#clouds-trees-bees

[clouds-trees-bees]

this. 🌱

[lytefaerie]

[beatsforbrothels]

Harrison - Float (ft. Kadhja Bonet)

[hosty2991]

pictures i took on 30 may 2024

[solbaby7]

I love your work, and I’ve been creeping on your master list and it’s so good 😭❤️❤️❤️… pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that they’re true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that he’ll reject her cause he’s in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and that’s when Az realizes it too and smut ensues 🫶😭❤️

Since You Have A Lover

pairing : azriel x afab!reader

warnings: angst babe, torture too (oops👀🤣), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then we’re gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better 🫣

thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but i’m so happy you’ve been enjoying 💗💗

oh and…educate a girl. wtf is afab?👀 respectfully ofc

—

Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.

The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.

It’s instinctual to be jealous—to compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.

Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. They’re too caught up in each other to realize you’ve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.

Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesn’t send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.

Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. There’s a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.

Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but you’d recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.

A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.

You’re unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. “Oh,” The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. “Gods, I’m sorry.” You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book she’d dropped in the collision. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching here I was going.”

“That’s not like you.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. “I’m not quite myself at the moment.”

Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and you’re infinitely grateful that she doesn’t call you out on your state of disarray. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. “No, I think I’m going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.

She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.

You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.

Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."

--

Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.

Distracting, at the very least.

But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.

Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees you’d come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. “Nesta?”

The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. “Not quite.”

It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.

The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.

--

The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.

Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.

It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?

The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"

A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."

Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.

"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"

"Around three."

Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lord’s better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."

The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"

Nesta’s tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately you’d attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. “She didn’t leave me a map with a drawn out route—she just said she needed air.”

“While crying?” It wasn’t intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. “I was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balcony—I offered to walk her to her room but she just…” A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. “I let her go.”

“Nesta.” Feyre’s slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nesta’s shoulders squaring on the defensive.

“I’m not some evil bitch, I waited up!” She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isn’t truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because she’d felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that she’d made a grave mistake. Nesta’s shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. “I waited.”

Azriel’s already out of the room without a word.

He didn’t have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.

His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.

And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elain’s cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallways—the kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.

He’d pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.

It’s been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. He’d never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.

The words act as fuel, Azriel’s senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until they’d returned with something he could work with.

Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.

And they were soaked in your blood.

—

You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earth—the perfect dungeon.

One you’d been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azriel’s side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limits—wondering to see just how far you’d go just to be near him.

To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.

All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation you’d found yourself entangled in.

Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and it’s a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands don’t move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.

Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.

“I always did love that look.” Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasn’t. “When panic shifts into realization—truly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.”

Delicate?

You’d never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.

Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, it’s beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. “Come a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.”

The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and he’s too coward to brawl fairly. “As tempting as that is, it won’t be me who plays with you tonight.” Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.

He’s not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. She’d inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his form—no matter how misplaced it was.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.”

“So much fight in you,” Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. “I can’t wait to see how long it lasts.”

Breathe.

Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and it’s easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and he’d just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times you’d been in a similar situation—you, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.

Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The cell wasn’t very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“What do you want from me?”

Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no light—proving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. “Many things,” He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. He’s too cocky. Too comfortable. “But first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.” He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.”

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A smile works its way across his face—one so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. “I hoped you’d say that.” Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldn’t imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.

One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.

Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“Who are you?”

He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. “You can call me the Butcher—everyone else does.”

“How original.” A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. “Well, Butcher—come make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? It’s starting to chafe a bit.”

His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting door—a lock sliding into place. “You don’t really want me to do that.” For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. “If you’re as stubborn as I think you are,” The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. “You’ll need something to hold onto. It helps with the pain…for a time.”

Breathe.

“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beard—the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly trim and proper. “Not a fan of foreplay?”

Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. “I’m more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.”

Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. “You know,” Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. “Under entirely different circumstances, I think I might’ve actually liked you.”

The switch flips so fast—too fast for you to catch but it’s impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and you’re certain that it’s intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The masculine baritone of Azriel’s teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.

You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcher’s left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.

There’s a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldn’t be an option for you. “Tell me about the Made ones and I can stop.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“You live there with them,” Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. “You share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets aren’t shared as well?” Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. “Tell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.”

“Even if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?”

Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. “You say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian you’re always seen around?”

A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconscious—not enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.

Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too much—when you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.

The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. “We’re coming, just stay awake.”

The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subside—a side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.

It’s all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. “Rhys they want— they want…”

So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voice—Azriel’s voice bellowing your name. “Stay alive.” He mutters over and over and over when he’s finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. “Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.

All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.

It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.

—

Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.

"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."

He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."

"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."

Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"

"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."

Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"

"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."

"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"

"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance to—. What the hell were you thinking?"

The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minute—too fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."

Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."

Just like that, all the spitfire you’d prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. “Your mate.”

Azriel doesn’t confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.

“You know?”

“How long have you known?”

Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if that’s what it took to get to its other half. “A while.”

“And you’ve said nothing.” He says, tone sounding almost defeated. “Why wouldn’t you have said anything?”

“Because, Az,” The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. “You wouldn’t have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.” You’re quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. “Besides, the bond is a choice not a burden and that’s what it would’ve been for you if I spoke up about it.” Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.”

A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."

"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."

"I'll manage."

"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."

Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platter—he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadn’t noticed you’d been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.

Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."

"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"

"I felt something for you—something stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and it’s as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing you—ruining the peace I feel when I’m with you would’ve broken me.”

Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. “Az, you don’t have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“Then, please don’t reject it.” His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. “Don’t reject me—this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. “Can’t you feel it? This rightness.”

Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azriel’s eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.

Not one reaches your radar.

The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossed—a prophecy fulfilled.

When Azriel’s lips finally brush against yours, it’s like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadn’t known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensity—the burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.

One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. “Azriel,” You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.

“Mate.”

A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. “Even when my bones are rotting in the dirt, I’ll belong to you. My mate. Mine.”

[luna-azzurra]

Some tips on the do’s and don’ts of adding more description to your Writing

Do‘s:

Make your writing come alive by describing things that appeal to the senses. Instead of saying "It was a beautiful garden," you could say "The garden was filled with the scent of fresh roses, the sound of buzzing bees, and the vibrant colors of blooming flowers."

Instead of just saying what something is like, show it through your words. For instance, instead of saying "She was sad," you could describe her actions and surroundings to show her sadness: "Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared out the rain-streaked window, clutching a crumpled tissue in her hand."

Instead of using general words, get specific. Instead of saying "He drove a car," you could say "He drove a sleek, black convertible, the wind tousling his hair as he sped down the open highway."

Keep your writing interesting by mixing up short and long sentences. Don't always write in the same way. For example, "The sky was dark. The trees swayed in the wind. It felt eerie," could be improved by adding variety: "Dark clouds gathered overhead, causing the trees to sway ominously in the gusting wind, casting an eerie feeling over the landscape."

Use your descriptions to set the mood of your story. Instead of just saying "It was a scary place," describe the setting to evoke fear in your readers: "The abandoned house loomed in the moonlight, its broken windows and creaking doors whispering of unseen terrors lurking within."

Don't just drop descriptions randomly into your writing. Make sure they fit naturally into the flow of your story. Instead of stopping the action to describe something, weave it into the narrative: "As she ran through the forest, the branches clawed at her skin, leaving scratches like whispers of the dangers lurking in the shadows."

While descriptions are important, don't forget to keep your story moving forward. Don't spend too much time describing things at the expense of the action. Find a balance between describing the scene and keeping the plot moving.

Don't:

Using too many adjectives can make your writing sound cluttered and overwhelming. Stick to the essentials and choose your words carefully.

Don't forget that dialogue and interactions between characters are key parts of your story. Use them to reveal personality and move the plot forward.

Don't repeat yourself. Once you've described something, trust your readers to remember it. Don't keep saying the same thing over and over again.

Sometimes, what you don't say can be just as important as what you do say. Let your readers read between the lines and draw their own conclusions.

Avoid using tired old phrases that everyone has heard before. Try to come up with fresh, original descriptions that will grab your readers' attention.

Be mindful of the pace of your story. Don't slow things down with long descriptions in the middle of an action scene. Save the detailed descriptions for quieter moments when the pace naturally slows down.

[horchatakoo]

IN HIS MERCY | JUNGKOOK FF

description: who would have thought that you, the queen bee of the school, would be a crying mess beneath the very boy you bullied?

It’s not your fault he fucks you too good… right?

genre/themes: yandere jk x queen bee y/n, manipulation, blackmailing, big dick jk, dom jk, mean jk, smut cause grahhh, cumming inside

part 2

The midday sun beats down relentlessly on the back of the school building, where Jungkook sits on one of the chairs randomly piled in the corner. It’s already lunchtime, and most students are flocking to the cafeteria, making this quiet spot a rare solace for his clouded mind. A few birds chirp in one of the tall trees, and as he looks up, the sunlight grazes his golden-tanned skin.

The scene was beautiful and calming... but that peace was shattered when a group of ‘jerks’ barged in, disrupting his solace.

"Hey! Look who's here... the weird kid from the back of the class. Thought you could escape us today, huh?" Jaehyun, a student from the legal department and one of the so-called "cool" kids, sneered, making his friends burst into laughter.

Honestly, he doesn’t really know why Jaehyun and his minions enjoy picking on him… or maybe he does. He’s pretty sure it’s because Jaehyun couldn’t stand coming second in the student rankings—right after Jungkook, the quiet kid in the back who always looks half-dead in his hoodie. Jaehyun, who thinks so highly of himself, just couldn’t accept that a so-called lowlife nerd had beaten him at something.

Jungkook only sighed, thinking this whole act was pathetic as fuck. He didn’t bother to respond and was just about to leave when Jaehyun suddenly grabbed the collar of his gray hoodie.

“What now, huh? Can’t even respond to me?! Did you study so hard you forgot how to talk?”

"Look, man… I don’t want any trou—" Before he could even finish his sentence, a punch landed on his face. The blow was so sudden that he lost his balance. Jaehyun’s minions wasted no time, rushing in to kick him in the stomach.

He could have fought back, could have turned this into a full-blown fistfight—but he chose not to. Not because he couldn’t, but because his parents had already warned him that this would be the last time they’d put up with his bullshit… especially after what happened at his previous school.

Instead, he only crouched in pain, waiting for them to stop. In his mind, he knew he could have his revenge someday—but for now, he had to play along, had to keep up the act.

After a couple of minutes, Jaehyun’s minions finally stopped kicking him, leaving him lying there. Jungkook thought they were done, that they had left—until he felt something spill on him. A cold liquid seeped into his hoodie, followed by the sound of giggling.

Min Y/N.

The fucking Min Y/N had just dumped a chocolate drink on him while giggling in Jaehyun’s arms.

"That’s what you get for messing with the wrong people," she sneered.

Jungkook hated the bitch so much. She was always clinging to Jaehyun’s arm, giggling like she was innocent—typical spoiled rich brat behavior. A queen bee who thought everything would always go her way.

Too bad… she was literally Jungkook’s type if not for her bitchy attitude.

"Hahaha… let’s get going, babe," Jaehyun said to Y/N, pride evident in his voice over what his girl had just done.

At last, their stupid group was finally gone, leaving Jungkook alone. With a groan, he pushed himself up from the pavement, sighing as he glanced down at his now stained hoodie.

A tsk left his mouth. "That fucking bitch… this is literally Calvin Klein."

───●◎●───

Have you gotten their information?”

"Uhh… Yes, sir. But won’t your parents be mad?" Mr. Lee, the butler of the Jeon estate, asked hesitantly as he handed over the file Jungkook had requested.

"It’s not like they’re gonna find out. Unless… you’re planning to tell them?" Jungkook replied, his voice carrying a subtle threat as his sharp gaze locked onto Mr. Lee.

The poor butler swallowed hard, nerves creeping up his spine. He knew his master wasn’t right in the head—there was definitely something wrong with him. But there was nothing he, nor even Jungkook’s parents, could do. After all, he was the only son and heir of the Jeon family.

"Of course not, master. My loyalty stays with you."

"Maybe a few beatings would do? Or perhaps turning Jaehyun’s face into a bloody mess would be the right move. What do you think, Mr. Lee?" he asked with a bright smile, as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation—like he was simply ordering food online.

As expected, Jaehyun came from a well-off family. His so-called minions? Just commoners desperate to stay in his good graces.

And you?

Heck, you’re even poorer than some of Jaehyun’s minions!

A burst of laughter escaped Jungkook’s lips, uncontrollable and almost manic, as he processed his new discovery. His desire to beat Jaehyun to a pulp was momentarily forgotten—because now, his attention was on you.

The so-called queen bee.

The prettiest yet meanest of them all. Always draped in designer brands, always acting untouchable.

And yet… a complete FRAUD.

"So this is the queen bee, huh”

───●◎●───

A day had passed since Jungkook’s discovery, and from that moment on, he wasted no time crafting the perfect plan. A plan for revenge. A plan to make them pay.

But first… maybe he could use you.

After all, you were his type.

The thought alone sent a thrill through him—your pretty lips wrapped around cock, the same lips that had probably kissed Jaehyun.

His jaw clenched, arousal and satisfaction intertwining at the idea. Not only would he have you, but it would also be the perfect way to get under Jaehyun’s nerve. And It’s much better than just ruining his face.

Like every other day, you walk your usual route home, completely unaware that the devil himself is following your every step. The streets are quiet, the dim glow of the streetlights barely illuminating your path. You arrive at the small, rundown house tucked away across the street, pushing open the rusty gate that screeches louder than you’d like.

It has been a long, exhausting day, and all you want is to go inside and rest.

But then—

"Oh… look who I found here."

A chill runs down your spine at the familiar voice.

You turn, heart pounding, and there he is…

Your lips part, but only a breathy, stunned whisper escapes. "Ju-Jungkook…"

How? Why is he here?

You wanted to ask those questions, yet your body refuses to move, frozen under his unwavering gaze. His smug grin never falters, dark amusement glinting in his eyes.

It’s as if the wolf has finally cornered its prey.

"What are you doing here, Y/N-ah? Is this your house?" Jungkook's voice dripped with fake innocence, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Your breath hitched. "Wha—Of course not!" You forced a smile, hoping to sell the lie. "I’m just… visiting a f-friend."

But the way he looked at you told you everything—you were already caught.

Jungkook let out a mock sigh, shaking his head. "Really? Every day? That’s funny." His smile faded, replaced by something darker. "You know, I hate liars, Y/N-ah. Especially lying bitches."

Before you could react, he reached into his pocket and tossed something at your feet.

Photographs.

Your stomach dropped. Each one captured you, stepping in and out of the very house you just tried to deny.

He knew.

And from the way his smirk widened, he was enjoying every second of your panic.

Before you even realized it, a tear had slipped down your cheek, followed by another… and another. Your knees hit the ground before you could stop yourself.

"Please… please don’t tell anyone!" Your voice trembled, your fingers clutching onto his legs as if he was your last hope. "I swear—I won’t bully you anymore! I’ll even tell Jaehyun to leave you alone. Just… please."

Jungkook crouched down to your level, tilting his head as he cupped your tear-streaked face between his hands. His touch was deceptively gentle, wiping away your tears with his thumb—yet the sinister curve of his lips only made you sob harder.

"Shhh, don’t cry, Y/N-ah," he cooed, his voice laced with amusement. "I’m not as bad as you think I am."

For a second, hope flickered inside you.

Then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered—

"But you know… everything comes with a price."

You replied hurriedly, the words spilling out before you could even think—too desperate to escape this nightmare.

"What is it?! I promise I’ll do anything! Just please—"

Jungkook’s grin widened. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable.

"Really, princess?" he mused, dragging the moment out as he traced his thumb across your trembling lips. "Then… be mine."

───●◎●───

Your thoughts were a tangled mess, looping around the same dilemma over and over again.

Be mine.

Be mine.

Be mine.

The words refused to leave your head, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Jungkook’s ultimatum haunted you all weekend.

"I know this is hard for your small brain to process… so why don’t you give me your answer on Monday, yeah? If I don’t get an answer from you, then maybe I’ll just release these photos."

And now—it’s Monday.

Your head throbbed from the sleepless nights spent agonizing over what to do. The fear of your secret being exposed gnawed at you, but so did the thought of throwing away everything you had worked for.

"There’s no way I’d become a lowly student. I’ve worked too hard to build this image… this lie."

That alone was reason enough to say yes—to accept whatever Jungkook wanted if it meant keeping your perfect facade intact.

But another part of you resisted.

What does he even mean by "be mine"?

It was so vague, so unclear. Was he playing with you? Did he mean to humiliate you? Ruin you in a different way?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edges of your desk as the lecture droned on.

An hour later, your last subject was finally over. Jungkook had arranged everything for the two of you to meet again at the same spot—right in front of the rusty gate of your house. It was as if he wanted to remind you of who you truly were, and you hated it.

The walk home felt slow and agonizing, every step heavier than the last. You wished, even for a fleeting second, that a bus would just hit you—anything to give you a valid excuse not to face the devil waiting for you.

As you turned onto your street, your eyes immediately landed on him. He was standing there, patiently waiting, his gaze fixed on his sneakers. From a distance, he looked almost harmless—just another boy lost in thought.

But you knew better.

Because behind that unassuming façade was the devil himself.

Your steps felt heavier the closer you got, each one sealing your fate.

He must have heard your footsteps because his head snapped up, and that same smug grin curled on his lips.

"Ah, right on time," he mused, pushing himself off the gate as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, stopping just a few feet away from him.

"...What do you want?" you asked, trying to sound strong despite the way your voice slightly trembled.

Jungkook tilted his head, eyes twinkling in amusement. "I think you already know the answer to that, princess."

Silence stretched between you two.

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way out of this.

With a shaky breath, you finally muttered the words that sealed your fate.

"...Fine. I’ll be yours."

Jungkook’s smirk deepened.

"Good girl."

───●◎●───

And from that moment, your life became a tangled dance—a twisted tango with him. By day, you maintained your queen bee status, the untouchable girl everyone admired or envied. But the moment the school day ended, you were nothing more than Jungkook’s plaything, bound to his every whim.

It started small—harmless, almost. A lingering touch here and there. Sneaking off during lunch breaks to empty classrooms in the old building, just because he wanted to. From fleeting pecks to deeper kisses, ones you didn’t even know how to respond to, but he taught you how.

You never got the chance to hangout with Jaehyun anymore because Jungkook is always there demanding your presence, so you have made creative excuses to deny Jaehyun, but you know to yourself those excuses won't last long. In one way, or another, he will get suspicious with your sudden avoidance.

"Strip."

"Wha—?" His command startled you.

You were in his house—if you could even call it that, given how massive it was. You never thought things would escalate like this. You assumed it would only be kissing, just like the past few days. But perhaps you should have known better.

"What? Why are you acting like it’s your first time?" Jungkook scoffed, tilting his head. "I know you’re Jaehyun’s bitch, so there’s no way you’ve never warmed his bed before." He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come on, show me just how good Jaehyun’s bitc—”

A hard slap landed on Jungkook’s cheek.

Perhaps it was the weight of your emotions—weeks of stress and frustration building up because of him. Your hands trembled, your chest heaving, and before you even realized it, a tear slipped down your cheek.

Yes, he was blackmailing you. But you never expected him to say something so cruel.

He was mean—viciously, unapologetically mean.

No one has ever been this mean to you

And you hated it.

Jungkook's head slightly turned from the impact, his cheek stinging from your slap. Slowly, he looked back at you, his usual smug expression faltering for the first time.

"I'm not—" your voice broke as more tears streamed down your face. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. "I'm not Jaehyun's bitch, or anyone else's. I’ve never been with him like that… or with anyone!"

Jungkook's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but you didn’t wait to find out what it was. Your vision blurred as you turned on your heel and bolted for the door.

"Y/N," he called after you, but you didn’t stop.

You ran.

Perhaps you were too caught up in the moment, too overwhelmed by emotions, to realize you were barefoot—until you had already dashed out of his house, the rough pavement scraping against your soles, a stark contrast to the cold, polished tiles you had just been standing on.

You stumbled slightly, the sting of the uneven ground jolting through your body. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Tears blurred your vision as you ran, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. As if the night couldn’t get any worse, the sky opened up, and heavy rain began to pour.

"Y/N!" Jungkook's voice cut through the downpour. "Let's talk!"

Your legs ached from all the running, leaving you with no choice but to stand there in the pouring rain, chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally, everything in between.

Jungkook finally caught up to you, an umbrella in his hand, though it barely mattered now. Your clothes were already drenched, clinging to your shivering frame.

“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” he said, his voice softer this time.

You didn’t protest. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the sheer fatigue weighing you down, but you let him guide you back into his house.

The atmosphere had shifted. The tension from earlier still lingered, but now, it was laced with something else—guilt? Regret? You weren’t sure.

Once inside his bedroom, Jungkook handed you a towel and gently wiped away the rain from your face and arms, his touch surprisingly careful. Without a word, he grabbed one of his hoodies from the closet and held it out to you.

“Here,” he murmured, avoiding your gaze. “You’re gonna get sick.”

You slipped the hoodie over your head, the warmth of the fabric instantly comforting against your chilled skin. It smelled like him—clean, with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Not that it mattered. It was the best option you had.

Jungkook continued drying you off, his hands moving carefully, almost hesitant. You let him. Not because you forgave him, but because you were too drained to protest.

Neither of you spoke.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with unspoken words. He knew you were upset—he didn’t need to ask. And for once, he didn’t try to justify himself.

And just like that, the day ended.

───●◎●───

The next few days felt normal again. He no longer bothered you, and you were able to hang out with Jaehyun like before.

Yes, he was close to you.

Yes, he called you "babe."

But you had never done anything intimate with him.

You hadn't seen Jungkook at the university either. A slight curiosity lingered in your mind about where he might be—perhaps because, in some twisted way, you had grown accustomed to his presence.

Still, you were thankful he was gone.

Or so you thought…

───●◎●───

I was seething with rage as I watched her smiling and giggling with Jaehyun again—just like the first time.

But this time, the hatred wasn’t for her. It was for him. I know I was wrong for what I said to her that night.

At first, Y/N was just another piece in my game—a means to get my revenge.

But that night… something shifted. I saw her in a different light. She was raw and unmasked—nothing like the persona she wore at school.

I exhaled sharply, trying to push down the anger rising in my throat.

I told myself I’d leave her alone, that After that night I’d back off.

But now, watching her with him, I realized…

I didn’t want to back off.

Because she wasn’t his.

She’s mine all along to claim.

And I’ll make her realize just that.

───●◎●───

I was laughing with Jaehyun when my phone suddenly rang. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was just a wrong number. But when it kept calling again and again, I finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Meet me at the old building. Same classroom as before. We still have a deal, you know? I hope you haven’t forgotten."

Just when I thought my nightmares were over, I was proven wrong.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I knew that voice all too well. He sounded serious—angry, even.

The way he spoke, the sharpness in his tone—it wasn’t the same as before. There was no teasing lilt, no smug arrogance. He sounded different. Felt different.

I swallowed hard before forcing out a response.

"O-okay..."

"That’s my girl."

“Everything okay?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back to the present, his brows furrowing in concern.

I forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just some school stuff. I need to go for a bit.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No” I blurted out a bit too fast

“I’ll see you later” is all I said before leaving.

Upon arriving at the empty classroom, I saw Jungkook already there, waiting for me—just like before.

His back was leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable as they settled on me.

I hesitated at the door, gripping my phone tightly. “What do you want?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk as he pushed off the desk and took slow, deliberate steps toward me. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

I frowned, my stomach twisting in unease. “Jungkook—”

Before I could finish, he was already standing in front of me, too close, his fingers brushing against my wrist. “Don’t act like you don’t miss me too,” he whispered, tilting his head as if studying me.

I shook my head, trying to step back, but he caught my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “I-I don’t—”

He chuckled, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

My breath hitched when he pressed his lips against mine—slow at first, as if testing the waters. My body tensed, my mind screaming at me to push him away.

But then he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me flush against him. His warmth, his scent—it was all too familiar, too intoxicating.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against my lips. “No matter how much you try to run, you always end up here, don’t you?”

It’s like there’s magic to his words that intoxicates me. His hands were just so skilled that it sent shivers in my skin. Perhaps because I’ve never been touched this way by a man.

The kiss was intense, our tongues intertwined. I was close to being out of breath, but he deepened the kiss before letting go. A string of saliva connected us. I looked dazed, almost drunk, as I gazed at him, and the next thing I knew, I was already lying on the teacher’s desk—skirt rolled up, panties gone, blouse unbuttoned. I tried to cover myself out of shyness, which only made Jungkook chuckle.

“I-I’m…”

“Relax doll… I know you’re a virgin, now let me take care of that, yeah?”

Before I could even know it, one of his fingers started slowly entering me, as he laps his tongue on my clit. The intrusion was a bit painful, yet very pleasurable.

“Shit you taste so amazing doll”

My legs were trembling from the unfamiliar feeling, one finger followed by another, as he scissors my insides. It was so good that I became a moaning mess, as I unconsciously buckled my hip out of desperation.

“Ahhhh… J-jungkook, please!”

Jungkook only smirks at the sight of you, he loves the control he has. He loves the way you begged.

He continues to ram his fingers in you before deciding that you’re already ready to take his cock.

His lips brush against her ear as he whispers:

“I’m going to put it in now”

And just like that, he slides his big cock into your tight hole. It hurts, especially with how thick it is, that you started gripping hard on the collar of his uniform as a means to relieve the pain.

After being fully in, he set a slow pace for a while, before brutally ramming in your core.

“You’re so tight, doll. Only for me. Don’t worry, I’ll shape you so you’d only crave me. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

You’re already intoxicated with the pleasure you don’t even know how to proper respond

“Fuck… you’re taking me so well, princess. Just like that. I knew you’d be good for me.

Everything he says is just too much for you, it’s so perverted and degrading that you don’t want to meet his eyes, but he forces you anyway, refusing to let you look away, making sure you see everything that he’s doing to you. Making sure that you’d remember how we claims you

“You thought I didn’t see you, huh? Laughing and giggling with that Jaehyun, while I was away. Now Look at you—whimpering, begging, fucking crying on my cock. You’re mine, princess. Say it.”

You couldn’t respond properly fast enough, so Jungkook grips your jaw, making you open your mouth as he forces to hear those words from you.

“Say it”

Y/N gasps out the words. “I’m yours, jungkook! I’m yours.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Jungkook smirks, satisfied, before thrusting even deeper, if possible, before shooting all of his load inside her pussy.

“I’m gonna fill you up, princess. Gonna make you round and full so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Y/N also reached her high together with Jungkook, but he didn't pull out immediately. He waited till his hard length would soften, and by the time he pulled out, he watched as his cum mixed with yours, dripped down your pussy.

The scene was amusing for him.. you being all fucked out and full of his cum. It’s better than any porn he had watched. So of course, it is only rightful for him to save this moment by taking a picture of it.

Jungkook smiles at you, as he proceeds to fix your crumpled clothes, and puts back on your panties, making it immediately drenched with cum as it acts as a barrier to not let his cum flow out of you.

And you’re just there… too tired to move that you just let him do things for you.

“You're coming home with me now, princess. In our house" Jungkook said with a genuine smile plastered on his face, as if he did not just ruin you.

And in that moment, she realizes—she’s lost.

Completely.

Utterly.

In his mercy.

[buriedpentacles]

Low-Energy Ways to Work with Nature and her Spirits:

Look outside. That's it - just open the curtains and see the sunlight, find the trees outside your window and watch the birds.

Put on a documentary or youtube video about a cool animal, ecology, the natural world etc

Talk to nature - whisper, talk out loud, say it in your head - just talk. Compliment pretty flowers, chat about how creepy but cool you think spiders are, picture light dancing off morning dew.

Trace the shapes of leaves/flowers/animals etc on your bed sheets or skin - try to see how many different shapes make up the natural world, find the patterns and fractals within them

Learn the name of one new local plant a week! Just one a week! If you have the energy, research a little about their ecology, history or medicinal uses

Make a flower crown/daisy chain/leaf crown

Take up nature photography - you don't need a fancy camera, jsut your phone!

Collect some shells/rocks/bones etc!

Just sit outside! can be just outside your front door, next to an open window, or in the woods (whatever you can manage)

Take your daily activities outside!! Read in the garden, eat your breakfast under the sun etc

Create art from nature - paint rocks, press flowers, create patterns using feathers or leaves as paintbrushes/stamps

Cloud watching!

More High Energy Activities:

Go for a walk or hike outside and take some offerings. Introduce yourself to the trees and plants and streams and leave them a gift.

If there's one nearby, visit a local farmer's market and buy some local produce; honey, meat, vegetables, fruit, etc! Chat to the sellers and talk about their practices and produce

Do a small spell outside! Find a secluded, comfortable spot and invite the spirits to observe your spellwork - let them get used to your energy and way of working

Make a small diary of your time outside! Don't worry about filling it in regularly, just whenever you have the energy! Write down when the bees start coming out or leaves return after winter. What plants stay during the cold season?

Research local plants and come up with your own correspondences based on their ecology/medicinal use/folklore etc

Go on a walk to see what plants and animals exist in your area! Research them - are they native? Invasive? What is their ecology? Medicinal uses? Even the most urban areas tend to have some wildlife!

Join a local facebook group for birdwatching!

Research your area and figure out what plants or animals would be native, or used to live there - create artwork or something to honour and remember them

Research gardening groups nearby - some cities will have volunteer gardening projects or local groups that help maintain natural spaces! See if any would be feasible for you to join and get out there

Join a local allotment or community garden if you have the means - do some weeding, plant some tomatoes, say hello to the coal tits nesting in the old shed!

If you have the means - invest in a hardy houseplant! Name it, research its care and talk to it! Make a ritual out of watering and talking to it.

Take an online ecology course! Free courses exist and can be super interesting!

Watch youtube videos on a favourite taxa and make notes - build your own knowledge at a pace you're comfortable with on the things you're interested in!

Invite some nature spirits in for a meal - cook something you enjoy and set the table (if you can) for the spirits. Enjoy a meal with them.

Please add any suggestions you have below and I can add them! Everyone has unique energy levels and capabilities, but I hope that I've given people a quick idea of things they can do, if they want!

[spookysanta]

Puffball. (MBJ)

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: none

from the drafts

written out of my disdain for spring, and my love for corny nicknames.

Spring didn’t just arrive that year. It ambushed the world.

Bright skies broke open overnight, buzzing bees filled the air, and thin clouds of yellow pollen floated thick enough to shimmer in the morning light. Michael’s house sat right in the middle of it all, surrounded by towering old trees that seemed hellbent on waging war against anyone with a fragile immune system. Every gust of wind stirred up another invisible storm, leaving a fine dust clinging to the porch railings, the windows, the cars parked outside.

It was beautiful.

It was hell.

And she walked right into it.

Michael spotted her from the front window, hunched against the breeze, sneakers scuffing the gravel, tissues clutched in one hand like a white flag of surrender. She sneezed once — head snapping forward hard enough that her bag nearly slipped from her shoulder. Then again, louder, more desperate, forcing her to stop and swipe at her leaking eyes with the sleeve of her jacket.

Michael barked a laugh, shaking his head as he swung the door open. The breeze carried another wave of pollen straight into the house.

“Baby girl,” he drawled, half-pitying, half-amused, “you didn’t even stand a chance out there, huh?”

She stumbled inside, blinking up at him through red-rimmed, glassy eyes, voice wrecked as she groaned, “I hate spring. I hate it.”

Michael grinned, catching her around the waist before she could crash face-first onto the couch.

“Nah, you love it,” he teased, hauling her close. “You just forgot your damn meds.”

“Hh’CHHH!” The sneeze ripped through her without warning, muffled into the chest of his hoodie.

Michael rocked back from the force of it, laughing harder, arms cinching tighter around her. He kissed the top of her messy hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Goddamn, bunny,” he said, smoothing a hand down her back, “you sound like you’re gonna blow yourself off your feet.”

She glared up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes streaming, nose twitching — and somehow looked even less threatening than usual. Michael laughed again, leaning in to kiss her forehead before she could argue.

“Don’t call me that,” she rasped, sniffling miserably. “Bunny’s for when I look cute. I don’t look cute right now.”

Michael chuckled, dropping another kiss onto her hair without letting her go. “You’re always cute,” he murmured, pulling her in tighter like he didn’t even hear her protests.

She huffed a miserable little sound, trying to look indignant. Another sneeze barreled through her before she could even open her mouth.

“Hh’KTSHH!”

Michael caught it like it was nothing. Grinning, he grabbed the tissues from her limp hand and dabbed at her nose, quick and gentle, before sliding a hand up her damp cheek. “Shit,” he chuckled, “you’re my little Puffball now.”

She froze. Pulled back just far enough to stare at him, puffy-eyed and utterly betrayed. “Puffball?” she croaked, voice thick with congestion and outrage.

Michael smirked, thumb brushing slow across her cheekbone. “Yeah,” he said, tilting his head in mock thoughtfulness. “You’re all puffy and cute and miserable. Puffball fits.”

She groaned, dropping her forehead to his chest, muttering something that sounded like, “I hate you,” into the fabric. But she didn’t pull away. Not really.

Michael smiled against her hair, rocking her gently back and forth like a slow dance neither of them had agreed to.

He finally got her onto the couch, buried under a fortress of blankets. Tissues were stacked within reach, and he made sure she had a full glass of water before handing her two allergy pills. “Take ’em,” he ordered, crouching next to the couch until she swallowed them both down.

She did, pouting miserably. Michael tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, kissed her forehead, and murmured, “Good girl.”

Every time she sneezed — sharp, helpless, miserable — he was there. Pressing kisses to her temple. Whispering, “Bless you, Puffball,” soft and unrelenting.

Every time, she huffed and buried deeper into the blankets.

Every time, he smiled like he was the luckiest man alive.

Later, when the meds kicked in and she was feeling just a little bolder, she plotted her revenge.

She crept up behind him while he was flipping through channels on the TV, wide grin stretching across her face. Without warning, she leaned in and let out the loudest, most dramatic fake sneeze right against his neck.

“Hh’CHHH!!”

Michael flinched like he’d been shot, yelping in pure betrayal. “You little shit!” he roared, dropping the remote and lunging off the couch.

She shrieked, giggling hysterically as she darted down the hall, blanket trailing behind her like a cape. Michael caught her in two steps, scooping her clean off the ground and tackling her onto the bed in a pile of tangled limbs and laughter.

He pinned her wrists above her head, grinning down at her, chest heaving. “You think you’re funny, Puffball?”

She nodded furiously, breathless with laughter.

Michael leaned down, brushing his nose against her throat, then her jaw, then the flushed apple of her cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, peppering obnoxious, wet kisses all over her face as she squealed and squirmed under him. “You’re so goddamn lucky, baby girl.”

Eventually, they calmed.

Tangled in the blankets, her face pressed against his bare chest, the slow thud of his heart in her ear.

The room smelled like laundry detergent, fading traces of tissue dust, and Michael — warm, musky, grounding.

She sighed, small and content. “Is Puffball… the thing now?” she mumbled into his skin.

Michael laughed low, threading his fingers through her hair, thumb tracing the curve of her scalp. “Yeah, baby,” he said, voice softer than anything. “It’s the thing.”

She groaned, but she was smiling, cheeks hot, heart thudding helplessly against his ribs.

Michael just kissed the top of her head again, breathing her in.

It was the thing.

It was their thing.

Always would be.

—

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[stumblngrumbl]

the likerrrr

rb if you're not actually a hater... be honest now, isn't there more to like out there?

1000 likes!

I never see people posting their badges. But look! I like at least 1000 things! That's gotta be more things than I hate, which means I'm doing alright. Unbalanced in favor of the positive.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words for worldbuilding (pt. 2)

ANIMALS

Animal: adult, beast, buck, cat, chicken, cur, father, frog, goat, half-breed, horse, hybrid, litter, mongrel, monster, parasite, pig, stock, young

Bird: bird, chicken

Fish: aquarium, aquatic

Group of animals: drove, herd, insect, pack, stock, team

Insect: bee, grub, pest

Limb or appendage of: bill, coat, feather, fur, mop, pelt, scale, trunk, wing

Mammal: cat, dog, father, goat, hound, mother, pig

CLOTHING

Accessory: bag, belt, buckle, collar, pocketbook, purse, satchel

Clothing: apparel, array, bathing suit, cape, clothes/clothing, costume, dress, dungarees, falsies, frock, garment, girdle, gown, hat, jacket, negligee, nylons, pajamas, pants, quilt, scarf, skirt, suit, swimsuit, thing/things, trappings, underwear, veil, wash, wrap

Part: collar, crown, pocket, strand, tiara

State of dress: bareness, nudity, try on/try out, wear

FOOD & DRINK

Beverage: alcohol, coffee, drink, potable

Beverage, alcoholic: beer, liquor

Change in: curdle, turn

Food: appetizer, bite, brew, bun, casserole, condiment, cracker, diet, doughnut, feed, frosting, grub, helping, hors d’oeuvre, leftover, macaroni, meat, nosh, nurture, nutrition, pastry, produce, refreshment, seasoning, stew, subsistence, support, sweet, treat, vittles

Food part: morsel, nip, taste, tidbit

Meal: banquet, bite, buffet, diet, fare, picnic, repast, spread, table

Produced from animal: comfort food, feed, food, frosting, grub, hero, macaroni, sandwich, submarine, vittles

Produced from plant: condiment, doughnut, loaf, pastry, produce, sweet

Quality of: acerbity, baked, done, edible, mellow, nourishing, perishable, rare, ripe, salty, short, stale, strong, sweet, unappetizing, weak, wholesome

NATURAL RESOURCES

Electricity: beam, spark

Energy: electricity, fuel, nuclear energy, petroleum, power

Expression of energy: blast, bonfire, chill, concussion, discharge, fire, flash, noise, thunder

Natural event: eclipse, meteorology, weather

Resources: fuel, resource, rock, substance

PLANTS

Flower: bloom, bouquet, flower

Fruit: berry, produce

Growth or death of: bloom, bud, germinate, growth, wilt, wither

Part: bark, branch, cereal, flavoring, foliage, grain, juice, limb, nut, pod, scion, shell, stalk, trunk

Plant: algae, bramble, bush, crop, fossil, grass, harvest, hybrid, organism, produce, wreath

Tree: timber, wood/woods

Vegetable: produce

WEATHER

Object connected with: avalanche, breeze, climate, cold, dew, film, flurry, frost, gust, haze, hurricane, meteorology, moisture, puff, thunder, weather, wind

Quality of: breezy, clear, close, crisp, dismal, fair, fiercely, fine, furious, gloomy, hazy, humid, intimidating, misty, oppressive, raw, rugged, soft, stormy, sultry, temperate, thick, tranquil, turbulent, wild, wintry

Type of: blizzard, cloud, drizzle, fog, hail, mist, puff, rain, shower, tempest, torrent, tremor

NOTE

Excerpted from Roget's 21st Century Thesaurus, Updated and Expanded 3rd Edition, in Dictionary Form, edited by The Princeton Language Institute.

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

[clouds-trees-bees]

Ideal life:

Safe and secure, living in a small house surrounded by nature, there’s a garden directly outside the door, there’s a creek five minutes away, the nearest town is far away, the animals are calm, I can read a book in a stream of sunlight, my cat lounges by the window, I have a bird feeder and a bug hotel, life is good

[thedilfdiaries]

You found me

arthur morgan x f!reader || 1.8k

Summary: A routine trip into the woods for herbs turns violent when a coyote attack leaves you injured and alone. But Arthur finds you, and everything changes.

Warnings: just a lil fluff, Arthur fixing reader, animal attack, drawn out tension between the characters

Notes: This is a very secret spy mission I was on tonight for @thundermartini . this is just a tiny thing to say thank you for being the best of the best, for always cheering me on, for being the bees knees, the cats meow, you are truly one of a kind baby and I love you so much 💖🫂🫶🏼 anywayyyyyyyy I hope you enjoy

Masterlist

You’ve spent so much time in the woods that the rustling of the trees usually comforts you. Today, it doesn’t. Today, you’re too far from camp, your satchels too full, your boots are too muddy, and your thoughts are too scattered. The air is warm but heavy, clouds rolling in slow and low above the canopy. You don’t like the feeling, but you ignore it anyway.

You find the patch of wild mint tucked beneath a fallen log and kneel down to gather it—sharp, green, fragrant. It reminds you of Arthur, in a strange way. Something rough, wild, but useful. Healing.

You smile a little at the thought. You’ve been thinking about him more than you should.

Once, not long ago, you’d sliced your palm open on a rusted nail behind the horseshoe station. Arthur had been the one to wrap your hand, gruff but gentle, his brow tight with concern. “Gotta be more careful, sweetheart,” he had murmured, brushing dirt from your knuckles like he couldn’t help himself. You had laughed and called him bossy. But you’d watched the way his jaw worked after—like there was something he wanted to say and couldn’t.

But he keeps his distance. Like he doesn’t think he deserves to get close.

The Van der Linde gang is family, in its strange and fractured way. Arthur’s always treated you kind—respectful in a way some of the others never quite mastered. He listens to you when you speak, doesn’t scoff when you talk about herbs and poultices like the rest of them sometimes do. And he looks at you, really looks at you, like you’re not just another pair of hands around camp.

You pretend it doesn’t bother you.

The growl is quiet, almost too quiet. You hear it just as you’re reaching for another stem. You freeze, heart skipping.

The coyote lunges before you can turn.

You hit the ground hard. It’s not a clean fall—you twist wrong, shoulder slamming into a jagged root, and the pain is immediate and blinding. The breath rushes from your lungs. Claws dig into your back. You scream, shove, thrash, somehow managing to drive your blade into its side. The beast snarls, jerks away, then disappears into the brush like it was never there.

You lie in the dirt, your body screaming, shoulder thudding with pain so intense it turns your stomach.

You can’t breathe right.

You can’t move your arm.

You don’t cry, but your throat burns like you might.

Your vision sways. You lean against a tree and focus on surviving. The pain blooms and blooms and keeps blooming.

When you hear a horse, you think you’re imagining it.

But then—

“Hey!”

Arthur’s voice is ragged, raw like it’s been torn from his chest. You turn your head, barely, and there he is—boots kicking up dirt, reins dropped, eyes wild.

He falls to his knees in front of you. Grabs your face gently, cradling your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll shatter.

“What the hell happened?”

“Coyote,” you whisper, dazed. “Shoulder’s—bad. I—I can’t move it.”

His eyes scan your body, hands hovering over you without touching. You’ve never seen Arthur Morgan look scared before.

He looks scared now.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Damn it. I should’ve come with you.”

“I was fine,” you lie.

“No, you ain’t,” he snaps, but there’s no heat in it. Just fear. “We gotta get you back. I can’t do much for you out here.”

You nod, barely.

He slips an arm around your back, another under your knees, and lifts you like you weigh nothing. You cry out without meaning to—the movement lights your shoulder up like fire—and you fist your good hand in his coat, trying to breathe through the hurt.

Arthur presses his cheek against your hair. “I got you,” he murmurs. “I got you, sweetheart. You hold on now.”

Sweetheart. The word cuts through the pain like sunlight.

The trail blurs in your vision, pine trees and dark green, the scent of horses and earth. Arthur's coat is warm against your cheek.

“I thought you weren’t comin’,” you whisper at one point.

“I'll always come for you,” he says, and it sounds like a vow.

Back at camp, chaos stirs the moment you arrive. Miss Grimshaw demands space, but Arthur doesn’t budge. He carries you to your bedroll himself, eases you down with a gentleness you didn’t know he had in him.

Then he kneels. Takes out his knife. Cuts your torn shirt open at the shoulder and exposes the damage.

You look away. You hate how vulnerable you feel.

“Look at me,” he says quietly. “Ain’t nothin’ you need to be ashamed of.”

You do. His eyes are softer than they’ve ever been. Full of something aching and real.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warns. “Bad. But I need to set it before it swells worse.”

You grit your teeth. “Do it.”

He does. You scream. The pain is so deep and so bright you think you might pass out—but Arthur’s there, grounding you, you find yourself grabbing onto his vest, your forehead pressed to his collarbone.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just lets you hold on while the pain crests and fades.

“You good?” he asks after a minute, his voice low.

You nod, your face against his chest. “Yeah.”

His hand comes up resting carefully against the back of your head. “You scared me.”

You pull back enough to look at him. His eyes are storm-dark, gaze pinned to yours. There’s a vulnerability there you’ve never seen before—not from Arthur.

“I didn’t think anyone’d come lookin’ for me that fast,” you whisper.

“I always would,” he says simply. “You know that, right?”

Your chest aches in a different way now. Deep and warm and terrifying.

The air between you feels charged. Strange and thick, like the calm after a storm—or right before the next one breaks.

When it's over—when your shoulder is finally wrapped tight and the sweat cooling on your brow is wiped away with careful fingers — Arthur’s still crouched beside you with his hand lingering on your knee like he doesn’t want to pull back, and you’re still breathing heavy from the pain.

Your eyes meet his.

And neither of you looks away.

There’s something stretching taut in the silence. You feel it in the way his gaze drops to your mouth, in the way his thumb brushes the outside of your knee without him even seeming to realize he’s doing it. You feel it in your own chest, the way your breath hitches, the way your lips part just barely.

He leans in.

So slow. Like he’s afraid to spook you. Like he’s afraid to want.

And god, you want.

Your nose brushes his. His breath is warm and smells faintly of tobacco and pine. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw again, thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone. His eyes flicker—searching yours like he’s waiting for you to stop him.

You don’t.

He gets so close you can feel the heat of his mouth against yours, your lips nearly brushing.

And then, finally, his lips press to yours.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not rushed, either.

It’s desperate and quiet and full of everything he’s never said. His hand cups your jaw like you’re something precious, like touching you any harder might shatter you. And he kisses you like he’s drowning—like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. You feel the tremble in him, the restraint in his shoulders, the way he’s holding himself back even now.

He pulls away just enough to breathe—but not far, never far, and then he kisses you again. Slower this time. Reverent. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of you, like some part of him knows he may never get another chance.

You gasp into his mouth. Your good hand fists in the front of his shirt, fingers twisted in the worn fabric like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

He lets you. Stays there, close and warm and real.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, both of you breathe hard, chests rising and falling like you’ve just run for your lives.

Neither of you speaks.

The quiet between you hums, charged and heavy, every inch of space that used to exist now filled with something fragile and real.

“I thought I lost you,” he says, voice barely more than a breath. Like it costs him something to admit it out loud. Like it’s the most honest thing he’s said in years.

You press your palm to his chest, right over the thud of his heart.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. “You found me.”

His eyes flutter shut. His hand comes up and wraps around your wrist, holding it there. Holding you there. His grip isn’t tight, but there’s something desperate in it. Like if he lets go, you might slip through his fingers all over again.

Then—

“Arthur!”

Dutch's voice cuts through the night sharp and loud, calling him from across camp.

It shatters the moment like glass hitting stone.

Arthur blinks, flinching like someone slapped him. His head lifts. The air between you turns colder, thinner. His hand falls from your face, reluctant.

And just like that, it’s gone. The moment—the kiss—the closeness. Gone like smoke caught in a breeze.

He stands up too fast, like putting distance between you might dull the ache settling in his chest. He clears his throat, avoids your eyes. But then—

Then he pauses.

His gaze drops back to you.

And his hand reaches out one more time—soft, hesitant. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, slow and careful, like it’s the only thing he’s allowed to do. His fingers linger just a second too long against your cheek. Like he doesn’t want to let go.

“Get some rest, alright?” His voice is rough again. Lower. “I’ll bring you somethin’ warm to eat.”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

He turns and walks away, the weight of everything unsaid trailing behind him like a shadow.

And you’re left there, lips still tingling, heart aching, hand still curled over the echo of his heartbeat.

The spell breaks.

The moment dissolves like mist under morning sun.

But the feeling doesn’t.

It stays.

[maybefae]

Blessings Coming In!

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: The Empress, Ten of Wands, Nine of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Knight of Pentacles, Page of Pentacles, Four of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, Five of Cups, Knight of Swords, The Hanged Man and Three of Wands

Oracle: Seeds (New Ideas, hope, open-mindedness), Oak Tree (power, courage, strength)

You’re getting your mojo back! You could be getting over some heartbreak, probably losing a couple of friends or a relationship. Or you had finally cut off people that weren’t healthy for you. I see this heartbreak happening before this reading and you come to this reading in the process of figuring things out. That’s not to say that you don’t go through moments of grief though. I see you working your abundance, things that fill up your cup. This takes many forms. But I do see you also taking small steps in getting a business or project started and out into the public and I do see this growing faster than you expected! The love and work you put into it will pay off and your doubts will be soothed over from the response you get. 

For the people who are trying to get back out there to find friendships/a partner, I see you taking a very lighthearted approach. You aren’t putting your full heart into them just yet but you are being open, friendly, and slow-burning the progression. You’re feeling very sure of yourself, trusting yourself, and finding the courage (even if it’s a little nerve-wracking) to open up your heart again to new connections. These people could be completely different from who you’re used to connecting with, types of people that you could’ve always wanted to connect with.

For those dating around, I see two different people. One is very grounded, maybe even slow-moving, and you are probably not sure if they even have feelings for you or if they are emotionally available. But I think they have high standards and are as cautious (albeit open-minded) as you are. The other likes what they see, and they are probably very cheeky and knows how to talk to you. Very cunning. May have really intense eyes, “bedroom eyes.” I don’t see these two getting far with you since you’re being selective but I think you will have fun talking to them. You are keeping your options open. And since you’re the Empress, you could be looking for someone to fit the Emperor role (any gender). 

Pile 2

Tarot: Nine of Cups, King of Cups, The Sun, Four of Cups, Page of Wands, The Devil, Three of Pentacles, Four of Swords (Reversed), The Tower, The Star, Queen of Swords, Six of Wands

Oracle: Bee (Community, cooperation, sweetness), Autumn (Bounty, balance), Snow (Rest, contemplation)

Before I even pull cards, The Artist card that solely belongs to this deck was shown to me and I head “As an artist myself, I know they can be a little flighty. Head in the clouds.” But I also thought of David Bowie? Some of you could be really successful when it comes to selling your art. And I’m talking gallery level prices in the thousands of dollars. But I suppose this can be applied to any career field. “Six months time.”

Now that I’ve pulled your cards, I can confirm the previous message of money and/or success when it comes to your career coming in. I think this is coming after some burnout, which could be a bad habit of yours that reoccurs. This burnout probably left you uninspired and you could get inspiration back. Easier said than done, but please rest. You can’t do the things you love without rest. There could’ve been a big setback before that left you hopeless and burnt out. But you could be having a moment where it reignites the spark for you and that could feel like the biggest blessing since nothing seems as dull anymore.

I feel like your blessing has everything to do with abundance. Happiness, a resurgence of hope (maybe you get validation that you’re on the right track), and money from something you created from all your love and hard work. 

So, for those wanting a connection (platonic or romantic), I do see that someone could be coming in very out of the blue. I had to pull an extra card and it came out while I was looking away while shuffling. You won’t see this person coming. This could be platonic (friend or work partner) or romantic.

Pile 3

Tarot: Queen of Cups, Nine of Cups, The Sun, The World, King of Cups, The Hermit, Three of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, Nine of Wands, Page of Wands, Five of Cups, The Moon

Oracle: Rain (cleansing, purification, hydration), Sickle (focus, regrowth, letting go), Mushroom (recycling, breaking down problems)

I haven’t pulled cards yet but I am using a deck I haven’t used in a while. As soon as I pulled the cards, I got a whiff of glue.

And now that I pulled the cards, the glue is about uniting. This pile is for the people in long-distance friendships/relationships. After so many tries to finally see them, something always went wrong and you had to cancel plans. This could also be an issue about not having enough money at the time. 

The stars had to align, the moon had to be at a certain lunation…You finally get the chance to see your loved one that’s at a distance! Your wish for that is coming true. In a way, you had to kinda “give up” on the plans and now you are being gifted the opportunities since you weren’t focusing on it heavy. It’s like you had to take care of other things before you could make it happen. 

I’m being advised to tell you not to control it too much! Don’t have a tight grip on plans. Continue to go with the flow and enjoy the present with this person. You will have an amazing time together!

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, Modern Witch Tarot Deck by Lisa Sterle, The Green Witch Oracle by Arin Murphy-Hiscock and Sara Richard

Dividers: @inklore

[mayakern]

a bunch of y'all's fav skirts will return on thursday, august 31st at noon eastern! this includes: bees, desert sunset, cherry tree, @sergle's hydrangeas, meyoco's waves, whales, @riibrego's luna moths, clouds, ocean, thistles

plus a brand new bunny design from meyoco!

more info here!

[amourane]

blooming love

pairing: kim mingyu x fairy!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 1.5k

summary: in which mingyu follows you around like a hopeless puppy in love, hoping that he'll work up the courage to talk to you one day.

warnings: reader does fall into a river

a/n: i'm in my magical era <3

Spring was Mingyu’s favourite time of the year. He adored the sweet aroma of flowers, the bright colours of the blossoms that would paint the landscape. There was something so magical about the season. Earth would awake from its peaceful slumber and burst into life. The lilac chrysanthemums and golden daffodils, blush pink tulips and violet bluebells. The playful chirping of birds, the buzzing of bees, and the rustling of leaves created a symphony of sounds. 

Mingyu loved to wander through the fields and gardens, breathing in the fresh, fragrant air and soaking up the vibrant colours. He loved to lay in the grass and stare up into the cotton like clouds as they floated by. The sun would beam down basking him in comforting warmth.

Yet the thing Mingyu loved most about Spring was you.

His beautiful fairy. 

Spring was the time that you shine your brightest. Your wings glittered in the sunlight, delicate and translucent, glittering with every colour of the rainbow. Sparkle and dust would be left with every magnificent beat as you flew and fluttered like a butterfly. Your skin glowed as if you had been blessed by moonlight and Mingyu could never forget the tinkling laugh that would grace his ears. It would echo through his mind constantly reminding him of you and your everlasting beauty.

Mingyu loved to watch as you chatted excitedly to the newborn animals and as you swept your hand through the small streams of water. He had always admired you from afar, staring as you eagerly helped others. He loved everything about you and though the two of you had never spoken he could feel himself falling more every day.

He just never knew that you felt the same.

// 

You had always known you were being followed by the human boy. You could always sense his presence near you, alway there quietly. There were a few times that he would step on a twig accidentally and you would hear the squeak of surprise from behind you as he hurriedly hid behind the tree. 

The two of you had never spoken before and though you knew of the human that trailed after you, you never made the move to call him out of his hiding spot. 

Over time you had caught glimpses of him. Dark wavy hair, big innocent eyes. He was cute, undeniably so. All your life you had been surrounded by beauty yet when your eyes lay on him you felt your world explode in new colour. The beauty you once knew was long forgotten and you found yourself away from the fairy realm more often than usual. Even if he didn’t speak, his mere presence was enough to light a fire in your heart.

Every week or so you would emerge and tend to nature, sing sweet melodies and engage in conversation with the animals and critters. All of this while you felt his eyes gazing at you. You could never work up the courage to ask the mysterious human for his name. Something stopped you every time you would try to approach him and you often found yourself too scared to confront him.

So you were content as it was. At least you tried to tell yourself so.

It was on one afternoon that you had simply been sitting on the grass near the river. You watched as the sunlight glimmered against the ripples of water as the fish swam past. The flowers against the banks of the water swayed gently to the breeze. You dipped your hand into the water feeling the coolness touch your skin. The fairy realm had always been beautiful but the mystery and intrigue of human’s had always tempted you. 

You sighed as you got ready to head back to your home. You dusted your hands against your dress, fluttering your wings at the motion. Suddenly, you felt a tug on your foot and everything tumbled into your view. You shrieked as you felt yourself fall and you tried desperately to react but it was no use. You felt your body plunge into the water and you squeezed your eyes shut, terrified of what was to come. Your wings felt heavy on your back and it was no use trying to use them when they were soaked. You reached out, arms desperately clawing at the surface of the water yet you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper.

Water invaded your senses and you felt your movements slow. A splash erupted through the river, and though your eyes were closed, you felt a strong arm circle around your waist. You felt yourself get pulled into someone’s grasp and you urged yourself to open your eyes. 

There he was. Your human.

He was even prettier up close. You gasped in shock at the sight. The man’s eyes widened in panic and you belatedly realised why as you felt the air leave your lungs at your stupid action. Before you can react his lips were on yours. You freeze. Even underwater his lips felt soft and plush. As lovely as the gesture was you couldn’t reciprocate as you felt your eyes flutter shut and the last breaths of air leave your body.

//

Mingyu was in absolute shambles. He hadn’t meant to just kiss you out of the blue, he really didn’t! It was just as soon as he saw the bubbles leave your mouth and he realised that you were lacking oxygen he thought of the only thing he could do. Give you some of his own. It wasn’t a very wise decision but then again Kim Mingyu wasn’t known for making many wise decisions.

He had heaved your limp body out of the river frantically trying to get you to wake up. You felt cold and your wings lay heavy on your back. Even unconscious you looked mesmerising. 

The second he had witnessed you tripping and falling into the river he had rushed out to help you, diving into the water with no hesitation. He saw the splashes as your fingertips grazed the surface of the water, a desperate cry for help. Saving you was the only thing on his mind at that moment in time.

“Stupid, stupid stupid.” Mingyu’s head was in his hands as he cursed himself yet again. “Why would you do that Kim Mingyu? You’ve really gone insane now. Oh no, what if she doesn’t wake up? Have I killed a fairy?”

“Mingyu. That’s a pretty name.” Your voice was croaky but nonetheless it caused the man’s head to whip around to your frail frame. His eyes widened as he watched as you lifted yourself off the ground he had laid you on. “I thought it was about time I learnt the name of the human who had been following me around.”

The smile you gave Mingyu made his heart swell and pound out of his chest. He felt his heartbeat pulse and each contraction made his blood spur with excitement. Your gaze felt like an enchantment and he couldn’t help but be enraptured at your stare. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” He felt himself turn red as the words left his mouth. “I swear I only wanted to provide you with some air, I would never kiss someone without consent!”

He held his hands up as if to surrender to you and you giggled at his action. Your wings were still wet yet they still had the iridescent glimmer that was simply just so magical.

“It’s okay, I understand. Thank you so much for saving me. There’s no need to apologise, I appreciate the thought, it was very sweet.” Mingyu watched as your cheeks flushed as well and you cleared your throat. “I quite enjoyed the kiss.”

“W-Wha…sorry - I’m sorry - did you just say that you…enjoyed it?”

“Yes.” You gripped your hands in your lap, nervousness suddenly overwhelming you. “I know you’ve been watching me for a while and I know I can’t complain because I didn’t approach you either but I was just waiting for you to come up to me. I’ve grown quite fond of you, you see, I guess that could be seen as weird because we’ve never actually ever spoken.”

“You’ve grown fond…of me?” Mingyu spluttered, unable to string a sentence when you nodded your head in agreement. The gorgeous fairy that he was so in love with was interested in him. Oh how lucky he was. 

“I hope that now we can actually meet each other and speak. I’ve been dying to get to know you.” 

Your smile felt as if heaven itself had opened its grand doors for Mingyu. He felt himself blush bright red at your words. He opened his mouth to respond but he was irrevocably tongue-tied in front of you. Your eyes twinkled and Mingyu felt his heart race as he tried to muster up the courage to say what he’s been wanting to say since the first day he met you.

“I’ve been dying to get to know you as well.”