#i hope someone understands how compelling it is to me

[evmrellie]

Labyrinth | s.r x gn!reader

summary: You're scared about your feelings for Spencer. Insp by labyrinth from Taylor Swift.

genre: fluffly and hurt/comfort. pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader (I'm a girl so I wrote going on this way, but I think I didn't gave any descriptions abt being one, so it's totally safe for gn!readers <333 if I did, I'm sorry, I didn't notice.) words: 1,3K warnings: family issues, inexperienced!reader, reader never being in a relationship before, insecurity, anxiety, mention of toxic relationships (not between reader and anyone else) notes: hiii, this is my first oneshot so plss be nice 😭✋🏻 im not used to write like this, but I'm so obsessed with Spencer and I had this idea and I couldn't just let go. English it's not my first language, so forgive me if any mistakes or if u guys don't understand smth. not proofread. hope you guys like it !! <3

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

You've never trusted relationships, not that you had experienced any, but what you saw growing up? What you were used to? Didn't make you want to get into one in the first place.

You never denied that you've dreamed about that; finding a true love and a nice, healthy relationship since you saw all your friends living it. That hurted you a little, but you learned how to live with it.

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You tried to catch your breath, adjusting it as much as possible. You were used to unlearn the ability of breathing when you were around people who made you nervous, especially if you had a slightly crush on them. Actually, you unlearn every normal thing that humans do when they interact, it's like a part of your brain stops working and refused to turn it on again. He loved to make you embarrassed, especially in front of pretty nerd ish boys.

The first time you met Spencer it consumed all of your brain chemistry. Day and night making fantasies of how it would be meeting the boy again with the help of destiny, falling in love and maybe being obsessed with you the same way you were with him. But you knew that it was just a fantasy and it would never happen, it was just your brain trying to distract you from the real world and your real problems.

It was a nice escape though.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Everything happened so fast in your time vision, it terrified you of how easy he was able to get through it. You were always scared of relationships because, yeah, it was nice and easy to fantasy about it, but to actually live it? That scared the shit out of you. All your Inexperience, insecurities and traumas couldn't be fixed from one day to another.

Everything that you learned from your parents was that if you dived in too quickly, it would be a mistake. Not only from your parents, but also from people you were close to, seeing their relationship rise too fast and going effortlessly and awfully down.

You never understood why they keept doing it, sinking into the same situation over and over again, sometimes with the same or a different guy. How they kept being pulled and compelled by it? You didn't understand because you never felt it.

It was so scary how relationships could rise so fast and sink at the same speed.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

You understood why they kept like that in the worst — best— way possible.

When it first hit you that you were falling in love with Spencer felt like a harsh slap in your face, leaving red bruises and a terrible burning in. You didn't want to accept it, it was frightening to actually let it in.

Was getting hard with the passing time, he wasn't getting any easier and neither were his loving and caring acts. I mean, how could someone like him be so.. careful with you? You felt like a broken piece who would never be loved and receive this kinda of treatment, it was starting to confuse you.

You knew he wasn't the type of person who liked being touched or touching other ones, but with you? Every possibility of being close to you, hugging you, touching your hand and giving a sweet cuddle in that same spot was driving you insane. He made sure that any free time he had, he spent with you. Or even at work, in his free time that he used to call you.

Reid talked to you about his mom and his abandonment issues with his father so openly that made you open yourself with him too. You didn't want to scare him telling him about your family situation or make him think you're a weird, problematic person, but you couldn't let him vent to you and not say a thing. He hasn't change with you. In fact, it only bought you both closer.

You ended up accepting what you felt for him, you didn't want to fight against it, deep down was a comfort feeling. For the first time you felt what everyone around you always talked about. And oh god, it really was an amazing feeling. But no, you would never tell him that. The thought of how this could end so fast after telling him that because probably it wasn't reciprocal, hurted you so bad that keeping it to yourself was the best decision you could make.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice called you off of your own thoughts, his Cheshire Cat smile growing as he saw your face turning into a shade of burgundy.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like a deer lost in the headlights.” He snorted a laugh.

“What?! I'm not-“

He interrupted you, getting up from the chair where he was lost doing his usual puzzles. Spencer walked over to you, resting one of his hands on your face while the other one brushed away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You automatically snuggled your face between Spencer's hands, smirking and closing your eyes, enjoying the gentle caress his fingers made on your cheeks.

“Tell me, please.” He begged you, you could easily hear the smile into his words. He was always so polite, it made you want to scream into a pillow and kick your feets in the air.

You sighed, tired to hide how you felt.

“Honestly? About you. I think I already fell for you.”

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

You were scared of his reaction, to look at him and see his eyes falling in pity for you; About him suddenly telling you to go home because he didn't felt the same and saying that this wouldn't work between you two. But to be honest, you couldn't hide anymore, not for him and not for yourself. You needed to break free from this labyrinth you created on your mind, there's no way you could keep up with this and stay cool like it didn't made your chest burn everytime you looked at him.

He surprised you by just laughing softly.

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

“Well, i’m pretty sure i am terriefiedly in love with you.”

You swore that if this was a joke you would combust and turn into a million pieces of yourself, no one would ever find you again.

Your eyes caught up at his sparkling hazel irises that conveyed how much he begged for the same answer. You always felt something carving like a dagger inside your chest when he looked at you like that, like you could break him with any wrong do.

It was absolutely terrifying how easy he broke you to this, to this situation where you could never lie and deny that you felt the exactly same for him. You were head over heels for him. Not in a million of worlds you could imagine that Spencer Reid felt the same thing you did for him, but you were also pretty sure that you were the one who would end up with the heart completely shattered if this ever come to an end.

“I love you so much, Spence.” You said, and then his lips parted open and you were able to feel his sweet taste coming into yours.

[royjamierot]

I couldn’t be more interested in ur fight club/sunny thoughts if u have any more please share

okay so in my original post i didn't exactly share a lot about the "club" aspect of it mainly because i mean this to be more of a thing between the three guys, but i think there is a way to incorporate the club part of it. i think that maybe they feel this sort of ritual between them is sacred, and when one of them (maybe dennis?) starts doing it with someone else it loses something, or feels different.

i think it feels akin to cheating for them,, like i genuinely think this is the closest thing any of them had had to a real relationship at this point (this takes place during s2 in my head). i think that they beat the shit out of each other just so they can feel each other's hands on one another without it being gay. that way at the end of it mac can cup charlies face and wipe blood off of it, or charlie can run his hands through dennis' hair and fix it so he looks presentable again. they are so deprived of touch and so desperate for one another that it comes out in the only way they know how: violence. they can allow themselves to be gentle after the fact, almost like it's aftercare, but it's not gay because they're just helping a friend out after a fight. even though their touch is so much more tender than friends would ever be in this situation. it's all light touches and shaky hands and bruises and blood, and it pulls them closer each week. this ritual they engage in makes them so vulnerable to each other, and it feels so freeing for them. they can let go of most of their repression while keeping the one thing that matters most to them at that point, the sanctity of their "straight" identity. i think it really drives home how bad their relationship with their emotions are, because they all are because they'd rather be hurt over and over again just to feel a little bit of gentle touch than admit that's something they want. i think there are blood stains on the bar basement floor and i think there are scars on their bodies and they're all from good memories because regardless how much they hurt each other each one of them knows separately that the person who gave them the scars loves them. the all know the fighting is more than just an excuse to get emotions out, but no one says anything for a while, because it might break the tentative security they've set up with each other, and it might ruin the nicest thing any of them have ever had.

(im aware that this is not really the metaphor in fight club but in my head fight club is a metaphor for gay sex)

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Maybe its just that I don't actually read tarot

But how the fuck are people getting such specific and direct answers from reading tarot lol

"They said he was using lucifer to force me to be friends with him" bestie how the fuck did you get that. Where are you getting that information from? I DO know what the individual cards mean and none of them say anything like THAT. What the fuck were you asking????? How are you inferring these things???? It feels like you're extrapolating quite a bit here.

[licorishh]

"Everyone's a little ADHD"

you should throw your cup full of water directly on the electrical socket and you should stick a fork in it and you should go run over to that stranger and kiss them cause hey you've never done that before and you should shout a curse word at the top of your lungs just to see what that person over there would do if you did and you should grab that butter knife you just put in the drawer and as a test to see if it'd work as well as a steak knife you should poke yourself in the shoulder would that feel funny? maybe i don't know now run away from home even if you have a great relationship with your parents tie yourself to a tree and wait and see if someone will notice you're gone snap your phone in half purposefully try to hyperextend your knee you've done it before and it didn't hurt that bad so why would it hurt to do it again? everyone is watching you it's so loud it's so bright you want to strangle that person over there because they're chewing too loudly and that light is flickering and your head is splitting open and if someone looks at you again you're gonna start crying but you're in a class you can't run out of the room you're stuck you're stuck you're trapped wait what did the teacher say? you missed that when was the due date she didn't write it down now you don't know what you need the bell is ringing the class is over the teacher is busy with other students you're still sitting here you're wasting time the next class is starting soon wait was there homework? probably not you would've written it down if there were so you can leave now you home you're tired wait did you eat lunch? no you didn't have time you're starving you make yourself a sandwich hey you should throw your cup of water directly on the electrical socket and you should stick a fork in it and you should throw your sandwich on the floor so you have to remake it again or you could leave it there and let the dog eat it even though you know it would make him incredibly sick wait your mom is calling you you forgot to do the dishes ok stop making the sandwich do the dishes finish the dishes check your phone oh that artist posted! scroll through pinterest an hour goes by you forgot to eat the meat and cheese are still out and they're probably spoiled you put them back in the fridge and hope your parents won't notice and now it's time to go to bed and your head hits the pillow and you drift off to sleep and morning comes and it happens again and again and again.

But sure, "Everyone's a little ADHD."

[gurugirl]

Don't Speak

*images are for aesthetic only

priest!harry x subby!reader | soft dom!harry x bratty/sub!reader

Summary: Y/n accidentally says something in front of everyone at prayer group that gets her in trouble with the priest.

A/N: I know it's been so long since I gave y'all any priestrry but I missed him and his pet so I was compelled to write this! Hope you enjoy! And if you're tagged it's bc you are either on my main general taglist or you asked to be tagged in anything for priestrry (even tho it's been so long) just let me know if you want to be removed and I will! xoxo

Word Count: 2,692

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, religious mentions, smut, sub/dom dynamic, spanking, punishment

Forgive Me, Father masterlist

She hadn’t meant to say it in front of everyone during prayer group. It didn’t have to mean anything if no one read too much into it. She was only responding to a simple question but she said we.

We plan to eat after the meeting.

We, as in the mention of herself and Harry. The two of them doing something together. She hoped they interpreted it as her saying -with someone other than Harry. But she also looked at Harry directly when she said it. Maybe no one saw that.

But Harry certainly did. And the look she received from him was scalding. She knew she was in for it once everyone had gone.

No one followed up to ask who was the other part of this we she spoke of. She wished they would. She could say anyone and make up a little lie. Her brother. Her roommate. Anyone. But no one asked.

And she wasn’t sure if the room felt tense or if it was just her. Because after she said it, she felt like everyone was suddenly looking at her differently. And of course, the way Harry was warning her with his eyes wasn’t helping matters.

So she kept her head down and her mouth closed until the end. And when everyone began to leave, like always, she walked out of the house and to the side to wait until everyone was gone.

And even when the coast was clear she hesitated for a moment. But ultimately going back inside with Harry to face whatever kind of reprimand he was going to give her was better than waiting and wondering about what he might do. Perhaps she could plead her case.

Stepping into the living room she found Harry folding up the metal chairs and placing them tidily in their little wooden cubby behind the couch. He walked across the room without even a glance in her direction and into the kitchen with a glass. Standing still in her spot she could hear the glass being placed in the sink and then his footfalls as he began to walk back to the living room.

“Father, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I don’t think anyone noticed–“

“Go stand and face the corner. Don’t speak.”

She gulped and gave a quick nod as she scurried toward the corner of the living room and let her limbs fall loose as she waited for the priest to finish what he was doing. She wanted to protest. To tell him it was an accident and to go easy on her but she knew better than to resist.

Minutes stretched on as she listened to Harry cleaning up and moving back and forth from the living room to the kitchen before she heard him approaching behind her and then stopping.

She could feel him standing behind her but he kept silent for a beat or two before she felt his breath at the back of her neck, “Tell me what happens if someone finds out about us, Y/n.”

She inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes closed, “Well, you could face expulsion from the church. Everything you’ve worked so hard for that you love the most would be gone. Or they’d transfer you and after penance, you’d have to promise to permanently end our relationship.”

The floorboard creaked as Harry stepped in closer and she felt his warm hands at the tops of her arms, “I could lose what I love, yes. But if it came to choosing you or the church do you know what I would do, pet?”

“Father, I would like to believe you’d choose me. But I would understand if you chose the church.”

“Do you doubt how deep my love for you is?”

Y/n opened her eyes and took a deep breath, the plaster of the white wall in her view, “I don’t doubt how deeply you love me. I feel it every moment. But I also know how deep your love is for God and for your vocation.”

“I’m angry that you let it slip out like that so freely in front of everyone. But I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I want you to know that I’ll always choose you. Over everything else. Over my priesthood. Over God. You’re the most important thing I have.

A stray tear escaped her eye as he pressed his chest into her back and suddenly lifted his hands and she felt her red leather collar being placed on her neck as he adjusted the buckle, “Besides, I’ve slipped up too haven’t I? When I thought no one was watching. But you slipped up in front of many sets of eyes and ears. Let’s hope they didn’t notice the way you looked at me when you said it.”

She turned to look back at him to respond but one of his hands gripped the back of her neck, “Face the wall. I’m not done with you yet. As much as I understand it was a mistake, there are consequences for your actions, pet. Take off this dress.”

Biting her lip she silently pulled the fabric over her head and Harry noted she was not wearing panties. He imagined she did that on purpose. She often enjoyed leaving things uncovered in case they were in a situation where he could just take her. But she was cheeky too so maybe it was just to get a rise out of him.

“No panties while we were all sat here praying to our Lord. Fucks sake, Y/n.”

The first strike to her bottom had her wobbling forward, palms on the walls, and bending slightly at the waist. She was used to being spanked and when he did it with his hands it was a treat. She loved his hands on her. No matter how they were touching her.

Another open-palmed swat and then another had her dipping her head and closing her eyes as she braced herself.

She felt his hand smooth up her spine and press down between her shoulders, “Bend down further. Keep your hands on the wall, legs together. Think about what you can do to not make the kind of mistake you made today while I get your paddle.”

A big gulp was pulled down her throat as Harry stepped away. What could she have done differently? Maybe just be on top of her thoughts at all times? Never waver in front of people? She wasn’t sure. How was it possible to not accidentally slip up once in a great while? She had been so good all this time. Never doing anything that would really tip anyone off. The slip-up was bound to happen at some point.

When Harry returned she felt a kind hand rub over her bottom, “You get five on each side and no crying. Once I’ve given you five you’ll tell me what you could have done differently and if you haven’t come up with something you’ll get another five on each side. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Count for me.”

Every strike to her sensitive bottom had her keening and gasping. She counted each one, five on each side (so ten really and she would have complained but now wasn’t the time).

“Now, tell me. What can you do to make sure that never happens again? How can we avoid it?”

She took a deep breath, still reeling from her stinging bottom and knowing she was about to get five more (ten more) because she hadn’t come up with an idea quite yet.

“Uhh… I just need to think harder and not let myself really look at you… uh… I can keep my mind sharp so I don’t say things I shouldn’t on accident.”

“No. That’s not it. Count for me.”

The next round hurt more. The smooth leather landing against her sore ass had her arching her back away from him and hissing between numbers she pushed from her lungs. Every one biting a little more than before.

But when she got to her final five (ten) she thought of an answer that she felt would suffice and nearly hopped up with a grin, but knowing better she stayed in her position.

“Have you come up with an answer for me?”

“I can just not speak. I’ll say my throat hurts and keep my mouth closed the whole meeting.”

“That will only work once or twice. But every meeting, pet? You can do better than that. Count for me.”

She let her tears slip out of her eyes as she racked her brain for the answer he might want. Every number she counted got lost in her fuzzy brain and the ache from the paddle on her bum started to numb and the shift in how it made her feel manifested in arousal, which the priest did not miss as he could see her pussy with the way she was bent for him; That obvious glisten beginning to seep out from her labia.

“Tell me what you can do to avoid making comments like you did today.”

She inhaled and moaned softly, “I think that I should maybe not come to all the prayer meetings. I can stay in my cage if I’m feeling a little off maybe? Then I won’t have the opportunity to at all. And me not being at all the meetings would be good I think. Because no one is always at every meeting. Probably good for me to sit back for a while.”

The paddle fell to the floor and she felt Harry’s hands gently caressing her bottom, his fingers gliding over the raised skin left behind from the paddle, “You are so smart, pet. See? That’s perfect. Don’t move from your spot. Keep your thighs together.”

She heard the clank of his buckle and smiled to herself. She loved it when he had his way with her. She didn’t even care what he was about to do, she welcomed him wherever and however he wanted.

When his hands returned to her back and gently pressed over her bum she sighed as he leaned over and kissed her shoulder blade, “I love you. I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” she listened as he spoke and could tell he was stroking himself behind her the way his voice was wavering, breathy. “No matter what happens, you’re mine and I’m keeping you, okay?” His voice hitched up just a bit as he scraped his cockhead through her folds. She was tempted to spread her thighs but she resisted since he’d been very clear with her to keep them together.

“Yes, Father,” she breathed as she felt his smooth tip collecting her arousal, gliding up and down through her crease.

“And since you didn’t do it on purpose and I’ve given you 15 spanks as punishment,” 15 on each side, she corrected in her mind, “I’ll let you come but you may not move. I don’t want you spreading your legs to keep steady either. I’ll hold you up if you start to fall.”

The sudden slicing of his wide cock through her delicate pussy entrance had her groaning and dropping her mouth wide open. She was so wet and gushy already. She felt her arousal seep down to the back of her thigh as he began to thrust into her, juices leaking down from her opening.

Harry’s hand landed on the wall next to her head as his other clutched her hip tight, thick crown splitting her in half, and it all felt even tighter inside with her thighs pressed together. But her legs started to sway as he took heavy strokes, hips smacking against her ass. A deep moan vibrated from his chest and the way she was squeezing around him was like heaven. If he had to go to hell for his sins it would be worth it. She was worth everything to him.

When the priest noticed his pet having difficulty keeping steady he pushed into the brim, filling her completely, and gently nudged and nudged deeper into her, rutting in with hips pasted to her ass, “Being so good for me, pet. Keeping your legs together as I asked. Feels so good with you around me…”

She could hear the tightness in his voice. Her priest was enjoying her pussy. His pussy. Everything was his. All of her belonged to him. She kept her palms on the wall as he fucked into her, keeping his body tucked against her, spreading her open completely and fitting right up against her cervix like she needed.

“Want to be good for you, Father. Want to make you happy and give you everything I can. You own every single part of me.”

He groaned and rutted forward making her inhale sharply, “I do own you don’t I pet? That’s why I call you my pet. Because you’re mine and you always will be. Isn’t that right?”

No one would have ever guessed the pair stood together in the corner fucking in the small living room had the kind of secret they did. No one would have ever guessed the man was a priest and the girl on his cock with the red leather choker was his dirty secret. His divine secret. No one would know the kinds of sinful things they did together every day. If they glanced at the marks on her bare bottom they wouldn’t have assumed they were from the hands of a priest.

“Yes! Father, I’ll always be yours. I’m your possession, your property…”

They both panted as Harry’s cock worked its magic inside of her hot cunt. The wetness of her walls surrounding him and coating him was the perfect spot for him to snug into and spill his seed into.

Her lip curled up as she coughed out a loud moan and arched her back, eyes closed and in sheer bliss from her insides being rearranged. She was weak for him and her orgasm couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please! Can I come, Father? Oh my god…”

He could feel her shaking, thighs trembling so hard he had to hold her hips on both sides so she didn’t tip over.

“Aww poor thing. It aches, doesn’t it? Little pet needs to have her release, doesn’t she? Got all stressed out after misspeaking. You can come. Give me your orgasm, Y/n. Let me feel you… want to feel you milking my cock…”

Harry’s own strong thighs were beginning to quiver as his balls began to squeeze up against his body, his release just moments away.

She cried out and tensed as she spasmed and clenched around him, wave after delicious wave of wet orgasm gushing from her until she felt his grip tighten and then his chest brush into her back, his lips on her shoulder, “Come for me, pet. Holy fuck…”

He groaned at how her walls pulsed, beckoning him to come, sucking his cock deep into her tummy with every squeeze until he growled and bit down on her skin, cock pumping and throbbing inside of her.

The priest had considered not letting her come at first. But he was glad he changed his mind because there was nothing better than to have her siphoning his come from his cock as she fluttered around him and her pretty voice whined and begged…

His hot come began to leak out of her pulsing hole as he thrusted in and when he stood back to watch as he pulled out and plunged in again he saw her cream coating him.

Her legs were still wobbly as he pulled out and gently turned her in his arms and pushed his lips to hers. She felt his warm hands on her face and she knew she had nothing to worry about with her priest. He loved her and she knew it without question. Misspeak or not, he wasn’t going to just give up on her because of an accident.

Bumping his nose to hers he whispered against her lips, “I’ll always choose you. Over everything. Don’t ever doubt my love for you, pet.”

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[aviawrites]

the rage of a harkonnen (dune: part two)

pairings: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fem!Reader

summary: The Emperor’s second born daughter, Harauna, has never been truly seen by her father; Her light always being dimmed by the shine of her older sister, Irulan. As Maud’Dib continues fighting on Arrakis and her father’s spot falls farther into jeopardy, Princess Harauna sees an opportunity to finally find her place in the Imperium…Wife of the possible Emperor, ruling alongside Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. (3.9k)

a/n: i’ve already seen this movie twice and i’m going again😛 austin’s performance is so compelling, i couldn’t take my eyes off of him whenever he was on screen. i hope you all liked feyd-rautha as much as i do…otherwise i may be crazy. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: blood, death, abuse

in this story, yn is: Harauna Corrino (Harkonnen)

10191 // month 1 // 📍kaitan 

“Paul Atreides is not our only prospect.” Reverend Mother Mohiam reveals, standing before you and your sister. “The Baron’s youngest nephew, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, will inherit Arrakis. He may be the answer.”

Your eyes open wide, the name itself sending shivers down your spine. You, along with all of your family, knew of Feyd-Rautha - Knew of the Sadistic Harkonnen, known for slaughtering anyone who challenges him, even his own people. 

“Feyd-Rautha?” Irulan furrows her brows, “He’s psychotic.”

“That’s irrelevant. The question is…can we control him?” 

You stare up at the Reverend Mother’s black veil, an idea striking you.  

Since a child, it’s always been Princess Irulan - The Emperor’s daughter. Irulan will inherit the thrones, Irulan will marry Paul Atreides, Irulan will rule the empire. Never once has your father taken the time to look at you. Never once has he asked the Reverend Mother how you are as a Bene Gesserit. If he did, he’d come to learn that you’re just as equipped to take on the role of Empress as your sister. 

You know what you know - You know how impossible it is to ever be worthy of attention in your father’s eyes. The sound of marrying the prince, possibly the future Emperor, doesn’t seem distasteful. Is he a terrible man, yes. May he turn out to be a worse husband, yes. But God forgive you if you choose being the possible ruler of the empire over being second best. 

“I will marry Feyd-Rautha…” You suggest, coming out as more of a squeak. 

Their eyes dart to yours, Irulan’s gaze feeling more like knives piercing your head.

“Young Harauna-“

“No.” Your sister interjects, turning your body toward hers. “Are you crazy? Feyd-Rautha is the last man you need to marry.”

“Irulan, I want to.” You push back, your voice low. “He may be Emperor one day, we need to secure that opportunity. Do we not, Reverend Mother?”

“We absolutely do, Harauna.”

Irulan’s jaw hangs open, looking between the two of you.

“Are you serious? Reverend Mother, you know Feyd-Rautha. You’ve seen him with your own eyes - You want Hara anywhere near that?”

“She’s thinking of the Imperium, Irulan. Should Paul Atreides be alive, he will want the throne.”

“Feyd-Rautha won’t go down without a fight…” You finish for her.

“Precisely. If he loses, Paul will have a bride awaiting him.” She gestures to your sister. “But if he reigns supreme, he’ll have a Corrino by his side.”

Irulan only shakes her head, disbelief glossing in her eyes. 

“Hara…”

“Sister, I need to do this.” You whisper, softly squeezing her hands. “I can’t make decisions like you…I’m not you.”

“W- What does that mean, Hara? I don’t understand-“

“If I get in line for the throne…” You begin. “If I secure a spot for myself in the Empire, I will be nearly equal to you in father’s eyes. I’ll mean something to someone.”

A tear threatens to fall as she struggles to find words. 

“You mean something to me.” She shrugs, now wondering if that holds any value to you. “If I lose you to the Harkonnens…If I have to stay here alone while you’re on Giedi Prime I don’t know how I’ll-“ She quickly wipes her eyes, taking a breath. “I don’t know how I’ll survive this impending war without you, Hara.”

You tilt your head, bringing your hand to Irulan’s cheek. 

“Write to me, Irulan.” You smile, forcing back your own tears as you solidify this departure in your head. “Send messages to Giedi Prime, will you? Write them like you do your entries and I swear to you I’ll read each one. No matter what happens with the Harkonnen’s, I’ll always have my sister back home on my side, right?”  

A thick silence falls upon the three of you, Irulan fighting between perplex and terror as her hands began to quiver in yours.

“I’ll alert the Emperor.” Reverend Mother says, leaving the two of you.

Alone, your sister pulls you into an embrace, one of the tighter ones. She allows her tears to land on your garments, her shoulders trembling as small whimpers escape her lips.

“Don’t do this, Hara.”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

“On your birthday of all days. The Baron should know better than to jeopardize his soon to be Planetary Governor in such a public manner. You could’ve died.” 

“I would not have died.” Your husband fiddles with his blade.

“All slaves should be drugged, should they not?” You remind him. “It’d have taken only one swift slash of the Atreides’ blade and The Baron would’ve lost his heir. He’s insane.”

“Careful, wife.” He warns, “The Baron is flawed but his promises are rich.”

“What could he possibly promise you that’s more important than the entirety of this planet?”

He stares, his eyes scanning you up and down as a small smirk grows on his face. 

“The entirety of Arrakis.” 

Creases form on your forehead, your words coming out as stammers.

“…He promises you…Arrakis?”

“If I manage to control spice production.” He explains, reveling in your dumbfounded expression. 

Your mind immediately imagines your life on Arrakis, a fate you’ve never considered. The plan was to marry Feyd-Rautha, be by his side when he defeats his opponents, have your father kneel to him, and rule the Imperium from the planet of the Harkonnens. But now, thoughts of working from the dune covered planet makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. 

“But-“ You clear your throat, “Um - Is that not Rabban’s job?”

“Rabban failed.” He seethes. “He humiliates house Harkonnen with each Fremen attack he allows. With me ruling the mission, there will be no more.”

“What’s the plan? Once you’re on Arrakis who’s to say my father won’t order you out? What if he doesn’t like how you handle-“

“The Emperor has a set fate too, Harauna. If we were to expose what he did to the Atreides’, the houses would explode. A rise against the Emperor would ensue.” He nears you, looking down at your wide eyes as he bares his blackened mouth. “The throne would be ours to take.”

You don’t know if he meant to admit to what he’s admitted to. Though, you have no doubt he’d tell you his plans to kill your father to your face, indifferent to what you might think. But even Feyd-Rautha should have some sort of limit, shouldn’t he?

“Feyd…” You murmur, “What will happen to him? What will happen to my house? My Reverend Mother, my sisters? They’re innocent they don’t deserve-“

He rolls his eyes, turning away in the midst of your oration. “Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He returns to his spot across the room. “If you want to sit next to me as Empress, I suggest you straighten out a bit, hm?”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

14 hours later 

Feyd-Rautha’s room reeks of deceased Harkonnen bodies and dried blood as you storm in, a scowl on your face. 

Inside, you see your husband squatted by a dead servant, one that if you look too close you may realize is an acquaintance of yours. 

‘FEYD-RAUTHA RABBA HARKO-‘ He’s carved into her pale white skin, his letters bleeding into each other.

The Princess Harauna 3 months ago would scream at the sight. She’d turn and run, alerting her Reverend Mother and father that a cold blooded murderer has gotten into your home. Only…this is home. The man carving names into bodies isn’t a stranger, not an intruder, but the man you married. 

Though you’re not sure he knows it, seeing as you can practically taste the Bene Gesserit on him.

You shove, hard, knocking Feyd-Rautha off balance and onto the concrete floor.

“What the-

“Seriously!?” You shout, watching his bewildered expression looking back at you. “You’ve not been of age for one whole day and you’ve already betrayed me!”

“You watch yourself, woman.” He warns you, spite in his eyes. 

“I can smell her on you.” You say, knowing all of the signs of a Bene Gesserit’s work, and a sexually vulnerable Feyd-Rautha. “She could be carrying your child!”

Your husband quickly calms himself, seemingly deciding not to waste energy on someone like you. On someone like his wife.

“Would you stop that yelling?” He mumbles, turning and beginning to smear the blood across the mutilated arm.

“How dare you.” You scoff. “I’m meant to be your princess. I’m meant to be your queen Feyd-Rautha! Not some girl who was on a mission. A Bene Gesserit who was here to test you and didn’t want you for more than one night-“

“You’re not any better!” He rises, his demeanor changing like night and day in a split second. 

The minute he gets angry, his energy dominates the room. “Don’t you ever think you’re a better woman for being a power hungry leech who called dibs on the heir before anyone else.” He jabs, lowering until he’s in your face. 

Your jaw hangs open, offense quickly overpowering the fear that you often feel in the presence of an angry Feyd-Rautha. Or any Feyd-Rautha, at that. 

“I don’t need you.” Your eyes pierce his, flames igniting in yours. “I’m the Emperor’s daughter, I was second in line for the throne. If anything, you needed me to get to where you-“

The wind is knocked out of you as your husband grabs your neck, instantly cutting off your words. He grins, nearly frothing at the mouth as he always does at the slightest hint of violence. He feeds off of violence, in the face of which most people quiver he greets it with a big smile, he yearns for violence, he is violence.

“I needed you, huh?” His face about brushes yours, his saliva dripping onto you. “I wasn’t at home being neglected by daddy, Harauna. I wasn’t the second choice. I didn’t need to marry to get power. I wasn’t worthless.” 

He’s entranced, his hand on your throat tightening with each sentence until you’re sure it’ll snap. You claw at his stained hands, collecting the blood of his servants under your nails.

“Husband-“ You croak, feeling the pressure in your head increase.

Feyd-Rautha only smiles, adrenaline rushing throughout him as he contemplates letting this be the end of you. Maybe he should rid himself of this royal burden before she sits with him at the top.

“Know your place, princess.” He whispers before letting you go with a shove. 

You drop to the floor, crashing into the bloody bodies on the ground and fighting for your pipes to reopen. You frantically heave as he looks down at you once more, evil in his eyes, before he leaves you where you are. 

Weeps escape you, feeling selfish as you cry in the presence of women who got it much worse. 

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you. Nevertheless, in times like this, the possibility of being ruler of the Imperium outweighs the possibility of dying due to your attempts. 

“Be the worst position in the highest room.” Your father used to tell you, “For some never make it to the room.”

10191 // month 4 // 📍starship 

The low hum of the frigate gives the cold ambience some character. Rabban lounges across the kitchen table, his feet up on the marble. Your husband sits a few chairs down from you, sheathing and unsheathing his blade, creating a repetitive sound for the two of you to suffer through.

“Princess Harauna.” You hear as the grand doors within the starship open. A servant enters, seemingly a younger version of the Baron, with a thin metal tube in his hand. 

The big man hands it to you, bowing slightly before shuffling away.

“Say thanks to the piggy.” Feyd-Rautha teases, a devilish grin on his face.

Rabban slightly chuckles as you eye your husband, sighing before opening the letter.

“To my sister, Hara.” 

Your eyes gleam, seeming to scan faster and faster the more and more you read. The two men in the room with you don’t seem to notice, mindlessly engaging in their own boredom as the ship heats up in the weather of Arrakis. 

You shut the tube with a click, looking down at it as you weakly attempt to process what you’ve just read.  

“Paul Atreides…is coming.” You reveal, catching the attention of Rabban and Feyd-Rautha. “He makes his way from the south.”

“Paul Atreides is dead.” Rabban corrects you. 

“He didn’t die in the attack-“

“I know that, woman!” He abruptly shouts, banging the table. “I saw to it myself, him and his mother died in the-“

“Sandstorm.” You finish, much quieter than he began. “But he didn’t.”

Your husband has turned his body toward you, now intently listening.

“They live - And they challenge my father now.” You look up at the two of them, “Him. He must be this Maud’Dib, this Lisan-Al-Gaib. Who else would it be?”

“Wait,” Feyd speaks up, “Challenge your father for what, exactly?”

You meet his gaze before reopening the letter, searching for the Irulan’s line on the challenge:

Paul Atreides will arrive unannounced when we land in Arrakis in a challenge for the throne.

Rabban shakes his head. “There’s no longer a need for the Emperor on Arrakis.” He misses the point, “We’ve got the spice production under control. The old bastard can stay home.”

Feyd-Rautha leans his elbows in his knees, looking up at you with that same evil look he gets whenever a dangerous plan arises.

“Atreides’,” He thinks aloud, “They’re little rats. Insects that keep popping up no matter how many times you exterminate.”

“Should I alert the Baron?” Rabban asks, speaking quicker than his acute brain can think. 

“You will do no such thing.” Feyd demands, conjuring up his plan in his much more suitable brain. “Since the Emperor is deciding to pay us a visit despite the work l've done here…Maybe the Atreides' will do the bloody work for us. Keep us in the good graces of the Great Houses."

Bloody work, he says. The exposure and diminishing of your father’s name he means. 

“Brother.” Rabban counters, “The Atreides’ - The Fremen - They’ll have us outnumbered. Uncle should be aware-“

“You will do no such thing.” His brother orders, now loosely pointing his blade toward Rabban. “The throne is mine therefore the throne is yours. The Baron won’t make Harkonnen the greatest house, brother. I will” He leers.

“Husband,” You voice reason, seeing all of the ways you could lose your promised spot to this scheme. “If it comes to a fight and Paul beats you-“

“He won’t beat me.”

“But if this challenge doesn’t go our way,” You hypothesize, “We could lose everything. Paul Atreides won’t let my father live, not after what he’s done. My family will hold no power, my sister will be-“

"I will remain unharmed, will I not? As will my brother.” He redirects. “Are we not your biggest concern anymore? Are we not your family, Harauna?" 

…

The ship gets hotter and hotter as you near Arrakeen. Feyd-Rautha meddles with his torso buttons on the opposite side of the room as you stare at the screen in your bedroom, broadcasting the sandy terrain of the new planet.

“What would your plans be as Emperor, Feyd-Rautha?” You query, eyes locked on the family owned land.

He sighs as he always does when you open your mouth, as if nothing his wife says is worthwhile. 

“Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He repeats.

“Just answer me…Please.” You urge, the question having appeared in your mind minutes ago and hasn’t stopped nagging since. 

“What do you think my plans are, princess?” He turns toward you, his dark and threatening eyes seeming to dim the entire room. “I’m going to make the entire Imperium Harkonnen. Our family will be the most powerful spice harvesters anyone’s ever seen.” He begins, “I’ll give my Empress a child, grow our empire, and teach my princeling how to rule.”

You listen intently, trying your hardest to envision your life going from Princess of Kaitan, to wife of the heir, to Empress of the Imperium beside Feyd-Rautha, of all men.

Be the worst position in the highest room.

Your husband goes on. “Caladan will be a thing of the past. Atreides will be a thing of the past. Harkonnen will be the great house and any others will just be…Maud’Dib.” He chuckles.

“‘Your Empress’...” You point out, never having heard your name. You only wish to hear where you and your family stand in his master plan. “Would it be me?”

He gives you his undivided attention, letting go of his leather vest. “Why must you talk so much about things that don’t matter?” He asks, true indifference and apathy in his tone.

For some never make it to the room.

“…Is it me or no one?” You speak up, your voice frantically running before your mind can catch up. “Is it me or death, Feyd-Rautha?”

Your attitude shifts in the middle of your sentence as you realize where you’ve heard these exact words before.

“You or no one, Irulan.” Your father would say, stroking your sister’s hair while the rest of you sat and waited for nothing. 

Never in your life did you plan to sit in a Harkonnen’s bedroom and beg for his approval. For his confirmation that you were his. 

But here you are, begging the worst of men to love you the way The Emperor never did. The way he never will. 

“In two moons I will be Emperor.” Feyd-Rautha strides toward you, holding your hands in his as he bores. “Harauna Harkonnen will be next to me.”

A smile grows wide on your face; An odd, yet full, feeling of acceptance spiraling throughout you.

His eyes suddenly seem to get even darker as his grip on your hands morphs into a crushing clutch. “For as long as she knows her place, she will remain.”

Ice replaces the once warm feeling in your veins. Your smile fades as his grows, watching the fear in you rise with each squeeze of your fingers. Tears form in your eyes as the reality of your situation sets in once more as it has over and over since you step foot on Giedi Prime.

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you.

10191 // month 4 // 📍arrakeen

two days later

You all stand completely still, your heartbeat seeming to be louder than the atomics outside of the Emperor’s structure. Inside the ring of Sardukaur lies your family; Irulan hiding behind your father as Maud’Dib, in front of your eyes, holds a blade over the Baron.

You and Feyd-Rautha stand alone across the walkway, your husband seemingly hypnotized by Paul Atreides as he plunges it into his uncles neck. Your hand resting on Feyd’s lower back vibrates as his breathing heavies, being just as amazed by Paul as you are. 

The both of your mouths hang open, and for once, you and your husband seem to be on the same page. Paul begins barking orders at your father as you bring your lips to Feyd’s ear, speaking in a hushed whisper to not interfere with the daring Paul Maud’Dib.

“In the event of your death…” You begin. He slightly cocks his head toward you, listening. “Would you have me marry him?”

Paul gives one last daring look at the sea of people standing against him, though, he seems as fearless as your husband as his expression never wavers from stone. 

“Is he worthy?”

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t so much as flinch at your comment, new, for a man like him. You can’t help but believe it’s because you’re right. The na-Baron recognizes that the viciousness that is Paul Atreides, no matter how unexpected, is a perfect match for him. A perfect match for his wife. 

Is he wrong to admit that if not him, Paul may be the closest thing to fit to be Emperor of the universe?

…

You’ve never laid eyes on a fight so glorious. The two most powerful and ferocious men on Arrakis clinking their blades again and again in a battle for the throne. 

The room falls silent as your husband lodges his sword into Paul, holding him close as one of the two release an animalistic roar. His mother stands, his Fremen’s mouths hang agape, your husband just hardly smiles at you over his shoulder. 

You can’t help but feel a sense of dread boiling in your stomach. Yes - You want Feyd-Rautha to reign supreme. Yes, you want to be Empress. But as you watch the devilish sneer on his face fill out as Paul’s blood stains his pasty hand, your heart seems to be pulling you in another direction. You’ve always been quite talented at telling good from bad; But Maud’Dib, you can’t seem to figure out. He lays in the gray area in between the two, you determine. 

Your reflection is quickly halted as the squelching sound of an edge piercing skin fills the room. You sway to the side, eyes wide as you see Paul’s hand gripping the handle, the rest buried into your husband’s heart. 

A gasp escapes many in the room, you included as a hand flies to your mouth. You and your father very well may be the only people in the room who are rooting for Feyd-Rautha. Knowing this, the smiles that sprinkle themselves on attendants throughout the room quickly after the inhale isn’t unanticipated. 

“You…” His raspy voice is almost too quiet for you to catch as he fights for each breath. “You fought well…Atreides.”

He slowly turns his head just far enough to have you in his sight. Even in death, Feyd-Rautha remains as menacing as the day you first met him. 

He has no words for you. He only bares that stupid, prideful, blackened smile that got him stabbed in the first place. 

You seem in a trance as you watch his body thud to the floor, looking as lifeless as the women on his bedroom floor back home. 

“Lisan-Al-Gaib!” A Fremen leader calls, breaking the silence as his people repeat after him.

Paul Atreides, Feyd-Rautha’s murderer, rises. He limps toward you and your family, prompting your sister to swiftly grab your free hand as the other slowly lowers from your lips. 

You had no love for Feyd-Rautha, nothing real. For him you experienced nothing that you should feel for a husband. Nevertheless, the tears flow all the same. 

"The life debt has been paid.” Irulan blurts, squeezing your hand as Paul nears you. “Spare my father and I will be your willing bride. The throne will be yours."

Her words snap you out of your haze, throwing you into the face of reality as it strikes you in the heart. 

"I'll take the hand of your daughter. She will remain safe and we will rule together over the empire." Paul declared.

In the span of seconds you imagine the moment a trillion different ways. If only he had nodded toward you, not Irulan.

‘Where is integrity?’ You wonder. 

Where is honor in sacrifice when you've given all you know to give and you still don't win. You can never seem to come out on top. You can never seem to be first…But your sister can, as she always does.

You snatch your hand away from your Irulan’s; Your eyes glued to your father, now kneeling, as rage grows within you. The rage of all of the rejection you've faced, the rage of all you have given to get to where you are, the rage of now wishing Feyd-Rautha had stuck Paul Atreides' head on a spike for all of Arrakis to see.

The rage of a Harkonnen.

[the-returnofartemis]

/ASTRO OBSERVATION 1/

i'm excited to share my first astro observation! i'm still new to all of this but i’ve picked up on some things that i feel compelled to share. however, i do want to emphasize that my thoughts may not apply to everyone.

okay, so i recently remembered that as an INFJ, we are considered to be the rarest personality type. this got me thinking and i realized that most INFJ’s are either water dominant (cancer/scorpio/pisces), possess fixed sign placements (leo/scorpio/aquarius/taurus) in prominent planets or have prominent water houses (4H,8H,12H) in their big six. coincidentally, i happen to know to other people who are also INFJ’s, and we all have prominent cancer, scorpio and aquarius placements. 

✧ j-hope from bts is a well-known INFJ. although the accuracy of his birth chart is uncertain because there is no actual birth time, it revealed intriguing aspects. i mean, hobi’s chart indicates prominent water placements (scorpio and pisces stellium), alongside his aquarius sun!

yes, it is interesting to observe how neptune in the first house has a unique ability to draw in copycats but those with this placement were once copycats as well lmao.

‘the copycat becoming the one being copied’ trope is quite funny to witness actually

this behavior may stem from their struggle with their personal identity and appearance, leading them to shape-shift into the aesthetic or persona of someone they admire in that moment (this tendency is very short-lived by the way lmao). rather than taking the time to define their authenticity and discover their true selves, they find it easier to adopt the persona of another individual. sometimes, they rely so heavy and get caught up on external influences, that they lose the plot SO fast. but as individuals with this placement mature and come into their own, they come to understand that it’s fine to draw inspiration from others but recognize the importance of embracing their unique qualities and traits. it is this self-acceptance that allows them to become pioneers and set remarkable trends. 

✧ ariana grande: y’all can never make me hate her, i am so sorry lmao but of course, there is no denying that she has faced many accusations of being a ‘mariah carey copycat’ but it is important to acknowledge that she has now cultivated her own distinct singing style that has garnered widespread acclaim and popularity. in all honesty, she has become the epitome of having copycats, even to this day lmao. the sheer number of women/fans/people in general imitating her, from her hair to her fashion sense to her mannerisms, is just WOW. like, the way how she has garnered immense adoration needs to be studied (i mean not really because her scoprio midheaven + neptune 1H undoubtedly contribute to her appeal but still!) 

✧ kim kardashian + kylie jenner: when it comes to these two, there's not much that needs to be said lmao like their influence and presence in media speak for themselves. they have managed to create a significant impact, and it’s hard to ignore but let’s remember their roots and who they took their influence from.

✧ megan fox: she’s taken on MGK’s entire aesthetic. she has embraced his style and persona, and it’s interesting to see how it has influenced her own image, considering the fact that she is THE megan fox. even now, the timeless looks that she gave us in the late 00's are still being imitated!

in reference to my previous point, on astrology twitter, jade mentioned an interesting perspective that i completely agree with and feel compelled to share with all of you: having 12H placements can lead to losing the plot SO fast, so it’s crucial to be mindful. although the 12H is widely regarded as the most intuitive, spiritual, and governing the subconscious, it also represents the potential for self-sabotage and lose one’s sense of self. the influence of neptune, the ruler of the 12H, can create a distorted illusion and a tendency to view circumstances through rose-colored glasses. so, 12H placements, it’s essential to always stay grounded, and more importantly, maintain a strong sense of self to avoid losing sight of the goals and aspirations!

✧ an example of this is a 12H sun becoming egotistical and subsequently losing sight of their goals and aspirations, ultimately hindering their progress in life. 

(get well soon by ariana grande just came on and i dedicate this beautiful song to all, but more importantly to those with 12H placements. remember that you are strong and capable of overcoming any challenges that comes your way – you can conquer anything. stay positive and always take care of yourself. you got this! — sincerely, a fellow 12H 🫂) 

scorpio/8H moons are often labeled as “mysterious” due to their tendency to keep their emotions hidden from others on a daily basis. in truth, they rarely feel comfortable expressing their feelings, even to those they trust, as they fear burdening others. this tendency may have developed during their childhood, where they may have not felt safe or at ease in sharing their emotions, leading them to learn how to control and suppress them. however, if you manage to break through the walls of a scorpio/8H moon and they confide in you, it is significant sign that they felt truly seen and understood by you. this can lead to a strong desire to be in company of that person, as their energy provides a sense of comfort and less isolated. so, if you have a scorpio/8H moon in your life, they value you and treasure the connection you share. 

the infamous 22nd degree, commonly referred to as the “to kill or be killed” degree, is often associated with rare and extreme circumstances. being a capricorn degree, it genuinely has a favorable influence, especially in terms of one’s professional life. but, individuals with this degree in their chart may encounter ongoing challenges and be vulnerable to gaslighting. overcoming these challenges serves as a constant reminder to nurture their self-awareness and resilience.  

✧ example a: according to her birth chart, beyonce is believed to have three planets (neptune, pluto and chiron) positioned in this degree. in her latest film, “renaissance: a film by beyonce,” she courageously shares all the moments that highlight the constant challenges from those around, particularly her production team, who questioned her credibility and knowledge – she expressed that she always had to prove herself and felt undervalued in terms of her opinions.

i also just want to say that bey became artist that she is today by perfecting and learning every aspect of her craft throughout her extensive career. she has taught herself everything there is to know about showmanship, and to discredit her knowledge, especially to her face, is just crazy to me. her success is a testament to her hard work, dedication, and talent and she deserves all the recognition she has received.

✧ example b: chlöe (chloexhalle) has the degree on her lilith. unfortunately, chloe has faced relentless scrutiny and gaslighting since she entered the public eye. the placement of the degree on her lillth has made her a target for heavy negative judgement and projection, particularly in regard to her expression of her sexuality and individuality.  

i mean it when i say that it is truly remarkable to witness her immense talent and undeniable beauty, along with her incredible kindness. i honestly feel like the public wants to keep her in a box, hindering her from fully blossoming into the person she aspires to be. she needs that space and freedom to embrace her own journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

✧ example c: jungkook from bts has the degree on his sidereal venus – the degree on his venus suggests he might face challenges related to low self-esteem and lack of confidence in his own attractiveness. also, this placement can also indicate that he may experience situations were power dynamics within his relationships come into play. while details about his personal relationships are scarce, as they rightfully should be, it is evident that he faces an alarming level of compromise to his safety due to the actions of obsessive fans and stalkers. the behavior exhibited towards him, like, being mobbed at airports or these fans intruding his personal space by sending food to his house and even going as far as issuing death threats. as a relatively new fan, i can sense that this issue is more serious for him compared to other members. these fans seem to lack an understanding of personal boundaries and persistently push the limits, even after he has politely requested their respect, which is truly disheartening. 

it's quite likely that jimin and namjoon (other members of bts), also have this degree, given the challenging circumstances they have encountered and continue to face. 

i also learned that this degree can also symbolize power and the ability to have immense influence over others. those who possess this degree in their natal chart often hold positions of power and occupy the highest echelons of the social structure (hence the name, ‘to kill or be killed’). this degree is found in numerous royals, politicians, and highly influential celebrities natal charts: justin bieber, donald trump, kendall + kylie jenner, kim kardashian, barack obama, the british royals and more. here is a post that delves deeper into the theory behind the placement!

gemini placements 🤝 wearing different hats (exploring various interests). they cannot for the life of them confine themselves to a single pursuit, as it tends to become monotonous for them. this may seem unpredictable to others, but, for gemini's, it is a way of truly embracing life and ensuring that they savor every aspect of it, just as they should! 🤭

also, the gemini venus slander in the astro community is so ????? like, yes, an undeveloped gemini venus may struggle with indecisiveness and inconsistency, but it is important to know that a well-developed one can be an incredible partner and asset in a relationship. developed gemini venus partners are known for their unwavering commitment to nurturing a strong bond in their relationships. they will consistently strive to contribute in every way possible to ensure a lasting connection, thanks to the influence of their sidereal taurus venus (may not always be the case though). they value stability and security, and above all, understand the importance of forming meaningful relationships, especially when they feel like they share a profound intellectual bond with their partner – like, they would not take it for granted because they know that not everyone has the capacity or desire to engage with them in that way lmao. they will be there for you until they are convinced, based on their rational thinking (which also depends on the influence of other placements), that they have thoroughly explored every option and exhausted all potential outcomes. even then, it may take them some time to reach that conclusion because they will need to make sense of it all, so, they will make a point to have conversations with their partner to ensure mutual understanding before moving forward. building a strong and fulfilling relationship requires dedication, and a devoted gemini venus will their offer support in all aspects – whether it be physically, emotionally, or notably, mentally. honestly, they will go the extra mile to ensure that they’ll do right by their partner!  so, i beg, please, love us! 😪 lmao – sincerely, a gemini venus  

 also, a gemini venus + strong water placements (house/sign, especially in cancer/scorpio) … oh baby, just sit down and make yourself comfortable because you not leaving until there is a deep understanding of both the emotional and intellectual aspects 😭

the 3H, 6H, 10H and 11H are known as the GROWTH houses, where continuous effort is required to achieve meaningful outcomes.

3H → one must acquire skills, engage in learning and exploration, and find avenues to express the knowledge gained

6H → the importance of daily practice and consistent work on said acquired skills

when these houses are in alignment, they pave the way for recognition in 10H and 11H.

10H → gaining recognition

11H → benefits and influence that comes from being recognized

by pouring constant dedication into these houses, one can expect significant growth and positive outcomes!

jupiter aspecting ascendant/sagittarius rising/jupiter in 1H 🤝 bootylicious + hourglass curves! this can also manifest in having bigger than “average” features (example: big eyes, big smile, prominent thighs).

the “BODY SO TEA” phrase was literally made them lmao

capricorn moons often tend to be the ones who frequently disappear without a trace. they carry a heavy burden of responsibility for all aspects of their life, and often possess a strong desire for control. when faced with a situation beyond their control, they can become overwhelmed with anxiety and allow their fears to take over, resulting in the ghosting. also, i noticed that they find it challenging to find any glimmer of hope in any given circumstance. even though it is widely believed that having the moon in scorpio is the most difficult, capricorn moons may have them beat. 

moon in 8H synastry is not for the weak—it is truly life changing. for this overlay to work, both individuals must have developed the ability to harness and channel powerful energy. without this, the relationship can feel unstable and unpredictable, with both individuals feeling like they're being pulled in different directions but haunted in love, in the best and worst way possible. it is worth noting that this overlay tends to have a strong impact on both individuals involved but it primarily affects the moon person.

✧ positive aspects: creates a deep emotional and psychological connection that allows both partners to truly understand connect with each on a profound level. this bond is so intense that it defies words and creates the desire to explore and uncover the depths of each other’s being. for instance, the 8H individual may possess an innate inclination to understand the moon and their innermost self, initially overwhelming the moon but ultimately embracing because of the sense of comfort provided by the 8H energy. this mutual willingness to explore and understand each other nurtures trust, openness and above all, an indescribable love within the relationship.

✧ negative aspects: gaslighting and power imbalance. the desire for control can create an unhealthy dynamic where both are constantly vying for power, leading to a breakdown of trust and emotional well-being. can also lead to being possessive toward one another that will result in the individuals feeling trapped. the possessiveness can stem from a deep sense of longing for each other, which will only further perpetuate the cycle of unhealthy dynamic (lovers to enemies trope + make up/break up). 

one comparison that comes to mind is the tumultuous relationship between olivia pope and fitz in scandal. if you’re unfamiliar with these two, i recommend checking them out on tiktok (despite their toxic tendencies, their relationship was a guilty pleasure for the viewers because of the intensity and undying love they had for one another. like, i don’t know anyone who watched the show that wasn’t a fan of olitz lmao) 

i also had this overlay with a former partner, and my goodness, was it something. he was the only partner i’ve had who could evoke such intense emotions in me and i found myself completely vulnerable to his touch (in a good way). the chemistry was so powerful, i really believed he was the one for me. but like i mentioned, as with any intense relationship, there were both positive and negative aspects to the connection. while the positive side was truly otherworldly, the negative ultimately won out and caused the relationship to come crashing down. i plan to delve deeper into this experience and share the do’s and dont’s of this synastry in a future post.

understanding astrology can be a valuable tool in gaining insight into your true self. to get a sense of the practice, i feel like it is essential or to at least explore “traditional” western (tropical + sidereal) and vedic astrology. each chart offers a unique perspective on your personality and life path, and by studying them, you can gain a more comprehensive understanding of your place in the world!

i have so much more to share but i’ll save that for another post. please remember that this only for entertainment purposes only and based on my observations! i’ve also linked the findings in case you want to read for yourselves. thank you so much for reading!

sending all my love, 

artemis x

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Hi may i please request swerve trying to be the human liason on the lost light's wimgmech untill they jump grab his shoulders do a pullup and smooch him.

Thank you! Hope your flights arent horrifically delayed.

Thank you for the request, and sorry for how long it took to finally get it out lol! Coincidentally my flights ended up being okay despite the hell I went through to get onto the planes.

I put a lot of thought into this request, and I wasn't entirely sure what you meant with Swerve being the reader's wingmech, so I went down this route. I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it's on the shorter side. Thanks again! :D

Wingmech

Pairing: IDW Swerve x Human Liason Reader

Word Count: 2181

Summary: After noticing you are lost in love with an anonymous mech, Swerve decides to help you prepare for going after the secret crush you have.

  Swerve has been watching you for a while now.

  It’s not uncommon for the Lost Light’s crew to focus on you. You are, after all, the only human aboard the Cybertronian exploration ship. Though you’ve been here for months, no bot can help but find you fascinating. And Swerve? Well…he’d never admit it to anyone, but his interest in you goes well beyond mere fascination. Yes, you're small, smaller than even him. Yes, you're soft, and squishy, and adorable, and sometimes he really wants to scoop you up into his arms and kiss you right on the lips after confessing his love-

  Okay. So maybe he has a bit of a crush on you. But that’s all it is! A crush that compels him to  keep tabs on where you go and what you do. He’s learned about you from the various conversations he’s listened to during busy nights. He knows you adore dogs and melt at the sight of cats (What are dogs? What are cats? Like hell he knows. He isn’t particularly caught up on his Earth knowledge). He knows you like to turn in early and wake up late. He knows you aren’t exactly a party person, and sometimes being surrounded by robots three times your size is incredibly overwhelming. And following that little tidbit, he understands you don’t like coming to his bar.

  So why are you here now?

  He’s watching you while he makes drinks. Your little form is tucked away in a corner at one of the smaller tables reserved for minicons, hunched over a notebook, eyes focused on the pages of written material he can’t read. Even when he zooms his optics in, your writing is far too small for him to coherently pick up on from this distance. With one hand propped against your cheek and the other idly tapping a pen against your head, you look far too troubled for someone who’s currently spending time in a place where all troubles are drunken away. It makes him curious and concerned. Why would you, someone who hates large crowds and loud environments, be writing in such a place?

  He needs to get to the bottom of it.

  Now, he knows what someone might say about this: “Swerve, it's none of your business. Swerve, they clearly don’t want to be bothered. Swerve, eavesdropping is bad.”

  Well, you know what he would say to all of that? “I’m a bartender. My business is everyone else’s business. That’s what being a bartender entails.”

  So yeah, he’s snooping. But it’s all for a good cause. Being around you is worth it. He’ll always take the chance to talk to you if he can.

  “Whatcha writing?” he asks when he pops up behind you with surprising stealthiness. You let out a surprised shriek and nearly jump right out of your seat. He barely catches a glimpse of your notebook’s contents before you slam it shut and cover it with your arms.

  “Swerve!” you yell, fleshy human cheeks flushing a wonderful pink color (Oh, how he loves the way you blush like that. He wants to make you do it more). “Don’t scare me like that!”

  “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. You humans make the cutest sounds when you're startled.” He folds his servos behind his back and leans forward a little. “I don’t see you in the bar often. A place like this isn’t really the best for writing stories, ya know.”

  You sigh and slip your notebook into the knapsack you always carry around. Darn, he thinks, how will your secrets be spilled to him now? “I’m not writing stories. I’m just…doing research on something.”

  “Research,” he says. “In a bar.”

  “Yes. Research in a bar. Is that so hard to believe?”

  He does a quick scan of your features. The blush on your cheeks has deepened to a shade of red that almost matches his paint job. You're fiddling with your knapsack and guarding that notebook with your life. Suddenly, it comes upon him like a tidal wave; his smile widens with the victorious air of someone who just won a medal. “Oh, I know what's going on here,” he says. “You've been spying on someone, haven’t you?”

  Your reaction only further proves his theory. You look horrified, and the way you frantically rush to defend yourself is like a bright neon arrow pointing directly at your head. “What? No! Nonono, why would you think that?!”

  He laughs. “Oh, you totally are! Your notebook is probably chock-full of evidence, amiright? Wait, don’t tell me! Let me guess!”  He circles the table and plops down across from you. “Is it Ratchet? Nah, too grouchy. Cyclonus? Mm, too weird. Oh, oh! It’s Rodimus, isn’t it? It has to be Rodimus!”

  “What are you talking about?” you ask him.

  He leans forward and smirks. “You're in love, little one. Am I right, or am I right?”

  “I-I’m not-there’s no-” You stutter for a moment longer, then get a hold of your emotions and reel them in. Sitting back and going stone-faced, you stare at him with only the color of your blush signaling what you are currently going through. “I’m not in love.”

  Does it hurt to know you have a crush on someone who isn’t him? Absolutely? But telling you that would mean admitting the feelings he has for you, and no way is he doing that now. His spark aches with the sting of rejection, but he hides it well and decides messing with you will make him feel much better. “C’mon, squirt. You can’t lie to me. It’s as clear as day that someone on this ship has you smitten.”

  “It’s not someone on this ship. I’m a human.”

  You being a human and us being mechs means nothing. How many months have you been aboard this ship?” He counts off his digits. “Two? Three? No, it’s been five months, hasn’t it? Five months with us and your little spark has finally decided humans just don’t compare to mechs anymore. Aw, how adorable.”

  You look like you want to jump across the table to snap his intake shut. Instead though, you slump back in defeat and groan, rubbing your hands across your face. “Is it really that obvious?”

  “To me? Yeah. But that’s only because I’ve picked up on your reactions. Plus, the fact that you came here to jot down ‘notes’ means…” Now he gets excited. “It has to be someone in this bar.”

  You regard him cautiously. “And what if it is? What will you do about it?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing! My job is to pour drinks and listen to people’s woes. What kind of reputation would I be giving this fine establishment if I were to go around tattling on my loyal customers?” He taps his index digit against his dermas. Scrap, this is really going to hurt him. But he wants to see you happy. “I could help you, you know.”

  “Help me?” you echo.

  “Yeah, why not?” he forces himself to say with enthusiasm. “I’m always ready to help a pal! I’ll be your wingmech! How’s that sound?”

  A wide smile splits across your face and you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle. “Wingmech? Seriously? That’s so cheesy, Swerve.”

  By the Allspark, hearing your laughter is music to his ears. He’s envious of whoever you are crushing on. They’re one lucky mech to have someone like you chasing after them.  But he swallows down his jealousy for your sake and puffs out his chassis proudly. “Cheesy or not, I’m sure I can help you woo your future sweetspark. All you gotta do is learn to use a little bit of the ol’ Swerve charm and bingo, this bot will be yours in no time. So, whattaya say? You wanna employ my humble services?”

  You bite your lower lip and look down at your knapsack. “I don’t know. The Swerve charm may not exactly work on the mech I’m thinking of.”

  “Aha!” He stands up and points at you. “So you admit you're in love!”

  You give him a pointed look. “Alright, alright, fine, I admit it! Yes, there’s someone on this ship I really like. I’ve been writing down things he may or may not enjoy so I can come up with ways to show him that…that I want to…askhimout.” This last part comes out as a weak mutter. It’s obviously difficult for you to admit it, but oh boy is Swerve glad you have.

  “So it’s a he. Hm. IIIInteresting. Mind telling me what he’s like?”

  You smile. “Well, he’s outgoing. And very enthusiastic about what he does. He always has an upbeat attitude and definitely knows how to make me laugh. Some might think he’s a bit of a wise-ass though.”

  Swerve chuckles. “Sounds like a real dream boat.”

  “You…have no idea.” The way you say it sounds strange to him, but he doesn’t think any more of it. You drum your fingers against the table. “What…what would you do if you wanted to tell him that…that you like him?”

  I wouldn’t. I’d tell you I like you and no one else. “I’d probably do something bold. Something that would really grab his attention, ya know?” He thinks. “Does he like you back?”

  “Well, you see…I-I think so? I’m not sure. I talk to him a lot, but we’re…kind of different. I’m definitely not like him, but we get along. The more I hang out with him, the more these feelings grow.” You stare at your hands. “I don’t know if I should be admitting all of this.”

  “No, no, it’s okay!” He’s quick to reassure you. “I want to help! Seriously! I said I’d be your wingmech, and I’m going to uphold my word! So, let’s think! You think he likes you, and you definitely like him back. He’s the extroverted type, bold and brash…so give him a show! Really show him that you want him and you to be together, and you appreciate all of the good company he’s given you since you boarded the ship. The key is to really hit him here.” He thumps his chassis. “Right in the spark. It’s all emotions, squirt! Nothing else to it!”

  “Emotions, huh?” Once again, that odd look crosses you. “Do you think we could…practice?”

  “Practice?”

  “Yeah, like, working on what I’ll do when I finally admit my feelings to him? Would that be okay with you?”

  “Oh, yes, totally!” He stands up. “C’mere, let’s go through it. Think about what you want to say, and then act it out to me.”

  You stand up as well and walk over to him. Looking down, he sees just how small you are compared to him; you barely make it up to his chassis. You study him, biting your bottom lip. You look so nervous. It makes him want to be gentle.

  “Don’t be shy,” he says softly. “There’s no reason to be. It’s just you and I here, yeah? No one will pay attention to us.”

  You draw in a deep breath. “Okay, Okay.” Shaking out your arms, you fixate on him determinedly. “I’m not going to say anything. I’m going to do something. Is that okay?”

  “Oh,” he says, a bit confused. “Sure, yeah! What are you going to do?”

  You take a step back. Then, you jump forward, and he’s startled when you grab his shoulders and pull yourself up. His optics widen when you lean in and give him a short kiss. Every mechanical nerve in his body sings when he feels your lips on his, and he seems to lose control of himself, becoming nothing more than a statue.

  Then, it’s over. You let him go and drop back down, taking a step back and looking at him anxiously. He stares at you, air whooshing in and out of his intake as his systems attempt to cool.

  “It’s…It’s me?” he whispers.

  You lower your head and nod.

  He can’t talk. He can’t make a sound. It’s only for a good few seconds, but when he finally regains control of his vocalizer, he begins to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And then he’s picking you up and spinning you around in a tight hug. “You like me!” he cries. “You like me, you like me!” He couldn’t care less if anyone else in the bar is watching this. The one he’s been crushing on for months has been crushing on him back!

  You laugh along with him. “It took you this long to figure it out? I’ve been dropping hints since we started this conversation!”

  “That’s why you’ve been doing research in the bar! Primus, how did I not realize it sooner?” He holds you back so he can see your brilliant smile. It makes him melt. “I can’t believe you really like me,” he whispers.

  You cup his faceplate in your hands. “I’m guessing your happy about it, Mr. Wingmech?”

  He kisses you again, leaning into your touch. “Well…looks like my humble services paid off.” He pauses. “So…what did you think of the Swerve charm?”

[koiiiiijiii]

windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 2)

warnings : smut part with wooin but i tried to make it more sensual then sexy, prob fluffiest stuff i ever wrote, as usual it might be ooc, not proofed read on your own risk!!)🧣💞🦢

thank you all guys for 287 followers!!(i wrote when it was 260!!) i hope my works makes your day a lil bit better and set some mood. i really appreciate all likes, reposts and especially!! comments and replies, in love with @sugardollie-907 @hjunsjoy @cozyunderworld @dialoguestetatet and wildylisa but idk why i can’t tag((( and so so many other people who comment (but i swear this holy five lives rent free in my comment section and it such a blessing🙏🏻)

thank you to every-everyone who supporting me, my works, it’s so gratifying to come here and see all notifications about your feedbacks!! also want to say thanks to all wb authors who ever posted and posting!! another source of motivation and inspiration🫵🏻😌💋💯🎀

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

vinny - a friend’s sister. you were definetely dom's or jay's sister, and vinny was so annoyed by you in the first place. not because of your personality or you annoyed him directly, but you were that "genious" in your sport, and vinny unitentionally compared you to jay jo, who were gifted with talent from birth. he was angry or annoyed to the point of goosebumps, he didn't even understand exactly what he was feeling, but he understood that this was a very strong storm of emotions and he was fixated on you. honestly? when your brother watches your competitions or casually tells about your successes, Vinny records it in his memory and will congratulate you later(dom as an older brother will 100% hype you up, fight me. he would show his phone to hummingbird crew with tearing puppy eyes “look, my lil gremlin winning those competition of hers”🥹🥹)Vinny would rather die by biting his neck than admit his feelings to someone, so it happens accidentally, maybe your chat went further than congratulating each other on winning competitions or your calls to him to find out where your brother is hanging around today. but because you were tired after the competition, you fell asleep leaving the chat open and not responding to his messages, leaving him on read. not to say that Vinny was offended by you, he just snapped at you for 3 days in a row, refusing to respond to messages. you had to take the situation into your own hands and hold his hand after another training and talk. “ta hell you want?” he said, frowning down at you. “just to talk and clearly” - you explained the situation to him and told him why you didn't answer, but since Vinny didn't know how to apologize and he had certain trust issues, it turned into another skirmish. it was evening and it was unnoticeable how the clouds thickened and the rain began to fall, but it didn't seem to bother two of you much because you were standing and yelling at each other for a reason you both didn't understand. Vinny's patience had always been zero, but now it seemed as if he was on the verge of reaching another stage of rabies. while you were shouting at him that you didn't understand why he started this quarrel at all, he just exhaled irritably and unknowingly blurted out “FUCK! because i was worried about you!!” as the argument reached its peak, Vinny's frustration peaked, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and apprehension. yet, amidst the chaos of their exchange, a surge of emotion overcame him, compelling him to act on the impulse he'd long suppressed. with a sudden surge of courage, Vinny closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. eyes met, mirroring the intensity of emotions, as Vinny leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. the rain continued to fall, its gentle rhythm enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy as you melted into each other's embrace. Vinny’s body pressed to yours, rain-soaked and trembling, as the warmth of the spring evening mingled with the cool touch of the rain. in that moment, amidst the soft glow of the night lights and the soothing patter of raindrops, time seemed to stand still. the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two bodies locked in a passionate embrace. as your lips parted, a sense of relief washed over, breaths mingling with the cool night air as you savored the sweetness of the moment. in the gentle caress of the rain and the warmth of each other's touch, you found solace, knowing that despite the storm raging around two of you, they were anchored in the calm of their love. as you kissed beneath the spring evening sky, a sense of peace washed over them, the tension of their argument melting away with each tender caress. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the gentle embrace of the rain and the comforting glow of city lights, they found solace in each other's arms, their love renewed and strengthened by the storm they weathered together.

wooin - fake relationship. he commited it in the first place. since his work wasn’t permanent and he was constantly on the move, hanging here and there, Wooin thought it would be nice to have something permanent in his life. he needed excuse to tell his family why he can’t visit them on weekends - his girlfriend doesn’t feel well. them asking him all this “start a family” questions? sorry, y/n isn’t ready yet. some unforeseen situations? oh, y/n can be his trusted person. something didn't go according to plan? he can rely on y/n, if it isn’t something too difficult or dangerous. as a substitute he will gift you something, or will took you somewhere, thanking you for being his backup. genuinely it wasn’t something like friends with benefits, no, you two clearly share a bond, but it was something on the edge, as everybody thought you were dating. and in fact all this acts, you being his backup, him giving you small gifts, taking you on dates, sharing a bed - it all feels more like a relationship. but you never had this conversation, after another hot sex you could fall asleep together, for sure, but in the morning one of you definitely woke up in an empty bed. of course, it also happened that you woke up together, but in the morning Wooin was simply unbearable, and more often it ended with too caustic jokes. and it was always on the edge, you weren't in a relationship, you weren't friends, you weren't strangers, you were all together at once. at some point, it started to get exhausting. you noticed it first, but Wooin started talking about it first... well not actually talk, but mutter in the crook of your neck… today’s sex was different, the encounter was filled with a blend of sensuality and intensity, both of you asserting your desires while maintaining a balance of power. you bite each other, when it feels like too much, but immediately kissing and licking bite place, each of you tried to get leading role while another didn’t let it happen. today, Wooin's approach was different - not sloppy, fast and erratically, but slower, more deliberate, his touch gentle yet his thrusts firm. you were suffocating in his arms, and it seemed to him that he was drowning in the smell of your hair, your moans, how you trembled slightly from his hands on your chest, hips and neck. Wooin burrowed his nose deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily and sniffing your scent. it was intoxicating, that feeling when you were next to him, when his hands slid over your body, your soft sobs, how the emotions on your pretty face changed depending on his pace. now, with his whole body pressed against you from behind, one hand holding your hip, and the other between your head and the pillow, his palm rested on your collarbones. while he was slowly sinking into you, and you were smiling and almost purring with pleasure, he caught himself thinking that he liked your smile. he likes to spend time with you, he likes to use an excuse in front of his parents and call you his girlfriend. his. Wooin liked the idea of you being his. he liked you. along with these thoughts, his pace increased, now he was digging his fingers into your thigh, and the other hand slid to your breast, squeezing it a little harder. you were both lost in your pleasure as you moaned louder and louder, he pressed his nose harder into your neck, whispering something that you couldn't make out. at one moment, he lifted his head, biting your earlobe, and pulling it slightly towards him, in a burst of emotion, he whispered "i like you"*

kwon - stranger to lovers/soulmetes - for the first time it seemed like someone corsed you. you moved to new flat in different district of Seul and now it was time to transport your stuff from old flat. everything started when you recieved message from a men who drove the car with your stuff, saying that he is stuck on a street because there are some stupid cycling competition and usual road is closed. amazing, you already were so stressed and here some cycling competition, but thankfully in the evening you finally recieved your stuff, mostly some boxes, small and big. when you were about to pick another heavy box you felt that it seemed strangely light. when you rise your eyes you saw a young man around your age. you thanked him for helping and he turned out to be almost your neighbor, one floor above and to the left of your neighbor's wall. next time you saw Kwon Hyeok in evelator…and you two were stuck there…for 3 hours…you were about to meet with your friends and, as you learned later, he was about to pick something to eat in nearest market. week later you met him in random cafe, where you decided to have a dinner alone, the owner of the cafe came up to you, saying that all the seats are occupied, but since you are alone, there was an empty place, behind the bar, just next to a guy your age (the old man grinned and has obviously already married you two in his head) so when you sat down carefully and apologized for the intrusion, you recognized that it was Kwon. you ordered your food and few drinks, and had a nice time together. and after a month of such unexpected encounters, you began to suspect 2 things - either fate brings you together, or he is a stalker. thankfully when you ran into each other again in the same cafe and drank a lot more this time, you admitted that you suspected him, and he, in turn, thought the same - that you were weird stalker girl who followed him around, and in that evening you laughed together from many things. when it was time to leave he understood that you were so drunk that you couldn’t even stand straight, so he took you by the elbow, hugged you with his free hand a little bit higher than your waist and led you home. along the way, of course, you mumbled something about how you like one handsome boy and he seemed like not paying attention to you and probably not even interested and why you're still alone…and then, under the soft glow of streetlights, amidst the hushed whispers of the night, it happened. in a moment that felt both inevitable and surreal, your lips met in a tender kiss, sealing the bond that had been silently growing between you. in that stolen moment, amid the chaos of the city, you found solace in each other's arms, knowing that fate had finally brought you together as more than just strangers in passing.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

* i’m sorry, i don’t really know how to finish this part with wooin, as it already feels too ooc, it was more self inserted, like i was inspired by my latest situationship, bc i was in fucking same situation(it didn’t end well) , and it’s still kinda my roman empire, so i leave space for your imagination… if u don’t mind of course…🥹

[shadeysprings]

YOU

—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 5.4K

A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

They didn’t come.

It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.

But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?

You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.

Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more. 

As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before. 

Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand. 

“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”

“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”

His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer. 

“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.

“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”

You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence. 

But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it. 

“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?

“I’m sorry?” 

“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”

That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.

“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”

The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”

Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?

“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”

Under-dressed.

Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?

You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him. 

The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait. 

“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth. 

You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”

“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.” 

Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention. 

“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh. 

You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up. 

“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips. 

“Well, what do you want to know?”

Giggling. 

It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are. 

The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other. 

The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project? 

You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out. 

He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you. 

“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”

And it doesn’t. 

You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue. 

You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss. 

He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss. 

To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head. 

But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them. 

Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further. 

But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste. 

Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core. 

It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue. 

You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit. 

The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside. 

Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge. 

“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat. 

His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.

Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss. 

The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note. 

But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”

Nervous.

It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all. 

“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier. 

“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.

After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship. 

You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.

A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.

It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.

What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather. 

There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.

“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”

“You made this?”

“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery. 

“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head. 

“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel. 

“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head. 

The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room. 

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture. 

“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him. 

Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face. 

“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you. 

You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck. 

“Dance with me.” 

It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.

It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.

“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”

Giddy.

It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head. 

You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week. 

Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.

Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore. 

Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier. 

A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.

Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.

You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you. 

Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.

“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die. 

“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins. 

It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark. 

You’re dead.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.

A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him. 

“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.

“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”

“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him. 

He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”

“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”

The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before. 

“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”

[moonstruckme]

I ADORE your writing it is so so so amazing. Could i request poly!marauders x fem!reader who works in a store (maybe like a supermarket or something) and they keep coming because they "need" stuff but they actually just wanna see her and its all cute and flully and stuff?? If you don't wanna do it, no worries at all<3

Thanks lovely! Hope you enjoy it :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You’ve barely flipped the sign in the front to open and begun restocking the tomatoes when the door opens. “Good morning,” you say automatically, a Pavlovian response to the chime of the bell. 

“G’morning, lovely,” a familiar voice replies, the curly-haired boy flashing a smile at you as he stops below your ladder. “How’s your day going?”

“Well, it’s—” you look at the clock behind the counter “—quarter past seven, so…so far so good.” 

“Happy to hear it.” His dark-haired, sharp-edged friend appears, startling you, and the curly-haired one holds up his hands, ready to steady you if you need it.

“Shit, Pads,” he says once it’s clear you’re not going to fall, “you don’t sneak up on someone on a ladder like that. You scared her.”

You give them both a tense smile. “It’s fine,” you say, mustering your best customer service voice (not an easy task with two of your best-looking customers standing so close to you). “I’m alright.” 

“Sorry, dollface,” Pads says, sending you a half-sheepish grin in return. You don’t really understand these nicknames they have for each other, but embarrassingly, they’re the only names you know them by. The same group of three boys has been coming by your store for months, almost every day, and it’s reached a point where it’d be too awkward to ask for their names. They’re by far your favorite customers, but you only know them as what they call each other. There’s Pads, Prongs, and…

“Moony, weren’t you saying we’re out of eggs?” Prongs asks.

The tall one comes into view, already holding three cartons of eggs. “Yeah, but I can’t pick. What’s better, free-range or organic?”

“Free-range,” you say, feeling your face heat when they all look up at you. “I mean, it depends on your preference, but that’s what I’d get.” 

There’s a beat of silence wherein you suspect the boys are exchanging silent communication and have to force yourself to keep your gaze on the tomatoes, and then, “Dove, I hate to trouble you, but would you mind helping us choose?” Moony’s voice is soft, unobtrusive but compelling. Of the three boys, you find him the easiest to talk to. Prongs oozes charm and Pads flirts like it’s breathing, but something about Moony’s calm demeanor is disarming. “You seem like you know a lot more than any of us.”

“I don’t know about a lot.” You shake your head dismissively, but you’re already starting down the ladder. You miss the last step, and warm hands grab your waist, lowering you cautiously to the floor. 

“Easy,” Prongs murmurs. 

Your heart’s in your throat, more from embarrassment than from the alarm at your near fall, and you understand why you’re blushing, but you don’t get why he is. 

Your “thanks” comes out as more of a breath than a word, but he gifts you one of those dazzling smiles anyway. You turn to the egg cartons like they’re your lifeline, trying to steady your breathing while you read the labels. 

“Um, yeah, so.” You clear your throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but organic just means they give the chickens food without chemicals or anything, and free-range means they get a certain amount of space to roam in. I don’t think it changes how the eggs taste or anything, it just depends on what you think is most ethical.” 

Moony nods, looking like he’s mulling this over, but you can’t stand to stay under his gaze any longer than that. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with!” you squeak, abandoning your ladder to go tidy behind the counter. 

You’d think after months of these guys coming in you’d be used to them, but you’re not. They wind you every time. They’re obviously close, and you like to imagine them as housemates, maybe even lovers, with the way they seem to interact with such casual intimacy. So many of your customers barely look at you as they go about their business, and you don’t blame them for that, but these boys always have something to say to you. They’ll ask how your day is going, or whether you’ve tried the coffee shop down the road, or what you think of a new jacket. The way they talk amongst each other is so easy, and they talk with you like it should be easy too, but somehow you always manage to make it difficult for them. You’re too quiet, too nervous, too awkward. And yet they keep coming back. 

You’re not allowed much reprieve before Pads is sauntering up to the counter, free-range eggs in hand. He sets them on the counter. “Thanks for the advice, sweetheart.” 

“It’s no problem,” you say, distracting yourself with the manageable, routine tasks of your job. Scan the item, open the cash register, ask “Would you like a bag for that?”

“No,” he replies just as cordially, “but thank you.” 

Before he goes, he tucks a bill into the tip jar on the edge of the counter, just like always, and just like always, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. It’s not like it’s ever a massive amount of money, but still. They’re only your age. Unless they’re all heirs to separate fortunes or something, they probably have about as much money to spare as you do. And it’s so, so unnecessary, especially considering they come here every day to buy one or two items, and then leave you a tip—for what? For ringing them up? For having limited knowledge of chicken ethics?

“You really don’t have to do that,” you blurt, shrinking in on yourself sheepishly when all three boys turn to look at you, nearly out the door. “I just mean, you guys come here all the time. You only ever get a couple of items, it’s really not necessary to leave a tip every time.” 

The three boys look at you with varying degrees of bemusement, and Moony gives you a small smile. “We don’t mind,” he replies, at the same time as Pads says, “We like coming here.” 

“I just…you shouldn’t feel obligated to leave a tip just because you need something from the corner store. I’m sure you live nearby, right? It’s not like you have a bunch of options in this area.”

The ensuing pause stretches a moment too long, and you tilt your head curiously as both Moony and Prongs begin to blush faintly. “Well,” the latter says, looking about the store with forced casualness, “actually…”

Pads isn’t so tactful. “We don’t live nearby,” he says, gray eyes frank and unflinching. 

You blink. “No?”

Moony shrugs, looking alarmingly shamefaced. “No.” 

“We used to live around here,” Prongs supplies. “We just don’t anymore. Haven’t bothered to find a new store.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t taken them for creatures of habit, but what all do you know about them really? “Um, where do you live now?” you ask, then want to hit yourself. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t mean to intrude—”

“No, it’s okay,” Moony says, in his usual kind way. “We moved down onto twenty second street.” 

Your mouth actually drops open. A giant O, and you can hear your mom telling you you’ll catch flies. Pads snickers at your reaction. But fuck, that’s nearly across town. It has to take them at least a half hour to get to your store from there, and that’s if they have a car. “I, um.” You shake your head, collecting yourself. “Sorry, that’s just so far. I used to live around there, actually.” 

Prongs perks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s a Tesco just a couple blocks down, on twenty third? And a Sainsbury’s and—oh! There’s a great local corner store not far from there, you should definitely check it out. They make their own bread.”

“Neat,” Moony says, nodding. “Thank you.” 

You smile, happy to help even though you’ll be sad to see them go. “Of course, anytime.” 

“Yeah, thanks gorgeous.”  Pads grins at you, tucking another bill into your tip jar and ignoring your squawk of protest. “See you tomorrow.”

You blink, wondering if you’d just invented the previous conversation, but they’re all starting for the door, acting as though nothing is amiss. 

Perhaps you’re feeling extra bold today, because you halt them for a second time. “But don’t you want to go somewhere more convenient?”

Prongs turns around, walking backwards towards the door. “Really appreciate the advice,” he says, “but we like this store just fine.” Moony shoots you a bashful sort of grin, and Pads winks—actually winks—over his shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

And, well, if they want to keep crossing town to come in every morning, far be it for you to stop them. You’d hate to drive off your best customers. “Yeah,” you echo. “See you tomorrow.”

[kingtomura]

vitality | 1

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you.  All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 3.1k | chapter 2 | m. list | read on ao3

It’s been raining all day.

The cold droplets make your cheeks feel numb as you run along the sidewalk. The sky is a murky gray and your lungs are burning in a desperate attempt to regain air in them. There is blood on your clothes and none of it belongs to you. 

You don't know how long you’ve been at this but you know you cannot stop. There would be consequences if you stopped.

Your body would have to give out first. 

You chance a glance behind you and see there is no chase, there are no sirens and no angry mob following you but your body keeps moving.

You decide to take a sharp right turn into an upcoming alley and use that moment to catch your breath. Your chest heaves as you desperately inhale. The rain has soaked you to the bone and you just know that you’ll have a stuffy nose in the morning. Adrenaline is what you assume is keeping you going at this point — with the rate of your heart beating you're sure it’ll beat right out of your chest and leave you here in this dingy alley alone.

Even through the patter of the rain you could hear the footsteps of multiple people shuffling your way. 

You’re sure they’ve found you. Damn it, you shouldn’t have stopped.

You look around the alley and run to the grimy dumpster further down, hiding behind it and willing yourself to calm your breathing. 

Closing your eyes, you place a cold hand over your own mouth, praying it will quiet your own ragged breaths.

“C’mon, guys, let's be reasonable.” It's the voice of a man and it is not familiar.

He seems to be stepping closer, slowly. You creep closer to the wall and hope the footsteps cease. 

They do.

“Reasonable would be having your head for the shit you pulled on us, Giran.” A different voice, hostile. You're starting to think these people have nothing to do with you.

The guy, Giran, sounds weary, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m always good on my word.”

There’s another voice piping up now, denying his words, insisting that they were scammed. Between the rain and the men talking over each other it feels impossible to understand. You decide it's best to just wait this out, you’re sure they will finish soon and you can go back to figuring out your next move.

“Bullshit!” Someone yells and it startles you, pulling your attention back to the scene unfolding behind you.

The sound of a gunshot rings through the alley and you jolt in surprise, reflexively covering your ears as your heart stops in your chest. What the fuck was happening right now. Whatever Giran was going to say doesn’t make it far.

“Oh shit,” one voice panicks, “what the fuck did you do, dude!”

“You said we would get him back!”

“Not kill him, you fucking idiot!”

Your nerves are on fire as you hear the pair run off, leaving Giran groaning in pain and bloody.

You move fast, rushing from your place behind the dumpster to the wounded man. Giran was slumped against a wall, hand clutching his abdomen and breathing heavily. You don’t know what's compelling you to do this, so you blame it on the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. No one deserves to die here.

“Hey!” You yell out, an attempt to get his attention and keep him from slipping into unconsciousness. His brows lifted as his eyes met yours and you’re just glad this stranger is still breathing. “Let me help you.”

He only looks at you and you’re sure he’s fighting with all he has to hang on. You’re probably a sight to see yourself — clothes drenched in a mixture of blood and rain and eyes wild with panic.

You reach for his hand covering the bloody wound and he only presses tighter.

“Trust me.” You plead, meeting his eyes in desperation before trying again. Giran nods, moving his own hand and allowing you a chance to see the injury for yourself — blood was everywhere and given the rain you had no clear view. You shoot him a pointed look once more before going for his shirt, lifting it and exposing his stomach and bloody wound. You could work with this. 

Your hands were freezing cold, but you willed yourself through it, bringing both to hover over his abdomen and focusing. Giran watched the soft green glow emit from your hands and wash over his wounded abdomen, his wound healing from the inside out. Raindrops drip from your hair and down your nose, yet you focus until the injury is gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. 

Giran sighed, resting his head on the brick wall behind him, muscles relaxing and breath stabilizing.

“You’re a healer.” He speaks, voice hoarse and winded.

You nod, bringing your hands back and looking at the grovel below, “yeah, something like that.”

A silence falls over the both of you, the rain continuing to seep its cold into your bones. It's almost time to face your reality again. Time to get up and move.

“What are you doing out here, kid?'' Giran speaks again, voice gaining more clarity as he stabilizes from the events before. 

What are you doing out here? Where even is here? You weren’t paying attention while you ran — there was only the urge to get away and get away as fast as you could. 

“I...” you look down at your clothes clinging to your form and drooping lower than they should due to the onslaught of rain. Not even the rain could wash away the blood staining the cotton material. Whatever may have gotten on your face could be washed away, but you’re unsure. “I don’t know.” You finish, chancing a glance at Giran. 

He looks to you before taking a moment to stand, finally gaining composure and taking a slow breath.  

You follow suit, ready to go the other way, never see this man you saved again. 

“I owe you one, kid,” Giran starts again, adjusting his glasses, and you begin to protest. He cuts you off, “Those crooks almost killed me. Really, at least let me get you someplace warm.” he insists and you stare for a moment, you were unsure of your next move anyway. 

You nod, “alright.”

—---------

Giran takes you to an underground bar. One where the lighting is low and there aren't many people around. You’ve never been to a bar before, but you’re sure this one had bad news written all over it.

Even so, you don't feel afraid. The bar had a bathroom where you could dry off better and there was even spare clothes in the lost and found. You were finally able to get the rain soaked clothes off and wipe away the red staining your face as well. It was miles better than what you had before. 

Now you were sat across from Giran as he lit his cigarette, taking a drag and exhaling it to the side. 

The harsh smell of nicotine flooded the area and you bit back the scrunch of your nose as you stuffed your face with chips from the bar. Once your adrenaline settled, the feeling of hunger was overwhelming. 

“So,” you're midbite when Giran speaks, breaking the silence, “what were you doing out there, kid?”

You force your food down and ponder your answer. There was no reason you shouldn’t trust Giran right now, but—

The splatter of blood crosses your mind, accompanied by a memory of glass breaking that makes you shiver and you decide that no, you couldn’t share this.

“I…” you can’t meet his eyes, “I got lost.”

Giran taps the ashes from his cigarette and sucks his teeth. “Lost, huh?” He raises a brow, “where are you from, then? You were covered in blood, and not all of that belonged to me, so what’s your deal – are you some kind of hero?”

You vehemently shake your head, “no, no. I’m not a hero.” You anxiously pick at the loose sem in the sweater, “I’m nobody. Not anymore.”

“You’re a healer, people would kill for a quirk like that.” He takes another drag, blowing the smoke and pointing to you, “what is it you were running from?”

There were tears welling in your eyes and you wished this conversation could be over. The reality of the situation setting in. “I hurt someone. Bad.”

“Can’t be that bad since you can heal ‘em, right?”

You’re quiet. Flashes of what occurred hours ago flooding your memory. It feels so far away. So foggy. “No. No, I didn’t heal them.” Your fists tighten in your lap. “I hurt them and then I left. I ran away and now I’ll never go back.”

Giran looks you over for a bit before tapping the excess ash from his cigarette. “Well, since you need somewhere to go and you have a pretty sick quirk, I think I have the perfect place for you.” 

—---------

The dark corridors Giran leads you through feel endless and you can’t help but wonder if he’s leading you into a trap of some kind. You thought the bar before was shady, but wherever the hell he was taking you seems to be much worse. 

There was no elaboration on where you were going, just an absent trust me and promises that you would be safe and taken care of here. Promises that no one would look for you or find you here. You sigh, out of options and desperate. He had no reason to lie to you, but it still gave you an uneasy feeling. 

“This guy,” Giran’s voice catches your attention, “Can seem like kind of a brat, but he’s good on his word.”

It’s as if he could feel your restless thoughts and you only purse your lips, glancing at him and then back forward, noting a large metal door coming into view. 

You can't fight the lump of dread in your stomach but you try to put on a brave face as the screech of the heavy metal door fills the corridor. It led to another bar — this one looking more… normal. Empty, quiet and even quaint. 

The only occupants being a shadow-like figure of a man, dark cloudy whisps covering his face and hands and another, younger man dressed in all black and sporting what looked like a pale blue hand covering his face like a mask.

“Giran,” the man spoke, voice raspy and sharp. He couldn’t have been much older than you, maybe younger. “What have you brought us today?”

The man in question smiled, gold tooth glimmering in the low light of the bar. “Something special.” 

You couldn’t see much of the man’s face beyond the hand, but you could see the glint of interest in his red eyes. 

“Is that so…” he turns his attention to you, “what’s your name?” 

His gaze gives you goosebumps and you turn to Giran, seeking some kind of reassurance, but the boy speaks again, “Don’t look at him. I’m the one talking to you.” 

It shakes you, but you snap your attention back to him and tell him your name. 

“And why are you here?” 

You don’t know. You have no idea why Giran brought you here and you don’t even know who this guy is. How could you hope to answer that with no information?

Giran steps in before you can make a retort, “she’s here because I think you could get a lot of use out of her, Shigaraki.”

 Shigaraki’s gaze never leaves yours. “Oh, yeah? What’s your quirk?”

You bite your lower lip, you didn’t expect this to be an interview of some kind. Shigaraki looks impatient, tapping a finger on the bar beside him. You swallow your nerves and speak, “My quirk is called Vitality – I can heal others and myself.”

“That’s a rare find, Giran, even for you.” Shigaraki crossed his arms, interest successfully piqued. 

Giran huffs a laugh, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag. “Yeah, well, she kind of found me.”

You steal a look at Giran, the smoke leaving his lips as he speaks. Shigaraki doesn’t say anything, his silence seemingly urging Giran to continue. “This one here saved my life yesterday. Some hothead shot me and she rushed in and healed me. I’m good as new.”

Shigaraki scoffs, tone sardonic and cruel, “Wow, how heroic of you.”

It feels like you’ve made the wrong choice, like the idea of saving someone was foolish and wrong. You acted on instinct — no one deserved to die there.

“So, what’s your deal, then? The heroes would kill to have you on their side. Why are you here?”

“I don’t care about the heroes,” it’s the truth, you want nothing to do with their flashy shows of power and silly displays of heroism. “I couldn’t care less for it.”

You see Shigaraki’s eyes narrow through the fingers of the hand on his face. “So you’re one of Stain’s followers, then?”

Who? You didn’t keep up with that kind of stuff. You vaguely remember seeing the news articles about some crazed villain, but you have had your own villain to deal with. Nothing else mattered. 

This was beginning to frustrate you. All the questions, all the prying — who cares about any of this stuff? You don’t even know where you are!

“I’m not familiar with him. I don’t care for any of it.” You couldn’t help but hear the question ring in your head again. 

Why are you here?

“I don’t,” you start up again, voice catching in your throat. “I don’t have a home to go back to.” 

The memory of glass breaking and blood splattering crosses your mind, running away in the rain clouds your thoughts, yet you continue, “I don't know what lies ahead for me, I don't have a future anymore. I just happened to stumble upon Giran.” 

Shigaraki is quiet for a moment. You have to force yourself to refrain from squirming under his gaze. 

“Show me.”

Your eyes snap to his, “What?”

“Show me your quirk.'' His voice is firm and unwavering. You’re looking at him to see if you could find any injury or even bruises but from your distance you cannot. It's not until Shigaraki pulls the already loose collar of his shirt down over his shoulder and you see it. There’s a large bandage on his shoulder and your steps falter a bit – not expecting him to expose so much skin so easily.

You swallow, uneasiness buzzing through your veins as you watch him remove the bandage and expose a gash on his shoulder. It looks recent, but you can't tell from this distance, so you move towards him. 

The closer you get, the more you notice the finer details of the man. His ashen hair looks soft up close and his dark shirt does little to hide the lithe muscle underneath. It’s like walking into the cage of a wild tiger, sitting and waiting for its perfect moment to grab you.

He notices your hesitation and sucks his teeth, “I don’t have all day.” 

You swallow your nerves and continue on. The closer you get, the more clearly you can see the scars on his neck as well. Not as bad as the gash on his shoulder, but still noticeable. You try not to steal too long of a glance and reach out, slowly — ready to heal him. 

The wound doesn’t seem to be very deep so you only use one hand, a seafoam green glow emitting and covering his injury. 

Shigaraki inhales slowly, feeling the relieving effects of your quirk healing him from the inside out. It doesn’t take long, the wound was already in the process of recovering before so this was more minor than you thought. You pull away once you were sure his shoulder was back to normal, taking a cautious step back from the man before you. 

His attention is on Giran as he rolls his shoulder, flexing out all the previous tension and sighing in relief. 

“Something like this isn’t easy to come by, Giran. What’s your price?”

Price, he says. Like you’re cattle, as if you’re some kind of product to be shipped off and traded. It makes you feel low. 

Giran shrugs, smile pliant on his face and cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth. “No price. I told you – I owe this kid my life. Just make sure she’s safe and fed and we’ll call it even.” 

Shigaraki still seems to be skeptical because he stands to his feet and you take another step back from him. His form is tense and you have to fight the urge to run to the door behind Giran. Shigaraki is taller, even with his slouched posture, and the sinking feeling in your stomach only grows as you anxiously watch for his next move. 

You vaguely register the man engulfed in dark clouds calling Shigaraki’s name — a warning in his tone. 

Giran raises a hand, smile never faltering. “Seriously. Eye for an eye.” He cocks his head, “But I’m not opposed to additional payment, if that’s what you want.” 

It's a joke, one that the man before you does not find funny. He stands up straighter, “Whatever. Fine, we’ll take her in.” 

You’re unsure if this is something you should celebrate or ease your way out of, but Giran seems to take it well. An honest smile gracing his features as he looks back to you, “You hear that, kid? You're in.” 

Shigaraki turned to the shadowlike man behind the counter, “Kurogiri, prepare a room for her.” 

Kurogiri nods and makes his way from behind the bar, you assume you should follow, but this was… a lot to take in. If they were to take you in then you wont ask too many questions. As long as you could lay low and keep to yourself then things would be fine. This wouldn’t have to be forever, just long enough to get yourself together and make your next moves. 

You find solace in that thought as you walk past Giran — sending you an amiable wave as you trail behind Kurogiri. 

Shigaraki stays behind in the bar and you’re thankful, his demeanor doesn’t seem like one you would like to be around for long periods of time. 

There’s a brief moment when you're passing Shigaraki. His eyes meet yours and you notice the shine in them, a glimmer of covet curiosity so quick you almost miss it. 

And you can’t help but wonder what exactly is it you’ve just gotten yourself into.

[bonefall]

You can ignore this but I was just curious. What are your thoughts on redemption? I know modern day it means "character gets absolved of all wrongdoing and sin, and everyone forgives them yay!" But I'm talking more like, redemption as "Character acknowledges their actions and worldview was shitty, has apologized to all harmed parties, some forgive and some don't, but regardless character works on their issues and strives to become better"

I know characters are writing tools, so the message here would, in short, be "No matter what you can still work to be a better person". So I suppose I'm asking to what extent you agree. Sorry if this ask is everywhere I'm very sick at the moment.

I speak harshly of redemption arcs because I am actually an aficionado. I love them. I can't get enough of them, honestly. They're like eggs to me, I like 'em in all sorts of ways, devilled, omeletted, scrambled, but rotten ones are so bad you've gotta get rid of them immediately.

What often ends up setting me off about how redemption arcs are approached (and discussed) is the pervasive fact that people are more interested in sorrowful abusers than messy victims. They'll turn out to gush about how wonderful it is that Clear Sky cries about how sad murdering women made him, while not even recognizing Star Flower is self-destructing or Thunder is deflecting and misplacing.

It's like... even in fandom you will never get away from it. Your abuser is compelling and complex (meaning "was mean and sad at the same time"), and you're whiny and annoying ("ugh why is this traumatized person doing irrational things?! Don't they ever learn?!")

So when I write and when I talk, victims are always forefront in my mind. I'm really tired of stories that center Good Intentions or "but they loved you"

But anyway, digressing,

I agree. It really is never too late to work to be a better person. It's not even about apologizing, or making up for it, because sometimes you can't. "Sorry" will never undo what happened, and "sorry" doesn't even promise that real change is behind it.

So to me, a good redemption is just about exploring change.

Not suffering, I don't entirely like the idea that pain fixes pain, because it really doesn't. Reflection does. Genuinely understanding what was wrong and why you did it does. In spite of how cathartic it is to see someone get karma, I do hope that 99% of all people could be rehabilitated.

It's why I'm not fond of the phrasing where people want to deny redemption arcs because "they don't deserve it.' The WORLD deserves it. The people they will HELP deserve it. The person they will be deserves it. The question really is-- WOULD they change?

And the answer for powerful people is usually no. Power feels good. Gets you what you immediately want, makes it easy to surround yourself with yesmen who reinforce your excuses.

I think most people want to see others get better, but it's cathartic to me when some characters don't. Redemption arcs are wonderful things, but shouldn't be seen as the IDEAL ending for every villain, y'know?

[licorice-tea]

Don’t Fall In Love With Me (Yet) Pt. 2

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: mentions of fights/canon typical violence and weapons, sooo much pining, can be read as a stand alone or as part of the mini series, allies to friends to lovers (soon!?), etc!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: hmmm where do i start? i changed the pov from third to second person, (the first part was third person) the writing style of this is a little different from what i usually do but i still like it so hopefully you do to! pls enjoy and ty for reading <333

edited 1/8/24

Part 1 | Part 3

Law finds y/n leaning on the starboard railing of the Thousand Sunny.

You feel Law’s steps on the wooden planks and look over your shoulder to see him approaching. you swear you can hear your own heartbeat, and only hope that he won’t be able to hear it, too. Your thoughts are interrupted by his presence to your left. Law leans over the railing, mug of coffee in hand. A moment of silence passes while he watches you watch the sea from the corner of his eye.

“Can you even see anything?” he questions, his words coming off much harsher than intended,

A bit caught off guard, you simply respond, “Mhm, everything.” you have good vision, so you’re sort of the natural choice for keeping watch if Zoro doesn’t feel like staying up.

You can feel Law’s gaze on your profile. You can also feel your cheeks heating up, but those two things are completely independent… It doesn’t even matter though, because the darkness of the night should be enough to hide that from him.

“Are you having a good time on board the Thousand Sunny?” 

“It’s alright. You guys are really loud.” He says in a near scoff.

“Oh… Sorry about that.” Did you really bother him so much?

Law mentally kicks himself and is quick to wave a hand in front of his face apologetically, “No, I just mean… you’re all very energetic. Not you specifically, either. You’re actually really, uh…”

You wait patiently, now peering up at him through your lashes. He meets your eyes with his own, much more frantic gaze.

“You’re… nice.” He finally averts his eyes with a turn of cheek.

“Oh… thank you.” You smile to yourself. “I think you’re really nice, too.”

Law releases another scoff, though it comes off as more surprised than mean. He struggles with accurately portraying his feelings for you, who remains equally oblivious to his feelings as he does to yours. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not known for being nice.”

“People must not really know you, then.”

“And you do?”

“Not as much as I’d like to, but well enough.”

“… What?” He finds that you make him feel dumb sometimes, be it through quick rebuttals or patient stares.

“I just mean, we could be friends. But I understand if you don’t-“

“I do.”

“… Ok.” You grin once more.

The pair stare out to sea, and Law takes another sip of his coffee.

“How come I never see you in fights with your crew?”

“I try to stay out of the way. Plus, I don’t really like fighting in the first place- that’s not why I joined my crew. It’s more of a last resort.”

“Interesting.”

“You think so?”

“That you would rather play support than have to get into a fight? Definitely. It’s not very pirate-like.” He nearly sneers- he has certain beliefs on what a pirate should be in order to be of use to their crew.

But, ever the optimist, you simply laugh, “So I’ve been told,” you start. “I guess I’m a little… strict about my morals. Just never really want to hurt someone, you know? Even if it makes people think I’m weak, because I know I’m not.”

“At least you’re self aware.” Law begins, but for some unknown reason feels compelled to continue. To give you some little piece of himself in return for what you’ve told him. However, after he tells you, “I don’t enjoy fighting much either, I just do it to protect my crew.” he feels like he’s talking too much.

You listen intently, “And do you have a family? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He shakes his head no, “Gone.”

You nod solemnly. “Well, I’m sure they’d be proud of you.”

“Have you… lost someone?” Law immediately regrets asking such a personal question.

But, you aren't offended. “No, I’ve been lucky in that way. Though we aren’t really… We don’t… Well, we’re not close.”

“Why’s that?” he mimics your earlier question, which you pick up on and smirk at.

So you sigh; “I guess the whole running-away-with-a-pirate crew thing kind of soiled their opinion of me.”

Your eyes meet again after your confession, and after a moment of silence, you both break out in laughter. Except, Law’s is more of just the shake of his shoulders, while you actually laugh.

“It’s not funny-” Law says through broken exhales.

“No, it’s really not!” you shake your head, still caught in a fit of giggles.

Eventually you both still yourselves, and Law concentrates on his half empty mug while you look up at the stars above head. Then you look at him from the corner of their eye, just for a split second, but find his eyes are already trained on you. So you offer a smile, like always, and go back to star gazing. Another moment passes, and your enjoyment of conversation gets the best of you.

“What’s it like living in a submarine?” Law raises a brow and gives a sidelong glance at your question. “Don’t you miss land and the sky when you’re down there?”

“Yeah. I miss land sometimes, I guess.”

You explore the answer to your question further by standing up on the ledge before you, and leaning over the railing to look down into the waves being split by the Thousand Sunny. It’s not a particularly dangerous stunt at all- there’s the floor, a 3 inch raised ledge, and the railing on top of it. When you stand on it, your height is barely altered; that’s how non perilous what you are doing is, for context. You simply want to lean over to see the waves.

But Law’s hand shoots out to grasp your shoulder, acting as a tether. You look at him with a concerned expression, which turns into a smirk. You could stay up there, maybe even turn and lift yourself slightly to sit on the railing itself, but you decide to come back down to the floor on your heels instead of giving the surgeon something else to stress over. Law then pulls his hand back rigidly and scratches the back of his neck with near painful awkwardness due to his sudden display of concern for your safety.

“I don’t think I could trip all the way over the railing unless I tried.” You tease.

“No, I- I know.” he coughs. Did he really just stutter?

“See? You are nice. You care.” you punctuate your statement with a smirk and the side to side tilt of their head. An occasional habit that, if someone were around you often enough to witness, they would know signified a feeling of triumph.

Law is at a loss for words at the moment, thoughts clouded by the growing warmth in his chest that seems to fluctuate up and down his neck and face, but never disappears completely when he’s around you.

“Sure.” he takes to mumbling again.

“You know, I really like having you here with us.”

“…You do?”

“Yeah. I love the other Straw Hats of course, but… I don’t know, you’re different.”

“You’re different from my crew, too.”

“Oh yeah? In a good way, I hope.”

Law shrugs, “Yeah.” He pauses, then mutters something under his breath. “In a good way.”

You’d blurt out your feelings here and now, if it were anyone else. But this is Law, and you kind of like him a lot, so you want to do things right. Besides, that would probably only scare him away- he seems like the kind of man who carefully works his way up to a relationship. With a friendly smile, you accept his statement. Because now that you know he considers you a friend at the very least, and more than likely shares your affections… you’re in no rush.

The night goes by quickly in his company, and soon enough you spot the golden rays of the sun peaking over the horizon.

“We should do this again sometime,” you tell him as the sun starts to climb higher into the sky (quicker than you’d like), “I had fun talking to you.”

Law nods, “Just let me know when you’re keeping watch,” he waves over his shoulder as he walks away, “I’ll be there.”

And when he makes it back to the privacy of his room, Law replays the night in his head. Over and over and over again, until he comes to a not-so-shocking conclusion. “Shit:”

“I’m falling for y/n.”

[poprock-gangsta]

𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖗

☆ ☆ ☆ 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 ☆ ☆ ☆

Summary: If life's hardships can be likened to a living hell, then your existence seems to have plunged into a realm of double torment. The perpetrator of this suffering? None other than Smiley, a figure who paradoxically claims affection for you.

Kinks: Degrading, Impact Play, Breeding (ofc), Humiliation, Sadism

Tw: Gaslighting, Manipulation, Bullying, Violence, Weird Ran

Word Count : 3.7k

Enjoy!

As you sat in class, your mind struggled to focus on the lesson at hand. Despite your best efforts, the minutes dragged on, and it seemed like time had come to a standstill. But just when you thought you couldn't take it any longer, the bell finally rang. You gathered your belongings, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid the gaze of your personal executioner.

As you stepped out of the classroom, you were suddenly enveloped into someone's embrace. You didn't even need to look up to know who it was - the familiar scent and uncomfortable pressure of their arms were unmistakable. "Not now, Nahoya," you protested, attempting to squirm your way out of his grasp .

Disgrauding your protest, he tightens his hold, pulling you closer into him until every breath is a struggle and you have to look up at him just to breathe. A wicked grin spreads across his face, as he maneuvers you forcefully towards the rooftop. Your attempts to resist prove fruitless, despite your desperate struggle. Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you both, and you find yourself on the ground, positioned between his legs, while he leans against the fence. As time passes, you endeavor to turn around and catch a glimpse of his face, only to have him thwart your efforts by wrapping his arms around your waist, and burying his chin in your shoulders.

"Come on, Nahoya I’m going to be late!” you urge loudly however he persists, nuzzling his chin deeper into the hollow of your shoulders. The pleas and appeals for understanding continue to fall on deaf ears, until, at last, he grows weary of your entreaties. Letting out a protracted sigh, he concedes, albeit in a sadistic tone that sends a shiver coursing down your spine. "Fine, fine, if you're so desperate to make it to class,give me a kiss," his words echo with an unsettling edge. Caught off guard by his proposition, you hesitate momentarily, but knowing how he was you knew this was your only way of getting out so summoning all your courage you turn around.

With your eyes locked, you reach out to hold his cheeks, gradually leaning closer, only to have him retreat at the last moment, denying your advance. Undeterred, you persistently make subsequent attempts, each ending in the same frustrating manner. Exasperated, you decide you've had enough, and turned back to gaze upon the solid expanse of the cemented rooftop floor. "Aw Snowflake I knew you wanted to spend some time with me " he remarks, in a playful yet theatrical tone. Determined to disregard his comment, you shift your focus to your phone, and text your friend in hopes to get their notes for the day.

Hearing you type causes Nahoya to resolutely rest his neck on your shoulders, drawing you in even closer. “Who are you texting Snowflake?” he says while his once playful tone takes a sharp turn, exuding an air of rudeness and dominance. Attempting to disregard his intrusive question, you find yourself at his mercy as he begins peppering your neck with delicate butterfly kisses. Your instincts compel you to squirm away, but his vice-like grip renders any movement futile, leaving you trapped in his embrace. The incessant teasing reaches its breaking point, and you assertively confront him, stating, "I'm texting my friend to ask if I can borrow his notes since you refuse to let me go."

Abruptly, Nahoya ceases the trail of kisses down your neck and swiftly rises to his feet, simultaneously tugging you up with him. Not uttering a single word, he forcefully presses you against the fence's edge on the rooftop. A sense of confusion lingers in your gaze, yet he perceives it as an invitation, seizing the chance to engage you in a passionate, consuming kiss. As you lean back against the fence, attempting to find stability, Nahoya remains unfazed, wholly consumed by the fervent clash of your tongues.

As your lungs start to sear, you surrender the power struggle. Nahoya detects the intensity of your grip, and after what feels like an eternity, he gradually releases himself. Helplessly, you witness the thread of saliva snap, and just like the thread you collapsed to your knees. Nahoya proceeds to depart, leaving you with a final remark. "Talking about another man while I’m right here is such a turn off, so let's give this another shot after school." And don’t try to run away cause I would rather not have to punish you.

He descends the stairs, his laughter resonating throughout, while you remain seated, lost in contemplation over the recent events. Nahoya had wreaked havoc on your high school existence, tarnishing your reputation through spreading rumors that kept potential relationships at bay. He even went as far as capturing images of himself on your phone, to falsely portray you as a stalker. Moreover, he coerced you into a forced kiss with a guy in the presence of his girlfriend, branding you as a pervert and subjecting you to relentless bullying. So why did a single kiss from him set your heart racing, and why did you find solace in his discomfort? Nothing seemed to align in this bewildering haze.

After regaining composure, you composed yourself and made your way to class. As you took your seat beside your best friend, you noticed your teacher shooting a skeptical glance in your direction. Unlike the rest, your friend saw past the rumors and odd perceptions, never deeming you strange. You made an effort not to burden him, knowing his genuine character, yet his expression betrayed his concern. To alleviate his worries, you hastily jotted down a message on a piece of paper and handed it to him. With a quick read, he responded with an affirming thumbs up. The note simply explained that your tardiness was due to a visit to the nurse's office.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of yet another class, you retreated, this time infused with a newfound fervor compared to earlier. The weight of impending consequences loomed over you, threatening harm to either yourself or someone dear if you dared to be late for your rendezvous with Nahoya. With a hurried motion, you hastily stowed away your last pencil, neglecting to bid farewell to your friend or fully zip up your backpack. Without delay, you bolted out of the classroom, driven by an urgent sense of purpose.

Returning to the rooftop before Nahoya arrived, you gently placed your book bag on the ground, allowing your gaze to descend upon the sprawling campus below. Surprisingly, from this elevated vantage point, the view revealed a captivating beauty that had eluded your perception from ground level. It struck you as paradoxical that a place which inflicted such profound anguish could possess such resplendence in the afternoon light. Regrettably, this allure only served to deepen the painful scars etched within you.

After a brief interval, Nahoya materializes, prompting you to turn your gaze towards him. Yet, his countenance lacks the usual exuberant smile that earned him his moniker. Evidently, he must have detected your suspicion, as he proceeds to explain, "Mikey insists we attend a party to celebrate his sister, and it's crucial that we bring along a companion of the opposite gender to maintain a balanced guest list as we’re Emma's exact words." As he finishes his statement, his anger becomes even more apparent. Drawing nearer, he enfolds you in a tight embrace, before confiding, "Every girl I contemplated inviting was either doused in a cheap ass perfume or concealed beneath layers of fake personalities." In that moment, you discerned his true intention.

Firm and resolute, you assert, "No, Nahoya, I’m not going " emphasizing your words with an air of authority. However, when he retorts, "Well, Snowflake, it would be a shame if something were to happen to your dear friend," a wave of fear and anger overtakes your countenance. Aware of Nahoya 's propensity to act upon his threats, you choose to remain silent, releasing a sigh of resignation before reluctantly conceding, "Fine, I'll go." In that moment, Nahoya finally relinquished his grip on you, planting a hasty kiss on your cheek. "Good. I'll meet you there at 6," he remarks before abruptly dashing off.

After casting one final glance at the enchanting vistas of the campuses, you swiftly made your way back home. With a sense of purpose, you stepped into the refreshing cascade of the shower, commencing your preparations for the evening. At first, uncertainty plagued your choice of attire, until a recollection stirred within you — the prom dress you had purchased but never had the courage to wear, apprehensive of the potential consequences. Determinedly, you locate the dress and carefully slip into its elegant embrace. Adorned with a pair of exquisite earrings and a delicate mist of perfume, you step out the door, embarking on your journey towards the address Nahoya had communicated while you were amidst the shower's rejuvenating waters.

Beneath the seemingly ordinary facade of a vacation setting lay a realm of sheer magnificence awaiting your entry. Stepping inside, you were instantly immersed in its resplendence. The air pulsated with energetic music, and the surroundings teemed with a vibrant tapestry of people engaged in various pursuits—some lost in passionate embraces in secluded corners, while others reveled in the liberating consumption of drinks. In this moment, everything seemed to align, and you found yourself truly enjoying the experience. No judgment or mistreatment weighed upon you; you were free to embrace your authentic self, basking in the brilliance of your existence.

Yet, the euphoria was abruptly shattered when an unfortunate misstep caused you to stumble, resulting in a twisted ankle. Gradually, the pain escalated, prompting you to seek respite in a place of solace. Thankfully, an unoccupied couch beckoned invitingly, conveniently positioned outdoors by the pool. As you reached the couch, you gingerly removed your heels, settling onto its comfortable cushions. Tenderly, you began massaging your ankle, seeking to alleviate the throbbing ache that had encroached upon your otherwise joyous affair.

After a few fleeting moments, you yielded to the impulse of closing your eyes, granting your mind the freedom to wander. Yet, your tranquil reverie was abruptly interrupted by a soft voice interjecting, "May I join you?" Startled, you opened your eyes to find a tall boy with a distinctive hairstyle, his hair twisted into two braided strands of contrasting blonde and black. Respectfully, you removed your feet from the couch, gesturing with your hands for him to take a seat. Obliging, he settled down beside you, and a conversation ensued. "It seems you were seeking some respite in the open air as well," you acknowledged with a nod, seeking to establish a shared connection with your newfound acquaintance.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, a sense of camaraderie blossomed between you and your intriguing new companion. Ran, as you discovered, hailed from a different gang, but had secured an invitation due to his brother's friendships within this circle. Expressing his aversion to the revelry and libations that pervaded the gathering, Ran confided that he sought solace in the fresh air, a sentiment you wholeheartedly shared. Engrossed in conversation, you and Ran continued to converse, gradually drawing closer until your shoulders nearly brushed against each other. This uncharted territory evoked a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty within you, for this was your first genuine connection with someone beyond the confines of your existing friendship.

Just then Ran's hand ventured onto your thigh, an instinctual reaction propelled you to gently place your hand atop his, a subtle gesture intended to halt any further advances. However, instead of acknowledging your boundaries, Ran's tone shifted, his voice acquiring an edge as he urged, "Come on, Doll. You're an enchanting girl, and I wouldn’t mind sharing something more precious with you." His words dripped with a demanding intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Attempting to extricate yourself from the uncomfortable situation, you mustered the courage to rise, only to be forcefully pulled back down by Ran, intensifying your fear and confusion.

Just when it seemed like things were spiraling towards an even darker path, a sudden appearance disrupted the unfolding turmoil. Nahoya materialized before you, but his countenance betrayed a sinister transformation. A grin adorned his face, but it was not the customary playful smile you had grown accustomed to; instead, it bore the malicious smirk he wore every time he succeeded in orchestrating the ruin of a significant aspect of your life. In this unexpected moment, despite the fear gripping you, an inexplicable desire for Nahoya 's intervention surged within you, magnifying the complexity of your emotions.

In that harrowing moment, a devastating realization struck you with unrelenting force—this was all part of Nahoya 's twisted machinations. Tears welled up in your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as Smiley ominously drew closer. The weight of his presence, coupled with the weight of years of torment, caused you to crumble completely. His hand upon you unleashed a torrent of pent-up rage, an outpouring of emotions that surged forth with raw intensity. "Don't you dare lay a finger on me, you sick, despicable bastard! What have I ever done to deserve this treatment? You've shattered my life, you’ve destroyed me!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and anguish. Without a moment's hesitation, you fled, racing upstairs and seeking refuge within an empty room.

In that secluded space, devoid of solace or answers, you found yourself sprawled upon the floor, fixated upon the expanse of the ceiling above. It became your silent confidant, a witness to the turmoil consuming your soul. In that vulnerable state, your only recourse was to lay there, hoping that somehow, someway, the mere act of staring at the ceiling would grant respite from the anguish that enveloped you.

As footsteps echo outside the bedroom, you gather your wits, scanning the room to identify the approaching presence. It comes as no surprise when Nahoya appears at the doorway. "What do you want now?" you ask, your voice tinged with despair and desperation. He remains silent, advancing towards you on the floor. In response, you rise from the floor and take a seat on the bed’s edge.

So he joins you, bringing you side by side with the man who has inflicted immeasurable torment upon you. Honesty compels you to admit that the urge to strangle him is overwhelming, yet you valiantly suppress that dark inclination within you.

A tranquil silence enveloped the room, only to be disrupted when Nahoya swiftly seized your waist, pulling you into his lap. You attempt to utter a question, but it is swiftly silenced as Nahoya engulfs you in a passionate, fervent kiss. Struggling against his advances, you vigorously pound your hands against his chest, but he quells your resistance by firmly grasping both of your hands with one of his own. Eventually, he releases his grip, leaving you bewildered, and it is in this moment of perplexity that he utters something utterly unforeseen, catching you off guard.

"I love you," he murmurs gently into your ear, and a surge of emotions floods your being, as if a cherished part of your soul had been brutally torn apart, as if a searing flame had been mercilessly pressed against an open wound. With tear-filled eyes, you lock your gaze upon him, the weight of his words sinking deep within you, intermingling with the memories of his countless transgressions.

"Hahaha, love? Are you mocking me? If inflicting pain upon me is your twisted way of expressing love, then you are even more deranged than I had believed," you retort, your voice trembling with a mix of anguish and frustration. Your tears continue to flow unabated as you vividly recollect the litany of wrongs committed by this man. In that poignant moment, Nahoya abruptly seizes your cheek, his touch both possessive and venomous. "Any man who claims to love you is only seeking to possess your body, and we both know the bitter truth," he hisses, his words laced with a poisonous disdain.

His words struck a painful chord, resonating with a bitter truth. It was an undeniable fact that love had become an elusive concept, forever out of reach for someone like you. He had meticulously orchestrated a web of manipulation, ensuring that you would never experience genuine affection from another. He craved total possession, sparing no one in his relentless pursuit, driving you to a point of no return—a place where he alone held sway over your existence.

Yes, he had succeeded in molding you into his puppet, a mere object to satisfy his whims. However, the scars he had inflicted upon you, both visible and invisible, were etched deep within your being. And now, driven by a seething resolve, you were prepared to exact your revenge, even if it meant sacrificing everything, selling your very soul. Nothing held meaning anymore; your sole purpose had become witnessing his descent into the abyss of moral decay, just as you had.

Driven by your fervent objective, you seized his collar, forcefully pulling him closer until your lips collided in an all-consuming kiss. In that intense moment, a battle for control ensued, as tongues danced and mingled, each vying for supremacy within the confines of your mouths. Gasping for breath, you reluctantly disengaged, allowing the oxygen to replenish your lungs before willingly succumbing to the gravitational pull of one another. The fiery embrace recommenced, an unabated display of ardor, igniting a blazing heat that coursed through your veins, awakening a primal desire that stirred between your quivering thighs.

With a swift yet deliberate motion, he gently guides you to recline upon the bed, the weight of his presence enveloping you. As his hands deftly weave through your tresses, your fingers instinctively entwine in his hair, hovering tantalizingly above your supine form. With each deliberate caress, his skillful touch sends electric waves of pleasure coursing through your body, intensifying the growing dampness that permeates your undergarments. "Are you sure ready to give in yet, Snowflake?" he queries, his voice a seductive blend of allure and sophistication, teasingly testing your desires. With a deep inhalation, you nod in affirmation, your breath hitching in anticipation, yearning to experience the euphoric ecstasy only he can bestow.

As he swiftly removed your pants and your adorable ribboned panties, his grin widened. While his fingers creep up your thigh and send shivers up your spine. A trembling moan of surprise escapes your lips as his hand slaps down against your pussy.As he ran his finger along your pouty lips, you melted in his hands. You moaningl arched your back and sank further into the mattress as he drew tight circles on your clit.

He grabbed his cock that was dripping with percum and lined it up at your sopping entrance, slapping his flushed pink tip against it a few times.

I’m He slowly eased his way inside, trying to giving you a chance to get used to his height and bulk. You whimper as you cling to the bed sheets. Just then he slammed himself into your sweet spot , saying, "Your so tight for me , f..fuck." He then dragged his cock back out, leaving only his flushed tip inside.

“M…Naho, too deep…sh~

You began to feel strange and whimpered. He speeds up to a more rough pace. He continued to stuff his thick cock into your cute little cunt. Digging his nail deeper into your love handles every time he slams his cock balls deep into you.

“ M’ mm if I knew y-youu were this goodd I would havvve done thhis years ago f-”

He thrusted hard into you causing you to see stars . It was as if your entire focus was on seducing him into cumming deep inside of you. At that precise moment, he grabbed you by the waist and impaled you on his plump cock, causing his balls to slap against your ass. 10x

He waited for your cunt to begin twitching and spasming around him. Your screams drowned out all other sounds in the room. You’re about to cum for me” Will then you dirty slut go head and cum all over my thick cock? Milk me dry” bet you can’t wait to have my fat load inside.” In a condescending tone, he leaned in and whispered in your ear.

In silence, you allowed him to continue pounding your weeping cunt, groaning into your ear, and biting at your neck. “I want you to cum on my cock like the filthy whore that you are, so "cum for me Snowflake"

After a couple more hard thrusts, you finally unraveled on him, your cunt squeezing so tightly that he started to see stars. Your cum causes a creamy white ring to form on the base of Nahoya cock.

“Fuckkk… I need to be stuffed with my cum. Until it looks like I've used up every last bit of you, but that's fine, because you want me to fuck a cute little baby into you, right?” You nodded absentmindedly as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in response to his meow in your ear. He slammed you against his cock several more times before releasing a stream of warm cum into your uterus. A single step forward felt like it would bring you completely undone.

He held his position so that when he did eventually pull out, as little of his cum as possible would be wasted. You lay there, gasping for air as he gave you gentle thrusts to further embed his cum in your body.

Once he pulled out he got up from the bed and went over to the dresser and pulled out a butt plug. Getting back in bed he opens your legs and places it right inside making sure that not a single drop of his cum was wasted. And with that you pulls you into his embrace and says “ I love you Snowflake, and I can’t wait for a future” you in response braying your chin into his shoulder and whisper mound enough to wear you can only hear it.

“Yep I also can’t wait for are hellish future together”

[cedarxwing]

The ending of Hannibal the novel explained

(aka the breastfeeding scene)

Here's the passage (end of Chapter 101):

I thought everyone was kidding about the breastfeeding kink jokes until my partner read Hannibal and the whole ending flew over their head. Their main takeaway was "that was weird." When I checked reddit, it seemed everyone was confused there too. I was gobsmacked to see one guy say that Thomas Harris was playing some cruel joke on the reader by writing an ending that didn't make sense!

How many people are reading Hannibal like this, completely missing the resolution to Hannibal's character arc? They must finish the book confused about what it was all about in the first place. So here's how I understand it!

First, I need to get this out of the way: a lot of people hate this scene, and from what I understand it's because they're weirded out by the "breastfeeding kink." Which is fine, but it makes me want to gently hold them by the hand and tell them that it's ok for someone to suck on a nipple. It happens all the time. Sometimes it just feels good, sometimes it's part of a breastfeeding fantasy, and sometimes it's literal breastfeeding. Between consenting adults, this is all fine and normal. Let's all move past this knee-jerk repulsion (or alternatively, sit in our discomfort and expand our horizons) so we can analyze this piece of art together. :)

Next, authors LOVE Freudian psychoanalysis. Even though it's all nonsense, it's full of literary allusion and makes for compelling narratives and character studies (childhood maladjustment, repressed memories, etc), which is basically catnip for a writer. Thomas Harris was no exception, and probably creamed himself (as I did) when he learned that Freud's oral-sadistic stage was also termed the "cannibalistic stage," referring to the time when an infant is growing teeth and begins to bite at the breast--the psychosexual urge to devour and destroy the thing you love. What could be more appropriate for Hannibal?

Next, consider the pattern of Hannibal's Il Mostro murders. He killed young couples in one of the most romantic cities in the world, then arranged them as Chloris and Zephyr from Botticelli's Primavera, exposing Chloris's left breast just like in the painting. In classical art, an exposed breast is often a symbol of fertility. Chloris is associated with spring, new growth, and transformation.

Perhaps, at the time, Hannibal rationalized these murders as retribution for rude behavior. Maybe the couples were performing disgusting PDA. Maybe they were obnoxious tourists on their honeymoons. Either way, it's clear to the reader that Hannibal has some deep-seated hang up about sex and romance.

The particulars of this hang up are open to interpretation, but based on Hannibal's obsession with the rape and transformation of Chloris as well as his embarrassment at the paintings of Leda and the Swan in the German's house, I think it's safe to say that Hannibal feels like any relationship he has with a woman who isn't aware of his true (monstrous) identity would involve a degree of violence/lack of consent. He is forever barred from normal romance.

Having given up on sex/romance, Hannibal is unable to consciously recognize his desire for Clarice, so he sublimates it into a more general familial love. He longs for a return to innocence, to return to the time before he ate Mischa and became an unlovable monster (cue the teacup metaphor).

But even familial love seems like too much to hope for, so he sublimates it further into something that seems more attainable: resurrecting the person whom he loved and devoured, and who loved him in turn (Mischa) through Clarice.

So we have the breast as a symbol of sex/fertility (Chloris/Clarice), as an object that is loved and devoured (Mischa), and as a literal source of sustenance that must be given up during infancy (mommy).

Big brain Clarice connects all these dots and, in the very same style of therapy that Hannibal has been using on her, distills Hannibal's psychological problems into a single poetic gesture that completely fixes Hannibal in an instant, proving that she's not only his intellectual equal, but is, in some ways, his superior.

When Clarice asks, "Did you ever feel that you had to relinquish the breast to Mischa? Did you ever feel you were required to give it up for her?", she's ostensibly asking Hannibal if he's stuck in the oral stage of childhood development (which yeah he probably is). On a deeper level, she's asking Hannibal to consider if he's given up on love.

When Clarice exposes her breast in the same fashion as Chloris, says, "You don’t have to give up this one", and suspends the drop of wine from her nipple, she is shifting his perception of her breast from familial devoured sustenance to a sexual object. Basically, "Why do you want me to pretend I'm your sister when we could be banging?" Hannibal is being aged out of his childlike mindset, not regressing into one.

There are other layers of meaning in this act. The hedonism of using thousand dollar wine for food play is a sign of Clarice's character development. The way Hannibal kneels before Clarice is a position of subservience, but could also be interpreted as devouring Clarice in a way that's new to him. It's the most self-actualized thing Hannibal has done since escaping prison (LOL) and marks the end of his hero's journey (as one of the first things we see him do in Hannibal Rising is nurse).

Personally, I don't read this scene as breastfeeding kink. Yeah, Clarice talks about breastfeeding, but that was more a metaphor for other stuff. Considering the direction of Hannibal's character arc, I understand this scene as him briefly licking the wine off before they have sex. But to each their own! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ANYWAY, yeah, it's unsettling. It's obviously meant to be. But it's beautifully unsettling! Hate it all you want, but this is peak cannibal romance, to me!!