#Self-Realization blueprint

[aaronabke]

An Overview of Self Mastery Blueprint | Aaron Abke's

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[slytherinslut0]

lorenzo berkshire • run.

summary: how do you define the man who embodies contradiction? a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare?

after some pushing, you realize you’ve always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. and perhaps, you also realize, he’s the most dangerous kind of all.

word count: 5.9k

warnings: forced proximity trope, SMUT, multiple orgasm, teasing, PIV, fingering, a chase through the forest, jealousy (slight weaponizing of mattheo), established boundaries entirely consensual, dark!enzoberkshire (meh), left the door open for a part two considering i never elaborate on where they’re going.

Lorenzo Berkshire. He is what he is, until he isn't.

Growing up, you always held your perceptions of Berkshire close. A sweet boy with a puppy dog stare, eyes like liquid amber holding the gentle warmth of a summer's dawn. Innocent lad with a cheeky smile that radiated like sunlight on a dew-kissed meadow--simply too damn nice for his own good. A walking ray of sunshine, wouldn't harm a fly with a feather.

He was what he was, until he wasn't.

You're not entirely certain when the switch flipped, when he chose to reveal his true self to the school and no longer cared to conceal it. You suspect it was around fifth year, perhaps during one of the winter months. You recall hearing it before seeing it, albeit faintly—the rush of footsteps, the sound of flesh meeting stone, the sickening thud of fist against face.

And when your eyes finally caught up to your ears, you recall yourself silently thanking the stars for the gracious gift of karma, and you'll never forget the silent exchange you shared with Berkshire as he was finally pulled, nay dragged, up and away from your cheating, scumbag ex.

He is what he is, until he isn't.

From this, the question still stood to linger: what precisely is Lorenzo Berkshire? These days, if anyone is to know, it should be you. You've spent ample time in close quarters with him, enough to dare attempt an answer. Moments etched in memory, his breath warm against your neck, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin, his lips mapping the crease of your thighs; among others. You suspect that, more than anyone else, you could provide a solid insight into the truth of this enigmatic man.

And yet, the answer eludes description.

How does one configure the blueprint of a man who embodies contradiction—a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare? He defies categorization, existing at the intersection of light and shadow, warmth and danger, innocence and intensity.

Understanding Lorenzo Berkshire, in his entirety, would mean subjecting yourself to the dualities of his nature—standing in both the path of his aggression and the shelter of his protection. It necessitates penetrating beneath his skin to fathom the intricacies of his design and ascending above to attain a panoramic view.

It entails becoming his adversary before earning the privilege of his friendship, which is precisely where you falter—because how do you become an enemy to a man who's already been silently protecting you for years? Who not only touches but worships you with reverence? Who smiles like sin as he kneels before your altar? Who, despite any provocation that may test his patience, has never and would never suggest severing ties?

Perhaps, you decide, the closest you can get is by first figuring out how to get under his skin.

——

"Enz," the word's a hiss, slipping through breathless cords. "You're moving too fast."

Enzo's response is terse, a nod accompanied by a faint smirk that dances across his lips before he continues on, unabated.

"Noted." The word carries zero sincerity.

You fight a groan, frustration simmering beneath your skin. Yes, you anticipated his lacklustre response, yet it did little to quell the mounting annoyance within you, creeping toward heights of Everest.

"Enz--where are we even going?"

It's pathetic really, your vocal inflection. A half-assed plea for a response you know you won't receive. He must detect it too, for all he offers in acknowledgment is a dry chuckle, effortlessly shoving a branch aside as he ducks beneath it. You groan, audibly this time, the chill wind cutting through you like a knife.

"Enzo," you beseech him, again, your voice a breeze lost in the vastness of the night, "please just slow your pace...talk to m-"

With clear reluctance Enzo pauses, abruptly, as though someone poured cement into his shoes. He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness like a beacon--brief and pulsing. You hardly have time to meet his eyes before he's moving again.

"We can't afford to slow down," is all he offers as he resumes his long strides. "Not now."

The urge to strangle him swells within you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your sanity whole. How you curse the moment you offered to accompany him on this perilous journey. How you yearn to be back in the safety of your bed, cocooned in the warmth of the castle walls, far from the chaos that ensues when you entangle yourself with Slytherin boys and their penchant for trouble. Yet here you are, a prisoner of your own folly. By this point you're certain you'll never learn.

You huff your frustration. "Gods, Enzo."

Without giving him time to deflect, you quicken your steps and reach out, grasping his wrist, instantly acknowledging the tension in his skin beneath your touch. Then, in an instant, two eyes the colour of burnt honey pivot to lock onto yours, and you see it--that ferocity. Bees buzzing with anger at the sight of their spoil. It's there. It's always there.

He is what he is--

"We've been walking for fucking ever." As you exhale, the air swallows your breath. "I'm not going to help you if you won't reason with me. If you don't tell me where the hell we're going."

"Your word was given, angel," it's short, cautiously curt, but it's enough. His tone a velvet glove masking the steel beneath. "Wasn't it?"

"My word was given, but it was also contingent on trust." You survey your surroundings. Trees, bush, and Merlin knows what else. Your shoulders slouch. "And right now, that's in short supply."

He blinks, eyes floating up and over your head, a glimpse as fleeting as twilight, before returning to meet your own. You see it again, swirling in his irises, though it's softened slightly by something you perceive as guilt. The winds howl, sucking air thin as the tension thickens, congealing in your throat.

"You know I'd never endanger you."

--until he isn't.

There's a waver in your gaze, torn between the desire to hold his sight and the temptation to descend on his lips. You don't miss the purity in his tone, a sweetness that saturates the honey in his eyes and leaves nothing but pure sugar lingering on your tongue. So saccharine it makes your teeth ache, yet you find yourself craving more.

At any other moment, you'd believe him. Now, far within the depths of the forbidden forest, the circumstances allude it.

"You doubt me," his voice cuts through the silence like a blade through silk. He couldn't miss your hesitation in a dream. You feel his skin turn to ice beneath your touch. "Since when?"

Doubting Enzo feels foreign, a betrayal of self. It's no secret that the man is troublesome, usually up to no good--but you've always known, even as his teeth graze your pulse and his hands encircle your throat, that the last thing he'd ever do is hurt you. This isn't your character. Tonight's different, and you know he senses it.

"Since you started coming out here in the middle of the night," your voice is a whisper, releasing his wrist before you could feel the inevitable leap of his pulse. "Since I had to bribe Mattheo with damn near half my worth to get him to tell me why."

One thing for certain about Lorenzo Berkshire, it's that he should come with a warning. A word of advice not to be deceived by his soft appearance. All puppy cuddles with sharply fangs oozing venom. A caution to approach with the wariness reserved for handling hazardous materials. An infomercial on how his embrace is as deceiving as it is lethal, a trap set with a smile and an eager wag of the tail.

Except, now, there was no smile. No wag. Just the trap.

"You bribed Mattheo." He repeated, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder, entirely disregarding the beginning portion of your statement. "And just what exactly did you have to offer to loosen his tongue?"

A lightbulb burst to life in your brain. A waking sun. A brazen flame. The answer, so glaringly obvious in retrospect, had been within reach all along. What rouses a dormant dragon from slumber? What pokes a sleeping bear to wake? It is the threat to their belongings—the primal instinct to protect what is theirs at all costs. To perceive any potential threat and squash it at it source.

This was your moment.

You could insinuate that you tempted Mattheo with your own tongue in exchange, perhaps alongside the opportunity to mark your knees with bruises. You could say you offered your body, your dignity, anything that might garner a reaction. Of course, the truth was far more mundane; it only took a meagre 30 galleons and a pinky promise to loosen Mattheo's lips. And he didn't even tell you anything worth knowing.

But if you aimed to stoke the fires of Lorenzo Berkshire's wrath and draw his fury upon yourself, this appeared to be the sole route remaining. For throughout all the years of knowing him, the one consistent trigger that never failed to ignite his fury was any hint of a threat...against you.

But before you could comprehend the lapse in your response, Enzo stepped closer, your name hissed through clenched teeth. "What'd you give him?"

Your heart thrashed like a caged animal. The wind billowing through the depleted space between your bodies, tousling his hair in the night. Did the forest always sound like this? Didn't he just say you couldn't afford to slow down?

Your gaze meets the air over his shoulder. "You're deflecting my question."

"And you, mine," another step forward, and you take one back. You can't help but notice his fingers twitch at his sides. "Why?"

Have you added astuteness to your Enzo observation list? If not, it must be at the top. He's always been a master at unmasking your bluffs with a single, cutting retort, dripping from the teeth with condescension.

Your eye twitches. "You're just full of questions tonight, aren't you?"

He doesn't find your deflection half as amusing as you do. "Only because I'm being met with evasive answers.”

"Huh." You cock an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Nosey and entitled."

"Hm," he cracks a grin at that. Purely to spite you, you're sure. Purely to make your pulse skyrocket. "I prefer curious and expectant."

"Quite a pair of traits." Tension thickens in your throat. You force yourself to swallow it. "You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?"

His grin widens. "I'm certain you'll enlighten me."

You peer at him, your eyes searching for warmth in the dim of the forest but finding none, like bees seeking nectar in barren fields. You square your shoulders, trying your damnedest to ignore the distant howling sounds coming from the forests depths.

"It's a tale as old as time, Enz, I'm sure you've heard it." A branch snaps underfoot, the sound jolting you back to reality, but you swallow the instinctual yelp that threatens to escape your lips. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Before you can even process it, Enzo moves with lightning speed, seizing your wrist just as you reel from the inevitable impact of your back colliding with an ancient oak behind you. Pulling you into him, his face moves dangerously close to yours, your eyes converging, honey pouring over your skin, sucking you in like quicksand.

"You know there's another part to it, don't you?" his voice cuts through the air like a dagger, sharp and precise. He waits for you to settle before he continues. "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."

That bastard.

"It doesn't matter what I gave him," you force yourself out of hesitation, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart, the tingling sting on your spine. "I'm still here with you, aren't I?"

His silence is telling. Bottomless pits pin you down, an anvil in influence alone.

And then he breaks it. "It matters to me."

"Why?" you press, your curiosity piqued by his insistence. You're trying to drag this on for as long as you can but his intensity has you stumbling. Words flow like water. "Who cares, really? I mean-"

"Because," he slices your sentence in two. The latter dying from lack of purpose.

Your lips thin to a pursed line. You blink up at him through lidded eyes, mouth opening to speak but nothing comes out as he leans in closer, so close you can practically taste his breath. He'd never been possessive before, not like this. But perhaps you never gave him a reason to be. You've always been his, unquestioned, unsanctioned. Despite the lack of title. You know he’s only acting this way because you’re deflecting. Your heart barrels into your throat, desperate to claw its way out.

"Because I said so," he continues, his grip on your wrist tightening with each passing moment, his nails leaving indentations in the bark beside your head. "Because, whatever dept you owe him, I'll help you absolve it. Professionally."

A sickening grin creeps across your lips, and his eyes are glued to it. You're skinned raw under his gaze, his pupils so piercing you feel them in the marrow of your bones. You observe the subtle flicker of his tongue, moistening his lips as he gleams down at you--your saviour from above, your dormant dragon, your slumbering bear.

He is what he is.

"I don't need your saving, Enzo," your voice is a breath, as soft as a phoenix feather. As flaming as one too. "I need your honesty."

"My honesty." He repeats as he leans in closer, his hand shifting to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You shudder under his possession, his lips grazing against your jaw like fire and ice, simultaneously scorching and soothing. "I'll give you my honesty, angel."

You sigh as you hear the unctuous in that tone. You know he isn't going to give you what you're asking for, but he'll give you enough to quench your thirst. Classic fucking Berkshire. He releases his grip on your wrist, replacing it with a firm hold on your hip, anchoring you to reality.

"My honesty is I knew you'd try to come tonight, and I only let you because at least here, at my side, I can protect you." Warm lips brush feather-light against your lobe. "My honesty, is if Riddle puts a fucking hand on you, we're going to have a problem."

As the last few words spill from his lips, you feel as though you've got a sugar high, his words oozing with saccharine sweetness, like indulging in a bowl of chocolates or sipping from a concentrated cauldron of peach juice. They have a cloying effect, threatening to rot your teeth and stain your tongue. Just like his eyes.

And it's right then, that you come to a startling realization. You've always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. He's not one to overwhelm with his presence, but rather a relentless force, a perpetual energy that never fades. A silent protector, yet also a silent aggressor. He's a master of masking his anger, of controlling it with a precision that borders on chilling, only bringing it out to protect what's his.

Perhaps, you realize, he's the most dangerous kind of man of all.

"Always acting as my shield," you can barely get the words out, your voice soft and reverent, as though speaking in prayer. "My silent knight."

"Mm." Enzo's lips curve into a sardonic smile against your temple. "Only fitting for an angel."

His hands roam up your hips with a possessive urgency, pulling you closer to him until there's barely an inch of space between your bodies. His face buries into your hair, his breath stirring the strands as he holds you close, fingers digging into your waist.

"I know you didn't offer him what's mine," it's not a question, but a statement of absolute conviction, spoken with the confidence of a seer who reads the future unraveling before them. "I know I fuck you too good for that."

"You're right, Enz," you concede, lids fluttering shut, folding faster than a lawn chair in tornado season. How could you not, when he's exerting this kind of influence over you? "I didn't."

You still had no idea why the two of you were out here. And at this point, it was hardly an afterthought.

"Then what's your play here, angel," he growls through a groan, a ferocious intensity ignited in the way he's squeezing you, pressing your hips back against the tree. "What the fuck are you trying to do to me."

Your lips part, poised to release the words swirling within your mind, when a sound pricks your ears. Not a sound of your own making. Something distant, yet distinct.

In an instant, your eyes snap open, but the darkness shrouds any clear view, offering only faint glimpses of looming branches and rustling leaves. Enzo remains oblivious, seemingly consumed by the frustrated desire you've so eagerly drawn from him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a futile attempt to push him back. "Enzo—"

"Are you trying to test me, angel?" Deep as the forest depths. As dark as them, too. His hands leave your hips and find your wrists, pinning them back against the bark above your head. "Make me jealous, yeah?"

There's another sound, now, drawing closer. You blink up at the complicated man before you, fluttering eyelashes fanning the crease of your lid. Bark burns into your skin as his intensity increases, body sweating under the heat of his eyes as they drip down at you, fever rising by the second— fear and arousal mingling as one.

"Enz-" you hardly have time to breathe before his lips are on your neck, and he's sucking. Hard. "Fuck."

Adrenaline surges you, rushing your lungs with rapid breath, sparks of lust snapping over your skin. Enzo has vanished, replaced by a storm cloud brewing with ominous intent, his once collected demeanour now a loaded gun with a cocked trigger. He was primed to annihilate, eager to erupt. You cursed yourself for pushing him to this brink, at this precise moment, as an impending threat loomed closer with unmistakable certainty.

A gasp escaped your lips as Enzo's teeth sank into your neck, branding you with purple pleasured marks of his possession.

"Enzo, damn it-" your voice is ragged, his lips trailing to the other side of your throat, the hold on your wrist growing tighter. You had to warn him. You didn't want him to stop. Your thoughts jumbled, your brain grappling with what to articulate first, settling on the throbbing pain in your wrists. "Gentle—"

Enzo groans against your neck, rolling his hips into you, fucking fire over every available expanse of flesh.

"Gentle." His breath tickles your neck, your thighs trembling, seeking friction as your hips move in rhythm with his. "I'll fuck you right here against this tree and the last fucking thing I'll be is gentle." A plea balloons in you, knocking teeth, choking. He senses it--a grin crawling across his lips in response. "That's what you wanted after all, isn't it angel?"

Nothing could stop the moan from fleeing your lips as he smirks against your pulse. Not even Merlin himself. Gripping the back of your head, Enzo crashes his lips to yours--hurried and unrelenting, the plush entirety soft and sweet and insatiable against your own. As quick as a lightening strike, you're drowning in his sugar, another realization settling on you like an encroaching dawn just how much of a taste you've developed for it. For him.

Then, he pulls away, breathing a command against your lips. "Run."

Your gut bottoms out--fear instantly drawn to the forefront of your ignorantly blissed brain--and before you can catch your breath or summon your stamina or attempt to direct some blood flow from your cunt back up to your head he's already propelling you forward, dragging you through the forest with a grip that could crush steel. Roots and branches blur past, the forest a chaotic whirlwind of greens and browns below your feet.

And it feels like hours, perhaps even years of running and dodging before Enzo finally slows his pace. You're both panting, gasping, chests heaving, but his urgency perseveres, gaze scanning the clearing as if in search of something, and then you see it, too—an old greenhouse tucked behind a few large trees, clearly abandoned.

Before you can process it, he's already on the move again, dragging you toward it.

He whips open the door and practically hurls you inside—the aged wood creaking on rusty hinges as it swings wide. His eyes, sharp as flint, dart back to survey the clearing you just fled from, and whatever he sees there seems to set his nerves on edge because before you can even blink he's striding toward you, his grip resuming its vice around your wrist as he pulls you toward a small supply closet.

You feel like a ragdoll. It's starting to get real fucking old. "Enzo-"

The words dissolve on your tongue when in an instant you find yourself inside the minuscule expanse of the closet, shelves stacked with gardening supplies, Enzo's breath pouring over the back of your neck, his body so fucking close to yours you can't take a breath without touching him. Reaching over you, he shuts the door and locks the two of you inside, engulfing you in a darkness so thick you can almost feel it clinging to your skin.

Then, there's silence, and suddenly you're aware of every inch of your existence, from the breath leaving your lungs to the sweat crawling behind your knees. Enzo shifts, as if uncomfortable, his crotch pressed firm against your ass and you can almost taste the intensity radiating from his eyes as his hands grip your waist, pulling you back against him with a force that makes breathing normally a distant dream.

"Poachers." He mutters against your neck.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you process his words, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. Poachers. You try to steady your breathing, but it's like trying to contain a storm within a teacup.

Your throats arid. "What do we do?"

You shift to adjust your stance, the sensation of Enzo's erratic exhales against your neck making your entire body tingle--and at your movements, he huffs, his grip on your waist tightening, his fingers pressing into your skin with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

"We wait." He murmurs, his voice rough, like gravel underfoot. "Stop moving."

You need to shut up, but you can't. "And if they come in here? If they find u-"

Enzo's hand clamps over your mouth, silencing your words with a firm yet gentle grip, embodying the duality of his character. Strong yet soft. Cold yet warm. Your pulse quickens, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. Only Lorenzo Berkshire could evoke such contradictory sensations, stirring arousal in the face of danger.

"Shh," he cooes against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Trust me."

Lungs hitching, you nod, though the gesture is barely perceptible beneath his palm. He doesn't free your mouth, however, instead choosing to tease your earlobe with his teeth, his free hand on your abdomen, holding you tight against him.

"You can do that, right, angel?" his tone as soft as feathers, a gentle coaxing that wraps around you like a warm blanket. "You trust me."

There's that inflection again. As right as rain. You know he's fully fucking aware that the way he's speaking to you is calming you down, just as he knows you trust him implicitly. You wouldn't have been out here in the first place if you didn't.

And just as you go to nod, to give him the best answer you can provide to his non-question, his lips descend, claiming your pulse, his grip over your mouth intensifying as he attacks it--slow and silent and determined, your back arching and your lids fluttering in response.

"Mhm, you know I've got you," his free hand trails up your stomach, slowing just as his thumb reaches the underwire of your bra. "Always have."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clench, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. You groan against his hand, his growing desire pushing against your ass as evident and desperate as his movements. Darkness cloaks the closet, stealing your sense of sight yet all the others are overwhelmed by him. He's all-consuming, everywhere, everything—

"But this," five poised fingers start to glide down your stomach, his lips shifting back to your ear. "Is what you get for testing me."

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid over your hips, thighs, like he hasn't done this before, like it's care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction, and he tsks you, shaking his head.

"You wanted gentle, didn't you, angel?" The tease in his tone makes you want to choke him. Sort of makes you want him to choke you, too. "Consider this my version of it. Be good."

His fingers slither under the band of your leggings, a slow, torturous crawl toward the epicenter of your longing. Your hands grasp for purchase in the darkness, but there's nothing substantial to hold onto, just like the ephemeral sensation of his touch. He's both intimidating and unnervingly gentle, leading you to the brink of ruin with calculated precision.

You whimper under his palm, hips jerking toward his touch, desperate for more, but it only causes him to go slower. He coos another command to be quiet, a teasing taunt dripping with wicked delight, and you can practically feel the satisfaction pouring from his lips. He's laser-focused on unraveling you, on making you utterly undone before giving you what you crave most.

When his index finger grazes over your clit, you audibly groan, head falling back against his shoulder.

"You can't rush penance, angel," his mouth opens in a smile against your ear, though it feels more like barred teeth. That smile is as much deadly as it is pretty. "Let it simmer."

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, trembling with the intensity of his touch. You're swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realize, and feel like you're choking when he starts to move lower, two fingers shifting your panties to the side and slicking through your folds.

"So wet." He's barely audible now, even as he's breathing the words into your eardrums. "Mm, so fucking wet."

Before you can prepare for it, those same two fingers inch inside you, and curl. Your eyes roll, his palm pulling your head back tight against his shoulder as he slowly finger fucks deep into you--in and out in perfect rhythm, the sloppy sounds emanating from your cunt filling the dark, steaming space and making your skin prickle with hot shame—you're fucking dripping for him.

He growls, low in his chest, and instinctively your legs spread wider, inviting him deeper, inviting him to inebriate you further. You're caught in the perfect balance of his contradiction, teetering on the edge between disciple and devil. He worships you in one breath and ruins you in the next. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Mine." Is all he mutters, before there's a sound outside the door, and you both freeze.

Footsteps.

Almost immediately, you're ripped from the derogatory haze you'd just found yourself in—your body stiffens, tension coiling through your limbs like icy tendrils, turning your blood to frost. Enzo's fingers slow, though they remain inside you, adjusting ever-so-slightly to avoid the slick sounds your cunt makes every time he moves. You feel his teeth tease your ear, his silent way of telling you to calm down. That he's got you.

The footsteps draw closer, and there's no mistaking it—someone, most definitely multiple someone's, are lurking just outside the door—in search, of you.

But before you can even entertain the thought, before it has a chance to sink in and settle in the recesses of your mind, Enzo crooks his fingers against a spot that sends sparks flying behind your eyelids, his thumb applying just enough pressure to your clit to send you hurtling into a realm of sensation he introduces you to regularly, but not one you were prepared to face in this moment, under these circumstances.

You grit your teeth, the urge to scream clawing at the back of your throat like a caged animal desperate for freedom. Enzo is ruthless, merciless, driving you to the very edge and daring you to jump--driving you to the edge of sanity and forcing you to suppress the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

The footsteps grow louder, veer closer, before they slow. Before they stop.

It's cataclysmic, catastrophic—a blaze raging in an open battlefield, a hellfire during open warfare. You hardly have a second to comprehend the sheer insanity of what you're engaged in before Enzo's pace intensifies and he yanks your head back against his shoulder with even more force, to the point you're certain the back of your skull will leave an indent on his skin.

His lips brush against your ear, practically daring you to cum— daring you to keep resisting.

"It's clear," a voice rings out, neither yours nor Enzo's. Footsteps pick back up and draw further away. "Let's move out."

And then, it's over. A weight lifts off your shoulders, a tidal wave crashing over you. Your body erupts, convulses, squeezing around Enzo's fingers and trembling against him as your climax charges through you like a raging bull, unstoppable and overwhelming.

You scream behind his palm, knees threatening to give out from under you, the gates of heaven themselves coming into clear fucking view.

"Good girl." He husks in your ear, working you through your high, his chest rising and falling against your back, the hunger evident in his words. "My little angel was so fucking good...I think she deserves a reward, doesn't she?"

You nod, the fervent desire for more evident in the desperate plea that crawls past your lips, only to be muffled by his palm. Enzo's groan reverberates against your ear, his erection painfully hard against your ass. With a swift motion, he withdraws his hand from your lips, unlocking the door and shoving it open, propelling you forward with a commanding grip on your hips.

He wastes no time in pushing you up against an old wooden table, the rough surface biting into your skin as he yanks your leggings down your thighs. His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling your head back toward his mouth, his lips hungry and insistent against your own. Meanwhile, his free hand works quickly to undo his belt, his urgency evident as he prepares to take what he desires.

"Did you like that, angel?" He breathes against your panting mouth, his eyes barely open, his belt hitting the ground at his feet. "You like what I fucking did to you?"

"Yes—" you're choked by a gasp as he slicks his length between your thighs. "Gods-fuck, yes!"

"Yeah, you did. Fuck, I should have edged you, I shouldn't have let you cum," his voice is wanton, despite himself. You're not even sure if he knows what he's saying. "But I can't fucking help myself. I fucking love ruining you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the tension in the air thick as molasses. With a single swift motion, he plunges into you, a symphony of pleasure and pain ripping through you as he fills you completely in one long, deep thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into the wooden surface beneath you as his grip in your hair tightens, the other latched onto your hip to hold you steady.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, breath hot on your jawline. His hand shifts to grasp your jaw, pulling your lips back to his. "Always so fucking tight for me."

You can only whimper in response, his pace ruthless, and unhinged and unpredictable as always. His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There's a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear.

He is what he is, until he isn't. Until he's someone else completely.

You're clutching at the desk and screaming into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again and amidst the onslaught you're hit by the realization that this man is everything—simultaneously overwhelming and subtle, too much yet not enough. He's a feeling that engulfs you, swallowing you whole until it fills your lungs, leaving you choking on the intensity of it all. Your lips move against his in perfect synchrony, your eyelashes fluttering with each powerful smack of his hips as he drives himself deep inside you, over and over and over again.

"Enz—" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it.

He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There's a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray strands pulled across gleaming honeyed eyes.

"Cum," you swear it's a plea. You hear the desperation as much as you feel it. "Cum for me."

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddled for him, broken by his touch, stripped of all structure just to be held up by his own. The sight and feel of you erupting sends him over the edge, his groan rumbling against your temple.

"Fucking hell—" his hips stutter, his breath does too, his lashes fanning as he pours his cum deep inside you. "Fuck."

You sink against him as he finally comes to a slow, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from the desk and running up through your hair, pushing sticky strands back from your forehead. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first, it takes forever to recover from it, and before you can even register the movements Enzo has already pulled out, done up his pants and is helping you pull yours back up your still-trembling thighs.

As you turn to face him, he pulls you in. You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

When he pulls back, you let the first thing in your mind slip past your teeth. "You're unbelievable, Enzo."

He smirks, wetting his lips before leaning down and planting a small peck on the top of your head. "I'm yours, angel."

Lorenzo Berkshire is what he is, and what he is, is yours.

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzoberkshire #lorenzoberk #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzoberkshiresmut #lorenzo x reader #lorenzo #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x you #enzoberkshiresmut #enzoberkshire #enzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo smut #enzo berkshire #enzo berk #slytherin boys #slytherinboys #harry potter #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #enzo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddle #slytherin #enzo berkshire imagine #louis patridge #tom riddle #theodore nott

[sk-lumen]

You realize how much something is meant for you by the way it makes you feel. That guy you're dating, is he leaving you anxious and confused, or do you feel uplifted and safe? The job you have, does it make you feel miserable, or do you feel excited every day to collaborate with interesting people on interesting projects? That trip you booked, do you feel anxiety and uncertainty, or do you feel peace and exhiliration? The energetic blueprint of each thing is a hint on whether it's leading you to your higher self or straying you from it.

#sk lumen #loa #law of attraction #manifestation #loa blog #spirituality

[golfylester]

ok so. I can't keep quiet about this any longer. It's just swirling round and round in my brain and I need to get it out or I'm gonna die.

I have this theory that the reason that this new dapg revival era has been so similar to 2018 is not just because they're following the same blueprint for when they were planning to come out, but that coming out *together* was the original plan.

The reason?

During late 2017-2018, it wasn't just the amount of gay jokes that increased. We also noticed how much more comfortable they'd gotten showing affection to each other. To the point where a lot of people were convinced they were going to hard launch their relationship soon. I don't think those people were wrong. I think that since they were going to come out right before going on a world tour and were also in the process of buying a house, they thought it would be better to rip the bandaid off and come out as gay AND a couple.

So what changed?

Dan's burnout/breakdown that eventually led to the decision to put a pause on the dnp brand. I know that people have said this before, but I think the break was necessary to allow Dan to explore his identity and figure out who he was outside of Dan and Phil. I also think they probably made a lot of changes to II after deciding to put the breaks on the dnp brand and postpone the coming out and that's part of why it felt so rushed.

Now Dan has gone on his journey of self discovery and come out the other end with the realization that he wants Phil to always be by his side. They're back as a duo, but this time they're old and gay and so is their audience...

but Dan has said it himself. He LOVES touring. it gives him purpose. So where do they go from here?

They pick up where they left off before Dan's breakdown. They hard launch their relationship and go on another world tour, but THIS time they do it right.

They were close to the edge of the cliff in 2018, but got scared and backed away at the last minute. Now they're standing on the precipice again, but this time they're ready to take the plunge. Hand in hand.

#phan #dnp #here have my insane ramblings #i guess that's my rant tag now #watch dnp go the complete opposite direction & make me look like a clown

[artificial-transmutations]

Hey I'm George. I am a 26 civil engineer working in a big company but it si not what i expected. It is so boring and I am only doing it since it ws what is expected of me. I wish you could transform me into a hot stripper or porn star cause that's has always been my secret dream. I don't wanna be transformed into an object.

Transformation Letters - The gay club

Even writing the letter to the unknown company has been an act of rebellion. All your life, you have been doing what was expected of you. You finished school with good grades and enrolled in an engineering degree program.

The first years were alright. It was still interesting, and you enjoyed the classes, but slowly you had to come to the realization that perhaps, engineering wasn't quite for you. The work was getting more and more monotonous, and the tasks were less and less creative. Regardless, you graduated with an acceptable degree and got a job in the field as a civil engineer.

Now, almost three years later, you are sitting in a small office cubicle, doing the same stuff that you did in the last few years.

"I hate it here.", you think and look at the blueprints on the wall. They are supposed to be "motivating", showing what your company builds. To you, however, they are nothing more than a reminder that the work is dull and unfulfilling.

As you get up and grab the coffee from the machine, you realize just how much of a rut your life has fallen into. Looking at the calendar on the wall, you recognize another thing: It's your birthday today. Yay. 26 wasted years, at least in your opinion. You don't have many friends or family, but for once, you decide to celebrate a bit on your own. You are going to visit a club tonight.

Some hours later, you find yourself in a gay nightclub. You are not out or anything, but your sexuality has been a matter of fact to you for some years now, so visiting a gay bar is on your bucket list anyway. The thumbing music surrounds you, making it near impossible to talk to anyone and even though it feels kind of exciting to be in such a location, you can't help but feeling kind of lonely and displaced here. Seeing all those hot guys dancing makes it terribly obvious for you that you are way too uptight to ever move your body to the music like that.

But... Perhaps you should just... try?

The thought is entirely alien to you, but... strangely appealing. So, you just try to dance to the music.

At first, it feels very awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but after a few moments, you relax. And, to your big surprise, you actually manage to move your body along with the beat. As your self-confidence grows, so does the speed and forcefulness of your movements. Before you know it, you have attracted the attention of a group of three men. Normally, being the center of attention would be something you despise, but right now it feels liberating and right. So right, in fact, that you do something crazy! The stage is empty right now, and, following these strange new impulses, you climb onto the stage and begin to dance to the music. You are still wearing your work attire and it is quickly becoming way too warm as you move your body. So, without thinking, you slowly begin to unbutton your shirt.

To your amazement, the crowd begins to cheer and applaud. It is like a wave of acceptance and approval washes over you, and the more buttons you undo, the more enthusiastic the cheering becomes. It is somehow getting easier and easier to follow the beat. Both your sense of rhythm as well as your physical fitness seem to increase and moving to the music quickly becomes a second nature for you. When you have finally unbuttoned your shirt, you slide out of it and spin it around your hand a few times before throwing it into the crowd. A bunch of hands shoot up, and the shirt quickly disappears. You keep moving to the music, now only wearing a white undershirt, which sticks to your skin and reveals your well-toned body. You have been working out once in a while, trying to keep yourself fit with mediocre success, but even you are a bit surprised how well your body looks right now. Your muscles are defined and bulging and when you pull the undershirt off as well, the cheers rise to an almost deafening level.

It feels like a wave of energy rushes through your body. You can barely think straight and the only thing you can focus on is the music and the movement. You have already gotten used to being the center of attention, but now, even more people join the crowd around you. They are staring at your body, and you can clearly make out their lust and admiration, making you smile. The next thing to go, is, of course, your pants, which you slowly peel off and, as with the shirt, throw them into the crowd, where they disappear as well.

Your movements are becoming faster and faster, and soon, you have almost completely shed your clothes, revealing your athletic and lean body, now shining with sweat. Your ample bulge is thinly veiled by your pair of bright blue briefs that do their best to set your assets, both your dick and your ass, into scene...

***

Hey, I’m Elias, a 22yo bartender with a French and Linguistics degree at University, though sometimes I wish I could trade smarts for sports and strength. I don’t think I’m unattractive, I never have much problem getting attention from guys at the club, but I feel like guys just look at me like I’m another pale twink with brown hair and hazel eyes. I don’t want to be an object, I like being a man: I just want to be more manly. Muscles and beard, I want to look powerful and have other guys be jealous of me.

It's a usual Friday evening for you, and you are tending bar in the towns gay club as usual. It's not too bad - your twinkish body usually gets you some tips, and today is no different. There are times, however, that you wish you were just a bit more... manly. Of course, everyone always wants to be what they are not. But seeing those sexy guys every day, made of beef and manliness makes you almost hate your thin and slender form. That is, after all, what made you write that letter some weeks ago, even though you already forgot about it by now.

All of a sudden, one of the club's visitors climbs onto the stage. Even though it's empty right now, people aren't supposed to go up there, for insurance reasons. Apparently, nobody else has noticed, so you decide to handle the situation yourself. You tell your colleague on the bar that you will be right back and then make your way to the stage.

The guy who has climbed up there seems to be some kind of office worker and is apparently completely focused on dancing. You just want to tell him to come down from the stage when he begins to unbutton his shirt in the rhythm of the music. Having forgotten what you meant to do for a moment, you stare, mesmerized at the guy on stage slowly getting out of his shirt. He looks quite attractive and moves his body like a pro. The crowd notices the show, and slowly, the whole scene becomes the focus of attention. The office guy has now spun his shirt around and thrown it into the crowd, which has now grown considerably. You have to admit, the whole show and the guy look kind of sexy. Not your usual type, he has more of a lean and athletic body that is revealed more and more with every move he takes. Still, he is good.

Next to you, directly in front of the stage, one of the red faux leather chairs has just become free, as the guy who sat in it went to get some drinks. The crowd is moving constantly and, without really thinking, you take a seat there. The office worker is still dancing, his sweaty body almost glowing, and his bulge looks impressively large, even in the low lighting of the club. You can feel yourself getting hard, and through your suit pants, you feel yourself up discreetly.

Actually.

Fuck discreetly. You rub your crotch through your pants while your eyes are still glued to the stripper on stage. Your mind is slowly going blank. You don't notice how the other bar patrons slowly stop moving to the music and gather around the stage instead, watching the office guy perform. You are completely entranced, unable to think, just staring at the spectacle in front of you, while your cock strains against the fabric of your pants.

Actually, your cock is not the only thing straining against your clothes. It is as if all your body is expanding, in every direction, all at once: Your shoulders, your arms, and your legs widen and grow thicker, while your ass and muscles swell. At the same time, the first hints of stubble and beard hairs break through your skin.

Your suit feels constricting, and you consider getting up to go to the bathroom to get out of them. But...

Actually.

Fuck modesty. With more raw strength than elegance, you remove your clothing while you still can. Your body continues to grow stronger and stronger and when your chest is bared, your nipples have hardened to the point where they seem like small pebbles.

It feels so fucking good to just get out of the clothes that are becoming more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. You watch with a superior smile as hair also grows on your chest and abs, as well as on your legs and arms, making your whole torso look furry.

When your pants are gone, your underwear is the only piece of clothing left on you.

And fuck, that's getting really tight!

But, as you watch, it is morphing into a different material. What was once a pair of cotton boxer briefs quickly becomes a pair of black shiny leather underwear, pronouncing the growing bulge of your hard cock. The bulge is, of course, not only growing because you're rock-hard: Also, inside the alien pair of leather underwear, your member is growing bigger and bigger with each throb, slowly becoming a true monster cock.

Other parts of you don't seem to be stopping growing larger as well: Your biceps are more than impressive right now, your forearms look like you can crush a watermelon with them and your thighs are as thick as tree trunks.

As the music keeps playing, the hair on your body grows denser and longer. You now have a manly full beard, and, as you cross your strong arms behind your head, a thick bush of hair emerges from each of your armpits, flooding the direct vicinity with your manly stench.

You grin as you look up to the stripper, who is just about to shed his pair of blue underwear and lick your lips. After the show, you're gonna take him home and breed him!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #transformationletter

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓨𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓸

pile 1 -- > pile 2 -- > pile 3 pile 4 -- > pile 5 -- > pile 6

my masterlist<3 . paid readings Hello my beautiful souls ✨ I am here with part two of my yes or no pacs! Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1 Card: Two of Wands

Yes, although I would as that the Two of Wands is closer to a maybe. I would say that the result really depends on your actions right now and how you go about this situation. Stay strong and courageous.

Advice Cards:

Put your tasks and goals in order

Deep, deep down, something needs attention

It's time to try something new!

Channeled Song:

Pile 2 Card: The Chariot

Yes, you need to stay consistent and keep your head high in this situation. Be brave and bold!

Advice Cards:

Love is the answer to your current situation

Release unhelpful influences and fears

Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off

Channeled Song:

Pile 3 Card: King of Swords

Yes, but in this situation, you need to more logic and use problem solving skills to get what you want. Following your heart may not get you the results you want.

Advice Cards:

You are much stronger than you think

Use your creativity to accomplish

Your body needs your attention

Remove all resistances and move into a state of flow

Channeled Song:

Pile 4 Card: Three of Pentacles

Yes, you will achieve what you want when you are willing to work with others and trust the people around you.

Advice Card:

It's time to realize the blueprint of your soul

Yes, you can . . . Set it into motion!

Weigh your situation carefully

Channeled Song:

Pile 5 Card: The Wheel of Fortune

Yes, but remember just as the wheels can turn on your favour, they can move away from you just as quickly. Luck is on your side.

Advice Cards:

Awareness opens a field of possibility in your life

Release all attachments that do not serve you

Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspects of your life

Channeled Song:

Pile 6 Card: The Devil

No, your obsessions and addictions may get the better of you in this situation. Don't give in to simple temptations. Advice Cards:

In harmony with your inner self, you are free to do be whatever you choose

Spend some time in stillness to reflect

It's is time to unclutter your body, mind, and spirit

Channeled Song:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

#tarot #tarot reading #starryknight tarot #pac tarot #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarot reader #spotify #yes or no #yes or no tarot #spirituality #Spotify

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Well let's fuck around and find out 🤭😉

Paid Readings | Patreon | Tip Jar

Pile One

This could be someone who's a friend that you need to cut off or someone who you've already cut off. I would say that this is a parent, but this is looking like someone who has this false sense of authority over people and in general isn't a good person to be around. I'm getting this image of someone hiding in the shadows who comes out at just the right time at the right place to make a move on you. The parental energy that I'm picking up on could relate to one of their negative traits, which is analyzing voids that you could have internally. It could seem like they're fulfilling you emotionally, but really this is deception that they use against you later. Affection, validation, or someone who listens is what could they hold above your head to convince you that you need them or that they hold the answers to how you should live your life. This person fucked around trying to gain control over you and now they're finding out that you're no one's puppet and that you're strong enough to both walk away and wake up from the trance that you don't have any glamour. Or this could be someone who was very delusional thinking that walking away from you would make your life halt, but there's light being shed on just how powerful your magnetism actually is. They walked away just to come back to watch how you're flourishing and still gaining attention from unapologetically being you, they see you birthing abundance in your life, they realize how your originality is undeniable, if your presence on social media is public, they could be lurking and taking notes on the shine that you vibrate effortlessly. Pile One you're the blueprint, baby!

Pile Two

This is an opportunist who is a friend to no one but themselves. Their concept of loyalty is that they're ok with you giving it unconditionally to them, but theirs has terms and conditions, and they're strongly offended when you reflect their way of thinking by withdrawing your loyalty. This is someone who is constantly in some drama, never has their priorities together, and if you dare suggest what they could do to help themselves, they'll give an excuse for why they don't want to do the things that will bring stability to them or at least reduce the trouble that they get into. An overall immature person. This could also be someone you work with or had a partnership with, there's envy and jealousy that they have over you and instead of working on their feelings, they'd rather do something slick behind your back to to to make sense of the animosity they have for you. This is someone who doesn't play fair and see things as deep enough for them to sabotage you. They fucked around and found out about how karma and your guides don't play about you. They overestimated their reign of how much they could overstep and they're in a position now to where they can't weasel their way out of the consequences. The theme here is a loss of security. Their self-grandeur is withering away to a lack of confidence, they could have lost their job or are severely losing momentum in getting ahead in their life. It's like their tricks are no longer working and how they tried to stagnate others has now blocked their own blessings because they're incapable of moving forward. This person has to get out of having this main character syndrome, their inability to be a team-player by supporting others or clapping for others has left them in a pit of the same cycles that they thought they could take shortcuts out of whether it be understanding how immoral it is to use others or learning that trying to knock someone down doesn't truly elevate them from their insecurities.

Pile Three

This person could have you on their mind a lot or you show up in their dreams frequently. This could be a love interest from the past or someone who you've used to talk to on an almost daily basis. You could have helped them in some way or there was something in this connection that they may have tried to downplay or had trouble understanding. I'm getting that they fucked around and found out about your effect on them which is someone who they'll never forget lol. I'm also getting that this could be someone who you're currently talking to who underestimated the feelings that they get when they're around you, or how much you positivity you bring in their life. However, this really does give a chaser and runner type dynamic, where you were eventually the chaser and now they're the runner. If this is a past person, this is someone who misses you dearly, and may have fumbled in the beginning of you two parting ways with each other, by pretending and overcomenpensating the facade of someone who has "moved on". For some people, this could be ex-friends or family members who are deeply feeling the downsides of your absence but are too prideful to apologize to you or tell you that they miss you and would like you back in their lives.

#🎄: 25 days of neptunes sol angel #day six #divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #tarot #spirituality #pac #tarotblr #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pick a picture #the tarot community #tarot community

[ventique18]

Edit: this post was made months before Diasomnia release.

- Delusional OC sketches and headcanons: Malleus' mama and papa -

*seduce, not saduce lmao sorry I'm tired

Malleus Draconia never met his parents, but Lilia could vividly remember them as if he only last saw them yesterday. Malleus' father (whose name also happened to be Malleus) was a student of his and had a consistent air of superiority about him-- he walked and talked with such confidence befitting that of the majestic horns that adorned his head like a crown. In dragon anatomy, you see, large, beautifully sculpted horns are a clear indicator of how fertile and desirable its genes were. So there was never a doubt that this man was a natural attractor for many a woman.

... Except nobody ever stuck with him. The prince had a terrible personality. He went on and on, on and on with prattling about anything and everything under the sun (actually mostly about weapons and griffons and philosophy and geography) to the point that ladies thought he was self-centered and was looking for a mirror to marry, rather than a wife. That was not true however. He was simply an excitable boy.

He had reached a record age of three centuries (still wifeless) when he decided that being stuck in Briar Valley was limiting his viewpoint of the world. He had enrolled at an academia overseas, and that was when he met his future bride: Matilda. Upon meeting eyes with her, he had known that it was love at first sight. (It was not. He merely thought having another dragon fae as queen would benefit his country.) And so, relentlessly, day in and day out, he pursued her in order to win her affection.

The lady simply treated him like furniture, however.

Still, everyday he would sit at her table in the library. He would first attempt to flirt with her, but as he noticed how focused she was in drafting her blueprints, he would give up and eventually become engrossed in whatever he was studying. He would scribble down notes and make commentaries to himself about this and that, and to be honest... She found that quite endearing. He had a frivolous mouth, but he was earnest in his pursuit of developing his country.

She had been secretly watching him, and one fateful day, she accidentally let out a giggle. A secretive acknowledgment of his presence. And of course, sharp as his draconic ears were, he returned her gaze and happened upon her beautiful smile.

That was when he realized that the words he sang to her-- the "you're lovely as blooming flowers in the spring", "your voice is as melodious as a crystal bell in winter"-- were all very, very true. The next words he had uttered were finally taken straight from his heart, and then for the very first time since they met, she had replied to him with lips upturned in an elegant crescent.

The following year, when he returned to Briar Valley for the holidays, his mother Maleficia almost squealed in pleasant surprise that her son had brought home a lovely bride. It was a blur after that. Lilia could recall how the castle seemed to have turned upside down with how lively it had suddenly gotten; secretive dates, a wedding, a coronation, pregnancy woes, and... a sudden despair.

The couple had created life, but paid for it with their lives.

Whenever Lilia was recalling this story to the toddler he was tucking under the covers, he would come to a sudden halt. Little Malleus would ask why, but he would just shake his head and ruffle the boy's hair.

"I was just thinking how great a king and queen your father and mother had been. They were strong, and brave, and kind..."

"Will I grow great like them, too?"

Lilia paused and gazed into the boy's eyes. Then, with a smile, he stroked his tuft of hair and patted him to sleep.

"Of course, dear. Now sleep. A future king needs to be strong and healthy to be great. You won't grow up without sleep!"

They were gone too early. Far too early; they never even saw what their child looked like beneath the shells.

For now, he would burn every moment of this boy's tiny smiles in his memory, so that he could recall in detail every moment of this child's beautiful life when he finally reunites with his old friends.

#there's zero lore on briar valley and so i did it myself #twisted wonderland #twst oc #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge

[findafight]

On the one-sided harringrove post- I feel it becomes infinitely funnier with bi steve. He likes men, just not Billy. Never Billy.

Oh yeah. When Billy fiiiirst comes to school with his music blaring Steve is head over heels for Nancy, so he might register that the guy with the Camaro and loud music has a good ass, but then billy opens his mouth and Steve is like "oh, no ass can make up for that personality." And continues with his life.

Just. Okay I like to project just a liiiiittle on Steve with him just. Not realizing his attraction to men isn't a straight thing. Like. Of course all straight people feel that way, you just kinda ignore it or don't do anything about it. So Steve is half way between being comfortable in his sexuality and being closeted to himself because buddy used Hawkeye Pierce as the blueprint of straightness.

So Billy is out here, wallowing in self hatred and internalized homophobia, hating Steve and wanting Steve and hating that he wants Steve and wishing Steve would pay attention to him enough for a hate fuck he can cry about later, and it's all very angsty. All the while Steve is just actually completely fine with thinking a dude is hot he's just got standards that include "not racist" "doesn't try to beat up kids" "hasn't made me blackout from head trauma"

Wait. Oh no. I feel an au coming on. Shit. Au where post S2 Robin hears piano coming from the band room after hours and is her curious self going "I must see who is this mysterious genius" and it's Steve. They get to talking and hanging out and all of a sudden Robin thinks they are actually good friends. Best friends. Somehow.

Cue them going to a band party together. Someone spikes their drinks with waayyyy more than they were expecting so they are blasted. Robin has to go pee but does not want to go alone so she drags Steve into the bathroom with her and makes him face away. He's like haha Woah you really had to pee. And she goes shut upppp and washes her hands but sits across from him. Steve smiles at her and gives her his speech about how amazing she is and how glad he is to be her friend (it is like March '85 so he is still not ready to get back out into dating yet). Robin tells him about Tammy. They sing. Someone slams the door open and kicks them out of the bathroom because there's a fuckin line.

They lay on the grass outside and look at the sky. Steve like. Caaaaasually mentions once having thought he was gonna marry Tommy when he was six and then realizing you just didn't do anything about those feelings and Robin's gotta shoot up going WHAT!! WHAAAT? Because it sounded like Steve coming out to her? Right after?? She came out to him??

And Steve is like yeah. Like you don't really have to? Easier to ignore it and flirt with girls who I like or think are hot. And poor Robin's brain is melting she's like please Steve I'm really drunk are you telling me you sometimes want to kiss boys? And he's like yes, obviously, everyone does. Just like everyone also wants to sometimes kiss girls. Except lesbians I guess who only want to kiss girls? And gay guys only want to kiss guy? Yeah that makes sense and straight people don't care but go for the opposite ya know?

Robin is like NO!! And calms down some and says "okay I'm telling you this because you are my friend and you just told me almost the same thing. Steve. I like girls and only like girls. That not a straight thing"

"yeah. You've said."

"but I am ninety nine percent positive that just because you like girls doesn't mean you're straight because you also like boys."

"what"

"yeah dude, I do not think this is a heterosexual experience you're describing. I'm not an expert but. Yeah.

"oh. Huh."

"yep."

"I definitely thought it was."

"your brain is so weird I'm still kind of obsessed with you."

"haha. Honestly I'm kind of obsessed with you. This is wild."

"well. At least I know you're stuck with me."

"ohhh nooooo whatever will I do with my best friend always around..."

ANYWAYS THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS is not in fact the stobin. It's actually that

Sometime probably in may, when Steve is ready to be on the dating scene again, he gets with Eddie. Robin is happy for him but also so mad because he went from "probably shouldn't act gay even tho everyone feels a little gay sometimes" to "hey Robin what would you say if I said I got a boyfriend?" In less than two months. How does he have straight AND gay game. That's not fair.

Steddie getting together is a non event. Eddie is still like ewww sports and yet somehow he made out with Steve Harrington and the next day Steve asked if he wanted to get milkshakes and throw rocks into the quarry to see the splashes. Eddie must restrain himself from thinking it's a date because he knows it's not but it'd also be the perfect date (Eddie is a simple man)

At the end of the night steve kissed his cheek and says "I had a really great time..."

Eddie just blurted "hey do you want to be my boyfriend?"

To which Steve perks up like "yes! I'd like that!"

And Eddie didn't actually think he'd get that far so he was like "neat!! See you tomorrow!" before slamming the door in Steve's face.

So they're dating and Eddie disparages sports but Steve is like haha aw you don't like watching me play? Which is sooo mean to Eddie because obviously?? He likes?? Watching his boyfriend??? Run around in tiny shorts and sometimes shirtless?? He has to reevaluate some things he supposes.

All while this is happening Billy is still on his Greatest Homoerotic Rivals shtick with Steve. Eddie notices and is like to dude...what is with Billy? And Steve just sighs. Says Billy is weird and obsessed with him and glares all the time. It's a whole thing. Billy is pissed because what is Steve, his epic rival, doing hanging around some random band geek, his sister's bitchass friends, and maybe the local dealer.

Alright. Grad happens. Yay Steve! Poor Eddie. They go to some party , hang out with people, sell some drugs, etc. Billy is unfortunately also at this party, and is like. Lazer eyes boring into Steve's back. Very annoying. At some point, he sees Steve slip away and is like this is my chance so he follows him.

Howmever he comes across Steve, his epic and totally heterosexual rival, making out with Eddie the freak Munson.

And listen this is a scary thing to be caught inna town like Hawkins, but that's not the point of this post.

So Billy goes "what the hell?"

They turn around. Billy is still spluttering.

"what are you-why would you-- with him?!" He says.

Steve raises his eyebrows, alllll cocky confidence. He smirks a bit. Drawls. "Well, yeah. I like cock, billy. Just not yours."

Because the point of this post is that Steve is a bitch.

Thank you.

#steve Harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #steddie #anti harringrove #lol anon you got me rambling. #stranger things #robin buckley #findaanswers #finda writes stuff #anonasaurus #anti billy hargrove #tagging for both i guess hoo boy #didnt think itd turn up in the billy tag because thats the eighth tag so i guess my bad! #it was for organization and tag blocks #billy Hargrove

[shuttershocky]

Is there any power scaling discussion that will inevitably make you feel the need to respond, no matter how irrelevant power scaling is to the actual media in question?

"How did Nero defeat Vergil at the end of DMC5 he's only 1/4th demon he should be much weaker wahh wahh plot armor"

First of all, Nero won because he wanted to win more than Vergil did. Second of all, Vergil's used to fighting an agile clown like Dante and not a brute gorilla like Nero who has no problem with just grabbing him and slamming him into the dirt repeatedly until he cries uncle.

BUT ALSO we know that human blood fuels demons in Devil May Cry. They have to consume it to grow their powers, which is why these guys keep powering all their infernal machinery with blood and why the tree whose fruit is kingmaker of the underworld must feed on human blood.

Before Nero, it looks like Vergil and Dante's strength came from being the sons of Sparda, who was Mundus' strongest soldier and was able to solo all of hell for his lady love.

But honestly I think a lot of their power comes from their nature as hybrids. When Urizen consumes the same fruit that made Mundus king of the underworld, he gets torn a brand new asshole by Dante working with an 8 year old's logic (if Vergil cut himself in two with the Yamato, maybe stabbing myself with Rebellion glues both my sides tighter?) and it actually works.

Not only is Dante's SIN Devil Trigger form written down in Nico's notes as matching (or even surpassing) Sparda's peak, he crushes Urizen both before and after the latter consumes the fruit containing human blood worth millions, completely mystifying the demon king because what the fuck kind of bullshit powerup is that?

Urizen's only able to match Dante's strength once V fuses his human self back into him to recreate Vergil.

I think being a demon-human hybrid basically acts like an infinite human blood battery. It's already inside you and never runs out because your body just makes more blood. The demonic side isn't granting the power, it's granting the abilities; the human side is the gas fueling this killing machine.

The whole time Sparda was turning on his own hell legions for Earth pussy he was unknowingly stumbling into the blueprint for creating unbeatable demonic super soldiers, and had no idea.

Every time Dante defeated the likes of Mundus or Argosax they must have been calling horseshit because there's no way they're getting destroyed by this buffoon just because he's Sparda's son when fighting skills aren't something you inherit like it's hair color, not realizing Dante's powers are fueled by his own blood (and plenty of self-stabbing).

This means that Nero is not inherently weaker than Vergil or Dante by having less demon in him, because it's the hybrid nature itself being their strength.

While Nero's powers aren't as mature as theirs, his demonic strength is enough to grab both Dante and Vergil's SIN devil trigger forms and push them back when they charged at full might, and in fact he's physically strong enough to lift giants like Goliath and ragdoll them around like their name is Bluto and he's just eaten a can of spinach.

Dante even points out at the end that Vergil cut off his own son's arm for more power and the son still kicked his ass anyway. By the end of DMC5 Nero doesn't need the Yamato anymore to do Buster moves, he can shape his own aura into arms to punch and grab things just as effectively, making him completely independent from actually using any devil arms to fight (he only needs human weapons like Lady does). He's strong enough that Dante trusts him with protecting the world by himself while Dante goes to hell, which is a big ask given you know, everything in DMC 1-4.

TL;DR - Nero strong

[moodymisty]

So I'm suffering from life threatening levels of Perturabo brainrot and got a lil scenario idea stuck in my head while I was taking a shower: One of the serfs that does mundane housekeeping tasks throws all self-preservation aside when a curious little contraption Perty made catches her attention while she's tidying his quarters. It's a harmless trinket he made in his spare time, a clever little puzzle box, and she can't resist the urge to get a closer look.. Cue Perturabo catching her touching things she shouldn't be touching. He feels a flash of anger, but its quickly doused by the look of genuine wonder and awe at something he made simply as a mundane time-waster between campaigns. When she notices him in the doorway staring(glaring) at her, it's like being doused in ice water and she hurriedly sets the trinket down and apologizes profusely as she scurries away. Over the next few weeks, Serf quietly fears for her life due to her impropriety.. While Perty decides he wants to see that look again and sets about making a little courting gift - a music box that plays a lullaby/tune that is popular on Olympia.

Sorry if this is way too specific, you can change whatever you'd like about it to fit your tastes!

PS: I love your writing style so, so, much. Thank you for all you've created and shared with us 💕

Author's note: I like the idea! I changed it a teeeny tiny bit, but only because I didn't want it to run on into a massive block of text. Enjoy, here's some Perty meetcute.

Relationships: Perturabo/Fem!reader

Warnings: Not really any other than Perturabo's attitude

Returning to his private workshop Perturabo can tell by the door being slightly ajar that someone is inside cleaning it, and opens it fully to let himself in. Out of his armor he's wrapped up in clothing more suitable for the cool evening, walking underneath the dimmed lights.

He's always hated bright rooms; The few windows in this room provide enough sunlight during the day to work, and at night to keep it bright enough to work but dim enough to avoid a headache.

Not long after entering he notices your form in the corner, picking something up off the floor. He pays no mind and walks past, completely ignoring your presence other than that momentary glance. He's seen you before; You're usually the one cleaning the innermost parts of his chambers like this workshop. Perhaps you're the only one brave enough, and the only one that hasn't gotten thrown out for being in his way.

Sitting down the chair creaks in complaint but he ignores it, leaning forward over his desk. For awhile he simply glosses over his designs, old and new blueprints with a lack of interest, before his eyes wander away from it all. They're all just improvements for already existing war machines, nothing that keeps his attention for long.

He sees you now working on cleaning an area close to where some of his smaller projects are sitting, collecting dust, but he can tell as you clean one in particular has caught your eye.

It's the old puzzle box he had made when he was far younger; It's simplicity makes him scoff now in shame of his less experienced hands so long ago. Though even then, it far exceeded what anyone on Olympia could dream of making. Perhaps that's why it caught your eye, a stand out among little automatas, music boxes and miniatures.

He sees you looking at it, curiously gazing over the pieces that interlock together. It seems like you're trying to figure it out in your head rather than picking it up and risk his anger. You don't notice his gaze on you, his brow still furrowed but not in anger- deep set eyes hooded in lazy curiosity.

Once you either give up trying to figure it out or realize you need to return to your work you turn away from the box, but your sleeve accidentally catches on the sharp edge of the metal. It shifts and falls off the table, thinking that you're moving it as if attempting to solve it. You uncharacteristically swear, and snatch the box out of the air before it hits the ground.

You look at Perturabo momentarily and see him watching you, and he can see you swallow the knot in your throat. Your back straightens as you look away and towards the puzzle box in your hands, fingers brushing over it as you make sure it's unharmed.

With a grunt of effort Perturabo gets up out of his chair, and he sees you noticeably freeze up at the fear of his approach.

"You're supposed to turn it."

You look up at him surprised for a moment, before looking down at the box again. It's large in your hands, he'd scaled it for his own, but you're still able to fiddle with the mechanisms with little issue. He watches your eyebrows raise as you gain understanding.

"Oh, I see."

He hears the soft clink of one of the mechanisms inside unlocking- he knows there's four left. Your eyes are locked on it trying to figure out the system, and he can see you're making progress, faster than he might've expected you to. He doesn't stop you because of it; He's curious how far you can get.

You stop about halfway to figuring out the next part, and slowly go to place it back onto the shelf where it had been collecting dust.

"I think this would take me quite awhile to s-" Perturabo jerks his chin slightly towards you.

"Keep it."

You look at him wide eyed, and pull back from the shelf to continue holding it in your hands.

"It stopped amusing me long ago."

You thanked him for it, with a soft and sweet smile that made his nose wrinkle, and you got little more than a grunt in response before you finished your duties and left him in silence.

You returned the finished box to him three days later, opened. Perturabo, amused by it, had plucked another puzzle box he'd made in one of his moments of particularly sour moue off a high shelf, and handed that one to you. You'd returned it six days later, solved.

You had detoured from your assigned tasks to return it to him, and left shortly there after. Your hands had barely closed the door behind him before he pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and started to draft a new one, the first he'd be making in many years, something finally keeping his mind busy as he glossed over his old and forgotten creation to make this new one.

He had noticed your tiny fingerprints on the metal one time he'd looked up, pen stopping for a moment as he stared at them before returning to his work.

He's not here today, you notice.

The workshop is empty, though you aren't entirely surprised. The Iron Blood left port this last week, and you assume Perturabo went along with it.

What is surprising is that quite quickly you notice that there's something set out on his desk, in clear view. There's parchment being weighed down by it and you can't help but take a look, having to near climb from how high the tabletop is.

It's yet another puzzle box, you quickly realize. You pull the parchment with it and read the few words at the center of it.

This one should keep you entertained for awhile.

That's all it says, sitting the parchment back down and turning your full attention to the box instead.

It's significantly more ornate than any of the previous ones he'd given you, and still smells of oils and greases presumably from it's recent creation. The puzzle itself seems far more in-depth than the previous ones as well, and you can't help but smile at the realization that he's trying to stump you on purpose. Your fingertips brush over the etchings of symbols and the decorative grooves; He clearly spent a lot of time on this one.

You hold it close before sitting it down, and get to work cleaning. You keep a consistent schedule in this room so there isn't much to be done, and once you finish you're able to take the puzzle box back to your personal quarters and begin figuring it out.

Perturabo seemed to spare no expense in figuring out how to make this one more difficult, having to do puzzles to figure out parts of another puzzle. It takes you well over three weeks to figure out, slowly working at it between your work.

Once you crack it open, you're so excited you barely even realize there's something inside, pulling out the folded parchment. When you unfold it, you notice something that falls into your lap. A necklace.

You weren't exactly allowed to wear jewelry, it got in the way, but you suppose if it came from Lord Perturabo, none of your superiors could complain.

Putting the necklace around your neck you read the words on the parchment, pursing your lips. Your cheeks feel slightly warmer as well, realizing that you're holding something the primarch crafted specifically for you, and now you have not one, but two handwritten letters from him.

Perhaps they're quite short letters, but you count them anyways. Lord Perturabo has never been the wordy sort.

Meet me in my workshop the day the Iron Blood returns to port.

You wonder if Perturabo has always been this roundabout and obtuse. Or if he's for some reason toying with your odd knack for puzzles. You suppose he's bored, he seems to have plans for abandoned ideas all around his workshop. Bathhouses and ornate buildings, unfinished and pushed aside for efficient weapons of war.

You're glad you managed to open it before the Iron Blood returned, but just barely; Two days later is when it- he, returns, and you meet him in his workshop.

He turns to you, wearing lighter clothing given the warm weather. The sun is just starting to set however, the sky turning orange and purple. You notice he's grown a slight bit of stubble on his jawline since returning, and that his expression is surprisingly relaxed.

"How long did it take you?"

He says with not even a hello. Though you suppose you don't really need one.

"I finished it two nights ago. Just barely made it, it seems." He chuckles, much to your surprise. It's a deep rumble you can feel in your chest, and makes you swallow at the feeling of your heartbeat up in your collarbone.

"It seems they'll need to be even more complicated in order to slow you."

You notice his eyes look away from your face and down to your collarbone. The necklace is what caught his eye, you can only guess. you've been wearing it nonstop since you got it. His hand reaches down to grasp the pendant that hangs from it between his two fingers, before he lets it go moments later.

You wonder if perhaps it meant something a bit deeper than what you'd thought at first glance. He wouldn't just give out such ornately made things for no reason. Your face grows a bit warm at the sudden realization that you'd completely overlooked the implication of a man, a primarch, giving such a gift to a woman, but Perturabo either doesn't notice, or doesn't care.

"Sit with me. And tell me your name."

There's a chair beside his own that is similar in size to his own, though vastly oversized for you. You sit down in it and pull your legs up onto the chair and curl them to your side. Then you put your hands on your lap and look towards him and start talking, beginning into a conversation that leads well into the night.

#perturabo x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[femmefatalevibe]

Hi, do u have any tips for building a thicker skin and not getting hurt easily? I've only just realized recently that I'm very sensitive, if someone talks a little rudely to me or says something rude to me, I get hurt and anxious. It's so weird because I usually do not care about what other people do or think about me. But I can't handle being treated rudely or criticism. I just have the urge to stop talking, runaway or leave if a person is even a tiny bit rude to me. help.

Hi love! I would say it's all about cultivating emotional resilience. Like any muscle, you need to train your mind to remain calmer under pressure or stressful situations. Here are some ways I think are helpful to build this skillset:

Step into difficult conversations as two people vs. a project/problem/situation. Depersonalize any criticism by objectifying the criticism of a certain behavior, action, etc. Think of it as its own entity – like an object that can float away in the wind.

Internalize that a lot of criticism/rudeness is a form of projection and says more about the other person's inner turmoil than your demeanor or character. Offering non-constructive criticism is self-destructive. Case closed.

Look inward and make it a priority to truly get to know yourself. What are your core values? Desires? Goals? How do you want to present yourself to the world? What are your likes? Dislikes? Fears? Self-knowledge gives you a blueprint of how to move forward.

Reverse your "what ifs." Instead of wondering what could go wrong by leaning into criticism and difficult situations, consider "what's the worst that can happen?" Once you ask yourself and answer this question honestly, you realize that most of the time your fear is disproportional to the likely outcome.

Consider learning to sit/be present in the discomfort to be an act of self-care. You're becoming emotionally stronger and proving to yourself that you can hold your own in any situation. Stick up for yourself but know when to silently bow out for your own sake vs run away due to perceived personal incompetence.

Hope this helps xx

#emotional regulation #emotional intelligence #emotional strength #mental wellbeing #self concept #self confidence #self esteem #social anxiety #mental strength #emotional support #social support #femmefatalevibe #q/a

[licorice-tea]

The Way Things Go

Pairing: Kaku x reader

Content: huge spoilers for water 7 and enies lobby!!! kaku calls reader “miss” but gender nuetral pronouns are used besides that, reader is a strawhat, flirting and things!

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: this is going to be a mini series covering the reader’s arrival in water 7 (with the straw hats ofc!) to the end of enies lobby. basically, how the reader meets kaku, falls for him, learns his true identity, etc. it’s been a WHILE since i watched the water 7/ennies lobby arcs so im sorry if some things aren’t accurate!! also this is very self indulgent, ik he doesn’t have a ton of fans but seeing him in egghead put me back in my kaku era😇 enjoy! <3

Part 2

You walk towards the doors of the shipyard nonchalantly, but with clear direction and intent. “I need to help find a shipwright who can evaluate the Going Merry and tell us what it’ll cost to fix.” Just a few minutes ago, you’d split up from Nami, Luffy, and Usopp in favor of heading straight to the shipyard while they went to find a place to exchange all of your “stolen” treasure for berries, first. Which is how you ended up standing outside a set of massive doors and an equally tall wall to what you had been told was the Galley La Shipyard. However, after finding no buttons or opening mechanism, you try and fail to push open the incredibly heavy doors.

“Afternoon, miss. Are you looking for a way into the Galley-La Company, by chance?”

You turn around expecting someone older, who has lived a life and now finds no reason to speak in anything other than proverbs and make casual small talk using the same dialects that were popular half a century ago. But instead you’re met with a young man, no older than 25, and a nose reminiscent of Usopp’s. He’s tall, with pretty eyes and strawberry blond hair. You notice the words “Galley La” stitched on the front of his baseball cap, and realize he must work there.

“Hi! Yes, I’m looking for a way into the shipyard.” you nod earnestly.

“Allow me to introduce myself then,” the man removes his hat and holds it to his chest as a gesture of respect, “I’m Kaku, one of the shipwrights of the Galley La Company.” Then he extends his hand toward yours, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss…?”

“Y/n,” you take his hand and shake it once, “and the pleasure’s all mine.”

He smiles and (ever so slowly) lets go of your hand, then brings two fingers up under his chin in a pondering expression. “Say, you look awfully familiar miss y/n. Don’t tell me… you’re a model!”

You giggle at the compliment, “Only on wanted posters!”

“Ah, we get plenty of pirates around these parts, but I’ve never met one as pretty as yourself.” he punctuates his comment with a wink.

You smile and shake your head, “I’m sorry but I’m kind of on a time crunch; would you be able to let me into the shipyard? My crew and I need repairs on our ship.”

“Certainly, miss. Wait here, and I’ll have the doors open in a jiffy.”

As the shipwright leads the pirate through the yard, he makes quick work of getting closer to you. It doesn’t take long for Kaku to boldly rest his hand on your lower back as if to guide you in new directions. At one point he even hooks his arm around your shoulders to turn you toward a particular construction area, but his flirting does not go unnoticed.

“Next on our tour,” he gestures forward at a building with one hand, with his other on the small of y/n’s back, “this is where we design some of the new ships.”

The building is one of few within the large, outdoor shipyard. Kaku opens the door for you and announces to his fellow shipwrights, who are hard at work designing various ship parts inside, that he’s brought a guest. The building isn’t very large inside, either- just a few tables decorate the interior, all covered in blueprints and drawing tools. You wave politely around the room and even excuse yourself for the intrusion, but your tour guide puts his arm around you once again and assures you that it’s no bother. And he’s right; the ship designers either pay you no mind or kindly explain what they’re doing as  you make your way through the room. Their work is intriguing, and extremely detailed- almost artistic, in a way.

Kaku catches the glint in your eyes and asks, “Are you an engineer? Or- no, an architect?” he incorrectly guesses your occupation, but his attempts are cute at the very least.

You laugh and smile, “No, I’m not. But this work is really amazing… there’s just so much attention to detail; it’s very…”

“Beautiful?” he offers with a proud grin.

“Hm. I was going to say skilled, but yeah, beautiful.” You continue in a slow lap around the room to observe the blueprints and the shipwrights drawing them. When the two of you exit, you give another wave by the door and thank the shipwrights for letting you see their work. Kaku stays behind and winks at his coworkers, who all grin or shake their heads in amusement at his clear pursuit of the visitor (you), before following you outside.

He jogs to catch up and falls into step alongside you. “So, what do you do then if you don’t mind my asking, miss y/n?” Then, he takes on a teasing tone: “Besides pirating, of course.”

“I do plenty.” You joke back. Sure, you could tell him your dream and your role on the crew but… where’s the fun in that? Besides, you barely know the guy.

“You’re awfully mysterious, miss y/n.” He not-so-discreetly observes your profile as you continue walking through the shipyard. “Say, how long are you and your crew in town?”

“Oh, well.. however long it takes for our ship to be repaired, I guess.” Then, your gaze meets his with a somewhat knowing expression. “Why do you ask?”

Kaku smirks, “I’d like to get to know you better.”

With a smirk and a hum of acknowledgment, you both continue walking side by side with an added air of flirtation in every brush of your hands or shoulders. You reach the end of the shipyard, and turn around to head back. On the way back to the front entrance, Kaku agrees to personally asses the Going Merry free of charge, “just for you.” The two of you make plans for him to come to the place where the Straw Hats hid her later that evening when he has time. Finally, you two have done a complete lap around the Galley-La Shipyard, and you find yourselves back at the entrance.

“Thank you again for agreeing to check out our ship. She means a lot to us; my crew and I.”

He puts his hands in his pockets, sort of mimicking your own nonchalant demeanor; “It’s no problem at all, miss. In fact, it’ll be my great pleasure to work for you.”

You giggle at his flirting once again, and bid him farewell. “Well, I’m going to go find my crew mates. I think they probably found us some hotel rooms by now.” (You’d all planned to stay in a hotel while in Water 7, in order for repairs to be carried out.)

Kaku nods, “Then I hope you’ll come visit me when you have the time. Or would you prefer it if I came to you?”

“…You don’t have to do that.” Awkward laughter escapes your lips.

“No, but I sure would like to,” he takes one of your hands and surrounds it with both of his, “if you’ll let me.”

This has your mouth gaping as you search for the right response… He’s so straightforward, unlike most of the young men you’ve met on your travels. “W-well, ok.”

“Ok? So, that’s a yes then?” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood and ease your nervousness (though he does find it endearing.) “I could only accept your enthusiastic consent, miss y/n, if I were to go ahead with courting you.”

“I- Courting me?” you hold back a laugh, not wanting to tease him for his old fashioned way when you find it so charming. “Then, yes. I enthusiastically agree.”

He grins, “Swell! I think I’ll swing by your Going Merry around 5, shouldn’t talk long to asses damages and give you a quote on how much she’ll be to fix. How about we meet then?”

And you nod, “Sounds like a plan.”

“It is one.” He leans in conspiratorially and wriggles his brows, “One could even call it a date.”

You hide another smile by biting your lip and take a step back. “Right… Well, I’ll see you then!” With a wave over your shoulder, you’re off. He watches for a moment as you disappear into a more crowded area of the street and chuckles to himself.

What a sweet guy. A little old fashioned, but very polite, and so tall and handsome and- sigh.

You’re already falling for him.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #fanfic #one piece #x reader #op kaku #kaku one piece #kaku #kaku x reader #self indulgence at its finest #my man my man my man #i need him actually

[smytherines]

The headcanon that keeps me up at night is the idea that Owen Carvour was this very closed-off, isolated guy who just singlemindedly devoted himself to spycraft (almost as if it were his special interest) and was generally disinterested in any sort of relationship- romantic or otherwise- and suddenly agent Curt Mega strolls into his life and stubbornly insists on being part of it.

And Owen is just completely, utterly fascinated with this guy. Infatuated with him. How could he not be? Curt is perhaps the only person on Earth that can keep pace with Owen, that can best him (not that Owen would ever admit to it). He's so different from Owen, but they're also very much the same.

And over a number of years Curt wins his trust. First by being an excellent (if unconventional) partner, and then they start a physical relationship. And then Owen actually finds himself in love with this person, an attachment he never wanted but now can't live without (in a way he sort of resents Curt for sometimes).

He feels these things in an overwhelming but impossible to articulate way, to the degree that he willingly puts himself in a position to be outnumbered 21 to 1 to rescue Curt from a Russian weapons facility- because that's what you do when you love someone, right? You flip off god and walk backwards into hell for them.

So when Curt leaves Owen to die, part of him just fractures. This delicate, imperfect, but still very real trust he had in Curt is absolutely shattered. He's afraid and helpless and critically injured, and the last thing he can remember before waking up in unimaginable pain, his body and brain damaged in a way he will never fully recover from, is the look of horror on Curt's face as he ran away.

And the worst part is that there is no way for Owen to disengage from those feelings. He will never have any sort of distance from Curt and his betrayal ever again. His body hurts constantly, his mobility is impacted, he gets headaches and vertigo and panic attacks, and every single time he is forced to relive the moment that Curt left him. Forced to relive that terror.

Every time his leg gives out while he's forcing himself to walk without crutches, or the burn scars start to ache, or his vision goes blurry and his heart feels like its going to burst out of his chest, he feels that hurt. The only person he would've ever confided those feelings in is the reason those feelings exist to begin with. That person thinks Owen is dead. And Owen sometimes wishes he had died too.

And Owen hates Curt, but more than anything he hates himself for trusting Curt. For putting himself in a vulnerable position to save Curt, only to be destroyed by Curt's hubris- part of the very same thing that made Curt irresistible to him. That cocky confidence, the effortless charm, the completely intuitive, instinctive way his mind worked- a style that had never let him down before. Owen loved him, and he knows that if the situation were reversed he would've gone back for him. He would've laid down and died next to him. And it's blisteringly painful to him to realize that the same wasn't true for Curt.

And for Curt's part I don't think he was like "oh well, fuck it, time to book." I don't think he thought at all in that moment. He didn't decide to leave Owen so much as his body, his adrenaline, his instinct made the decision for him. It was fight or flight, and his body chose flight. Speaking from personal experience, when you have ADHD and you realize that you've screwed up and you're suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, your body can just kinda carry you away without thinking.

But the leaving being involuntary doesn't help Curt deal with his grief and shame and self-hatred, because he still has to live with the decisions he did consciously make that night- leaving the banana peel on the steps, deciding to blow up the facility instead of just sending the blueprints with the watch, setting the timer for three minutes instead of four.

For years, when he's not too drunk to think at all, he endlessly relives each point where things could have gone differently. He obsessively thinks about how his pride was a bit bruised by needing to be rescued, by being chewed out by a boss who seemed to prefer his partner to him, and wondering if maybe he was more over the top than usual out of spite or insecurity, to save face with Cynthia and Barb, to impress Owen (because he loved Owen and respected him and cared about what Owen thought of him).

He wonders if Owen was right about his drinking, and then he drinks to shut out the pain of that thought.

He has to live with the decision his adrenaline made, tortured by the idea that he should've somehow fought back against that flight impulse in the moment and gone back for Owen. Tortured by the idea that maybe, if his rational brain had been fully present, he might have still made the same decision- leaving Owen to save himself.

He saw Owen twitching on the ground, grasping onto the banana peel, bleeding out on the concrete. He was almost certainly about to die, but when Curt left Owen hadn't died yet. So maybe, maybe, maybe there was a chance and Curt missed it. And every time he thinks about the possibility he feels sick. And he drinks. And he has imaginary conversations with his dead partner before passing out curled up in the corner of his bed, clutching a pillow, his eyes red and burning from the tears.

This was supposed to just be a couple of short paragraphs, but that's what I get for thinking about curtwen I guess

#cannot believe the inciting incident of this show is “man trips on banana peel- dies” #spies are forever #tin can bros #curtwen #owen carvour #agent curt mega #saf #tcb #saf headcanons

[fluentmoviequoter]

Let Me Help

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fostered!SWAT!fem!reader

Summary: When Los Angeles is hit with a freak cold front and your apartment loses heat, you don't ask for help. Luca sees how sick you are and pays you a visit which ends with him taking you back to his house to heal.

Warnings: reader was a foster kid, angst, sickness (pneumonia), fluff and comfort! there's also several Batman references. oops.

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

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In hindsight, becoming a member of S.W.A.T. may have been a mistake. Not because you don’t enjoy the work or get along with your team but because your past makes certain things hard for you. Growing up in the foster system is a lot of things, and it caused you to be incredibly self-reliant. You learned to be responsible and take care of yourself at a very early age. More than that, you were led to believe that no one would ever want to help you. So, now that you are an adult, you find it hard to ask for help. No matter who it is, asking for assistance or backup is not easy, which makes it hard to be a member of 20-David sometimes.

When you’re in the field, you can switch that part of your brain off, and become a S.W.A.T. officer rather than a foster kid. But the moment you get back to HQ and need your teammates’ help, the words seem to disappear, and you forget how to ask people to be there for you, even those closest to you.

Joining 20-David, however, saved your life. Before S.W.A.T., you were, for the most part, alone and lost. They gave you a home, a family, and everything else you never had before. While every team member cares about you, Luca shows you what it is like to be loved and appreciated.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s freezing out there,” Hondo complains as he enters HQ.

“Coldest winter in history according to the news,” Street replies. “Which means desperate, cold people and more calls for us. Any chance this is like Batman, and Alfred can make us special winter uniforms before the first one?”

“Sure,” you answer. “I’m sure that’s precisely what Hicks is doing right now.”

“What am I doing?” he asks as he rounds a corner.

“Nothing,” you and Street answer together.

“Alfred,” Street whispers to you.

You press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing while suppressing a shiver. It is certainly cold, and the heat in your apartment complex went out in the middle of the night. Most people then left and found somewhere else to stay, but hotels are booked, and you can’t find the right time or words to ask your team to lend you a hand or a place to stay.

“Sorry I’m late,” Luca says as he joins your side.

He rubs his hands together to warm up and smiles at you. Hicks gives you information on a fugitive warrant and pulls up a blueprint of the man’s house. There are several points of entry, but the man knows how to barricade all of them, so your team will have to take a unique approach.

“Cut the power and wait for him to get cold,” Deacon suggests.

“Man, what do you have to complain about?” Hondo asks. “You’ve got a wife and four kids to keep you warm.”

“Really?” Hicks asks. “You wanna bring up body heat, playboy?”

You chuckle and stick your hands farther into your pockets. Luca shakes his head beside you before lowering his voice to ask how you are.

“I’m alright. Ready for sunny Los Angeles to get sunny again,” you answer. “What about you?”

“I’d have to say the same. If you want to come over for my world-famous hot chocolate tonight, feel free,” Luca offers.

“Hot chocolate?” Street asks.

“That got his attention better than I ever have,” Hicks grumbles.

“Luca’s hot chocolate is like Christmas and happiness and pure warmth in a cup. And I do pay attention to you, Commander, but my eyelids are frozen shut.”

“Just, go execute the warrant and get back. It’s going to be a long week with this cold front,” Hicks interjects.

“Yes, sir,” Hondo replies. “Let’s roll.”

When you open your locker and realize you forgot your second long-sleeved t-shirt at home, you lean your head against the locker door.

“Here,” Luca says as he extends a jacket to you. “It’s an old one, but I accidentally picked up both.”

“I can’t accept that,” you begin.

“I don’t need it. Seriously, I’ll feel better knowing you’re warm. Work with me?”

Luca smiles, and you accept the jacket with a smile. It’s warm and smells like Luca’s cologne, so, once it’s on, you regret arguing against it. If you could live in this jacket, you would.

“We got this,” Luca reminds you as he walks by your side to Black Betty.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, when your alarm goes off, you feel like you can’t wake up. Your apartment is still without heat, and the permeating cold sucks the energy out of you. When you finally pry your eyes open, you remember that you are still wearing Luca’s jacket, and that gives you the surge of energy you need to get out of bed and get ready. You’ve been sleeping in too many layers, and with each one you strip off, you feel the cold settle further into you. Your joints are stiff, your nose is runny, and you can’t shake the tiredness caused by the dropping temperature. Something needs to change, but you don’t know how to fix it. There has to be a trick to surviving this without help… if only you knew what it was.

In the warm locker room, you scroll through your phone in a sad attempt to find a hotel or rental house you can afford. They’re all booked through the end of the week or ridiculously overpriced, so you turn the phone off and lean back against the bench.

“How are you?” Luca asks when he enters. “The jacket looks good on you.”

“Oh, do you need it back?” You sit up as you ask, but Luca smiles and waves you off.

“No, keep it as long as you want. Can’t remember the last time I wore it. Everything okay on your side of town? Some of the buildings in my neighborhood lost heat during the night.”

You shake your head as you prepare to lie. “Everything’s good.”

Luca nods but glances over when you sniff. The cold can be blamed for some of what is happening in Los Angeles right now, but Luca suspects there is something that you aren’t telling him. He’s repeatedly told you he’s here for you, but Street explained that foster kids aren’t great at reaching out, no matter how close someone is. So, Luca will wait for you to come to him, and his arms will be open when you do.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the week, you are miserable. The cold front has stalled, so meteorologists have little idea about when it will warm up again, and your apartment is getting colder every day. You’ve been able to sleep despite the conditions, but each morning, waking up is harder than the day before. You’re constantly tired, and your sniffles worsen, becoming an ache in your chest. The joint pain has worsened, and while it eases at work, it only intensifies each night you return home.

Luca keeps a close eye on you and can tell you’re tired, but he doesn’t want to push you to talk. If he could convince you to tell Street what's up, maybe you’d be more open, he thinks. You interrupt his internal debate with a deep cough. It rattles your chest and hurts your body as it escapes.

“That does not sound good,” Luca says as he turns toward you.

You’re shivering and can barely keep your eyes open, but you shake your head and reply, “I’m good. The cold is just bothering my allergies, I think.”

Hondo yells for you, and you stand quickly, ignoring the pain as you do so. Luca watches you go and grows more concerned for you. He asks Deacon if he’s noticed you acting differently and Deacon immediately answers that he is nearly certain you are getting sick. They both know you won’t tell anyone, preferring to risk your safety at work rather than asking for assistance. It’s part of your personality, even if it worries them.

Out of stubbornness and not recognizing that your team is worried about your well-being, you brush off their questions and concerns about your health. You’ve been living in the cold for nearly a week now, and you are sure the heat will be fixed soon (even if you have to figure out how to repair it yourself). So, you return home to a freezing apartment and silently hope you wake up in the morning.

✯✯✯✯✯

Not only do you wake up, but you wake up while it’s still dark out because you’re coughing and shaking. You’re burning up, which is the first of many clues that you are not okay. After picking up your phone, you find Luca’s contact and sit with your finger positioned over the call button. He would happily come to get you and let you rest in his heated house, but when you imagine him answering, you no longer want to admit you need help. So, you get up and slowly get ready before driving to S.W.A.T. HQ. At the least, you can sit in a warm room before your shift starts.

When you enter, Rocker’s team is about to start a training exercise and invite you to join. You have an hour before you have to be in uniform, so you agree, mostly so they don’t get as suspicious as 20-David already is.

At the end of the exercise, you are holding your coughs in and fighting to hide how hard your arms and hands are shaking. You feel terrible, and anyone who looks at your target from the shooting range will be able to see that it’s affecting your work.

You don’t notice Luca standing at the edge of the rink, and when Rocker knocks you to the mat with a single hit, he jumps onto the mat beside you.

“Hey,” he calls as he gestures for Rocker to step back.

His words don’t reach your ears over your coughing, but you see him and force yourself to calm down. Luca and Rocker stand over you, clearly concerned, and you smile as you accept their help.

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Just wanted to see if Rocker would pull his punches for a girl.”

“The fist of justice is unisex,” Rocker replies sarcastically.

“You and Street should have a Batman marathon,” you reply as you follow Luca to the locker room.

“I’m just going to be direct,” Luca begins once you’re alone. “I’m really worried about you.”

“Luca, I’m just not doing well with the cold. I’ll be fine, though. I appreciate the concern, but it’s unnecessary.”

You stand, and Luca says your name. Stopping, you can’t decide if you want to let go and tell him everything or push him away like you normally do.

“Luca, I am fine.”

“You clearly are not.”

“I know that you care, but leave it alone, Luca.”

You walk away before he responds. As you pass Deacon, you realize that Luca touched your skin, so he probably suspects you have a fever. However, your conversation with Luca makes you feel worse, so you decide to power through the day and then call your landlord about your heater. Again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luca watches you leave the minute your shift is over. You don’t change or wash up, and he decides that he can’t leave it, or you, alone any longer. As he drives to your apartment, Luca plans to remind you that you need to rest and take care of yourself, especially in this weather. He sees a drugstore and stops quickly to gather a few things he thinks may help you feel better. Maybe you’ll surprise him by accepting his offer to help you care for yourself.

When Luca pulls into the parking lot of your apartment, he’s surprised to find it nearly empty. He parks behind your car and rushes to your door. His concern grows with each moment he waits for your answer.

✯✯✯✯✯

You continue to shiver painfully despite being dressed in your tactical uniform, plus several sweatshirts, Luca’s jacket, and a blanket around your shoulders. Someone knocks on your door, and the only reason you force yourself off the bed is out of hope that it is the heat repair guy. When you open the door, you can’t decide to be happy or disappointed that it’s Luca.

Your voice is broken up by your harsh shivers as you ask what he’s doing there. Luca immediately feels how cold your apartment is and pushes inside. He sets a plastic bag on your counter before walking into your bedroom. He moves silently around your home like he belongs there and gathers your things as he goes.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly.

“Are you out of your mind?” Luca replies. Despite the harshness of his question, his voice is soft, if a little annoyed. “How long has your heat been out? You said the cold was getting to you – because you let it in. Living like this is the reason you are sick! You should have told me, any one of us, so that we could help you. My house is always open to you, you know that.”

You get confused watching Luca gather your things while ranting about how you should have told him something. He reprimands you and helps you at the same time, it seems.

“Let’s go,” he says as he puts the bag he brought in your stuffed backpack.

“Where?” you inquire as you pull the blanket tighter around you.

“My house. Someone has to help you overcome the pneumonia you probably have.”

“But-“

“No more buts,” Luca declares. “I’m not asking, babe.”

The pet name catches you off guard, but you take Luca’s offered hand without question. You didn’t ask for help, but accepting it isn’t necessarily easier than asking for it. Once you’re at his house, he makes you comfortable on the couch before bringing you a warm drink and some medicine. His requests are soft-spoken, and you obey wordlessly.

“Thank you,” you murmur when he finally sits beside you.

Luca shakes his head and clenches his jaw quickly. “I’ll always be here to help you. I enjoy protecting you, caring for you, all of it. But you have to stop acting like it’s an imposition.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sappy or are just really annoyed with me.”

“Both!” Luca exclaims. “Look, I can understand being independent to a degree, but living like that could have been so much worse than this, and this is bad.”

You nod and look down at the blanket. “I have trouble asking for help,” you admit. “Growing up, I didn’t have people I could ask for help. The few that I did ask wouldn’t help me, so I just learned to do everything by myself. Finding the words, the opportunity to ask… it’s hard.”

Luca’s eyes soften as he lays his hands over yours. “I promise that I will always be here. I will always be ready, able, and willing to help you. I want to help you because I care about you.”

“Why am I so important?” you whisper as you look into his eyes.

Luca licks his lips before deciding to tell you a version of the truth. “Because I care about you. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone before.”

He says care, but he thinks love. Maybe after he’s gotten you healthy again, you can have an open and honest conversation with one another. For now, though, you close your eyes and lean against his shoulder, warm and happy. 

“I care about you, too. More than I should,” you mumble against Luca's shirt before falling asleep.

Luca smiles and tugs the blanket tighter around your shoulders before kissing your forehead. He will help you until he can’t help you anymore and love every moment of it, he thinks.

#hanna writes✯ #dominique luca x reader #dominique luca #swat x reader #swat cbs #requests #fem!reader

[soberpluto]

Know Your Soul Purpose With Your Big 3

It's been so much time since I've been here, but it's amazing to be back! Now, here's a topic I was wondering about today...

All our configurations hold divine meaning, in that before we are born, our souls chose the type of experiences we needed to undergo as part of our next visit on Earth. What makes us "us" is perfect in design. And what we're "made of" can be neatly seen in our birth charts. No birth nor birth chart happen by chance.

While it’s accurate that specific karmic work (which is part of our life's mission) is indicated by studying the positions of Saturn, its aspects, planets falling in water houses and the configuration of lunar nodes, I feel we can also find great part our soul's purpose (our main lessons) by analyzing our Big 3. This is equal to drawing a picture of the blueprint of our unique navigation system, our compasses through our human experience.

To make a draft of your soul's blueprint, take these steps!

Look at your chart to know your Ascendant, Sun and Moon signs and chart ruler(s). If your rising sign has two rulers, take them both into account. In my case, I always use whole sign system.

Identify the houses of your placements.

Start drafting your Ascendant, Sun and Moon signs' significations using the tables below, including both positive and negative traits. If we're moving through life based mostly on our positive qualities, it's very likely we're on the right track. Conversely, living constantly under the influence of our negative traits marks potential blockages to get where we need to be.

Add to your blueprint areas in which you naturally express your placement's traits (houses). This is important because you will know where your mission will be accomplished more easily or naturally.

Have fun!

If you're having a bit of trouble to come up with yours, take my own example...

I am proud of myself when I present to the world as passionate, powerful, magnetic, and intuitive (positive Scorpio rising qualities). I realize that when I become vengeful, jealous, obsessive and/or mournful (negative Scorpio rising qualities), I am attracting unnecessarily challenging circumstances that hinder my lessons in my life. My personality (rising sign) projects most in my physical appearance image and identity, in my close communities and in the pursuit of my dreams (Chart Rulers in 1st and 11th house). I feel my life has meaning when I act as a nurturing, sensitive, creative and empathetic person (positive traits of Cancer sun), but when I become needy, emotionally instable, insecure and/or manipulating with others (negative traits of Cancer sun), I realize that I am blocking myself from living in my fullest potential. The area where my conscious self (Sun sign) shines most is in my path towards higher learning, distant travelling, truth seeking, legal affairs and spirituality (Sun in 9th house). I feel safe and fulfilled when I can be brave, independent, assertive and passionate (positive Moon in Aries traits). But, when I realize that I'm repeatedly reacting in a violent, selfish, impulsive and/or inconstant way (negative Moon in Aries traits), I know that am blocking my ability to be peaceful within myself and move ahead in life. My emotional needs (Moon sign) are best taken care of through my habits, health care, daily routine, service to others, jobs, and pets (Moon in the 6th house).

Now, what information can you derive from this description? What does this tell about my purpose in this life?

Naturally, I am pulled to creative, healing and spiritual work. I studied Industrial Design in college, but I've expanded my career in other directions, including developing and managing intermittently art and esoteric online businesses while also holding an office job in Change Management. I am also the eternal student, self-learning and passionate about higher knowledge. I like to share my insights with others and help them find their own truth, their own awakening. I am drawn to intense (and sometimes not so positive) experiences and relationships, and have drastically changed my own image, jobs and spiritual views along the years. I've certainly went through a lot of turmoil, but also have gained significant life lessons and valuable wisdom thanks to the way I approach life. I cannot help to be deeply emotional, empathetic, passionate, excitable, idealistic and inspired, for the good and the bad! Even though it's not been an easy road, I realize that little by little my purpose is being fulfilled... and I hope you all do!

What about you? Let me know what you find out about yourself!

Thanks for reading! 😘🖤

Written by @soberpluto

#astrology observations #astrology notes #astrology community #astrology #astrology signs #big 3 #soul purpose #soul mission #karmic lessons #lessons #karma