of a family causes nuclear armageddon?”

Five sighed exasperatedly. 

“Why is it so hard for you to just play nice?” he said, voice betraying annoyance for the first time, “why the hell have you got your panties in such a bunch around Christmas, anyway?”

And then his mouth twitched, and he let out a little chuckle.

“Though I admit that ‘clown car’ is a good description.”

You ignored this, as well as his prying questions and folded your arms defiantly. 

“Fine,” he said, with a hint of smugness, “you don’t have to tell me.”

He reached down to the floor and fiddled with his briefcase, and then grabbed your elbow before you could protest.

 “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

His hand tightened on your arm and, in a fizz of static, you were both gone, leaving no trace but the echo of your scream in the empty apartment.

Read Chapter Two >> I FEED OFF COMMENTS AND REBLOGS YUM YUM YUM

Marley's Ghost (left) and The Ghosts of Departed Usurers, or, The Phantoms. (right) Both by John Leech, 1843 in Dickens's A Christmas Carol, first edition (1843).

Dickens' A Christmas Carol full text available here.

Read it! It's a much better than this, and you can see how many lines I stole verbatim or clumsily referenced. If you haven't guessed, 'bullshit' is this Scrooge!Reader's 'bah humbug'.😊 Dividers used in this series by @bernardsbendystraws (garland) and @strangergraphics (lights)

Taglist: @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969, @chalametabingbong, @lolawassad, @icantpickanamefromonefandom @thebearmage, @kaybreezy3000 (comment to be added or removed)

Megalist

Request info + rules

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (04)

chapter four: spring daffodils

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; a creepy dude but nothing happens, err this chapter is pretty mild? idk, not very edited (i apologize, i just live like this lol) word count: 3.5k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

It was bittersweet You were like a dream And I was your girl on the passenger seat Right next to you We were unstoppable We thought we had it all

I’d Do It Again - Violette Wautier

The first thing you feel when you wake up is Minho’s arms, wrapped tightly around you. Your face in the crook of his neck, your legs tangled up together. It’s as though this is your millionth morning waking up with him.

He’s still fast asleep, soft puffs of air escaping his lips. So peaceful, so ethereal with the light from outside your window shining on his side profile.

He looks like an angel, absolutely unreal, that you can’t help but admire him. How the playful sunshine kisses his sculpted nose, caresses his cheeks, its particles of light lingering on his pink and pouty lips. Every feature, every single detail of his face, beautiful. Sharp, stunning, flawless. The universe really took its time with him.

You'd say that this is a pretty objective opinion. Ask anyone and they would concur. You don’t think you could ever get tired of looking at Minho.

There’s a sudden urge that grows in you - the selfish need to be the sun itself. You want to be the sun, to be the reason why there’s warmth and light in his life, to give him nothing but good things, nothing less than what he deserves.

Your axis shifts. It’s overwhelming just how much you want to be good for him.

Minho is supposed to be your friend.

You don’t think you’re supposed to feel this way about your friend.

The beautiful boy next to you stirs, and you instantly shut your eyes. You wait as he stretches a bit, then he holds you tighter, closer, the proximity making tears well up behind your closed eyelids. It’s so nice just being in his arms like this. So wonderful and so right.

You feel loved, even if it may not be the kind of love that you’ve been searching for.

A gentle hand strokes your hair, and just that simple action is enough to make you melt, a tightness tugging at your heartstrings all of a sudden.

If Minho was a season, he would be spring. Beautiful and heavenly spring. Some may argue that it can’t possibly be the case because people often view him as callous and mean, and you hate it every time anyone speaks about him that way. They don’t know him like you do, and he’s been nothing but warm and kind to you for as long as you’ve known him.

To be more precise, Minho would be the onset of spring, when the brutal and lonely winter eventually has to make way for the beginning of a new season. It’s a subtle transition, a gentle inauguration of warmth where the earth welcomes life into its open arms again. When daylight starts to last longer and snow begins to melt in between cobblestone cracks. When buds on trees start growing into their luscious green coat and flowers slowly burst through their roof of soil to bring forth colors for spring. Everything is soft and delicate, easy to overlook if you don’t pay close attention.

That’s what Minho is to you - a new beginning. Calming, welcoming, steady.

You want to snuggle further into the heat of his body but you’re afraid it might blow your cover, so you keep on staying still. He’s close, closer than you two have ever been when you aren't having sex, but it’s not enough. If it was possible, you would wrap you and him up in your own little bubble where the concept of time is foreign and you could stay here forever. You wouldn’t have to go back to your boring routine and deal with the stresses that you’ve been carrying all your life.

It’s like a switch has been flipped. You want more. It’s a fleeting thought, but the imprint it leaves behind isn’t ephemeral at all.

A simple life with Minho and the spring. That doesn’t sound too bad.

Min: wyd tomorrow afternoon? You: i have to go buy paint after class. Why? Min: can i come with :(  You: u wanna go look at paint with me for 2 hrs? Min: no lol Min: i cleared my whole afternoon because kim seungmin asked me to go suit shopping with him for his sister’s wedding but he’s ditching me, so i have no idea what to do Min: you’re my last option You: thanks. i’m v flattered You: hyunjin refused to entertain you? Min: don’t like him You: 🙄 You: chan? changbin? jisung? jeongin? lix? there’s no way they’re ALL busy Min: i didn’t ask. don’t like them either You: so i’m not your LAST option then Min: no. but you’re the only one i’d rather hang out with You: you’re weird Min: so tomorrow? You: the store is a bit far away though Min: i can take you. i’ll borrow chan’s car

You assume that Minho would pick you up right after your class finishes since he told you that he was free all day, but you still end up having to wait for him while wandering aimlessly around campus, the messages that you sent him sitting in your phone delivered but not read.

He appears about twenty minutes later than you thought he would, rolling up in Chan’s new car that he just got a couple months ago. You get into the vehicle with an unimpressed look on your face, clicking the seatbelt into place before you turn to him in the driver's seat.

“Punctual,” you comment pointedly.

“Sorry. I went to that cafe you like but there was a line.”

“Oh,” you say, your earlier annoyance waning quickly when you notice the cup holders between the two of you. “Why did you go all the way there just for shitty matcha lattes? We could’ve just gone to the campus cafe for that.”

Minho grabs a paper bag from the backseat before he places it neatly in your lap like a little present. "But the campus cafe doesn’t have those overpriced croissants that you’re always raving about."

You stare at the baked good in your lap - an almond croissant filled with cream cheese and strawberries. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you say. “But thank you.”

Minho looks at you. “You forgot to eat lunch again, didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because you’re looking at that thing like you’re deeply in love with it.”

You roll your eyes before plucking a cream cheese-covered strawberry from the bag and taking a bite, dramatically throwing your head back as you sigh in exasperation, “I might be deeply in love with you right now.”

When you finish the strawberry, you turn to look at Minho, only to find him already staring at you with his sharp eyes. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then brings a hand up to brush away a dot of cream cheese off the corner of your mouth. You half expect him to put the finger in his mouth like hot fictional characters tend to do, and yet, your cheeks still catch fire when Minho meets your expectation.

He catches sight of your flush but doesn’t throw you a teasing comment or anything of the likes. Instead, he just chuckles - a bit endeared if you can say so yourself - and starts the car.

Minho is gracious enough to let you choose the music for the drive and in turn, you offer him the last piece of your cherished croissant (everyone knows the last bite is the best bite), plopping the pastry into his mouth while he keeps his hands on the wheel, only for him to complain that it has too much cream.

When you get to the art supply store, Minho picks up a basket by the door. The store isn’t that big, but they have the best selection out of all the other places you’ve been. Hyunjin keeps telling you to come to the store that he frequents - the one that sells those fancy watercolors that you don’t really need - but you’ve been going here for ages. You used to live nearby so it was more convenient, but this is still your go-to spot even after you moved closer to campus. The sense of familiarity associated with this quaint store isn’t something you’re quite ready to let go of yet.

You peruse the aisles alongside Minho, who dutifully carries the basket for all of your things without you even asking. He doesn’t really try to make conversation while you study the colors, which is a little uncharacteristic but you don’t think much about it. He just quietly watches you, and you like how even the silence is comfortable between the two of you.

After a while, he asks, “Do you have a theme in mind?”

You do, but you think it’s a little silly to say out loud so you don’t. Although you know Minho would never make you feel small or diminish your ideas, it’s not something that you’re really keen on sharing at the moment.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s not fully fleshed out yet. I know what colors I want to go for though.”

You meticulously pick out the acrylics you want for your painting, mostly dark and dull tones. You have a vision of what you want to achieve on the canvas, and you spend a decent chunk of time deciding on your blues, grays and russets.

A somber scene, anyone can tell.

For the finishing touch, you pick up two tubes of yellow paint, trying to decide between Golden Poppy or Spring Daffodil. Either one is a stark contrast to the melancholic feel you were going for before.

Turning to face Minho, you raise your hands. “Which one?”

He stares at the acrylics for a minute in silence. “They’re yellow,” he concludes.

“Duh. But which shade do you like better?”

“They look exactly the same.”

You purse your lips, then hold your hands closer to his face as if it’ll help. "No, look. This one is slightly lighter but muted. This one is more vibrant but the shade is deeper."

Minho hums as if in thought. You wonder if he actually sees the differences, but he probably doesn’t. Hyunjin is usually the only person in your friend group whom you can talk to about these things since he’s the only other art major of the bunch.

“Is yellow supposed to be happy?”

Hope, is what you want to say. You want it to end on a lighter, brighter note. Happy feels too unattainable even if it’s only ideals and colors on canvas.

But maybe sometimes being hopeful is the same as being happy. Maybe for some, that’s all you can really ask for.

In spite of it all, isn’t hope the only thing that persists?

“Sure,” you say, “yellow is happy.”

After a brief moment, Minho plucks the tube in your left hand and puts it in the basket. Spring Daffodil it is.

It’s kind of a nice thought, isn’t it? That Minho had a helping hand in your work. That there’s a little bit of him in your art.

You go to the cash register with a basket full of goodies, only to realize that you don’t actually have anything on you.

“Ah, crap,” you mutter, turning to Minho. “My wallet is in my bag. In the car.”

“I’ll get it,” Minho says, handing you the basket. “Be right back.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll just check something out over there.”

And then he’s off, the bell by the door ringing to announce his temporary departure. You wander over to a shelf in the corner where they store their brushes. There’s a filbert brush that you’ve been eyeing for a while.

You go over the selection, debating whether or not you should replace some of the brushes you have at home. Most of them are worn out; they’ve been with you for ages now.

You don’t notice the second chime of the bell, too immersed in studying the bristles, envisioning the strokes they would create on canvas.

You don’t pay attention to a voice talking to you either. That is, until a shoulder nudges yours and you find yourself looking up at an unfamiliar face.

Taking a step away from the stranger, you say, “Can I help you?”

The man doesn’t look like he’s your age, but he doesn’t look that much older either. Probably just by a few years. “I was just saying that filbert’s a good choice,” he chuckles.

“Oh, yeah.” You give him a small smile. “It’s a good brush.”

“Great for blending. It really makes the strokes stand out, y’know.”

“Mhmm. So I’ve heard.”

Glancing at the contents of your basket, he asks, “Are you working on a project?”

“Just something for a class.”

He hums in acknowledgment, to which you give him a nod in return. The conversation is short and awkward, as one can probably expect when they try to make small talk with a stranger over something as random as a paintbrush.

And especially when the recipient of said small talk is you, who’s been described on multiple occasions as “unapproachable” and “intimidating”.

That, and the fact that you suffer from a major case of resting bitch face and you’re not really keen on talking to strangers when you it’s not absolutely necessary.

You move to the next aisle, going back to look at the selection of colors from which you’ve already taken your pick earlier with Minho. You don’t need a second look, but it just feels a little weird to still be standing in the same corner with the man.

You think that it would be the end of your interaction, but then he moves along with you. He follows you as you walk, before soon obliterating any space between your body as he strides next to you, your arms brushing one another.

“I’ve actually noticed you in here a few times,” he says.

“Sorry?”

“I’ve seen you before.” This time, he tells you with a smile. “I just never worked up the courage to talk to you until today.”

It’s not a bad smile, nothing Joker-esque but the way he says it with practically no space at all between the two of you makes you a little squeamish.

You wonder what’s taking Minho so long.

“Oh,” you say, not really sure how else to respond, trying to shuffle away from him but there’s not much room to accommodate the both of you. “That’s... uhm, actually, could you-”

He gets the hint, but it’s not like you were trying to hide the discomfort on your face. He takes a couple of small steps back, which doesn’t really count as stepping out of your personal space but it’s a little better than before.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not coming on too strongly. You’re just... I think you’re really pretty,” he says with a small laugh, the kind that would be charming if real life was a romcom and you two were the main characters. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Thank you... uhm, I’m... flattered but I’m here with my boyfriend today.”

You can tell that the mention of a significant other throws him off, because he doesn’t exactly do a very good job at concealing his surprise.

“You usually go alone, though.”

Oh...?

Right. Definitely not a romcom.

You can’t help the slight frown that tugs on your brows upon hearing those words. If you were somewhat irritated before by a random stranger who can’t really take a hint, then that feeling is rapidly melting away to make space for a sense of unease that crawls up the back of your neck like a rogue spider.

You can normally handle mildly persistent guys who keep insisting on chatting you up, but you’ve never actually had someone drop a creepy line on you before.

In a place that you’ve frequented for years now.

You’re suddenly wildly grateful that Minho demanded to tag along today.

“My boyfriend is just getting some stuff from the car,” you settle on telling the man. “He’ll be right back.”

“Maybe I can keep you company while you wait.”

“Thank you but that’s not necessary.”

“Not even for a few minutes?”

“You really don’t have to do that. My boyfriend will be back any-”

Then you’re being pulled to the side, the abruptness of the moment briefly disorienting you that you almost lose your balance if not for the arm around your shoulder keeping you steady.

You glance up with widened eyes, though they soften after a couple seconds as relief washes over you. Minho leans down to kiss you before you can say anything; the only sound that escapes you is a surprised Oh! which he muffles with his lips.

“Sorry I took so long, baby,” he says once he pulls away. “My mom called to ask if we’re still coming over this weekend. You’re still up for Sunday, right?”

“Hmm?” You try to ignore the tingle in your lips and the spike in your heart rate, but you quickly blame it on the suddenness of his actions. “Yeah... yeah, Sunday’s good.”

Minho smiles softly, his hand squeezing your shoulder comfortingly pressing another kiss to your cheek - for further emphasis, you suppose - before he turns his attention elsewhere.

His expression changes completely. Instead of a cute smile, his mouth is pressed into a hard line, his gaze a cold glare. “Can we help you?”

The man doesn’t instantly back off like you thought he would - Minho can be quite scary when he wants to be - but glances between you and Minho like he’s assessing the situation.

The kiss, the arm around your shoulder, the deadly look in Minho’s eyes, plus your friend has been working out more often lately and it shows.

The unwanted stranger eventually raises a conceding hand. “Nope, all good. Sorry for bothering you,” he says, plastering that smile on his face again. “Have a good day.”

Minho takes the basket from your hand and steers you away. He keeps a hand on your back while you pay and collect your supplies at the counter. Basket duty turns into carrying the bag of acrylics for you even after you insist on doing it yourself.

Once you’re in the car, you turn to him with a grateful smile. “Thanks for the save.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “I’m sorry though. I was getting your bag and Hyunjin called screaming about something. I didn’t know you were stuck with a weirdo. What did he say?”

“I’ve never seen him before but he said he’s seen me around. He kept trying to talk me even after I said I had a boyfriend. And get this, he knows that I usually come here alone. I don’t know, I’m a little grossed out.”

Minho frowns. When he says your name, it’s full of concern. “He knows that you usually go alone? That’s creepy.”

“I know!” Leaning against the headrest, you sigh, “Ugh, this is where I always go to get my supplies.”

“Why don’t you just go to the place that Hyunjin goes? It’s close to campus.”

“But everything’s so overpriced there. Besides, they have the best selection here. It’s my go-to.’

He goes quiet then, and speaks up after a moment of contemplation. “Tell me whenever you need to go. I’ll come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” There must be incredulousness written all over your face, but his expression returns to neutral, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You know all of your friends are quite protective, but still.

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

“It’s not like you’re free all the time.”

Minho hums, acknowledging your point because it’s true. He has a life of his own and shit that he has to deal with; he can’t be around to babysit you 24/7. Not that you even need him to anyway. “If I can’t go then I’ll make sure Hyunjin goes with you. Or Jisung. Any one of the guys.”

“It’s not that big a deal.” You look at Minho, to which he just stares back. “I know I said today was weird but I’m not that helpless.”

“I know you’re not helpless.” He holds your gaze, briefly wondering if he has offended you somehow. “If you won’t do it for your sake, will you at least do it for mine? I don’t want you to be in a bad situation when I can help make it better for you.”

The tone he uses to deliver his words doesn’t really leave you any room to argue. You would probably just kinda look like an asshole to brush him off when all he genuinely wants is to ensure that you’re safe.

Eventually, you only purse your lips and nod, which seems to appease Minho for now. Of course you’re thankful that you have good people by your side. If the roles were reversed and this happened to any of your friends, you would be all up in arms for them too.

But way beyond that appreciation is something that you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s similar to the feeling you got the first morning you woke up next to him. A fluttering sensation in your chest, warmly touched by how much he cares, how much he’s willing to do for you.

It’s simply absurd to you that anyone would think Minho is cold.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom (italicized = can’t tag)

series taglist: @eyesforlino @armystay89 @nuronhe @becomingmina @astro-doll-the-star @hyuneyeon @jisunglyricist @yoontaethings @thisisnotjacinta @cupidcures @wyzminho

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 15.02.2024]

[cordycepsfem]

So my girlfriend and I went to our local Pride event today, one that I’ve written about previously here.

I did not want to go. This is because I am new-task-avoidant, and Pride was on one day of my usually tightly-hoarded weekend. But she asked that I go and meet some of her friends from her volunteering group so I said sure.

Meeting her friends was great - they’re fun and welcoming people from a variety of backgrounds, and I’m glad we did that. I hope we can spend time with them again soon.

Then we go out to the actual festival part. It is loud. There are people everywhere. This is unsurprising because it is a pride event in a major city. As people we are not fond of loud, crowded events… but we made the effort to get here so we’re going to go through it.

So we start walking.

As we make our way through the crowds I realize that the two of us are some of the more conservative-looking individuals there. We’re in T-shirts, shorts, baseball caps, functional shoes. There are many, many people in what we on here are all familiar with as “queer” costuming - it’s loud, it’s ugly, and it’s adorned with pins and stickers demanding attention. Many people have giant flags around their necks.

We see booths with obviously female individuals selling merchandise emblazoned with “f*ggot” doing a robust business. Lots of apparel and accessories that scream “I have an identity and I’m here to make it your problem!!” One booth has a pin showing a mastectomy-scarred chest reading “the no-titty committee” which causes me to let out a sad noise, because sure enough I’ve seen at least ten individuals with bare chests and some awful mastectomy scars wandering around. Some have glitter or fancy tape adoring their scars. Others have very obvious “dog ears” which look sloppy and painful.

(Note: I am not saying that having scars is awful. I am saying that the way the incisions were made was imprecise, leaving scars that are larger and that look worse as compared to, like, an actually good surgeon performing a regulated procedure with a standardized course, and not a “gender medicine professional.” This is obviously my own bias from doing research and from seeing others “in the wild” and should only be taken as my opinion. I have plenty of scars; the surgical ones all look clean and well-executed. These did not.)

We keep walking. There were at least two furry booths. Lots of people in puppy masks. Plenty of trans-focused groups.

We buy a few things at some of the more relevant booths and I stop to talk to one group about a job. My girlfriend says she’s ready to go, so we cut around the rest of the park and head for a nearby bookstore.

As we’re walking she takes my hand. “That pride wasn’t for us.”

“No.”

“I don’t know who it was for, but it wasn’t for us.”

I said “I told you so” in the kindest of voices but it was really just sad. This event and so many others happening this month are no longer for actual LGBT people. They are a celebration of the commodification of “queer” identity. Were there some booths there with people doing good work for those in our communities? Yes, without a doubt. But was there a bigger contingent of people there to give a “fuck you” to the world? Yep.

The first Pride events were to show straight people that LGBT people were not sexual deviants. Now the sexual deviants have booths at the Pride events.

I would just like a lesbian event. Just women. I’m willing to start it and run it. Girlfriend was so excited to go to Pride, and I think she left more disappointed than anything else. There are no longer a lot of “normies” at Pride. They have to be somewhere, so where?

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 3: Al-Haitham x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6757

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, power dynamics, petplay, collaring, predicament bondage, spanking, vaginal fingering, tail butt plug, object insertion

A/N: A few people asked for a follow up to Al-Haitham's piece from last years Kinktober and I'm personally always glad for any excuse to write about more petplay scenarios, so here we are! I hope everyone enjoys! 🫣

⭐

“So,” He intones, casually slouched to one side so he can brace his shoulder against the door jamb. With his arms crossed over his chest he looked the picture-perfect image of idle, confident arrogance standing there before you in the faint glow of a nearby street lamp. It was enough to almost make you sick. “You really decided to muster up the courage and come here after all. Consider me impressed.” 

Hands balled into tight, sweaty fists in the front of your breezy skirt, you pointedly keep your eyes downcast so you won’t have to look him in the face. Damn Al-Haitham and damn you for being fool enough to go through with this stupid idea. Hadn’t he humiliated you more than enough the last time? 

“Is that alright? I could always come back some other day …” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re already here, why send you away?” Straightening up, Al-Haitham shifts to the side to unblock the entrance to his home and grant you entry despite looking anything but welcoming. “Come in. And try not to look so scared.” 

You can feel your cheeks quickly growing hot enough to fry an egg on but you stubbornly shove aside all the uncertainty and ill opinions you had of the scribe in favor of focusing only on your objective. Of course that was in many ways exactly what had gotten you into this mess in the first place, yet it seemed you still hadn’t quite learned your lesson. You wouldn’t have shown up at his doorstep like this otherwise. 

Steeling yourself, you stiffly move forward to shuffle past him to stand just inside his foyer while he closes the door behind you. His home isn’t particularly large but it's finely furnished and surprisingly quaint in its own way. You wonder at that as you take in the decor, noticing an odd disconnect between one piece of furniture or knickknack and the next. While some of it was quite stylish other bits and bobbles leaned more towards an eclectic taste that didn’t seem to match. 

And then your eyes land on the neatly lined up row of shoes just off the main entrance. 

Two different sizes. 

“Don’t worry. My roommate is out on business tonight.” He says, supplying an answer to the unasked question, and you bring your head up with a quick snap. 

“I didn’t know you had a roommate.” 

His hand is suddenly right in front of your face when you turn towards him, making you startle, but he merely slips those long fingers underneath your chin to further nudge your attention up at him. Verdant gaze studying you closely, Al-Haitham searches your expression for a drawn out beat — for what, you do not know — before deigning to speak again. “Well, I do. Have one I mean. He won’t be bothering us any time soon though, so tell me what it is you want.” 

Your natural disinclination for him quickly rears its ugly head, and you narrow your eyes up at him in annoyance. “How do you know I want something?” 

“Please. You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t. Now spill it.” 

Clicking your tongue, you irritably pull away from him and take a step back to put some distance between you two. Hopefully that would be enough to give you a chance to think straight, even though it was clear you hadn’t been doing much of that at all recently. “Look. I know you and I don’t exactly get along even under the best of circumstances but … do you recall what you said to me back in the Grand Sage’s office?” 

“My office, at least for the moment, and yes. I said a great many things to you that day. Which are you referring to specifically?” 

“Gods, you’re such an ass.” You murmur, wondering why you’d even come here when you knew good and well how he was. It’s much too late to start giving this second thoughts though, so you lift your chin in defiance of his surly attitude. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Acting Grand Sage, but I believe you told me I could come to you if I ever wanted a refresher course on our last — lesson. Does that offer still stand?” 

“Oh?” Looking really quite smug now, Al-Haitham allows his roguish mouth to curl into a brief smirk. “Is this supposed to be your way of asking nicely for something? Gotta’ say, your methods could still use some work but I can see we’re making progress. It’s better than the last time, at least.” 

“Are you going to answer the question or not?” You demand, feeling your jittery nerves start to get the better of you. 

If you’d had any other option here you would have gladly taken it before ever subjecting yourself to this particular man’s presence ever again but you just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the time you’d spent with him in his office. By the end of it you’d been all but preening at his soft spoken praise only to then be cast back out into the real world where people in polite society didn’t talk to each other like that. It was maddening in the worst possible way. 

Worst of all, he still hadn’t signed off on that damn expense sheet even after saying he’d give it another look and yet that seemed to be the farthest thing from your mind anymore. The only thing you really wanted at this point was to experience the same warm buzz of satisfaction you’d felt when he spoke to you in that uncharacteristically soft, doting manner as before. Was that seriously too much to ask for? 

“Just relax. We really need to work on that impatient streak of yours.” He says, evidently recognizing the frazzled look on your face for what it is. “And don’t worry, my offer still stands. I’ll play with you again. Good timing, actually. I recently bought a few things at the bazaar that I think you might like.” 

“Huh?” You blurt, turning to follow him with your eyes when he brushes past you into the rest of the house. “Don't tell me you actually knew I’d come here like this?” 

“That’s a bit of a stretch. All I did was calculate the odds that you would eventually decide to seek me out again, so the expense was justifiable despite being preemptive. Get undressed while I grab everything and wait for me until I get back.” 

And just like that he’s gone, disappeared down the hallway into a room on the far end of the house by the sound of it. 

For a long moment you just stand there, too stunned at Al-Haitham’s gall to take action. You weren’t sure who he thought he was but as usual it was already giving you a headache. Nothing ever went as you hoped it would whenever he was involved. 

Rousing yourself though, you quickly get to work. Far be it that you were any more comfortable with the thought of being naked in front of him than you were the first time, but you’d known what you were signing up for when you chose to come to him like this. And you’re glad to find it’s a little easier without him standing there, looming over you like some scrutinizing gargoyle while more and more of your body is slowly revealed to him, so there was that perk. If anything you were just glad he hadn’t sent you away. 

But once you find yourself standing nude in his living room some of the uncertainty starts to come back. Just what the hell were you doing here? And how were you supposed to position yourself, should you sit or stand? Did he expect you to seamlessly fall into the role of obedient dog again even if he wasn’t there to guide you through the process like before? 

There was no clear cut solution to any of these problems you now faced, and you at last decide to err on the side of caution. You would prostrate yourself for him, since he seemed to get so much satisfaction out of that, but you’d wait for further instruction before doing anything else. It was undeniably silly, but you didn’t want to seem too eager. 

Thus when Al-Haitham returns after another moment or two, he finds you kneeling on the ornate rug laid out across the floor with your legs neatly folded underneath you. He noises a soft sound of acknowledgement as he strides across the room and you attentively zero in on the wooden box he’s got in his hands. 

“What’s that?” You chance to ask, earning a quick, vaguely amused look from him. 

“I wasn’t aware dogs knew how to speak to ask such questions of their masters.” 

Flushing all over again, you breathe out a soft huff through your nose but remain otherwise silent. You’re much more interested in observing him anyway, particularly when he sinks down to sit on the nearby sofa before placing that mysterious box next to him on the cushions. 

Then the full brunt of his attention is back on you. “Come here.” He commands, indicating the spot next to his feet. 

You catch yourself starting to prickle, your pride almost getting the better of you once again, but you quietly remind yourself that this was what you’d wanted. After being hounded by indecent thoughts for weeks now, all of them revolving around the scribe, there was no point making any qualms about it or pretending otherwise. 

So you somewhat grudgingly shift forward to brace on your hands and knees before crawling over to him. You’re acutely aware of the sway of your breasts while you do so, particularly when he was watching you do it and no doubt seeing every little detail of your body in this humiliating position, both the good and the bad. The crippling note of self consciousness that shudders through you is not nearly enough to douse your anticipatory excitement though, and you hesitantly tip your face towards him as you shuffle up to the sofa, earning a nod of approval. 

“Sit.” 

Obediently plopping your ass down on the carpet, you make a point of straightening your back for him to push your bare tits up and out. You felt incredibly foolish for being so concerned about his opinion of your body but that lingering sense of stubborn combativeness quickly fades when he reaches out to pet over your head with an indulgent gesture. 

“Good girl. I have something for you.” 

Feeling fuzzy and warm, you blink up at Al-Haitham through the growing fog as he reaches for the box. That he makes a point of opening the lid towards you so that you can’t see what’s hidden inside almost manages to annoy you but you quickly stamp it down in favor of simply watching him. With a faint rustle, he lifts what you immediately recognize to be a collar from inside and silently presents it to you, just observing your reaction. 

The flustered look on your face must be an interesting one though, because he chuckles a brief laugh only a moment later. “Do you know what this is?” 

Reluctantly nodding, you shoot him a wary look. 

“Excellent. Then I shouldn’t have to waste any time on explaining it.” 

His large, dexterous hands get to work on unfastening the little eyelet so he can pull it open while you frantically try to rationalize this in your mind. Unaware of how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, he leans down to wrap the surprisingly thick band of leather around your throat so he can secure it into place at the back and you just sit there as if in a numb stupor while he does it. 

You couldn’t believe this was really happening … 

“As long as you’re wearing this,” He drawls, still fiddling with the catch to ensure it was sufficiently snug on your neck. “You’ll be my pet and I expect you to act accordingly. I won’t hesitate to punish you if you misbehave but … I also won’t hesitate to reward you either. We can play this game as long as you’d like, and when I take this off we’ll go back to our usual roles. No questions asked. Does that sound fair to you?” 

You slowly nod your agreement, suddenly finding it incredibly difficult to even think a coherent thought. As if being collared by him had effectively pulled a hazy, disarming shroud over your head, you were struggling to formulate anything at all in your mind when the only thing you could seem to focus on was the brush of his hands against your skin, the smell of him. The domineering way he’s leaned over you from his elevated position and the close proximity that came with it. You’d understood on some innate, instinctive level that you wanted him to subjugate you to his will again but you hadn’t expected it to have such an all encompassing effect on you. It was as if your higher functioning ego was slowly slipping away, like sand through your fingertips. 

And when he at last deems the collar to be adequately secured, leaning back to look at you with an unreadable expression, you positively quake under the spotlight of his attention. Al-Haitham may have been able to irritate you far beyond what any other person had ever accomplished, but when he looked at you like that … Archon’s, you would have done anything he asked of you if it only meant he’d praise you for it. 

“You’re certainly being good this evening. Guess you must have really needed this.” His eyelashes drooping to attractive half mast to mirror a very small fraction of the anticipation you were currently feeling, he reaches out to casually flick at the metal ringlet attached to the front of your new collar. “It’s just as I thought. Pink really does suit you. That being said, you have no idea how long it actually took me to find one of these in this color. You should probably thank me for it.” 

You shoot a quick, hungry look at his lap, the muscles in your legs already bracing to lean forward and put your mouth on him, but he stops you in your tracks with another quiet chuckle. 

“Not like that, though I do appreciate your enthusiasm. As long as you continue to be good for me I think we’ll be just fine.” Straightening up from his comfortable slouch, Al-Haitham then reaches back into the box to dig for something else. The sound of metal clinking together makes your heart skip a beat and you anxiously fidget there on the floor while he pulls out a long, complicated string of chains that all seem to connect in the same spot. 

Having no idea what to make of it, you blithely glance up at him in question. 

“This is to help you stay in position. Think of it like a training aide.” 

Evidently that’s all the explanation you’re going to get and you swallow hard, nearly choking on your nerves, when he leans down again. With a simple gesture of his hand, Al-Haitham secures the topmost latch to the front of your collar. The links are slight enough that it doesn’t add much additional weight to your neck, which you’re rather grateful for, but you can tell that they’re still sturdy enough not to break easily.

You start to understand what’s happening in a far off, dreamy sort of way when he reaches for one of your hands next. Directing it up to about chest level, he makes quick work of securing the thin cuff on one of the other trailing chains around your wrist to keep it elevated, lest you pull unnecessarily on the collar should you try to bring it back down again. He repeats the process on the other side to leave you in an approximation of the same begging position he’d made you assume last time, and you just let him do it because … you have no idea why. 

By all accounts this should have been setting off every single alarm bell in your head but it just doesn’t. If anything, your fast thrumming excitement only ratchets up another notch to leave you all but vibrating there at his feet. 

And when he finally settles back to take up the last chain, this one longer than all the rest, you immediately recognize what it is. A leash. One that he wraps the excess length around his knuckles before slowly tugging on it to pull you up to your knees. A shuddering moan slips out as you rock forward under the steady guidance of his gentle yet insistent pulling with your hands uselessly restrained in front of your chest. This was so incredibly dehumanizing … 

“Good girl. You look lovely like this.” His mouth faintly curling again, Al-Haitham reaches out his opposite hand to casually flick his finger back and forth over one of your tightly coiled nipples. “Feeling comfortable?” 

Helplessly mewling, you force your sluggish head to bob in agreement. This was too much and yet somehow not nearly enough at the same time. You felt like you were going mad. 

“On the floor then. All the way.” 

Tense and shirking, you slowly ease back to sit on your haunches before carefully leaning forward to brace your arms on the rug. You have to go slow or risk yanking on your collar, and the insidious nature of this set up quickly makes itself known. Not only were you effectively restrained and at his mercy like this, but the short length of the chains forces you down close to the ground to leave your backside pointed up in the air. Completely defenseless and vulnerable. He could have done anything at all to you in this position. 

The thought alone is enough to make you tremble uncontrollably, and you suck in a deeply frazzled breath when you feel him lean over you again. His hand finds your ass to smooth over it before giving you an encouraging pat that only seems to rush straight to your slicking cunt, making you whine low in your throat. What was he going to do to you when the possibilities seemed limitless and each one made you feel that much more desperate than the last? 

You soon get your answer when he silently withdraws his palm only to bring it back down on the meat of your backside in a stinging, hard handed swat. The suddenness of the slap shocks you more than the actual sharp burst of pain does, and you rock forward with a startled squeak. But he’s quick to do it again, targeting the other cheek this time, to make you mewl and fitfully squirm on the floor. 

“Don’t move.” He warns, giving the now aching skin a mean squeeze. “I’m just going to get you warmed up first before the main event, but if you decide not to be good for me I’ll have to really punish you. Surely you don’t want that, do you?” 

Half delirious, you slowly shake your head and the resulting clink of the chains rattling with the motion further highlights your position here. Even if you’d wanted to fight it there was nothing you could do with your hands secured as they were, nowhere for you to run when you were stark naked and effectively trapped in his home. All you can do is kneel there and take it, feeling your ass jolt in the air when he brings his hand down again to spank across your sit spots in rapid succession before focusing back in on the fattest part of your behind. 

What was initially a briefly sharp starburst of pain quickly morphs into a constant, throbbing sting that seems to spread across your whole backside while he peppers back and forth between your cheeks over the next some odd minutes. It seems to stretch on for an eternity but, logically, you knew it must have only lasted for a short while. Just enough to warm up the skin and leave it tender in the wake of his hand. That’s what he’d said, anyway. 

And you’re so far gone in the hazy stupor you’d slipped into that you couldn’t even fully grasp just how humiliating this really was. Being forced into such a position with your ass shamelessly presented for him to do whatever he liked and yet he chose to spank you. You’d probably be furious with him later on, and rightfully so, but in this particular moment the only thing you can bring yourself to care about is how turned on it was making you. 

The single other instance you could recall where you’d been quite this worked up was the last time you and him had played this game, sequestered away in the relative privacy of the Grand Sage’s office. Never before and never since. 

Here you had real privacy though and a much smaller chance of discovery, particularly if what he’d said about his mysterious roommate being out for the night was true. And it’s clear Al-Haitham plans to take full advantage of the freedom allotted to him by doing this in his own home, because no sooner does he finally pull his hand from your throbbing ass do you feel his fingers descend upon your cunt. 

Yelping a mindless sound of startled delight, you eagerly arch your spine and rear back on his hand in humble supplication for more. He laughs a low, rumbling sound at the display even as the rough pads of his fingertips skirt down the seam of your labia to rub sedate circles over your clit. The gesture quickly makes you realize exactly how soaked you are with copious arousal when he smears it across your pussy lips in the process, making an even bigger mess of you. 

Bless the gods, but you were going to cum in record time. 

“I wish you could see yourself right now, trembling like that with my handprints all over your ass. If it weren’t for your usual attitude I’d even say you look like you were made for this. Do you enjoy it when I touch you here?” 

You let out a needy, faltering groan and jerk your head in a quick nod, making the chains jostle again. 

“Then let me hear you, darling girl. Speak.” 

It’s a real struggle to think clearly when he was still intently drawing his fingers over that sensitive pleasure button but your cotton stuffed head somehow manages to parse what he was asking of you. It was the same as last time. The same ‘trick’ he’d taught you in his office. The memory of idiotically barking like a dog had kept you awake many a night since, and not for the reasons you would have liked … 

You absolutely hate how much it excites you, your cheeks flushing incomprehensibly hotter even as you hang your head low and force out a weak, “Wh - woof!” 

“Oh? Is this not to your liking? My apologies then. Perhaps you want it here instead?” Abandoning your clit, Al-Haitham trails his fingers further up to your entrance where he quickly sinks one of those sinuously long digits into your cunt, forcing the inner sleeve of your body to stretch open around him. 

Stiffly lurching at the unexpected penetration and the jolt of friction that comes with it, you desperately ball your hands into tight fists against the rug in an attempt to ground yourself. “Woof! Woof wh - oof! Ahhn!” 

“Mmm, pretty sounds for a pretty girl. And so tight too. Don’t tell me you haven’t been playing with yourself at all since our last session? Too embarrassed or … were you just waiting for me to be the one to play with this needy little pussy for you?” 

You try to bark again, knowing he was likely to stop if you didn’t, but you can’t quite seem to find enough oxygen to do so. Your lungs were constricting much too tight with the short, labored gasps you rapidly suck in as the tension inside your cunt dizzyingly swells to near discomfort. You were beyond soaked, and the sticky wet clicks he pulls from your shuddering body when he adds a second finger only attests to that. The obscene schlucking sound that starts up when he begins to fuck you with them seems to echo in the space between your ears, adding to the total onslaught to your senses. All you could do was squeal helpless, dire tinged animal noises into the static charged room while he mercilessly pounds into you from behind. 

“Are you going to cum for me already, sweetheart? Gonna’ squirt all over this carpet just like you did on the one in my office? Huh?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, neither slowing down nor ceasing his ministrations for even a moment, and your eyes soon begin to roll back when your impending orgasm suffocatingly bears down on you. The building pressure was too much, the deliberate jabs of his fingers far too concentrated on that receptive bundle of nerves within you. Your body simply couldn’t take it even as you continue to gush excessively around the intrusion, and then all at once the scales seem to tip. 

You cum with a shuddering jerk, frantically wailing in pleasure when you feel your pussy give out to release a fresh deluge of slick. Screwing your eyes shut, you deliriously ride out the juddering waves of pleasure that sweep over you in a torrent as your squeezing cunt uncontrollably erupts around Al-Haitham’s fingers, having once again expertly coaxed you to this unseemly state. It was like being stretched too thin on such a bone deep level that by the time you finally start to come down from the reeling high another moment later you barely even know who you are anymore. 

All that seems to register in your punchdrunk mind is his unmistakably masculine presence hovering over you, his hand slowly withdrawing from your cunt with a messy wet slurp that makes you sensitively twitch. The smell of him, his taste on the back of your tongue. In retrospect it was no wonder just that one fateful encounter with him had ruined you so irreparably. 

How in the world had you not seen it sooner? He was the singularly most infuriating man you’d ever met, yes, but he was also the only person you’d ever known who seemed to understand you better than you understood yourself. You hadn’t even thought you were capable of squirting before this. Damn him. 

Issuing a groggy groan into the rug, you slowly begin to stir from your semi comatose state. You weren’t sure when exactly you’d pressed your cheek into the floor but you force your head up as primly as you can manage given the circumstances. And still trembling with the lingering remnants of your release, you shoot a cautious look underneath you only to grimace when you spot the telltale wet stains bleeding into the carpet. Unfortunately you’re not allowed much of a chance to recover or find your bearings though, and you give a faint hiss when Al-Haitham nudges your attention up at him with a firm tug to the leash. 

That he still looks frustratingly cool and collected despite everything that had just transpired bothers you a great deal but you stubbornly keep those thoughts to yourself. He was going to get an ear full from you later. The least he could have done was put a towel down instead of purposely embarrassing you like this again! 

“Doing good so far?” Luckily he seems to take your nod at face value, and he reaches out to brush a bit of hair away from your face with an unexpectedly tender stroke of his hand. “Good. I’ve got something else for you, if you feel up to it.” 

Rousing from your hazy delirium a bit more, you somewhat roughly clear your throat after not using your voice for so long before venturing to speak. “I know I’m supposed to be playing a role here but I have to ask. When exactly did you find the time to plan all of this? You seem suspiciously well prepared.” 

“It’s not so much that I planned it, but rather I simply followed through on an idea that already existed.” He says, earning a skeptical lift of your brow, and he quietly clicks his tongue when he realizes he’s going to have to offer up a better explanation than that. “You seem to remember everything else I said the last time so I’m surprised you don’t recall this. I told you if I’d had some warning beforehand I would have purchased a few things in advance. Well, I decided that I wouldn’t be caught unawares again. If you came to me I  wanted to be ready.”

“The collar.” You murmur, idly reaching up to touch it with a brief rattle of the connecting chain. “You did say that, didn’t you? What else do you have in there?” 

“Want to find out?” 

Shooting him a wary glance, you consider your options here. It sounded like he’d let you go if that was what you wanted after already having gotten off once, which was unexpectedly conscientious of him, but … were you really satisfied with just that? You’d thought about this almost nonstop for weeks and now that you were in front of him, collared and kneeling at his feet, you weren’t so sure you were ready to call it a night just yet. 

Besides, he still hadn’t made any attempt to see to his own needs and the low simmering pulse in your cunt hadn’t been fully satiated. Perhaps if you played along a little longer he’d stretch you out and stuff you full with something hopefully a bit more substantial than his fingers. A girl could certainly hope, at least. 

“Alright. I’m listening.”

“That's a good pet.” He murmurs, sticking his hand out to lightly palm over your head and you don’t stop long enough to reconsider it before nuzzling into the gesture with a soft purr. It seemed your earlier impression was correct. As long as he kept praising you, you’d do anything he wanted. 

Pulling back, Al-Haitham directs his attention back around to the contents of the box again. You listen to him dig for something, wondering how many items he’d actually purchased for the sake of being prepared, but you can’t quite see what he finally pulls out from your position on the floor. Even when you try to crane your neck up for a quick look the only thing you can make out is him fiddling with something. 

“This might be a bit cold at first.” He warns. 

That’s all the notice you get before he leans over you, hand stretching out on a sure and steady trajectory towards your backside, and you outright squawk when you feel him smear something sticky over your asshole. He does it so casually, such idle surety in the motion, that it sends your heart shooting up into your throat. 

Mewling a soft sound of confusion, you shudderingly try to twist around on the floor to see what he’s doing but he just follows you when you angle away. His ministrations don’t even falter while he continues to smear that mysterious wet goop over your puckered hole to thoroughly coat you in it, your uncertainty growing by the second when understanding starts to dawn. 

Surely he wasn’t — 

“Don’t tense up. You need to relax.” He murmurs, slowly rubbing over your ass with concentrated strokes now to encourage the muscle to loosen. 

Oh, he most certainly was. 

“W - w - wha - -“ 

“No words now, pretty girl. Unless it’s to tell me to stop and that you don’t want to do this anymore, I’m not interested in hearing it. You’re going to be a good pet for me, aren’t you?” 

Whimpering, you screw your eyes shut and try to focus on your breathing. That was easier said than done though, of course. You weren’t used to being touched like this and the prospect of having something inserted up your ass makes you far more nervous than anything else he’s done to you this evening. But it’s clear that was what he’s working his way up to, especially when he starts to carefully prod at the center wrinkle where the tight muscle begins to slacken and give way. He only taunts you with it though, never quite fully slipping his finger inside to penetrate you, and instead he focuses on merely teasing around the interior rim. 

You quickly realize he’s making sure you’re as well coated with that slippery lubricant on the inside as you are on the outside, and it becomes that much harder to keep your head on straight. 

Positively squirming when he at last pulls away some time later to leave your asshole sticky and loosened, you seethe into the rug while you listen to him dig something else out of the box. You have a few guesses in mind, naturally, but nothing quite prepares you for when you crack your eyes open at his behest only to find him dangling a long, fluffy tail in front of your face. 

Attached to the other end is what you can safely assume to be a plug based off the smooth, rounded tip that widens out into a bulbous base before then narrowing down to a thinner stem. The faux fur appendage dangles tauntingly from the bottom of it, and you softly groan at the full bodied shudder that tears through you. He really was going to put that thing inside your body. 

“Take a deep breath for me and let it out slowly. That’s it. Again. Such a good girl you’re being. I want you to focus on relaxing into it and bear down when I tell you to, alright?” 

At your faltering nod of understanding, in far too deep to back out now, Al-Haitham scoots to the very edge of the sofa and leans over you again. Using one hand to spread your sore cheeks open, he brings the plug close with the opposite to gently touch you with it. You jolt at the contact like he’d electrocuted you but quickly still again with an anxious little sob. Helpless to do anything else, you just kneel there at his feet and accept what’s happening while he lazily draws the toy through the excess lubricant he’d smeared all over you. 

When he finally starts to push in on the slackened pucker after another drawn out moment you go stockstill at the unfamiliar pressure, gasping roughly into the carpet. He softly tuts at you, encouraging you to calm down with soft words of praise, but it’s hard. Almost impossible when this was completely foreign to you and the slow stretch of yet untested muscle seems so debilitatingly sharp even in your punchdrunk state that you don’t know what to make of it. 

It doesn’t hurt though, you’re quite relieved to find. Just uncomfortable and more than a little strange, particularly when you could feel your asshole slowly losing the fight. There was too much lube for you to reject it and keep him out, the plug sufficiently smooth to make the penetration more of an easy glide than you’d expected it to be. In tortuous slow motion, he makes you take one millimeter at a time until your hole is stretched wide around the thickest part before gradually pulling back to repeat the process. 

Again and again, he makes your body open up to him before at last issuing the command for you to push. You almost don’t do it, unsure if you even could when the once tight ring of muscle felt so horribly strained, but with a low groan you comply. At the same time you bear down on the intrusion he gives it a quick push, and all at once the whole thing slips inside you straight down to the base. You rock forward with a haggard gasp, mindlessly jutting your ass up in the air as you weakly squeeze around the narrow stem only to realize that it was already too late. 

The toy was firmly wedged inside you now and taking up space that only seems to highlight how very empty your pussy is. He pulls back to admire his handiwork, letting the long tail settle against your soaked cunt with a faint brush of the fur. Trembling almost violently, you dig your toes into the rug and nudge your pelvis up as if you were little more than a bitch begging to be mounted. 

You really didn’t want to think about how apt that comparison actually was right now. 

“Just look at you, darling girl. I can tell how much you’re enjoying this from here,” He says, breaking through the delirium just enough for you to pick up on the vague note of satisfied awe creeping into his voice. Like he couldn’t believe you’d really allowed this to go so far, or maybe he was just finally starting to notice the effect this was having on his own body. It was hard to say with him. 

Groaning fitfully, you press your hot face into the ornate rug and give your ass a brief, supplicating shake. The tail shifts with the motion where it dangles down between your legs, brushing your pussy just so, but it’s not nearly enough to feel good. If anything it just makes you more desperate for his attention, his hand, his cock. Whatever he wanted to give you would have sufficed.

But of course Al-Haitham doesn’t relent and give you what you want. He never does, not directly anyway, and you seethe through your teeth when you feel him stand up from the sofa to loom over you. 

“Sit for me.” 

Blinking through the disorienting fog, you gingerly comply. Push up onto your forearms and get your knees adjusted under you before slowly sitting upright even when you dizzily sway with the motion. The change in position seems to make the plug feel even bigger where it’s keeping your ass stretched open around its width, and you faintly groan at the sensation. 

Al-Haitham is as unreasonable and demanding as ever though, and he barely allows you enough time to get situated in front of him before issuing his next command. “Good. Now beg.” 

The mere thought of assuming that position again makes you wince, your body already a mess of aches and pains, and throbbing arousal, but you comply with this too. It takes a bit of effort on your part to get your legs to cooperate but you eventually manage, somehow. 

And once you’re squatted before him, precariously balancing on your toes with your hands securely fastened up by your chest, you look to him for his next order. You no longer have any wherewithal left to feel at all embarrassed or ashamed of having your cunt on display like this, nor do you have it in you to second guess any of it. All you knew with certainty was that you were drowning in it, this hazy feeling of absolution that seemed to rend you to pieces and mend you back together again in the same breath. Perhaps it was a bit fatalistic, yes, but you’d never felt quite so sexually satisfied in all your life. 

Especially when he smiles, pinning you with one of those exceedingly rare, genuine little tugs of his mouth to indicate that he was pleased with you. It’s fleeting and short lived but you don’t miss it by a long shot as he proceeds to gently pull on your leash to make sure he’s got your attention.  

“Wag for me, pretty girl? Think you can do that?” 

You don’t stop to rethink this either. You just do it, struggling to shake your ass in this awkward balancing act to feel the tail swishing back and forth on the floor underneath you. It’s humiliating and dehumanizing in equal measure, but you would have gladly done that and so much more just to earn another doting pet of his hand, another soft word from his mouth. 

Al-Haitham had awakened something inside you that day in his office, and now you were his responsibility. For better or worse, he was your master and you his obedient, loyal pet.

⭐

Crossposted: here