#death of the author and all that but stop saying the author Intended for you to find whatever symbolism yall are finding

[sskk-manifesto]

Finally got around to watching ep 11 (´；ω；｀)

[jvhnmitchell]

Blocking the saltburn tag for my sanity

[celestiamour]

Can you please write an imagine for kang dae-ho where he’s having the panic attack and the reader tires to calm him down/ comfort him?

ft. kang dae-ho x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ calming him down during his panic attack┊0.6k words

setting: season 2, episode 7 contains: descriptions of panic attacks, mentions of toxic masculinity, could be romantic or platonic but intended to be romantic 

➤ author's note: this baby :(

he looked a complete wreck with the blood of another smeared on his right cheek, shaky hands trying to gather up all the magazines from the pockets of the guards and stuttering up a storm every time someone tried to talk to him, not saying anything other than “magazines in pockets, help me gather the magazines in their pockets. you and a few others rushed to help him gather them up in a jacket used as a makeshift bag before he rushed out the double doors with nothing more than a few nods as a form of thanks.

then dae-ho suddenly rushed back, running into one of the empty far corners and huddling up as if to protect himself from the danger he just escaped from. people began to murmur asking what was up with him like the red on his skin wasn’t as clear as day, the very same able-bodied men who voted to stay in these death games for their own selfish needs yet were too cowardly to volunteer for the benefit of all the remaining players. it pissed you off to no extent how most of these men could sit on their asses away from the battle and talk like he was weak. you wished you had joined him and the rest in the rebellion, but they told you it was no place for a woman without military experience. 

you approached him nervously like one would with an injured wild animal, watching as he rocked his body back and forth covering his hands. “... hey… are you alright?” you mentally punched yourself for the stupid question. trying not to make any sudden movements, you climbed onto the bed when he finally noticed you.

there were tears all along his waterline starting to drip down his face, eyes wide and completely glossed over. he started apologizing profusely even though you weren’t the person it was supposed to be directed to, lips trembling and voice strained to a higher pitch than normal. it’s a jarring contrast in comparison to his usual attitude and it broke your heart.

“do you… want a hug?” you really weren’t sure how to comfort him, hugs usually worked for children who cried over scraped knees, but you didn’t know what to do with a man suffering from a panic attack due to shellshock.

thankfully though, it was exactly what he needed. he basically threw himself on you, freely sobbing with his head rested in your lap and arms wrapped around your waist. he cried that he was a failure whose time in the military amounted to nothing, a mere boy his father would be ashamed of, and a coward who couldn’t help his friends when they needed him most. his words were barely understandable between choked-up sobs, but it was clear he was letting out thoughts that were buried under years of being unable to express himself emotionally 

you were a little hesitant to stop his rambling, but eventually shushed him by gently placing a hand on his head and soothingly running your fingers through his hair, promising he wasn’t any of those things and very brave to have agreed to go in the first place. you spoke softly and held onto him, bringing his head to your chest so that he could listen to your steady heartbeat to help ground him and wipe away some of his tears while telling him that you were there for him without any intentions of leaving soon. 

your words uplifted his heart, but truth be told, your mere presence was enough. he could feel the eyes of others nosily watching, but they didn’t matter at the moment and seemed to melt away into nothingness. all his focus was just on you, and soon, he became quiet, feeling calm and renewed with a sudden determination to finish his mission setting fire to his soul.

[gffa]

I have been drifting back to STAR WARS fandom lately and I have been greatly rewarded for it, especially in the gen fic veins, because there have been some banger fics authors have been putting out! And the thing that really gets me in the fannish heart is that there's more and more fics about the Jedi, both for exploring the characters and the culture. I have been able to find multiple fics that have been kind to Mace Windu! I have been able to find multiple fics that explain what attachment actually is to the Jedi and to Star Wars! I have been able to find multiple fics that lift my spirit up or punch me in the feelings in exactly the right way, both for the usual disaster lineage faves, but also for the Jedi as a whole. I'm serious, that means the world to me in this fandom, and I desperately want to share that with you all. LET ME SHOVE FIC AT YOU THAT LOVES THESE CHARACTERS AND THIS WORLD AS MUCH AS I DO!!

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ wayfinding by night by wrennette, obi-wan & luke & cast, time travel, 10.2k     Before him stood a fellow Jedi, worn and weary with loss. Obi-Wan finds himself on Ahch-To and helps Luke find a path through his grief. ✦ may you inherit his light by notbecauseofvictories, leia & bail & anakin & cast, 2.5k     When your father dies, say the Coruscanti, you are left clutching a star map for a different galaxy. In this, as in many things, Leia is her fathers' daughter. ✦ No Freedom From the Storm (But Peace In Its Midst) by Be_Right_Back, mace & cast, ~1k     Mace is freefalling. On his way down, he meets Hatred, and reaches for Serenity. ✦ "...if you remain his student" by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & ahsoka & cast, 3.9k     Ahsoka doesn't leave the Jedi Order. This does not save Anakin. This was never going to save Anakin. Nor stop him. ✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal, time travel, 47.4k wip     Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be. (Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the clone troopers have no idea what to make of Kenobi's weird new padawan. At least the kid fits in, though.) ✦ No Death, Only the Force by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & depa & shmi, 2.8k     Anakin Skywalker is just about to to free his mother from the Tuskens when the Force rudely yanks him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant – and into Mace Windu's body. Mace, on the other hand, gets tossed into Anakin's body on Tatooine. ✦ Well Met by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme (unconsumated) & corde & anakin, 19k     "Here and then gone again," Padmé said. "It must be lonely." "Sometimes," Obi-Wan said. "But a Jedi is never truly alone."

THIS FANDOM HAS A HAMMER AND A WHOLE BUNCH OF NAILS AND A REALLY GOOD STAPLE GUN, WE'RE FIXING WHAT CANON BROKE AND NOBODY CAN STOP US NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Begin again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 78.9k     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. ✦ Repetition by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & obi-wan, time loop, 3k     Cody wakes up from a nightmare on the way to Utapau, again and again.

CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE: ✦ it's like i can feel time moving by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 5.4k     “Hi,” Anakin says. It's after midnight. “Is everything alright?” “Can’t a man stop by his old master’s room?” Obi-Wan stares at him blankly. “Are you out of food?” ✦ yes, I will take you / I will love you, again by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & cast, time travel, 2.5k     "So you have tried, Padawan." Qui-Gon takes a moment, and his expression is steely but not unkind--the one Obi-Wan remembers from particularly grueling training sessions. "Would you try again, if you had the chance?" OWK!Obi-Wan gets another chance, with a child he once left behind. ✦ No Good Deed Goes Unpunished by kittona, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.1k     Anakin gets a bit overprotective when his loved ones are sick. Luckily, he has the best home remedy for a cold. ✦ nothing a cup of tea can't fix by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.5k     when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former padawan and grand padawan are. or Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit. ✦ Stick Figures by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 2k     war is hard. war is draining. to make it more bearable, little mementos* are routinely given. *mementos: encouraging notes, funny little drawings, little gifts, fun snacks, and poems which might get Anakin in trouble. ✦ When the Ground Breaks by stolen_pen_name23, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.7k     An earthquake causes devastation on the planet of Berchest. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka work together to help save civilians until disaster pulls them apart. ✦ never fear, young one by marverse, obi-wan & ahsoka & cast, 6.2k     Ever since her first day of being a padawan, Ahsoka Tano remembers the words that Master Skywalker had once told her. And every time, she wonders, wonders, and wonders. ✦ the street's a little kinder when you're home by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin, 5.2k     "So catch me up," Anakin says. "What did I miss?” Nothing. Nothing happens when you’re gone. “Oh, the usual.” [or: anakin goes missing. obi-wan doesn't handle it well.] ✦ holding anchor by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.2k     At the landing of Point Rain, an injured Obi-Wan allows himself to be sentimental over his former padawan, and Anakin patches up his old master. ✦ Nothing to Say by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & satine, 3.2k     (or: Anakin and Satine don’t know how to talk to each other. Until they remember the very important thing they have in common.) ✦ Aggressive Negotiations by SkyBlue1309, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 2.2k     People forget that Anakin was raised by the Negotiator. He was bound to pick up on a thing or two. ✦ At The Window by Peppermint_Shamrock, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k     In the early days of Anakin's apprenticeship, Obi-Wan searches for him in the Temple. ✦ The Words by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin, 3.9k     Obi-Wan Kenobi has never said I love you in his life. He can say a lot of other things, though.

JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION: ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra. ✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Temple vs. Order 66 by LauraBWrites, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & jedi & jedi temple, 3.9k     The Temple cannot defy the Will of the Force. But it can, it will prepare for the possible outcomes. It can damn well fight back. ✦ We Three Runaways. by Aethir, obi-wan & depa & komari, 2.7k     In which Depa and Obi-Wan bond, and a new sister is found. ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures.

I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM: ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin & mace, 1.5k wip     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ Saving People Counts as Revenge, Right? by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, time travel, 4.3k wip     Count Dooku of Serenno is an intelligent man. His methods may be a bit severe, and he may not be allowed true freedom to plan campaigns in the war he helped create, but he has always had an eye for strategy. Moving the pieces around the board and plotting out where they will need to be next. So, when he opens his eyes after Anakin Skywalker cut his head off, he knows to take a moment to assess what’s going on. ✦ if I could find solid ground again by maragny, anakin & depa, 1.5k     “You never told me what we’re doing today,” Anakin says, a little hesitant. “I…I don’t know much about Jedi things yet.” "Good thing we’re not doing Jedi things, then,” Depa replies. “We’re cooking!” Or, Anakin and Depa, finding their places in their family. ✦ Birds Fly in Different Directions by Triscribe, jedi & clones, time travel, 14.6k     In the corridor beyond her quarters, other Jedi were emerging from their own doors, most of them wide-eyed with shock. A few merely looked blearily concerned, and Aayla heard snatches of questions as she darted past, queries as to whether everyone experienced the same distressing vision. But those who clutched at their chests or throats, their weak points- those Jedi bore a muted horror in their eyes, and Aayla didn’t doubt they’d just suffered their own betrayals from trusted men.

✦ The Master, The Padawan, and The Force by Pandora151, padme & ahsoka, 1.9k     Padmé Naberrie was never one to procrastinate. More than that, she maintained a steady, consistent schedule — something that she’d managed to keep ever since she was a Padawan. She was always on top of everything, from her responsibilities with the war to training her own Padawan, Ahsoka. She was well-known throughout the Order for being steady, reliable. And most notably, no matter what, she didn’t just forget things. Which made her current situation all the more…ridiculous. ✦ Off-by-one Error by Jessepinwheel, obi-wan & cast, 12.2k     A stranger appears in the Jedi Temple. Nobody knows who he is or where he came from. Nobody knows what has happened to him except that it must have been something truly terrible. The stranger's name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. ✦ splinters of light by wrennette, dooku & jocasta & sifo-dyas & yoda & jaster & jango & cast, time travel, 22.5k     When Dooku's dying consciousness was sent back into his younger body, at first he remembered only that something important would happen on Korda VI, and soon. His investigations brought both clarity and confusion, and a conviction that he must atone for evils not yet enacted. ✦ The Road that Reaches by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & yoda & depa & shmi, 11.5k     As the Council sits down on Naboo to consider the newly-knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi's request to take young Anakin Skywalker as his padawan, they're informed of what transpired on Tatooine – and that Anakin used to be a slave. Mace Windu goes to interview the young child to confirm this, and gets rather more than he signed up for. ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin &/ mace, 5.1k     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, kanan/cal & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Resilience by TemporaryUniverse, obi-wan & mace, 3.3k     Twelve years after his defeat at the Battle of Naboo, Obi-Wan's greatest enemy has returned from the dead. Obi-Wan has faced Maul and lost. Now it is time to face himself. ✦ The Buried Truth is Your Favorite Lie by Peppermint_Shamrock, dooku & yoda, ~1k     Dooku tries and fails to leave the past behind. ✦ Hanging On by the Last Threads of Our Hope by IllyanaA, ahsoka & rex, 5.2k     Ahsoka and Rex have endured too much. After the Fall, they stay together until they can't, but the Force has a way of bringing them back together. It's a fact for which both of them are immeasurably grateful.

MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS: ✦ Future Tense by CeruleanTactician, obi-wan & anakin & luke, time travel, 1.4k     Obi-Wan and Anakin find themselves twenty years in the future, where they meet a young man by the name of Luke Skywalker. ✦ Keepsakes by Coalmine301, obi-wan & leia, 2k     “You were the one who gave me my bantha, weren’t you?” “Yes,” Obi-wan nodded with a small smile. “Your father told me they were your favorite animal. At least then it was.” ✦ Why the Sith Don't Have Class Reunions by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & palpatine & maul & dooku & ventress, time travel, 1.9k     Sith apprentices rarely agree with one another (there’s a reason for the Rule of Two, after all), but Darth Sidious is starting to think that it’s worse when they do. ✦ My Dear Padawan by Tulak_Hord, luke & yoda & palpatine, time travel, 3.2k     In which a time-travelling Luke Skywalker successfully saves the Galaxy in perhaps the most horrifying manner imaginable. ✦ The Return by Pandora151, obi-wan & leia & haja, 1.4k     Haja wonders about the others. He wonders about the people he’s sent to the Path from Daiyu — not just Kenobi and the Princess, but that Force-sensitive boy and his mother, the Nautolan teenager from a few weeks ago, the young Kel Dor child and his even younger siblings. Did they all make it home? Are they safe? Was all of this worth it? ✦ Message From Guiding Light by Batsutousai, obi-wan & leia & mace, time travel, 2.2k     Ben and Leia never make it to Mapuzo on the borrowed supply shuttle, instead finding themselves in the middle of the Clone Wars.

FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW: ✦ Not A Moment Too Soon by Triscribe, depa & kanan & cast, 2k     The first time she stumbled, her padawan said nothing, simply offering his shoulder for her to lean on. ✦ Parallel Lines by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin, time travel, time loop, 10.7k     Darth Vader leans back in his chair, allowing a small smile to form on his lips, hidden by his helmet. “There is no escape from this, Obi-Wan,” he utters. He looks down at the neat line of text, and the Force echoes his words. “No escape from the past.” ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, ca/kanan & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Loth-Cats and Loth-Rats by TessaDoesThings, mace & depa & kanan & ezra, 19k     All Mace Windu wanted out of the Post-Clone Wars world was a simple trip with his lineage to the long-forgotten Jedi Temples of the Outer Rim. However, on Lothal, the three might have bitten off more than they expected. The Republic may have triumphed, but the roots of what could have become the empire are gripped in the corners of the galaxy, and it might be time for some aggressive space weeding. Or a coup d'etat. That would work too. ✦ a princess, a farmer, a teacher by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & luke & leia & bail, 1.4k     Early in the morning, a girl and few men knock on a door. They don't wear anything resembling a soldier, but Obi-Wan has been a soldier long enough to notice the tense shoulders and wary looks beneath civilian clothing. She doesn't wear anything resembling a princess, but Obi-Wan knows these fierce eyes and grace coming from a righteous cause. or A New Hope AU where Vader doesn't attack Leia's ship and Leia herself delivers the news to Obi-Wan and consequently Obi-Wan doesn't die. ✦ What I Wouldn't Give To See Your Ghost by Triscribe , depa & kanan & cast, time travel, 1.2k     “Who are you?” Depa demanded, externally calm but internally frantic. “What is this place? And where is my padawan?” ✦ when that day comes by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & maul, modern au/reincarnation au, 44.8k     [or: the alternate universe where anakin skywalker has the chance at some new life…but only if he saves the life of a reincarnated obi-wan kenobi. the catch: neither of them know who the other was in the galaxy far, far away…but that might very well change.]

[dollgxtz]

My first and only statement on all the accusations

Hello, I’m sure most of you are aware of the accusations about me and some of the stories I posted on my account. This post is not only an apology post, but an accountability post that details everything that happened from beginning to end. Everything will be here, so I will not be making more posts about this unless it’s to direct to this one.

Adding a tw now for suicide baiting, death threats and mentions of razors. So sorry but it must be included.

First I just wanted to say, no I wasn’t avoiding any of this. When this all started I was still in the middle of finals week, and I don’t live on tumblr 24/7. I had to focus on my finals to ensure I can get my degree and graduate. That was my number one priority. If anyone was blocked or comments were restricted during that time, it was my mostly my irl friend ensuring I wasn’t consumed by tumblr and could focus on my finals. I was already under a lot of stress and she offered to take over until I was finished with finals.

I was also getting death threats (people telling me to skin myself I alive and to jump). So she was ensuring that when I returned to my own blog, I would not see such triggering content. I have a history with suicide attempts and this was necessary for my mental health. The appropriate people were unblocked and remain unblocked to this day.

I always intended to make a statement, I just prioritized my real life first. It also took time to craft the post you are seeing now. I wanted it to be authentic, no misinformation, and well written.

So, as far as plagiarism goes, yes I did plagiarize specifically 3 of zombiekillerbiceps stories. I can’t actually remember the names of them and the author has removed their account from the site. But on my end specifically “Getting Closer”, “Edge of Control” and “Thrills” were not my own writing. Before they deleted their account I had already reached out via dm and apologized. We came to an understanding. I do not know why they deleted their account but they essentially said in DMs they accepted my apology and wanted to put this behind us but they were very hurt that I had copied them.

Edit: I found the post she made calling me out and will attach it.

As far as His Watchful Eye goes, the only plagiarism that took place was specifically the first chapter of it and only the first chapter. The first chapter of Something Permanent and His Watchful Eye are very similar. The remaining 13 chapters are my own writing and ideas. I have already reached out to @explorevenus and apologized. She has responded and made her own statement regarding it if you want to go and read it.

The only reason it was in anon is because this account (dollgxtz) is my side blog. I couldn’t figure out how to send a non anonymous message without exposing my main blog, so anon was the best thing. I didn’t want people sending death threats too that one too. I should’ve put my username in the anon, but it was already very late for me and I hadn’t slept in about 26 hours. I just wasn’t thinking very clearly and for that Venus I am also very sorry.

@manika-whims (the person that first wrote about all this) will remain blocked and some of her followers because I do suspect it was that group of people telling me to die. Manika wrote a very long post as she was upset that I “mischaracterized” Xavier in His Watchful Eye, called me a bitch and a loser because of a fictional man in a fictional story, and I will not entertain such immaturity. Full stop.

One of the anons that sent the suicide bait also called me a bitch and a waste of space. It was just too similar.

I also got this one. It’s too graphic to show the entirety of it.

I apologize for the plagiarism. But I will never apologize for writing characters the way I do or for writing dark content. It’s just not that serious. After she posted that I started getting these death threats and more.

You had every right to call me out for plagiarism Manika, but I stand my decision to keep you blocked. It had nothing to do with plagiarism accusations or me hiding from them, but I do believe you egged on your audience to come attack me over a fictional story and for that reason you will never be unblocked. I’ve attached screenshots below of the entire exchange. This is not to deflect from my own actions. This is simply to explain why she is blocked. She will say it’s because I was trying to hide from this but that is not true. I am just very sure the death threats came from her or her audience. This isn’t to say that she absolutely did but just in case, for my own mental health and safety I had to have them blocked.

Now that that’s discussed, I would like to address my readers and any future readers of mine. The plagiarized stories “Getting Closer” “Thrills” and “Edge of Control”. have been deleted and will remain deleted. Those of you asking for copies, please do not. They are not my writing nor my own works. Any remaining single work story on my blog is my own work and 100 percent my own ideas. My masterlist has been updated to reflect this as well.

When I first made my blog and posted those stories, I was a very insecure writer. I did not think I was truly capable of writing or making a good story. I did those things out of insecurity and not feeling good enough. But as time went on, I began to create my own stories and realize that I can write if I put my mind to it. These are not excuses, only explanations. Nothing excuses my behavior.

If you want to defend me, that is your own choice. I ask that you do not though in terms of plagiarism because I ultimately did plagiarize and that is 100 percent wrong of me to do. But in terms of AI usage accusations, these are not true. I have never and never will use AI to write.

I have spent countless hours writing chapters for His Watchful Eye, pulled all nighters, and even lost sleep making this story. I have timestamps in google docs that show me editing and writing my own story. I didn’t even know AI had advanced to the point that you can write fully blown novels. But make no mistake, Ai checkers are not reliable. I had an incident in my first year of college where a paper I wrote got flagged for 77 percent ai generated content. That paper was written 100 percent by me over countless hours and still got flagged. It was a very scary time in my life and for that reason alone I will never use AI.

If you want to unfollow me, please do so. If you want to block me, please do so. I would never hold that against anyone and am not mad at anyone for doing so. Just don’t come in my anon box telling me to jump, don’t message me rude or disgusting messages telling me to die. I am a human, I am a real person behind the screen. What I did was wrong but you are no better telling someone to kill themselves. Please just block me.

All in all thanks for reading. If you unfollow, thanks for being here. If you don’t, thanks for being here. If you want to be removed from any taglists, please just message me. You will not be blocked. Just removed from any future taglists! I have vowed to only post 100 percent of my own content from here on out, so if you stay I can promise you will only be reading my own work.

I am no longer the insecure writer that I once was, I now know my abilities and am confident enough to make my own stories. I have a 240,000 word fic out right now, I genuinely am still shocked I have done that. Writing has become a joy for me and I will not stop now. I should’ve never been afraid to make mistakes or be bad at it. I’m sorry to the people I hurt, my readers, and anyone reading this in the future. I am still growing and learning from my mistakes, and this has been the biggest lesson I will never forget.

Plagiarism is wrong and hurts authors. If you are reading this and have done so as well, please rethink your decisions and take them down, just as I have done.

I love interacting with you all, when you send me asks and messages about HWE or any of my original single fics. It is amazing getting to explain stuff or gush with you guys over the things that I have truly written. I truly love being an author and want my future as one to be honest and communicative.

The comments on this will be monitored, but not restricted. Voicing your thoughts is okay as long as they are respectful and not a direct threat to me or anyone’s life. Questions are okay as well and I will answer to the best of my ability. Please no:

insulting me or any of the people mentioned in this post (manika, venus, zombie, etc)

death threats or suicide baiting anyone

I want this to be a mature and honest discussion, and that can’t happen if I allow such comments. Despite what has been said about or to me, I do not want to replicate any insults/drama on my own blog. You can voice your displeasure or opinions without name calling.

Same goes for any messages or anon box messages you all may send to anyone involved here. We are all real people with feelings. Keep that in mind please before you message anyone.

We all make mistakes. Without mistakes, we cannot grow as people. It’s what we do after we make those mistakes that truly attest to our character. And this is what I’ve chosen to do. Lay it all out for my readers and the rest of the LADS fandom to see, apologize to the people I hurt and only write my own stories from here on out. Thank you to the readers and friends who approached me with kindness and encouraged me to keep writing authentically. And thank you all for reading, I wish all of you the best in life 🤍

-Umi ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[evilkitten3]

bet

totally normal brotherly interaction

and then again four years later

in shippuden, kakashi explicitly states that what sasuke went through was entirely bc of itachi's bs

(thanks to @therecexz for the images; i would've linked directly to you but people on tumblr don't like clicking links, so sorry about that)

counting the time in shippuden, that's three separate times itachi has done this– once when sasuke was eight, once when he was twelve/thirteen, and once when he was sixteen. that's a helluva a lot of psychological trauma to go through in your formative years

itachi couldn't bring himself to kill sasuke. he had absolutely no problem beating the shit out of him and torturing him psychologically.

look, i don't hate itachi and i'm not even a particularly big sasuke fan– they're both fun characters, frankly, i think kishimoto wasted too much time trying to make their relationship #dramatic and not enough time showing itachi post-resurrection realizing how badly he'd fucked up (dw he has a secret magic bird he made naruto throw up and that makes everything ok i guess. sure the bird's purpose was to brainwash the little brother he traumatized but w/e)

honestly it all could've worked if the ending had been anything remotely close to satisfactory but g-d forbid we challenge the status quo

[hauntedwitch04]

Wrong time, right person

Azriel x reader

Words: about 3.3k words

Warnings: smut, smut, Iforgot to say smut, and Azzy himself ;)

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 3: Sex pollen

It's an easy mission they said.

Touch and go, they won't even know you passed by they said.

Assholes. Liars. Bastards. Especially liars though.

This is all I can think of as the Shadowsinger and I find ourselves running through the trees being chased by the guards of the lord we had gone to spy on. Someone must have warned of our arrival, because a few minutes after arriving on the spot, we were already surrounded by enemies. We fought to the end, but were forced to retreat into the woods, seeking safety in escaping through that labyrinth of logs, hoping that those stupid enforcers would not be able to follow us.

It seems like hours that we are running when we finally decide to stop, in the vicinity of a cave, so that we can find refuge from the darkness and our pursuers.

"We finally lost those assholes." My companion comments, sitting back against the cave wall, leaning his head against the rock and showing his neck, leaving it exposed to my gaze.

That simple gesture kindles a fire in me that burns brightly, and I feel compelled to look away. I close my head between my legs and feel Azriel's gaze on me as he approaches. I feel him rest a hand on my shoulder, and I can't help but moan at that simple contact. I feel my cheeks get hot, but he doesn't flinch and asks me worriedly, "Hey, are you okay?" I can't bring myself to look at his face so I nod slightly still with my head between my legs and mutter a nonsensical apology. He still tries for a moment to wrest the truth from my lips, but I don't even flinch for a second. Azriel, seeing then that I did not intend to explain anything, stands up.

"I'm going to gather some wood for the fire, or we'll freeze to death tonight." He says, as he approaches the exit of the cave. I glimpse from below my knees the color of the sky, which is now turning blue.

"Okay, I'll stay here." I tell him in a whisper loud enough for him to hear me. I guess he nods, before walking out of our shelter, leaving me to think about why I took that action earlier. Ever since we escaped from the building I feel a strange sensation permeating my body, but I hadn't given it too much thought before since my priority was to run away from the guards, but it's as if after all that effort that feeling has expanded to the nth degree. It almost feels as if my body no longer belongs to me: I feel a wet sensation between my panties, while the fabric of my T-shirt brushing against the skin of my breasts sends shivers down my spine as my nipples harden against my bra. I squeeze my thighs together trying to ease that sensation, but it all proves futile. I feel a wave of embarrassment rise through my body again, thinking that this is all due only to a small gesture from the Shadowsinger.

Eventually I decide to lie down and try to get some sleep hoping that with a good dose of rest the next day I would wake up feeling better than I am now. I lie down with some difficulty on the floor only to fall unconscious in the arms of Morpheus after a few seconds.

But all is in vain, because in the middle of the night I suddenly wake up all sweaty. I sit up while with one hand I hold my chest. I feel the fire from before writhing in my gut, and on instinct my other hand goes to my center automatically, but realizing my gesture I immediately freeze.

Azriel was sitting in front of the fire, and seeing me feeling so sick he immediately approaches me, touching my forehead to feel if I had a fever. Immediately he retracts his hand feeling how hot I am, and makes me lie of me.

"You try to lie to me one more time about feeling good, and I swear I will never make you go on a mission with me again, and I will make sure Rhysand doesn't either." Says Azriel, as he removes part of my suit, to let the cold night wind cool me down a little. I again find myself letting escape a moan of pleasure as I feel that cool night breeze brush against my warm skin. I feel my nipples becoming turgid as I somehow try to get away from the Shadowsinger's constant touch, which is only making the situation I am in worse.

"I would say now is not the time to lecture me Az." I reply as I try to catch my breath. The Illyrian looks conflicted, but finally stands up and looks me straight in the eye.

"I'll try to do something. You stay here, and in case you give a yell, I'll be back here in less than a second." Says Azriel before disappearing into the night.

I stay looking at the place where he disappeared for a few minutes, trying to distract myself from the feeling of pain and the impossibility of having what my body desires, but finally I give in and begin to slowly run the fingers of my right hand over my center. I immediately feel the pain lessen, but like a drug, this never seems to be enough and I need more and more. My other hand wanders down my body until it rests on my breast and I begin to stimulate one of my nipples. My right hand I run it under my pants and for the first time my fingers come in contact with the wet lips of my pussy.

I remain in that limbo situation for what feels like an eternity experiencing enough pleasure to not die of pain and at the same time not enough to be completely well.

After what seems like hours, I hear Azriel's heavy footsteps getting closer. Quickly I try to look presentable, but immediately the lack of that little antidote causes me more pain than I felt before. I feel twinges in my abdomen that make me bend over, but despite this I look up at the man in front of me, and I cannot help but curse Mother for creating such a perfect being: he has not slept in days, he is drenched in sweat and tired, and yet he continues to be the most attractive person I have ever seen.

He stops to catch his breath, and only then do I realize that he no longer has the cape he was wearing before, in fact now his muscular arms are clearly evident, thanks in part to the tank top he was wearing.

"Where did your cloak go?" I ask, trying to distract myself in a very unsatisfactory way.

"I had to give it to Suriel, to get him to help me understand what you have." He says casually as he approaches me. At that gesture I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me, resting his hands on my shoulders. He then places his lips on my forehead to test whether I still have a fever. That gesture again unleashes a fire capable of burning whole woods in my stomach, and I groan, almost in pain, pushing him away from me.

"Did I hurt you?" Azriel asks worriedly, and I wave him off, so as not to worry him, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"What did Suriel tell you?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, as we were running away you spilled a jar of powders on yourself as we were going through that sorceress's store, remember?" Azriel says, looking at the ground, as if ashamed. I nod, remembering very well that damned jar, which made me sneeze for several minutes.

"You didn't read the label on that jar, did you?" He continues vaguely, so much so that nervous and without patience, I force him to look at me before answering him.

"Of course I didn't have time to look at it Az, go straight to the point." I say impatiently. His cheeks turn red, and he stammers something under his breath that I can't understand at first, so I ask him to repeat it. He raises his eyes and fixes his in mine, before repeating what he had tried to say before.

"It was sex pollen, the one that spilled on you." He says finally, and I feel the blood freeze in my veins, still in shock from the revelation he threw at me. "And according to Suriel, the only way to keep you from dying right now is to...well you know, go along with what your instincts are asking you to do."

"Thank you for explaining in such a nice way that I have to masturbate Az, really very nice." I say almost angry at him, even though I know I'm not really. I'm partly angry at myself for putting myself in that situation, but I can't do anything about it now, and now I'm also in danger of dying.

"Hey, I'm trying my best." He replies, scratching the back of his neck with his right hand, looking embarrassed.

"I know, I know Az, it's just-" I pause for a moment, trying to find a way to say it. I take a big breath and keep talking. "I've already tried touching myself, alone, down there, but it didn't do much good." I confess in a low voice, hoping he won't hear it, but unfortunately Shadowsinger's hearing is too acute to miss my confession. He freezes for a moment as if he is about to reason out what to do, then speaks again.

"I know." Azriel says in a guilty tone.

"What do you mean you know?" I ask shocked as I look at him, not understanding what he was referring to.

"Well the Suriel may or may not have told me that you would not be healed this way. "He continues as he watches the fire casting beams of light on the walls of the cave we are in. I stop again, and begin to reflect on all that I knew about these powders as I feel the pain getting worse and worse. By now I can feel my panties completely wet, as every single contact with what's around me unleashes a series of shivers that reaches to my core.

"I thought that was enough...well you get it. In all the books dealing with pollen with potential danger they say that's enough, be satisfied." I try to explain, as I draw a groan caused by my shifting which resulted in clenching my thighs together.

"I thought so too, but he said this doesn't count if-" He freezes as if he cannot find the words. I, growing more and more impatient, ask him aloud to continue.

"Az just doesn't seem like the time to be shy." I urge him to speak.

"He said it's not enough when you're in close proximity to your mate." He blurts out, standing up sharply. I squint my eyes not believing what my ears have just heard, but I immediately understand that feeling that has long been building in my heart toward my mate. Well I would say more than friend. I feel something forming in my chest that takes shape through a golden thread extending from my sternum to that of Azriel, who is currently turned his back to me as he looks out of the cave as if in the same there is the answer to this problem. Immediately I feel that silly happiness I felt at having found my mate, and that he was the man I actually loved all my life already disintegrating under the idea that he didn't want all that.

"You don't have to." I whisper, in the grip of ever-worsening cramps, but right now they seem like nothing more than mild pain compared to what my heart was feeling.

"You don't understand, if we don't do this, you will die and I won't let you die." He counters by turning around and dropping to his knees at my height looking me straight in the eye.

"I don't want your pity." I reply harshly as I try to get out of his sight, unable to do much given my condition, because I don't want him to see my suffering and the pain his rejection has triggered in me.

"No, I don't want my mate, the woman I've loved all my life to die and I'm pissed off at Mother because I didn't want it to happen like this between us the first time. I wanted to do everything right, take you to dinner, confess under the stars and then make love to you in my bed between the sheets I had specially chosen your favorite color, not on the floor in a stupid cave after risking our lives! When I knew you were my mate I wanted nothing more than to thank Mother, fate or whoever, but now I hate them because they had to pass the anger they vent on me to you, and I don't want to see you suffer because of me." He blurts out as he begins to walk around the cave again, then finishes his speech by looking at me. A strange light sparkles in his eyes, they look like the eyes of someone who loves to the point of being sick, to the point of suffering, and that love right now is directed at me. I can't believe his words, but that connection makes me feel that everything he just said is the truth, and immediately the happiness I lost a few moments ago returns, along with hope.

"We can still do it." I confess in a whisper and he immediately turns to me, his eyebrows furrowed over his beautiful eyes. "We can do it once we get home. We'll tell Rhys they can go screw him and his missions, and we'll take some time to figure this out and get used to it, and we can do everything you just said, because believe me I want to do all that with you."

"But?" He asks as he approaches.

"But now all I need is you fucking me as hard as you can in this shitty place so that I can stop dying and talk to you without having to moan every time." I say, as I grab his shirt with one hand, since he was now close enough to me, and kiss him with all the passion in my body.

I feel like I can finally breathe again as my lips on his, and I can already feel the pollen fade as the urge to feel Azriel inside me increases without measure.

"As my lady wishes." Whispers the Illiryan on my lips as we pull away from that breathless kiss. I immediately feel his lips graze my neck, to start biting and sucking on it as if his life depended on it. Every single movement of his lips and tongue made me touch the sky with one finger as I moaned his name as if I were a priestess intent on making a prayer and he the deity I believe in.

His lips then move from my neck to my breasts, where he begins to suck on my nipples like a hungry child. I bring my hands into his hair and pull them every time his tongue touches one of my sensitive spots.

"Baby doll, if you pull my hair one more time, I don't think I'll be able to keep myself from fucking you so hard I'll leave your silhouette on the floor of this place." He says pulling away for a moment to kiss my lips again.

My hands move down, and I begin to open his pants, while he begins to open mine.

"All words, I want to see some action." I reply, trying not to give away how much his words had affected me. He smirks, realizing that he actually made a mark with what he said, just brushing against my panties and feeling how wet they are.

"You will regret saying what you just said baby doll." Az replies, as with a quick gesture he enters of me. I didn't even notice that he had moved both my and his panties, but right now I don't care.

Feeling his cock inside me is an otherworldly experience. I can feel the walls of my pussy tighten around his sizable member as he tries to stay as still as possible to get me used to his size.

"Tell me if it hurts, or if you feel like you can't take it anymore, okay?" He asks softly, as he kisses my sweaty forehead. I feel the cramps from the sex pollen return, and I groan before I answer him.

"Az, I can't take it anymore, either you move or I swear I'm going to flip you over and start doing what I need to do on my own." I say, trying to move my hips slightly and create some friction, but he stops me, resting his hips on mine and giving that silly little smile that makes him so sexy.

"Oh, I can't wait to see you ride my cock, but I'd say leave that experience for another time. Tonight is just for you, and for your pleasure." He comments and then begins to move.

Immediately I feel every single part of the universe fall into place as he gradually increases his speed. My body seems to be persecuted everywhere with shivers of pleasure as his lips rest lightly on my breasts again. Between his mouth, his cock, and the sex pollen in my body my orgasm seems to come with a speed I never expected.

"Please Az, don't stop." I say groaning, feeling the pleasure grow more and more every second.

"Oh baby I could never deprive myself of the feeling of my cock against your cervix. You're going to come, aren't you?" She whispers back as I try to nod. "Then we'll come together love."

"Yes, please Az fill me." I continue, and I feel her muscles tense even more under my touch.

"Honey don't challenge me, you know I could fuck you so hard you wouldn't walk tomorrow even if you prayed to Mother." He counters by increasing his speed.

"It would certainly be worth it." I answer as I now feel I am on the edge of oblivion, just one thrust would be enough to sink into pleasure. I hold my breath for a moment as I feel him move for the last time before my body begins to move in convulsions of pleasure, and my vision becomes totally blurred.

I feel him releasing all his semen inside me shortly after coming, and I feel him lying on top of me, relaxing.

We stay like that for a few minutes before he starts laughing. I look at him not understanding why he is laughing until he explains himself.

"God, I guess in the end I will have Rhys to thank for this mission." Whispers Az.

"Actually it wasn't that bad." I comment, laughing in turn.

"Let's say it had its upsides." He replies with a wink. "But don't think it's over here, wait until you get home, and when I'm done with you the only thing you'll remember is my name."

Yes I would say we definitely have Rhys to thank.

TAGLIST

@horneybeach1 @peachyxrosie @whoreforblackhill @forsiriussake @ash04w3 @l3viathanpup @ohemgeewhat @123345566 @kidsaproblem @lust4lucille @lisamanban123 @alina02 @shodowbane09 @supernatural-lvr

[illiterateaffairs]

change of plans | stiles x reader

masterlist

pairing: established stiles stilinski x f!reader (best friend/witch)

word count: 1,133

warnings: reader doing makeup, fluff!!!!!

summary: set after the season 5 finale, you're starting to rethink stiles' master plan for after high school

author's note: hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season so far! this is intended to be a part of my 12 days of fics series which would mean i am trying to post everyday through christmas BUT i fear i will not be able to keep up with it due to work and family so don't hold me to it, but in a perf world i am going to share as much stiles and jamie fics as i can this holiday season!! pls let me know thoughts and feedback!!! <3

Despite you experiencing this at least half a dozen times, it will never stop making your brain explode that after defeating another mythological foe, you and your friends are expected to return to school, business as usual, as if nothing happened.

This time it was the Dread Doctors and the “Beast of Gevaudan”, not to mention Malia’s crazy mother, your own family drama, and something else you’re probably forgetting due to the exhaustion and trauma you have yet to process. 

The horrors persist and yet so do we. 

Even after sleepless nights solving mysteries and fighting battles, here you were doing your makeup before school. 

You’re constantly impressed with your ability to wake up and get yourself together. 

In the middle of finishing your eyeliner, you hear someone brush into your room. Spinning around, you give your boyfriend an amused look as he flops down on your bed nonchalantly.

“You’re lucky I was done otherwise you would have had to deal with the aftermath of me poking my eye out.”

Stiles chuckles glancing over at you with a tired smile, “I’d still love you with one eye.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, turning back to your vanity mirror, “How did you get in by the way? Jules already left for work.”

“I let myself in,” at your look through the mirror, he shrugs, “I know where you guys keep the key. Besides, this has been one of my second homes since we were kids, you shouldn’t be so surprised.”

You smile to yourself, staring off as you rifle through your makeup bag for lip gloss. 

You and Stiles had been officially dating for…six months now? Which was still very new, especially for a high school relationship. But you’d also been friends since kindergarten, and you’ve loved him nearly just as long. Despite the messy and humorous transition from friends to more, your relationship was so strong. Definitely stronger than most people your age, and you’d even bet stronger than those older. Surviving multiple near death experiences together sure bonds a couple.

But it wasn’t just that. At the end of the day, Stiles was still your best friend at the core. He knew every nuance, secret, flaw, and quirk you had. How to make you laugh, smile, and push your buttons. He can tell what you’re about to say and do before you do. And he cared about you so, so much. 

He’d been your safe space before you even admitted it to yourself. Your home. 

“Stiles?” You speak up again softly, putting the final touches on your lips. “You know that plan you have for after graduation? The one that ensures we all stick together?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I had a…tweak?”

Stiles sits up slowly in your bed, suddenly feeling anxious for what you were about to say. “A tweak?”

You nod, turning back around in your chair, leaning on the back of it. “Yeah. A tweak. An amendment, if you will.” 

“What, um, what were you thinking?” He asks softly, his voice hoarse with nerves. The whole sanctity of the plan was that you all were together. And while you hadn’t exactly had time to iron out all the details of where exactly everyone was officially going to college, he’d never considered you’d pick a place that was separate from him. Sure it was always a possibility you’d go to different colleges, even a likelihood, but even before you became a couple he couldn’t picture his future without you always just…there. 

“I was thinking about your proposed living situation,” you muse, starting to stand up from your chair, “Where you’re living with Scott, and I’m supposed to live with Lydia?”

“Yeah…” Stiles swallows thickly as you approach the bed and sink down next to him. 

“I was sort of thinking of doing something different.”

“And what would that be?”

You look down at where his hand is resting on his lap, and gently pick it up, playing with his fingers. You smile shyly, not looking back up at him quite yet. “I was thinking maybe the two of us could live together instead…”

Silence hangs over the room for a few moments. Then you finally glance up at him and he’s staring at you, his jaw slack. Your lip curves up in amusement.

“That is, unless, you’re really set on living with Scott?”

Stiles sputters and shakes his head rapidly, “No, no! I mean- of course I’d love living with Scott, he’s my best friend- next to you of course! But living with you? That would be…” he takes a deep breath, his voice softening, “A dream.”

You melt at his words and squeeze his hand, “Really? That doesn’t sound like a crazy, awful idea? By the time we go to college we’ll only have been dating around a year. And they say you shouldn’t make decisions at our age based on your high school relationship.”

Stiles shakes his head again and scoots closer to you, “We are not like other couples. Maybe because we’ve been through shit other couples haven’t or because we’re way too codependent, but screw what people say. It would work for us, I know it.”

Your smile grows again, and Stiles beams back, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

His smile softens and he gives you a shy look, “You really want to live with me though? You think you could deal with me on a more constant basis?”

“Stiles. You are my favorite person in the world. I’m more worried about what would happen if I wasn’t with you constantly.”

Grinning, Stiles gently tugs you closer to kiss you and then doesn’t waste anymore time before pulling you back to lay across the bed with him, making you laugh as he holds you in his arms and continues to kiss you, deeply and sloppily. 

You chuckle against his lips, holding yourself up with a hand to his chest, “You’re right, we are extremely codependent.”

Stiles smirks, “You love it.”

“I do. And I love you. So much.”

“I love you, too…future roomie.” 

This time you can’t fight the grin on your face and the urge to kiss him as you surge forward again, completely ignoring the fact that you two need to be at school in like ten minutes. You’re also spurred on by the idea you’ll get to do this all. the. time.  

“Your dad is going to hate this idea when he finds out,” you mumble against his lips after a few moments.

“Yeah,” Stiles huffs, “He’s going to tell you you’re making a god awful decision.”

You laugh loudly, before he rolls you over and continues kissing you, also enticed by the thoughts of laughing with you, kissing you, and growing with you for the foreseeable future.  

authors note: pls let me know what you think, comments/messages/reblogs are so appreciated <33

[jjwantsme]

Type Shi

j.m

pairing: jj maybank x girlfriend!reader

summary: in which JJ learns a new phrase.

warnings: fem reader, lowercase intended, very short, lowkey poorly written.

authors note: this is more of a concept??? or an idea ig. but yeah this is definitely something jj would do😭 heres a lil blurb to hold yall over. also gimme a break if my writing is bad its been like 2 years😞

“type shit, type shit, type shit.” jj spoke rather quickly as he nodded in agreement with something john b had said, making the dark haired boy raise his eyebrows.

y/n shook her head, “don’t mind him, it’s his new thing.”

jj grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as kiara snickered. “right? he said it, like, at least 50 times last night while playing fortnite with me and pope. it was driving me crazy.”

they all laughed and jj put his hands up in defense, “alright, alright, i’ll stop saying it! it’s just fun to say…”

“you know what else is fun? eating. i’m starving to death and nobody cares.” pope groaned, dramatically putting his hand over his forehead.

y/n rolled her eyes. all he’d done for the last hour was complain about being hungry. “fine…let’s just go to raising canes for something.” john b shrugged.

“raising canes does sound pretty good,” sarah giggled.

“type shit.” jj nodded.

the group narrowed their eyes at him, y/n letting out a huff.

“fuck, sorry!”

[riordanness]

bad blood - [h.haddock]

8.2K wordcount

warnings: death mention, panic attack mentions

requested: no

a/n: i usually don’t do author’s notes on my fics bc i don’t think i have really anything to say lmao. however. i wanted to say a quick word about this one, as it’s a kind of old piece but one i was extremely proud of and worked really hard to complete. i loved the humorous parts i wrote, loved the character arc i gave y/n, and just in general really liked how my writing turned out. also, it’s the second longest one-shot (currently) i’ve ever written! anyways, enjoy my lovelies <3

I disliked Hiccup Haddock more than anything else in the entire world. I didn’t like him at all for a very long time, but… well, here is our story.

“Hey love.” A voice appeared next to my shoulder, and I rolled my eyes.

“Go away, Hiccup,” I demanded, refusing to look at him. I was carving a spear out of a wooden stick, so I kept my focus on my knife running back and forth along the wood.

Even without looking at him, I could tell he had a smirk on his face. “Oh love,” he whined. “I want to talk to you.”

He tugged on one of my small braids that ran down the sides of my hair. I whacked his hand away, still not looking at him. “I said go away,” I said again.

He laughed. “I know.”

“So leave me alone.”

A moment’s pause. “But why?”

“Because I hate you and don’t want you around, annoying me to death. I’m busy.”

“But you’re fun to annoy.”

I turned on him, fiercely glaring up at him. The worst thing about Hiccup was how tall he was compared to me. He wasn’t even that tall, I was just super short. Hiccup was a full head higher than me.

Hiccup had a smirk playing around his mouth. “Hey shortcake.”

I hit him. “Shut up, Hiccup.”

“Aww, c’mon sweetheart. I’m bored.”

“That’s nice.” I crossed my arms protectively. Not that Hiccup would ever actually hurt me. Honestly, if it came down to me being in danger, I was pretty sure he’d defend me. I’d known him longer than anybody else I knew.

I might hate him, but it was the truth. Hiccup was an asshole, but I knew deep down he didn’t absolutely hate me. I guess I didn’t hate him, either. He was just a total pain.

“Go ride Toothless or make a friend or do something. Just leave me alone. I don’t care to see you.”

Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his ruffled brown hair. His green eyes flickered with amusement. “Okay, love. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He winked. “Sorry love.”

I resisted the childish urge to stamp my foot. “Hiccup!”

He held up his hands. “Okay… okay.” I almost thought he might actually be genuine, until he smirked. “I’ll stop calling you love… darling.”

I knew there was no shutting him up. I turned on my heel without a word, and stamped angrily into my cabin, slamming the door behind me.

Three seconds passed, then there was a knock on the door. I opened it. “Hiccup, go away!”

Hiccup stood there, grinning mischievously. “Fine, fine. Bye, you.”

I rolled my eyes and shut the door. I’d only just turned around when another knock sounded. I gritted my teeth. “Stupid little —“

I opened the door again and stopped short. “Oh! Stoick. Um, hi.” I swallowed. “Sorry, I, uh, I thought you were Hiccup.”

Stoick looked amused. “That’s alright, y/n.”

“Um, would you like to come in?” I offered.

Stoick nodded, and stepped inside. I suddenly felt very conscious of how messy the place was. I didn’t spend much time here, preferring to roam outside or stay at Astrid, my best friend’s house.

“How are you faring up?” Stoick asked.

I shrugged. “I’m okay. Still getting used to the fact that they’re gone, but, you know. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Stoick nodded. “If you ever need anything, feel free to let me or Hiccup know.”

I groaned internally. “Yeah, like I’d ever ask him for help,” I muttered.

I hadn’t intended for him to hear, but Stoick chuckled softly. “He doesn’t hate you, you know.”

“Sure,” I said. “Because he thinks I’m fun to annoy.”

“That’s not it.”

I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “O…kay…” I said slowly. “Um. Great. Well, it’s getting late, so if you don’t mind, uh…”

“Oh! Sure, sure,” Stoick said. “Have a good night, y/n.”

A long time after he left, I stood in my empty, cold house, staring at the door, wishing for something to come and fill the hole that was forming inside of me.

“Y/n, did you hear?”

I turned to my best friend. “Um. No. What happened?”

Astrid brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Stoick just told Hiccup he’s going to become chief soon.”

“Cool.” I returned to making the leather straps I’d been softening for my future dragon’s saddle.

See, the thing is, I don’t have a dragon. I know, that’s so weird, everyone in Berk has one, but I’m, well… a dragon killed my parents a few years ago. I’ve never liked them anyways, but after that, I’ve struggled a lot with my feelings about dragons. I’m sure one day I will overcome this fear inside me and own a dragon, but right now? No way.

“That’s all?” Astrid looked offended. “Y/n, that’s so much cooler than cool.” She suddenly laughed. “You know what this means?”

I frowned a little. “No..?”

“Hiccup has to choose a bride.”

I blinked. “Really? Um, so?”

Astrid rolled her eyes, elbowing me as she sat beside me on the ground. “You know you’re in love with him, y/n/n.”

I pretended to gag. “Ugh, as if! Astrid, you know I hate him. I don’t care at all about him in any way, especially not in a romantic way. I don’t care a single little bit if he has to choose a bride.”

“Sure.” Astrid smirked. “You’re secretly hoping he’ll choose you, aren’t you?”

I shot her a glare that warned her to shut up. “He’ll choose you and you know it,” I said.

Astrid wrinkled her nose. “I doubt it,” she said. “Hiccup and I literally never talk. Besides, everybody knows that me and Stormfly are a forever couple.”

I shook my head at her, but I had to smile. “Well, he won’t choose me, and I don’t care about it anyway.”

Astrid looked like she wanted to argue, but she shut her mouth when she noticed someone walking over to us. When I saw who it was, I sighed.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

“Gee, you’re lovely today, darling,” Hiccup teased, plopping himself down next to us.

“Excuse me,” I pointed out. “We didn’t invite you to sit with us.”

Astrid glanced at me, a smirk playing around her mouth. Her eyes were twinkling. I glared at her. I hate you, I mouthed.

I swung one leg over the log so my back was to Hiccup. “So, Astrid,” I said, a little too loudly. “What do you want to do this afternoon?”

“I’m taking Stormfly out for a ride,” Astrid replied. “You’re welcome to join —“

“No,” I said instantly. “Uh, I mean. No thank you. I’m good.” My hands trembled ever so slightly. I coughed, swallowed, and picked up my leather strap, gripping it tightly to stop the shaking.

Hiccup poked his head over my shoulder. “You know—“

I elbowed him in the ribs so hard he tumbled off the log. “Whoa!” he yelped. “Jeez, y/n!”

“Sorry,” I apologised. “I- you startled me.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “No I didn’t. You just like hitting people.”

My mouth tightened. “No I don’t. And stop calling me a liar!”

“When did I call you a liar?” He got to his feet, one arm cradling his ribcage. “You’re violent for literally no reason.”

I glared at him. “You just said I was lying. And I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

Hiccup winced. “Uh- yeah you actually did. I think you broke a rib or something.”

I slammed my work to the ground, getting to my feet and facing the boy. “Stop avoiding the fact that you called me a liar! I never ever ever make up anything.”

My eyes glittered with unwanted tears. Involuntary memories sprang into my mind. My parents hugging me. My father’s voice in my hair, my younger voice begging them to promise to return soon. “Of course we will return, darling,” my father said. “We’ve never lied to you, have we now?”

I blinked, forcing the tears away. I hated crying in any situation, but I wouldn’t be able to stand crying in front of Hiccup. I’d never live it down.

“Whatever.” Hiccup glanced at me. His voice suddenly changed. “Want to see something amazing?”

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “The retreating back of your head would be great, thanks.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I!” I turned away from him, and only then did I realise Astrid was nowhere to be seen. She must’ve snuck away while Hiccup and I were arguing.

Hiccup’s hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. “C’mon,” he pleaded, and his voice sounded genuinely kind. “It’ll be fun.”

I rolled my eyes. “If I come with you, do you promise to leave me alone after?”

Hiccup nodded.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Where are we going?”

He grinned mischievously. “You’ll see.”

Hiccup turned, and I had no choice but to follow; partly because I was curious, and partly because I wanted him to leave me alone, and this was the only way to guarantee that.

We entered the woods that surrounded the village, and I began to get suspicious. “Hiccup?” I asked. “Where exactly are we going?”

He didn’t answer for almost a minute. “You’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes. “First, that’s not a proper answer. Two, don’t you think that you should tell me before you drag me off somewhere?”

He laughed. “C’mon. Don’t you ever do anything adventurous or risky?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I talk to you.”

“Hey!” He shot me a playful glare.

I managed a smirk. “No, but seriously. Where are you taking me?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Okay. Just stay here a moment. I’ll be right back.”

I frowned, and opened my mouth to complain, but before I could say anything, Hiccup had disappeared into the trees. I had no choice but to wait where I was.

Only a few minutes later, I heard a rush of wind, and a midnight-black dragon landed in front of me. Hiccup sat astride Toothless, one hand in the air.

I yelped, taking a few quick steps backward. “I- shoot, Hiccup. Why are you…” My voice died as Toothless stared at me. A shiver ran down my spine, making me feel sick to my stomach.

“Y/n, it’s fine,” Hiccup assured. “He won’t hurt you. Will ya, bud?”

I shook my head, my throat tightening. “I- no. I can’t do this, Hiccup.” I took another step back, my entire body beginning to shake. This. This what had killed my parents. Dragons couldn’t be trusted. No matter how much Hiccup had tried to convince the village, I would never trust anyone, or anything, ever again.

Hiccup frowned. “Fine.” He leaned down and patted Toothless on the neck. “C’mon, bud. Let’s go.”

Without another word, Toothless spread his wings and they soared into the air.

I stood stock still for a whole minute before I realised I was holding my breath. I let it out all in a rush, and staggered a little. I reached out to hold onto a tree truck for support. My legs felt wobbly and unstable.

I decided it was best if I headed back for the village. I didn’t want to hang around in the woods today anymore. I had a sour taste in my mouth, and I needed some water.

I was twenty meters away from my cabin door when suddenly the ground beneath me was swept away. The village got smaller and smaller, and then I realised what was happening.

“Hiccup Haddock!” I shrieked. Toothless was holding onto my forearms, and I was suspended in the air.

“Yes, m’lady?”

“I am going to kill you!” I yelled up at him, panic temporarily pushing aside my utter agony at being defenceless against a dragon.

“Toothless, put her down,” Hiccup commanded.

Toothless flew around a huge pine tree that was significantly taller than most of the forest, and promptly dropped me onto its highest branches.

I clung to the tree truck, shaking. Tears clogged up my throat, and my legs were so trembly I thought I was going to fall and die.

“Y/n.”

At the sound of Hiccup’s voice, I slowly turned to face him. He looked almost sorry, but I knew that was impossible. The little wretch was trying to make me terrified, for what reason I could only guess. This was his biggest prank yet.

“Hiccup,” I said, trying to keep my voice level (and failing), “you will get me down from here, now.” I gripped the tree tighter. “You will take me home this instant, and you will never ever talk to me again. Do you understand?”

He blinked. “But—“

“Do you understand?!” I yelled.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Here.” He held out his hand.

I stared at it for a second, then gingerly reached out and rested my fingertips on his palm. A tingle ran up the length of my arm. He gripped my wrist, and pulled me up onto the dragon behind him.

Every part of my body that was in contact with the dragon’s felt heated up, like I could burst into flames at any moment. My head pounded in sync with my heartbeat, and my palms were getting sweaty. I was, in short, absolutely terrified.

“… let her down slowly.”

I realised Hiccup was talking. “You got that, bud?”

Toothless made an exasperated grunt, sounding more like a sarcastic teenager than a dragon. That didn’t make me feel any better.

Toothless slowly spread his wings, and for a second, I almost relaxed. Maybe he would fly down gently like Hiccup had asked.

The next second, my illusion shattered. Toothless took off so fast I almost toppled off. I was forced to grab onto the nearest thing to stay onboard (on-dragon?). Unfortunately, that thing happened to be Hiccup.

Whatever. I’d rather not die today. I gripped his shoulders so tightly my knuckles turned white. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, as if not seeing would make it better for me.

The wind whipped in my ears, blowing my dark hair all around my face. I was so scared, so worried, so distraught I felt like crying. I couldn’t, though. I wasn’t dumb enough to cry in front of Hiccup. He would never let me hear the end of it.

Suddenly, I felt the dragon beneath me twisting sideways. We started spinning, twirling in tight circles. My grip tightened on Hiccup’s shoulders.

Someone was screaming, and I was like eighty-five percent sure it was me.

“Toothless!” Hiccup yelled. “Stop this right now! You’re scaring her!”

Toothless took that as a challenge, and dove toward the ocean a hundred feet below. He showed absolutely no signs of slowing or stopping in any way. I opened my eyes, wanting to at least be able to see something in case I died because of this.

“Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile,” Hiccup muttered. I slowly began to realise that maybe Hiccup wasn’t the one at fault here. Of course. It was the dragon’s fault. Dragons weren’t to be trusted, which was exactly what I’d been thinking this whole time.

Just as we were about to hit the water, Toothless opened up his wings. We shot upward, soaring towards the sugar-spun clouds above us.

We levelled out, and my muscles lost some of their tension. Toothless floated in the air, almost flying gently now. I remembered how to breathe, and let out a long, breathless sigh.

“Hiccup,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “I am going to murder you.”

I melted into him, partly in relief that I wasn’t dead, partly in exhausted terror. My arms went around his waist, my forehead falling to rest on his back. My eyes fluttered shut, and a lone tear streaked down my cheek.

Hiccup didn’t say anything for a long while, and so neither did I. Toothless flew long and slow and level, giving me the slightest chance of not murdering him, too.

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that. All I remember is Hiccup’s voice saying softly, “Sweet dreams, love,” before I fell into the welcome arms of sleep.

I woke slowly, curled in a ball inside a warm, soft bed that didn’t feel like mine. When I finally opened my eyes, I realised why it didn’t feel familiar. I wasn’t even in my house.

I sat up, looking around, trying to work out where I was. With a start, I couldn’t even think of a time I’d been inside any other houses in the village except for Astrid’s. I had no idea whose house this was.

“Morning, m’lady,” said a deep voice from the top of the stairs.

I groaned internally. “Oh, gosh, of course it’s you.” I found myself pulling my fingers through my hair, brushing it as nearly as I could, straightening my shirt, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

I dragged myself out of the bed. I was still dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, my usual top and skirt combo, with leggings underneath for warmth. My boots were lying on the floor, so I yanked them on.

I glanced up at Hiccup, who was hanging over the banisters, watching me. With a jolt, all the memories of yesterday flooded in.

Red-hot anger filled me. I clenched my fists. “Are you gonna come down here, or should I just murder you up there?”

Hiccup’s eyes widened. “I- what?”

“You heard me,” I muttered. My knife was missing from my belt, which was just great. I’d probably lost in on that horrific flight yesterday.

I stomped up the stairs, stopping on the one below the one Hiccup was standing on. He leaned against the banister, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Hey shortcake,” he whispered teasingly. “Sleep well?”

I gritted my teeth. “You are so beyond dead right now, Hiccup.”

He chuckled. “Hey. Blame Toothless, alright? There was nothing I could do!”

I wanted to roll my eyes. “Um, okay. And he’s your dragon.”

“That doesn’t mean I can control him!”

I didn’t answer, my gaze sliding away from Hiccup. I sighed, laid my palm on the cold wood banister. “I don’t ever want you to talk to me again, okay? I don’t want to see you; I don’t want to hear you. I don’t even want to know you exist.”

I felt a glistening tear streak its way down my cheek, dripping off the bottom of my chin. “Just—“ My voice broke. “Just leave me alone.”

I turned, and ran out of the house, leaving his door wide open. I headed for the only place I could think of; the woods.

I didn’t stop running until I was deep in the forest, surrounded by unfamiliar trees. I dropped to my knees in the dirt, buried my face in my hands and cried.

Hours later, I slowly rose to my feet. It was growing steadily dark, and the cold was seeping into my bone. I shivered, and wrapped my arms around myself as I walked around in a small circle.

I realised, horrified, that I was completely lost. I had no idea whatsoever where I was, which direction the village was, or what time of day it even was right now.

I eventually sat down on a rock, pulling my knees up to my chest. The darkness was growing. Soon, I didn’t think I would be able to see a thing. I began to get worried.

Who knew what things might be hiding in the shadows? My hand instinctively went to my belt, my my knife was gone. I cursed under my breath, and stood, pressing my back against a tree. I figured it would be safer than sitting on an exposed rock.

I shivered, wrapping my arms tighter around myself, my eyes turning towards the sky, hoping, for some insane reason, that someone might be out there looking for me.

Who was I kidding? Who was there that even cared about me that much? I didn’t have parents who were waiting back at home, wondering how late I was going to stay out. I didn’t have siblings who would notice my absence.

Astrid wouldn’t notice this late at night. I tended to wander during the day; she was used to that, but at night it wouldn’t even occur to her that I was anywhere but home.

Hiccup briefly crossed my mind, but I truly did not think he cared about me that much. I didn’t even want him to. I was still so mad at Hiccup, thinking about him made it hard to breathe. I hated him.

“I hate Hiccup Haddock,” I whispered under my breath, trying to make myself feel better. My breath made a wisp of steam in the cold air. I watched it as it floated into nothingness.

My vision suddenly blurred, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of exhaustion or tears. I slumped down to the ground, my legs giving way. I drew my knees close to my chest, hugging them to me. My chin rested on my knees, gazing out at the woods, though I could barely make out anything anymore. I couldn’t even see my own hand clearly, let alone anything else.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, but eventually, I slipped into a deep sleep, half-frozen, chilled to the bone, alone and crying in the darkness.

“Y/n! Y/n? Y/n/n?!”

My eyes fluttered open. I groaned in pain. I felt someone’s arms encircling me, carrying me, but I couldn’t make out anything. Everything was blurred, hazy. The person carrying me was talking, but it sounded far away and watery.

I slumped against the person’s shoulder, closing my eyes. I was tired: so, so tired. Everything ached; my head pounded and throbbed.

I don’t think I feel back asleep, but I wasn’t really aware of anything for a long while. Finally, the person slowed to a walk, and laid me down on a couch or a bed or something. A cup was held to my lips, and I gratefully accepted the water.

I blinked several times, and my eyes focused on a very familiar looking boy, who’s green eyes were staring down at me, full of concern.

“Hiccup?” I asked weakly. “What are you…?”

“I found you in the middle of the woods,” Hiccup replied, his eyes darkening slightly. “Are you okay? Do you need anything else? More water? Are-are you warm enough?”

I laid my head back, rubbing my thumb against my throbbing temple. I let out a long sigh, whether it was of annoyance or exhaustion or pain, I wasn’t sure.

“I hate you so much,” I muttered.

“Gee, thanks,” Hiccup answered. He held the back of his hand against my forehead, testing my temperature. “You don’t seem to be too sick. I think you’re going to be okay,” he said, almost to himself.

“I’m not sick at all,” I said firmly. “I don’t even know why you’re taking care of me. I don’t need you. You—“ My voice suddenly broke with emotion. “You did this to me.”

Hiccup’s eyes filled with sorrow. “Look, Y/n/n—“

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.

He blinked. “Y/n. I-I am so sorry for what happened yesterday. I, well, I thought it might make it better if you saw that dragons aren’t always vicious. Um…” He glanced down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Toothless didn’t really get the memo.”

He looked at me. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. And I hope that maybe someday you can find it in you to forgive me.” He stood, brushed off his pants, and left, closing the door gently behind him.

I lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but Hiccup had brought me home. I was in my bed, in my house. I could hear small noises from downstairs, which meant that Hiccup was still here. I wasn’t sure what he was doing down there, but I didn’t really care.

What I cared about right now was what he’d said. And what it had made happen inside of me. Was I really as mad at him as I thought I was? After all, he’d gone out and found me, brought me home, taken care of me. Maybe he’d been trying to be nice, and it really was Toothless who had been doing all those things to me. (Which just proved all my theories that dragons weren’t to be trusted).

I thought again of Hiccup’s eyes staring down at me, his sad voice asking me for forgiveness. The worry in his expression when he asked if I was okay. I hated how much I’d liked that. I hadn’t ever been in love, or even had a crush on anyone. I wasn’t sure if this even was a crush, but if it was, I didn’t like it.

I didn’t like the swirling in my stomach when I heard Hiccup’s voice. I hated how much I suddenly wanted him near me. I disliked how I kind of trusted him. I didn’t want to be in love. I didn’t want to have somebody I believed in again.

Last time I’d loved someone, trusted someone, all they’d done was break my heart and leave me forever. My parents. I wondered if part of my hatred inside was because I’d never truly forgiven them for leaving. For dying and not coming back for me like they’d sworn they would. I blinked back tears, brushing my cheeks with the back of my hand.

I swung my legs out of the bed, standing. I swayed a bit at first, but I forced myself to be steady. I yanked on my boots and slowly pushed open my bedroom door. I stepped out onto the landing, peeping over the edge of the banisters.

Hiccup was down in the kitchen. I was shocked at how much cleaner everything looked. I barely ever tidied up. Not that things got particularly dirty, as I spent little time here, but dust had certainly stocked up over the years. Hiccup had scrubbed away the five years of dirt from my home, and it was sparkling.

Something smelled good, too. It hit me like a brick wall that the fire was going, and Hiccup was cooking something over it. It looked like soup or something similar. I hadn’t had a home cooked meal for ages. I hated cooking, so I just lived on things I grew in the garden, or tidbits from friends.

I shifted slightly, and a floorboard underneath me creaked. Hiccup glanced up, and when he saw me, a slight smile flickered across his face. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said back, not sure what else to say. I mean, I’d just yelled at him, and made it pretty clear I didn’t ever want to talk to him again. What do you say to someone who’s just cleaned your entire house and taken care of you after you told them that? “What are you making?”

Hiccup glanced down at the pot he was stirring, then back up at me. “Chicken and potato soup. Want some?”

I hesitated, but nodded, with a small shrug. “Why not.” I slowly walked down the stairs, my eyes on Hiccup the whole time. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from him.

He noticed me staring and smiled nervously. “What? Am I in trouble?”

I found myself slowly shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so.” I allowed myself a small, watery smile. “At least not yet.”

Hiccup grinned. “Good. Now sit down and eat.”

I obeyed, setting myself down at the old dining table. I wiped my palm on the wood, expecting it to be coated it dirt, but it shone with new cleanliness. My eyes suddenly filled with tears.

“Hiccup…” was all I could manage.

Immediately, Hiccup knelt in front of me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, almost urgently, staring up into my eyes. “Are you alright?”

I swallowed. “You-you cleaned the house… you’re cooking… I- you…” I let out a broken sob.

For so long, so one had cared. Astrid cared the most, but she was busy with Stormfly and her new baby brother and life in general. She’d offered a few times to have me stay with her and her family, but I’d known that would be far too hard for them. I’d always politely told her I was just fine on my own, thank you. But I wasn’t. I knew that. I needed someone to care so badly that now that someone did, someone cared, it almost hurt.

“Hey, hey,” Hiccup said softly, grabbing me by the shoulders. I realised I was shaking.

“It’s alright,” he assured me. “Come here.” He brought me into a hug, which at first both startled and scared me, but then I melted into it. The hug felt unfamiliar, different, awkward. But nice, somehow.

But this was Hiccup. I untangled myself from him. “Uh,” I stammered, tucking my hair behind my ear, eyes flitting away. “Thanks.”

Hiccup shrugged. “It’s fine.” He stood slowly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yes. I mean, no. I-I guess? I’m not sure…” I stared up at him. “Hiccup, why are you doing this?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean?” He gestured around. “You needed help. You need help. I am the son of the chief; soon to be the chief myself. It’s my job to help the village.”

Something inside me wilted a little. So this was just part of the job to him? The rest of me internally yelled at that bit to shut up, and that we hated Hiccup, so it doesn’t matter what he does. But why did I hate Hiccup?

Thinking back on it now, I really didn’t think he had ever done anything truly bad towards me. Yeah, sure, he’d been a total tease, but I was a rude, bitter, secluded brat to be honest. I didn’t deserve any help from him.

I blinked back unwanted tears. “Um, well, I really appreciate it,” I said. “It was really nice of you to come looking for me.”

Hiccup studied my face for a moment, then pursed his lips and nodded once. “It’s okay, Y/n/n.”

Something inside me jolted. No one had called me that in years before today, when Hiccup had started to. It was the nickname my father had given me. Hearing Hiccup use it had just opened up a deep wound inside me I hadn’t even remembered.

“Please don’t call me that,” I whispered, staring at the floorboards. My feet hung limply in the air just above the floor.

Hiccup glanced over at me from where he was standing, stirring the soup. “Um, okay. Sorry, Y/n.” He stressed my name, saying it slightly slower than the rest of his words.

There was so much tension in the air, and I realised it was all my fault. I made the room awkward and made Hiccup have to watch everything he said. I was a terrible person.

I’d even told Hiccup never to talk to me again, right after I’d woken up in his house. It hit me that he must’ve taken me there after the awful flight on Toothless. Then, I’d screamed in his face that I hated him, and gotten myself lost in the woods because I was selfish and prideful and full of hate.

Even then, Hiccup had gone out and found me. Who knew how long that had taken him? He’d brought me back here, cleaned my house, made me food, and for what? For me to be snappy, harsh, and rude.

I ran my tongue over my lower lip, staring resolutely at the floor. “Hiccup?” I managed finally.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this?” I looked at him, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “Be honest.”

Hiccup hesitated, stirring the wooden spoon listlessly around the soup. “What do you mean?” he said finally.

I sighed, sitting up straight and brushing off my skirts. “You know… helping me.” I have a little laugh. “Heavens knows you don’t need to. So why are you really doing all this?”

Hiccup chewed his lip. “Because I’m going to be the Chief of Berk pretty soon. I need to be able to protect my people.” His gaze fixed on mine. “Even when they don’t like me, or want me to.”

Under his fierce eyes, my insides crinkled. I felt exposed, as if I was being examined under a bright light. I dropped my gaze.

“I’m sorry…” I managed, the words sounding funny in my mouth. I hadn’t apologised to Hiccup, for anything, ever.

“It’s okay.” His voice sounded surprisingly even, like he wasn’t even bothered about all this. So it was just me feeling all these things, was it? He was truly just doing this out of a sense of duty. And honestly, why shouldn’t he? I’d already told myself I was a rude little brat, to be totally honest. I didn’t deserve to have people look after me, at all.

I didn’t meet Hiccup’s eyes. “Um, that’s cool. But thank you, really.”

Hiccup nodded, and handed me a steaming mug of hot soup. “Eat up,” he said. “I’ll leave you the rest… have a good night, Y/n.”

And with that, he disappeared. The house felt suddenly very small and lonely, and I shrunk into myself, staring into the fire, sipping tiny bits of soup until I was all warmed up inside.

I gazed around the cabin. It looked so different, all shining and clean. It made me feel like maybe I might be able to move on; get over them leaving me. I shook my head. That would never happen. I didn’t think I was capable of letting it go, of moving forward with my life. I was seventeen years old, and I still held a grudge against my parents for ‘abandoning’ me when I was twelve.

Thoughts whirled through my brain, at an almost dizzying rate. I left my mug on the table, and went to stand by the open window, facing out into the main road of Berk.

A few children were playing in it, kicking a round wooden ball to each other. I watched them for a minute or two, before an absurd idea struck me. I pushed open the front door. “Hey!” I yelled.

The kids turned to look at me, momentarily forgetting their game. “Can I join you guys?” I asked, feeling brave.

The oldest girl looked confused for a moment, then after a brief pause, gave me a smile and a nod. “Sure!” she called.

I grinned, and shut my door behind me, jogging over to them. Playing ball was something I hadn’t done in years, but it felt good to just relax for a while. Plus, it was amazing to see others doing an activity that didn’t revolve around dragons, so I could join in.

Dragons. I shuddered a little, remembering the awful ride on Toothless, and making my feelings around Hiccup even more complicated.

After a good long play, I collapsed to the ground in a heap, blowing up my breath. “Gosh,” I managed. “I can see why kids like playing ball. It’s fun.” I offered the girl who’d let me come play with them a small smile.

“You’re Y/n, aren’t you?” the girl asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

I hesitated. How did they know who I was? I never really talked to anyone except Astrid, Hiccup and a few other people. Certainly not the children.

“Yeah, I am,” I said slowly. “How do you know my name?”

The little girl allowed herself a smug smile. “Hiccup told us about you.” Turning, she threw the ball to one of her friends.

I was dumbfounded. “Hiccup?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah. He told us you guys used to be friends but now you’re mean to him and won’t let him be nice to you anymore. He said he misses being your friend.”

I wrinkled my nose, staring at her. “Hiccup said he misses me?” I scoffed finally. “There’s no way. You must have heard him wrong. Hiccup hurt me incredibly badly when we were six years old, and ever since then he’s teased and bothered me almost to death. I will never be his friend again.”

I stood, suddenly angry all over again. Angry about how hurt I was, how much I hated Hiccup and my parents for hurting me. I clenched my teeth. “Thank you for letting me join you. Bye.”

I turned and began the walk uphill to Astrid’s house. Right now, I really needed to see my best friend.

When Astrid opened the door, she immediately noticed something was wrong. She frowned. “Are you alright?”

I shook my head. “Everything is so hopeless, A.”

Astrid made a sympathetic face and pulled me into a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” she whispered into my shoulder. “Come on, come inside. It’s freezing.”

Maybe it was. I felt so numb I didn’t think I would’ve noticed even if it was cold enough to give me frostbite. I felt like my insides were frozen, unable to feel anything at all.

Astrid pulled me inside, sitting me down on a chair beside the roaring fire. She knelt down in front of me. “What happened?” she asked, staring into my face.

I shook my head, looking away from her. “I… I don’t even know…” I began to cry, dropping my head in my hands.

Astrid pursed her lips, hugging me again. “Is it your parents? Hiccup? Tell me.”

I took a deep breath, and slowly began to tell her the entire story, beginning yesterday, when Hiccup took me into the woods and the whole, horrible ride on Toothless began. I kept my eyes steadily fixed on the fire as I spoke, quietly recounting the flight, the fight, being lost in the woods and then Hiccup rescuing me and cleaning my house. I even told her about the awkward hug.

The only thing I couldn’t manage to admit to Astrid was how I felt about Hiccup. I couldn’t decide if I hated his guts, or if I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again.

When I was finished, Astrid let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, babe,” she said. “But if you ask me… Hiccup wasn’t at fault for what Toothless was doing during that flight. I think he might be telling you the truth; that he just wanted you to see that dragons aren’t dangerous.”

I nodded slowly. I was beginning to believe that. Of course, that just made me hate dragons even more, but there was no point saying that aloud. Astrid knew I hated dragons even more than I hated Hiccup. I would never, ever trust a dragon.

Astrid studied me. “Do you want to know what else I think?”

I glanced at her. “By the look on your face, no. But I guess you’re going to tell me anyway, so… sure.”

Astrid suppressed a smile. “You know me too well,” she said. “But, what I think is, you don’t hate Hiccup at all. You’re just angry. At your parents mostly. But Hiccup hurt you too, years ago. You’re alone now, so you’re taking out your anger on the only person you have any sort of justification to do so to.”

I was silent. Sadly, her words rang hard and true. I could finally see that, yes, my hatred of Hiccup was really just anger at myself, and my parents. It had honestly nothing to do with Hiccup himself. He’d just been unfortunate enough to annoy me all those years ago, so now I’d decided to hate him because of it.

I shook my head in disbelief. “I’ve been so stupid,” I muttered.

“Not stupid,” Astrid said. “Kinda crazy, maybe, but not stupid.”

I looked at her. “I think… I think I should go and apologize to someone.”

She smiled. “Go.”

I jumped to my feet and ran, leaving her front door swinging open in the wind.

I didn’t stop running until I reached Hiccup’s house. I burst inside without thinking about knocking, but stopped short on the threshold.

“Stoick!” I gaped, trying to find the right words. “I, I am so sorry—“

“Y/n,” Stoick replied, getting to his feet. “What brings you here in such a hurry?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?”

I nodded breathlessly. “What? Yes. Yes, I’m fine, thanks, I just —“

“Were you looking for Hiccup?”

I pursed my lips. “I might’ve been.”

Stoick chuckled. “You’ve got spirit, lass. I like that about you.”

I blinked. “Um, thank you?”

“He’s at the beach.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Chief.”

The path that ran towards the beach was thin and steep, covered in loose rocks that skidded under my shoes. More than once I almost fell off the cliff side.

When I reached the beach, I was surprised at how small it seemed. Then again, I hadn’t been here since I was little. I guess my memories of it had faded. With a start, I realised that the last time I had been here was probably with Hiccup himself, back when we were small and best friends.

I spotted Hiccup’s figure walking through the surf a few hundred meters away. I started toward him, slowly in case I scared him with a sudden approach.

The beach itself was small and rocky, round black stones instead of proper sand. The waves here were little and inconsistent, barely making a splash. Sometimes in the summer, we would have a day or two of good weather, and the waves would be bigger, but that was a pretty rare occurrence.

I reached Hiccup, who was now standing with his hands buried in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“What do you see?” I whispered.

“Freedom,” he replied softly, turning to look at me. “When I’m riding Toothless, nothing is impossible. Me, a human, can fly on the back of a dragon. There is something magical about that, Y/n.”

I chewed my lip, considering his words. I guess there was something amazing about that fact, but still… dragons.

“Um,” I said. “I came here to apologise.”

Hiccup’s green eyes turned a darker shade. “For what?”

I dug the side of my shoe in the sand, my eyes sliding away from his. “For… everything.”

He waited, his eyes roaming my face.

I swallowed. “For not being your friend when I should have been. For hating you and your love for dragons. For being a terrible person. For hitting you and hating you and making your life miserable.” During this little speech, my voice had gotten higher and louder. Now it broke, and I felt tears brimming to my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Hiccup,” I cried.

Hiccup didn’t say anything. He stared at me for a count of five, while tears began to stream down my cheeks. What was wrong with me this week? For years, I’d barely cried at all, hiding my emotions inside. Now I was crying, again.

Hiccup did something I didn’t expect. He grabbed my face between his hands. They were tougher than I would’ve thought, calloused and hard from working with metals and wood and materials. He stared into my eyes for long enough for my tears to stop flowing. “Y/n,” he said. “It’s okay. You were forgiven years ago.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace. A week ago, I would’ve fought and hit and yelled at him, but now? I melted into Hiccup’s body, burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms tightly around him, letting my tears flow freely.

For the first time since my parents died, I felt at peace.

For the next three weeks, I tried my hardest to start a routine. To start cleaning my house, cooking meals every day, and (the hardest part of all), going out and talking to someone each and every morning.

Sometimes I just talked to Astrid, when it got bad and I truly couldn’t get enough emotion energy to talk to anyone else. But sometimes I managed. I talked to the kids playing in the streets, to the other girls I never really talked to before, to the guys helping out in the dragon-saddle-making workshop.

But mostly, I talked to Hiccup. I talked to him as if we’d never stopped being friends, as if we were six years old again. It honestly surprised me how easy it was to get along with him now that I didn’t have an eternal grudge against him. Hiccup was still the same person he’d always been. It was me who had changed.

I made an effort to even start working. I’d never done anything like it before, really, but it was honestly alright. I had a few shifts at the dragon workshop a week, and it was kind of fun after a while. Yeah, sure, I still got terrified when someone actually brought their dragon to the shop, but for the most part it was good.

Hiccup worked there sometimes as well, and so did Stoick. Astrid didn’t, because she was a dragon trainer and didn’t really have the time. I would’ve liked it if we were able to work together, but there was no way I would be able to train dragons. At all.

But, you know, life was pretty alright. I still had scars, deep and hidden and probably incurable, but I also had friends. And hope. And maybe, just maybe, a future.

I woke up screaming. My bedsheets were clutched tight in my fists, a tangled mess around my legs. Hot tears were still rolling down my cheeks, and my chest heaved, as if I’d just run the length of the island in my sleep.

I tried to swallow, tried to even out my breathing. My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow properly. I reached for the glass of water that I always had beside my bed, and gulped it down.

I could still evision the awful images from my dreams. Hiccup, Astrid, my parents, all trapped in a circle of flaming dragons. They were screaming for me, calling my name. I couldn’t move, my legs seemingly stuck to the ground. I could do nothing but watch as the dragons slowly spread over the bodies of my loved ones, devouring them. I sank to my knees, screaming in agony.

I shivered, climbing out from under the sheets. I needed to get out of this empty house. I didn’t care if it was the middle of the night, I had to see someone.

I hurried down the stairs, bursting out into the night. Stars glittered in the sky, the night quiet and bright. The cold wind hit me like a wall, and I shuddered. I hadn’t thought of grabbing my jacket.

My feet moved faster than my mind, taking me somewhere that I didn’t even know I wanted to be. I slipped inside Hiccup’s house, tiptoeing to where I knew his room was.

Outside his door, I finally realised what I was doing. Sneaking into Hiccup’s room in the dead of night? What was I thinking? Was I crazy?

Maybe I am, I thought, slowly pushing open Hiccup’s door. I stood still on his doorway for a moment, before quietly slipping over to the side of his bed.

“Hiccup?” I breathed, almost soundlessly.

“Y/n?” Hiccup was instantly awake, sitting up in his bed. “What are you…? Why are you here? Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse from sleep, and he squinted at me.

I hesitated. What was I supposed to say? Oh, I just had a dream about you dying and it terrified me so I’m here to make sure you’re still alive? Of course I wasn’t going to say that.

“I had a nightmare.” I bit my lip, shifting from foot to foot. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

Hiccup’s dark eyes gazed into mine. He leaned back slightly, so he could see me more clearly. “Why did you come to me?” he asked quietly, his voice ragged and raspy.

I dropped my gaze. “You were the only one I thought of coming to,” I whispered. “I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” Hiccup said. “Do… do you want to stay here? Or do you want me to walk you back to your house?”

I hesitated. “Could I please just stay here, with you?” I met his eyes for a brief second.

He smiled. “Anything for you.” He said it so flippantly, I might’ve missed it any other time. But my brains snagged on the words, turning them over and over in my mind. Anything for you…

“Thank you, Hiccup,” I whispered. We were both silent for a while. “Can I… can I stay with you until morning?” I asked.

Hiccup stared at me, then nodded. I slowly crawled onto his bed, leaning against the bed-head. Hiccup glanced at me, then lay back down on his pillow. After a moment, I snuggled down next to him, hyper aware of every part of my body under the sheets.

We were nose to nose. I could feel his hot breath on my face. His green eyes glittered in the darkness.

“Goodnight y/n,” he whispered groggily. “I hope you don’t have any more nightmares.” With that, he closed his eyes, and I heard no more from him.

[ohwolfling]

Gale, Mystra, and Abuse as Mentorship

(author’s note: this is part of what I hope to be an eventual video essay on godhood/coercion/consent in BG3 - you can see my other work and help fuel this efforts via my ko-fi :) if you're so inclined - and I will of course highly consider suggested deep dives from supporters, as you help me stay alive. I still have not actually finished this game so please go easy on me in regard to spoilers and note that some of what I’m discussing is from lore & knowledge I have as a little DnD gremlin for a decade before Baldur’s Gate 3, thank u, ily)

It’s really something to go through Act I and II of Baldur’s Gate 3 and hear Gale speak about being Mysta’s chosen. The way that Gale speaks of it, of his relationship with the Weave, the way the Weave feels to YOU if you have that moment of magic with Gale… 

You feel that Mystra’s Chosen, however perilous, however imbalanced, is a term of endearment.

And then you see Gale meet with Mystra… and the context of everything Gale has shared with you shifts.

Religious trauma holds obvious weight with most characters in BG3, in subtle and unsubtle ways, but what resonates with me beyond even the queer experience with every flavor of Christianity and Evangelicalism is the way “mentors” use it to mask their own abuse. And yes, some of those mentors are gods. 

Mystra is cold and formal with Gale in a way that reminds me of the abuse typical in art spaces specifically. A mentor who crosses lines of intimacy at their convenience, but is cold to you if they’re in any way displeased. The focus always comes down to YOUR GIFT and how YOU FAILED YOUR GIFT.  This is an easier parallel for me to make because ultimately Gale reads as much as an artist as he does an academic. He’s not just interested in magical academia, he loves the ROMANCE of it. Even the way he speaks of his connection to the Weave smacks of inspiration and artistry, not rigid study and observation, “[...] could not only control the Weave, but compose it, like a musician or a poet.”

I suppose there is validity in interpreting Mystra as a reliable source, maybe she is just like this all the time and Gale was clouded by his service to her, maybe she means everything she says to and offers Gale. But that is not my interpretation (and I think that even in that interpretation there is no redeeming Mystra because she is still wholly uncaring of the serious power imbalance and just… TIME and EXPERIENCE imbalance between herself and a mortal man). 

She tells Gale that what he lacked was patience… What exactly was patience meant to get Gale? Enough magical prowess that he would no longer want to be intimate with her or please her in a human way? Enough knowledge that he would stop requiring a sense of partnership from his god, who first connected to him as a child, who returned from her presumed death (assuming a rough DnD timeline here this is the best case scenario) to take either the initial special interest in him or an increased special interest in him, to teach him with special instruction, to feed off of his own skill or potential, to take him as a lover? Gale did not wish to prove himself to the public at large. Gale wanted to be enough for her. Gale wanted to give to Mystra as Mystra (per her claims and his interpretation) gave to him so that she would take Gale further into her world and be a real partner to him. There is not a level of patience that makes a man seeking an equal partnership with a GOD able to like… be chill about what that must require of him if a lifetime of devotion and proven skill doesn’t? 

This is not to paint Gale as a man without mistakes. Of course he is flawed. Of course his choices are reckless and dumb. But he doesn’t intend to raise himself ABOVE Mystra until the Crown presents itself as an option and Gale sees that he could both save the world- particularly this new found family he cares about in a context outside of the pursuit of Weave academia, I imagine very new for him- and in his mind finally feel a sense of agency outside of his abuser, even if he still can’t really identify her as that*. Gale’s craving for validation and power is not- in my reading of this as a survivor of various DV/CA situations, salt and personal perspective to taste- inherently selfish. It exists BECAUSE of Mystra. Even some of Gale’s stories about chaotic childhood stories, depending on what he means by being connected to it at a young age, could still be from that influence. To modernize this, theater kids dramatically backstabbing theater kids via tattle-tells or sabotage is very often about the atmosphere and choices the drama teacher has on offer. They’re kids adapting to the space that was given to them. 

“But such is Mystra’s Will” - Elminster the Enabler

Elminster provides such a specific frame for this dynamic, too. He is the kinder, more reasonable, more accessible mentor theoretically… but it’s like the “nice” parent in a narcissistic household as far as I’m concerned. Any kindness, leniency, or leveling with Gale is ultimately not about showing Gale kindness or teaching Gale. It is about enabling and supporting Mystra. “Just blow yourself up, you know how she gets.” “Well, you did remind her of Karsus and that hurt her feelings.” That kinda thing. 

If your Tav pushes back the second time Elminster crashes your camp, he says something along the lines of, “yes, her actions seem cold and tyrannical but that’s because you’re a mortal. She’s a god, you can’t judge her actions.” If you made the narrative choices to get that response from Elminster, you and your Tav know that that is, for lack of a more graceful term, complete horse shit. Even the way Elminster approaches Gale and delivers the news is in service of Mystra’s coldness. Elminster appears as more of an equal to Gale, but he twists the knife in ways that Mystra can’t be bothered to. I do not interpret ambushing Gale, demanding comfort and catering, and then delivering the news that Mystra wants Gale to die with half-truths, guilt trips, and tsk-tsks as general wizard eccentricity. That is dickhead behavior. Elminster is not pained to deliver this news. He is honored to be the one chosen to do it. 

Gale’s motivation in pursuing the crown and wielding it himself, as he expresses in the Act III boat scene- and again, I can’t believe people read Gale as blindly ambition or egotistical- is that gods shouldn’t have the power that they do, shouldn’t be able to make us live for them and die for them. He speaks of gods using Ao as a shield or an excuse and in DnD lore I believe Ao is truly the only god that would outrank Mystra. 

If Gale’s orb is truly a fragment created from Karsus’ attempt at godhood, I think we have to question Mystra’s relationship to Karsus. Early on both Gale himself and the game paint parallels between Gale and Karsus. Perhaps being chosen and the power imbalance and grief that entails is implied. For me, the narrative weight is better if it is. She speaks of allowing the orb to feed on the Weave as some sort of temporary measure, some gift to Gale, some great thing she is giving up… but if it is born of the Weave, ultimately, it is enabled by Mystra. 

I don’t mean to imply that Mystra is walking around as a figure of deliberate cruelty. I’m sure in Mystra’s mind she thinks she is fair, measured, and even doting of her “chosens”. But that is not unlike any abuser- particularly in religious contexts, particularly in mentorship contexts- who grooms and crosses lines because they see “potential” in their victims. For Mystra, the potential of her Chosen does not offer them protection. It simply justifies (to her) that she can harness, wield, consume, and control them. Why else would they be so magically inclined, so skilled, so bright, if not for her to do with them as she will? In her mind, as both a goddess and arguably the Weave itself, Mystra may not even think of what she does as harming those below her for her own gain. She may see it as reasonable and necessary sacrifices to preserve magic. I won’t try to summarize 3e to present DnD here, but Mystra has died and been reborn several times, in questionable ways. She is a fractured entity, whatever you consider her, and could very well have indoctrinated HERSELF into the religion of herself, essentially. Mystra is arguably her own cult and cult leader (though almost always aided by Elminster).

Karsus and Coercion

Mystra knows anything and everything that touches the Weave. Gale tells you point blank that Mystra would know he accessed the Karsus text, that just freeing it and reading it would be like shooting up a beacon. How does this interpretation stand if Mystra saw no signs of what she was doing to Gale, did not see him researching her prior death and fracturing? Could the same be true for Karsus?

The Karsus fragments devour the Weave, but why? Do they intend to harm her? Are they desperate for her? Does it feel like agency? Is there an additional parallel between Karsus and Gale here - meaning, as Karsus sought to make himself god-like, to stand above Mystra, perhaps in some way Gale thought bringing Mystra lost fragments of her former self would at the very least mean that Mystra needed him, controlled him, fed off of him in whatever way less? 

By Mystra’s own admission (I have not found this in game, I’m going from some Candlekeep lore and deity guides in 2e to now), those who use the Weave are to love the Weave, to do magic for the love of magic, to constantly explore and create new magic, anything to preserve and empower magic. So assuming that somehow Mystra legitimately has no idea when a Karsus or a Gale is setting out on a precarious path of potential godhood or at least hubris and hamartia, how then is Gale’s pursuit of the lost fragments of Mystra herself a violation? How even is Karsus' invention of his relics doing so? Mystra has the ability to cut the Weave off entirely for people, just as she had the ability the entire time to give the orb within Gale access to the Weave directly. This has me theorizing that perhaps, just as she condemned Gale to die when him EXACTLY FOLLOWING THE PHILOSOPHY SHE HANDED DOWN upset her for whatever reason, perhaps Mystra is why Karsus was pursuing higher magics in the first place, seeking to make up for some access he may have been denied after being suddenly cut off from her? Mystra does not set boundaries or make things clear. To be her Chosen does not seem to be a process of understanding and consent. It is thrust upon mortal men, in Gale’s case a mortal man she pursues a deeper emotional and sexual connection to, and then they are meant to “be patient” and anticipate what is or isn’t acceptable to her. 

And ultimately, I want to end with this, in regards to some middling discourse I keep seeing around Mystra that I think is well-intentioned but disastrous if we apply it to the reality of imbalance power dynamics, abuse, and trauma with any sense of realism** -

Grooming is not just sexual - Mystra being the provider of the magic Gale is naturally inclined to is enough of a power imbalance from the jump. The man repeatedly responsible for enabling new forms of Mystra being a close mentor to Gale and possibly responsible for his education is in itself a gateway of grooming. Institutions and systems use grooming as a tool as well. 

There is not an age at which you become immune to abuse or at which abuse is less abusive. Grooming and harming a teenager is neurologically different from doing so to an adult, but both are still incredibly common, and again, see number one. 

Abuses within any system- be it a church, an outright cult, an educational system, a dojo, a theatre, a volunteer organization- are significantly harder to escape because the isolation and indoctrination are built in. Group-think, the affects of trauma on the brain, etc, legitimately stunt a person’s cognitive development in relationship to the subject. A god waiting until a wizard is of age to fuck him when said wizard has been attuned to and charmed by the magic that is a part of herself since childhood would certainly fall under this category. 

There is not a way that Gale- or any real world person harmed on a scale of toxic relationship to outright abuse- can respond to abuse that legitimizes the introduction of abuse and coercion in the first place.

*note - depending on your Tav’s relationship to Gale, I DO THINK this is something Gale is beginning to identify… His comment when in a romantic partnership with Tav are that essentially everything he thought Mystra was is fading away because she condemned him to die when giving up the crown to her was always on the table, done after a year plus of shutting him out for his “folly,” and he speaks of "tenderness" and "feeling" from Tav, the subtext there being he knows now he never received that from Mystra but I want to leave room in this conversation for folks who didn’t romance Gale or didn’t romance him in service of the Gale the Man is Enough narrative to explore this topic

**Pretend is pretend and a valid way to explore so many things but as a survivor of various kinds of abuse who lives with C-PTSD every day, I think it’s important we apply some level of weight and realism to portrayals of these dynamics, even when the metaphor is literal magic, because 1- how we speak about abusers and the abused in fiction historically reflects our real world feelings on them, often to the point of LEGISLATION and 2- trauma should not be a sandbox for the unscathed to play in more than it should be a space for exploration, catharsis, and perhaps even healing for the many of us who have survived or are trying to survive those dynamics. If you don’t agree with that, that is technically legal but my interpretations will annoy you until the end of time always. 

[burningcheese-merchant]

Wake up, BurningCheese/GoldenSpice babes, new poorly drawn blorbos just dropped

They look cooler in my head, I swear.

the images didn't show up the first time wtf lol

The kids are finally here, yay. I promised I'd show you them, and I finally stopped being an asshole and followed through. Almost got 200 followers and I'm very grateful for it - really, I'm nobody. I'm just some clown who says dumb stuff and makes dumb memes and writes cringey stories, and yet I convinced almost 200 people to tune in. Thank you all so much, users on here and anons in my inbox alike. As a token of appreciation, you can all endure my rambling about my OCs and witness a person in their early 20s draw like a 12 year old.

The boy is Pepper Jack (or Pepper Jack Cookie). He's the firstborn and older than his sister by a few years. He takes after his mother in a lot of ways, primarily in her appearance (save for nabbing his father's red eyes). He's incredibly bright (and a smartass lol), preferring to think his way out of conflict rather than fight his way out... not that he's above violence at all, if that glaive doesn't give it away lol. He harbors a deep sense of love and loyalty towards his family and his peoples, and carries the weight of his responsibilities and heritage with as much confidence and poise as he can muster. (There are/will be times where he stumbles, of course. He's not perfect. He struggles a lot more than he lets on, really. But he tries his best, for everyone's sake.)

The girl is Matar Paneer (or Matar Paneer Cookie). Again, she's the younger one by a few years. She was all but made in her father's image, save for inheriting her mother's eyes. She's a little firecracker: lively and fun-loving and stubborn as a mule. She doesn't ask "can I have/do this thing", she tells you "I'm going to have/do this thing". Golden is proud as anything to see her daughter be so greedy... until that greed comes into conflict with her and Spice's authority lol. But she's a good kid, despite being such a handful. She has an enormous heart and is not afraid to stand up for others/what's right, and she loves her parents and brother more than anything in the world. She might doubt her own capabilities, she might secretly fear that she's not strong enough to do what she needs to... but she keeps pushing anyway, because she'd honestly choose death over quitting.

Your eyes are not deceiving you, Pepper Jack's wings are blue lol. There's an actual reason for that. And that USO (Unidentified Sitting Object) in Matar Paneer's hair is a lotus (the cheese one in the GCK decor set lol). There's a reason for that, too. I thought it would be cool to give Jack a glaive and swap out the normal blade for that of a khopesh sword (glaives are not Egyptian, they only saw use in Asia and Europe, but I just HAD to give him a glaive), to add that Egyptian touch. Paneer's supposed to be wearing a pattu pavadai, it's a traditional Indian dress for young girls. It's a blouse plus a skirt. She's holding katar, Indian knives (Cilantro Cobra has them, too). And her hair's supposed to be in a low ponytail.

Merchant thinks that if they explain what their terrible drawings are supposed to convey, people will understand their intended vision and the pain will stop

I sat down and did research into both Egyptian and Hindu mythology for the sake of drawing inspiration for them both. I'll explain in detail in another post, but basically: both of them take after one Egyptian god and one Hindu god each. Golden takes after Ra and Spice takes after Shiva, so I figured I'd follow along that line.

Please flood my inbox with questions about them now. I've really been dying to talk about them for ages now. I've drafted extensive character sheets for them both, I even made up in-game descriptions for them lol. They're my little fankid blorbos and I love them :') I hope you all come to love them, too

(Also, I'm sorry they're on lined paper. I'm visiting family rn and that's the only paper my grandmother has in her house. I'd have to drive to a stationery to get printer paper and I'd really rather not drive in this particular country lol (shit roads, even shittier drivers). I'll doodle them on printer paper whenever somebody remembers to bring me some)

[fanfictionalraven]

Promises

Title: Promises

Summary: You and Dean had promised each other you'd always be there, no matter what. But when Sam falls into the pit, Dean runs to someone else.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, others mentioned

Word Count: 3,754

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of character death

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published October, 2017. Italics are flashbacks.

You run your hand over your face as you stare at the computer screen in front of you. This motel’s wi-fi sucked. You’d been waiting on this same page to load for five minutes now. Rising from the chair, you pull your jacket on. If it was going to be this slow, you were gonna go get a drink.

You make your way to the door, straightening out the collar of your jacket. You grab your keys and pull the door open, jumping back at what’s waiting on the other side. Your hand instinctively flinches for the gun tucked into the back of your jeans before you stop yourself.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask, more venom in your words than you had really intended.

“Hello to you too,” Dean Winchester snaps, the hand he had raised to knock falling to his side. It had been well over a year since you had seen or even spoken to Dean.

The two of you had practically grown up together. Your fathers had left you both at Bobby’s often and you considered the Winchesters family. You, Dean, and Sam had been through so much together but there was no denying you had been closer to the older brother. You were there for him through everything. Sam going to college. John dying. Sam dying. You’d watched him get dragged to Hell and were there as soon as he came back. You had been fully prepared to pull him through Sam falling into the pit. But Dean didn’t pick you. He’d picked her.

Lucifer had just blown Castiel into chunks before throwing Dean into the windshield of the Impala. Bobby shoots at him and with the flick of his wrist, Lucifer snaps his neck.

“Bobby!!” You scream out, moving towards his body quickly. You sob as your hands ghost over his neck, knowing there’s nothing you can do. Lucifer begins to punch Dean repeatedly. You rise to your feet and take a step to run and help him. Lucifer holds up a hand, freezing you to the place.

“No,” Dean chokes out, spitting up blood. Lucifer lets out a laugh as you attempt to move.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to kill her yet. It’ll be more fun to make her watch me kill the man she loves with my bare hands,” he says.

You call out and sob, completely useless as Lucifer uses Sam’s hands to beat his brother within an inch of his life. Dean can barely see as he tells Sam it’ll be okay. Something snaps inside Sam. He regains control, grabs Michael, and the two tumble into the pit.

Once the pit closes up again, you’re released from the place you’d been standing. You rush to Dean’s side, quickly assessing his injuries. Cas appears next to you and reaches down, healing Dean instantly. He brings Bobby back as you help Dean to his feet.

The drive back to Bobby’s is quiet. Dean, yourself, and Bobby all ride together in the front seat of the Impala. Dean keeps both hands tight on the steering wheel as he drives. Once he stops the car in front of the house, Bobby gets out leaving the two of you alone. You peel one of Dean’s hands off the wheel and hold it in yours.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, your voice soft and comforting. He shakes his head, staring at the dashboard in front of him. “We’ll get through this.”

“I’m getting out,” he says. Your eyes widen in surprise before you nod.

“Okay. Well – ummm,” you start. Out had never really been in your plans but if that’s what Dean wanted, what Dean needed, then so be it. He pulls his hand away from yours, returning it to the wheel.

“I’m gonna go back to Lisa and Ben,” he says, eyes still forward. You stare at him in disbelief before your cheeks heat up quickly in embarrassment. Lucifer had put your feelings for Dean out there, plain as day. You loved him. But clearly Dean didn’t feel the same way. This was his way of breaking the news to you.

“Oh. Well – that’s, that’s good,” you say, sliding across the seat to the passenger side door. “If you need me, you know how to reach me,” He nods once, his eyes never leaving the dashboard. You couldn’t help the rage that was starting to build. Years of friendship and support and he just seemed to be tossing you aside. “Have a good life,” you tell him as you quickly exit the car. You barely get the door closed again before Dean’s spinning tires, leaving you in his dust.

“How did you find me?” You ask him now, crossing your arms. He rolls his eyes, squeezing into the room past you.

“Bobby always knows where you are,” he says. You frown and curse Bobby internally. Damn traitor.

“I thought you were out,” you say, closing the door as you turn to face him. He looks at your computer screen and raises an eyebrow.

“Was,” he says. “You’re hunting a rugaru by yourself?” He arches an eyebrow at you and you shrug, walking over quickly.

“So what if I am?” You ask, reaching past him to close the laptop.

“Never knew you to be stupid,” he says. Your eyes narrow, anger bubbling in your chest. You hadn’t seen him in over a year. Who did he think he was just barging in here, telling you how to run your own hunts?

“Why are you here, Dean?” You ask. He looks at you and something shifts in his face. It’s a look you know well. He’s worried.

“Sam’s back,” he says. You nod, biting your lip.

“I know,” you tell him. He frowns slightly and you sigh. “I’ve known this whole time. We even worked together – for a little while.”

“So everyone knew my brother wasn’t in Hell except for me,” he says, anger slipping into his words. You roll your eyes.

“You had what you wanted,” you tell him. He stares at you now, disbelieving.

“What I wanted?” He asks. You shrug your shoulders.

“Lisa and Ben, your perfect little normal family,” you sneer, walking past him. He grabs your arm and you look at him quickly.

“The hell is your problem, Y/N?” He asks. You jerk your arm away from him.

“Any time something happened, you ran to me and we faced it head on together. We promised we’d always be there for each other, whatever came. And I was there. Long before…” You stop, biting your lip. You didn’t want to do this. Every fiber of your being was fighting to keep the floodgates closed. Dean Winchester was sure as hell not about to see you crying over him.

“I needed a break, away from the life. I had to try for Sam, or so I thought,” he says. You squeeze your eyes closed, turning away from him. Taking a slow, steadying breath, you regain your composure.

“When Sam came back, I told him we had to tell you. I swear I did, Dean. But he said he’d seen you with Lisa and Ben and that you were happy. The happiest he’d ever seen you,” you tell him. Turning back to face him, you find he appears crestfallen. He looks like he’s struggling to say something before he shakes his head.

“You said you hunted with Sam,” he says. You frown and nod.

“For a little while – couple months maybe,” you tell him. The look on his face changes again, as though he already knows the answer to his next question.

“What happened?” He asks. You bite your lip and look away. “Y/N, I need to know.”

“He almost got me killed. We were on a hunt, a djinn. I can’t prove it but I – I think he let me get captured,” you confess. He nods slightly, watching you.

“I’m pretty sure he let me get turned into a vamp,” he tells you. Your eyes widen slightly before they jump to your bag of weapons open on the bed. Dean catches the movement and shakes his head. “Samuel cured me. Sounds crazy, I know, but you can check me yourself.” You shake your head slightly. “You met Samuel?”

“Your grandfather? Yea, he was a real charmer,” you say, rolling your eyes. Dean lets out a laugh and nods.

“Yea, he’s an ass,” he says. You smile a little then look down.

“Why’d you come?” You ask. He sighs and you look up at him again.

“Wanted a second opinion on Sam. And – ugh – I missed you,” he says. You can hear an added weight to his words. I missed you. His eyes are locked on yours, trying to pass those words’ deeper meaning telepathically. You shake your head, fighting tears once again.

“You picked her, Dean,” is all you can manage to say. He frowns and takes a tentative step towards you.

“I was trying to keep you safe. The people I care about most, they don’t do too good with me around. I couldn’t lose you like I lost Sam. So, I ran,” he admits.

He takes another step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. His hands capture yours and you look up at him. His eyes are soft as they search yours. He leans down slowly and your eyes flutter closed. You feel his nose bump yours gently and his breath, a mix of mint and whiskey, washes over you. At the last possible second, just before his lips touch yours, you find the strength to turn your head away.

“I don’t want to be your backup plan,” you tell him, your voice trembling. He frowns and raises your chin with one finger.

“That’s not what this is,” he says. You shake your head and pull your hands from his, taking a step away.

“That’s how it feels. Now, I’ll help you with Sam cause I’m worried about him too. But we’re just friends like we always were,” you say, picking up your computer.

“We were never just friends,” Dean says, staring at you. You look back at him, fresh tears threatening to spill over. You swallow hard and nod.

“Soon as we figure out what’s wrong with Sam and get it fixed, I’m gone,” you say, tossing your bag over your shoulder.

You meant it. You swore to yourself you’d meant it. The moment Sam was back to his normal self, you were going to be out the door. You weren’t going to slip back into your old routines with Dean. You would sleep on the floor before you’d share the motel bed with him like you used to. The stupid, flirty banter that used to make you think you meant more to him? That wasn’t going to happen either. That was your plan. It was a great plan. You just couldn’t stick to it.

You managed to keep your distance until you got hurt on a hunt. Dean was at your side in an instant, worried as usual. His hands made quick work of removing his flannel shirt. He tied it just above the gash in your leg then lifted you into his arms, carrying you bridal style back to the car as Sam finished clearing the nest.

He made Sam drive back to the motel, keeping constant pressure on your wound in the backseat. Sam parks the Impala outside the brothers’ room of the motel. You had your own room, your new normal, but Dean carries you into theirs and carefully deposits you on one of the beds. He reaches for the button on your jeans and you grab at his hands quickly.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and swats your hands away.

“Sammy, get me the –,” he stops short. Sam is already at his side, needle, thread, and a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hands. Your eyes widen and you grab Dean’s hands again. He looks at you, exasperation fading into concern quickly. He knows how much you despise stitches. You were an ass-kicking hunter who had no problem facing a demon or a nest of vampires. But bring out a needle and you were running for the hills. “This isn’t a job for a bandage, Sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Dean reassures you. You groan and lay back on the bed, putting your hands over your face.

Dean unties the shirt he’d been using as a tourniquet and you feel the blood start to rush again. He quickly, but as carefully as he can, pulls your blood-soaked jeans off, handing them to Sam who throws them away. The next sensation causes you to sit upright and scream out. Dean had poured the whiskey onto your wound. He hands the bottle to you quickly and you turn it up before handing it to Sam. You look at Dean’s hands as he threads the needle effortlessly and your stomach churns. You follow his hands with your eyes as they move to your leg. One of his hands comes up, cupping your chin, and forces you to meet his eyes.

“You know the drill. Eyes on me,” he says, his voice calm and comforting. You nod and he presses his lips to your forehead quickly. His eyes drop to your leg momentarily before returning to yours. You feel the tug at your skin of your leg and grimace. “You remember the first time I did this?” He asks. You blink then nod, the memory returning. “Tell me about it.”

“We were just kids,” you start. Your voice is still trembling so you take a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “We were playing in Bobby’s scrapyard, exactly what he’d told us not to do. I fell and cut my arm. We were worried about how mad he was going to be so you said your dad had taught you how to do stitches. You started and I passed out.”

“I thought I’d killed you. I carried you back to Bobby and he finished with your stitches before you woke up,” he continues. His eyes shoot down to your leg between every stitch before returning to your face. “That was when I learned about your needle thing.”

“It’s a phobia, Dean, not a needle thing,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. He chuckles.

“And then I learned to do this,” he says, smiling at you proudly. “Perfect stitches, barely even looking.” He winks at you now and you shake your head.

“Promised you’d always take care of care me that day too,” you say. His smile falls slightly as his eyes drop for a second.

“I remember when Sam brought up the idea of anti-possession tattoos. I’d never seen you so pale,” he says, changing the subject. You groan at that memory and shake your head. “I got you through that too though.”

“You held my hand and kept me distracted,” you say, smiling a little. He nods, his eyes staying on your leg just a second longer before he looks up at you and smiles wider.

“Just like now. All done,” he says. You look down at your leg, surprised. There was a perfect line of needlework across your thigh. You smile and shake your head, looking back at Dean.

“Thank you,” you tell him. He shrugs then rises to his feet.

“You can use our shower to get cleaned up,” he says. You nod and he helps you up from the bed. “You’re staying in our room tonight. I’ll sleep in the chair, I don’t care. But – I’d really like to be able to keep an eye on you. You lost a lot of blood.” He has an arm around your waist, helping you towards the bathroom.

You didn’t make Dean sleep in the chair that night. And you didn’t get a separate room any longer. After that, everything felt normal again. You and Dean would tease each other mercilessly just like you always had. You’d find yourself wrapped in his arms in the early morning hours just like you always had.

A few things had changed though. He didn’t hit on women in the bars like he used to. Instead, he’d stay close by your side, scaring off any man who dared get too close. Normally, you would have been pissed but suddenly you didn’t mind so much.

In the days that follow, Dean makes some backwards deal with Death in order to get Sam’s soul back. He does it behind your back, knowing you’d try to talk him out of it. The slap he receives when he returns tells him he was right not to tell you. The hug and kiss on the cheek tell him you forgive him immediately.

“Soon as we figure out what’s wrong with Sam and get it fixed, I’m gone.”

Those were your words. Your solemn vow to yourself. And that time was now. Sam’s soul had been restored and he seemed to be adjusting well. You’re in the spare room at Bobby’s, packing your bag. A knock at the door draws your attention.

“Come in,” you call out. The door opens and the younger Winchester walks in, smiling.

“Hey, ummm – I wanted to apologize. Cas told me what I did,” he says. You smile at him and shake your head.

“We’re good, Sam. The djinn was nothing,” you tell him. He frowns more.

“That’s not what I meant although I am definitely sorry for that too,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him and he sighs. “I made you believe that Dean didn’t want you.”

“Sam, that’s between me and Dean,” you say, looking back at your bag.

“Yea, but if I hadn’t have opened my big soulless mouth, would you have gone to him?” He asks. You sigh and hang your head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know anything anymore honestly,” you say, looking back at him. He smiles a little.

“Well, let me tell you what I know,” he says as he walks over. You sigh and cross your arms causing him laugh. He puts his hands on your shoulders. “I know that you’ve been crazy about Dean since you were 12. I know that he’s wanted you since you went to prom with that Sanchez guy. And I know that you’ve both been running from each other for years,” he says. You shake your head slightly.

“But…”

“Talk to him, Y/N. Please,” Sam says. He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone. You frown and run your hands over your face. Shaking your head again, you turn back to your bag. You hear the door open and the sound of boots walking across the floor.

“Sam, I swear,” you turn and stop short. Dean’s standing just inside the room. He glances at the bag sitting on the bed.

“Sam said you were packing,” he says. You frown and nod slightly.

“He’s back to normal,” you say. His face falls and he shakes his head.

“Don’t go,” he says. “We’re good together, Y/N. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You picked her, Dean,” you say, looking at the floor to avoid his eyes.

“It was never because I wanted her more, Y/N. You gotta believe that. I was never fully present there with her. And she knew it. She thought it was Sam or hunting, and part of it was. But it was mostly you,” he says, walking towards you. “By the time I’d realized I’d made a mistake, I couldn’t just leave them. And I didn’t think you’d have me after the way I left either.” You wipe at your cheek, furiously.

“You abandoned me. You weren’t the only one grieving, you know? I mean, I get that he isn’t really my brother but I was hurting too,” you tell him. He frowns and shakes his head quickly.

“No, I know. I know you were and there is no excuse for what I did,” he says, reaching for your hands. You step back, balling your hands into fists at your sides.

“Sam said he saw you. That you were happy. Happier than you’d ever been. Happier than you could have been with – with me,” you say, trying to control your emotions. This was the conversation you had wanted to avoid. You hated letting people see you cry, especially Dean. He drops his hands at his side.

“Sam told you what he knew was going to keep you away from me. Because he knew that if you had shown up on that doorstep, I’d have been back in. In a heartbeat,” he says. “I’ve been happier in the last couple weeks with you than I was the whole year with her, even with the crap that’s been going on.” He tentatively reaches for your hands again and this time you allow him to take them.

“What if she calls?” You ask, still avoiding his eyes. He hooks a finger under your chin and lifts your face to meet his.

“She won’t. It’s over. And even if she does, it won’t matter,” he tells you. You bite your lip, searching his eyes. “I’m not good with words. I don’t know how to tell you how much you mean to me. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. You name it and it’s yours. You want a dozen roses and a diamond ring or you want me to – to jump off the roof or paint your name on Baby or – or – okay, maybe not anything to do with Baby.” You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, looking away. He smiles, leaning in towards you slightly. Your eyes close as his lips brush against your cheek.

“Me and you?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper. You look back up at him now and he’s smiling at you softly.

“Me and you. Till the end of the road. I promise,” he says. You smile then stand up, pressing your lips against his. Your lips move in perfect sync, like it wasn’t the first time they’d ever met. You feel him smile before he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re staying then?”

“Oh, you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tell him, smirking. He laughs then lifts you up with ease, tossing you back onto the bed behind you.

[gilverrwrites]

belphegor possesses jacks body, reader who is grieving jacks death finds comfort in belphegor? maybe a bit of a crush..

Close As Strangers

Belphegor/GN!Reader

Author note: I tried to keep the exact nature of Jack/Readers relationship ambiguous, so you can fill in the blank as you please. Similar with Bel/Reader, but it has very much enemies to friends/lovers vibes.

Rating: Teen +

Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst

Words: 1624

TW: Grief, arguing, manipulation, crying, very minor mentions of gore, mentions of death, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Please remember: You are allowed to make a big deal out of things that are really big to you.

“See something you like?” Your heart feels hollow as you watch him wiggle his Jack's brows at you. Blackened, bloody skin peeks out from the top of his sunglasses. His words, his movements, the whole thing made you feel sick.

“No.” You respond curtly, intending to stop there. You can’t help the bitter word vomit that continues. “Just you, defiling the body of someone I love.”

Belphegor inhales through his teeth in mock pain. Not a hint of sympathy or remorse. When he alters his stride to walk closer to you and drapes an arm over your shoulders, you’re too shocked by his audacity to pull away.

“You know, babe, I think I know a way to help you feel better about all this.” He says, offering you a smile that is too sharp, too smug for Jack's face.

“What?” You ask, your eyes darting back and forth between his face and his unwelcome arm.

With a gesture to his Jack's body, he answers, “You could love me.”

You scoff, ready to respond with something harsh and mean, but when you look at his face again, his expression has changed. His head tilted back, chin pointed out, mouth closed and stretched into a familiar smile. There’s that empty feeling again. You know that’s not Jack, but that’s his face, his smile, and at that moment, you couldn’t snap at him like that.

Before you can think of a response, you’re both distracted by the sound of a shotgun being cocked. Dean, who had been walking a few paces behind, presses the barrel of his gun between Belphegor’s shoulder blades.

“Get your arm off them and keep walking.” It’s an empty threat, and all three of you know it.

Dean wouldn’t shoot Jacks's body any more than you could insult it. Even if he did, it wouldn’t do anything.

Regardless, Belphegor, with a smirk, releases you and picks up his pace, but not without raising those scorched brows at you one last time. “I like it when he’s bossy.”

“If we’re all gonna work together, you’ve got to shut up.” You call after him, slowing your footsteps until you fall in line with Dean.

“Awwwh, I’m starting to have an effect on you.” He calls back, refusing to give you the last word, and you concede, crossing your arms over your chest and walking in silence.

"Are you thinking about me?” The sound of Belphegor’s Jack's voice so close to your ear, the feel of his unnatural breath against your skin makes you almost jump out of your skin, makes your body tingle in a way it definitely shouldn’t have. “Is that why you're so unfocused?"

"You wish.” You retort, snapping your head to face him. Admittedly, you had been slacking off, unable to keep your mind off the chaos that had been the last few days. Particularly Jack.

Belphegor doesn’t appear offended by your response. Hands in pockets he offers you a casual shrug before stepping back and leaning against the nearest wall. The two of you were alone, guarding the back entrance of the High School. There had been a lot of debate about who would be ‘left with’ who and for what purposes. It seemed nobody wanted to leave you alone with Belphegor, but nobody else wanted to be stuck with him either.

“What were you thinking about then?” He asks.

Without processing, without thinking clearly, you reply. “You. No, I mean Jack. I was thinking about Jack.”

“Am I sensing a little Freudian slip?” That smile is back, the one that’s too much for Jack. But for a moment, you think to yourself that it actually looks attractive in a roguish sort of way.

Feeling flushed and guilty at your laps of judgement you look away. Hiding your expression. “No. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“It’s just hard to differentiate us sometimes?” He offers, in a tone much softer than you’d come to expect. You know he has self-awareness, but you’re surprised he’s showing it. When you nod your confirmation, he continues; “It must be hard. I mean, I’ve seen loads of people die, probably millions, killed most of ‘em. But no one that I ever cared about. At least, not for a loooooooong time. I don’t really remember it.”

When you hear his feet against the concrete you watch him from the corner of your eye. It only takes a few steps before he’s in your personal space again, but he’s slow and calm. His face is solemn as he gently places a hand on your shoulder. You think he’s trying to comfort you, maybe? But it all feels wrong.

“I’m just saying, I can tell the two of you had some kind of connection. If you want to talk about it, I-”

“Stop.” You shrug his hand off and turn your back to him completely.

“Stop what?” You don’t know if he’s faking it to play with you or not, but the confusion and the hint of worry in his voice, Jack's voice stings.

“Stop being nice to me.”

“Fine, maybe you didn’t care about him all that much.” The softness and uncertainty is gone in an instant, replaced with pure venom.

You’re grateful your back is to him. It takes everything in you not to spin around and go off on him. A part of you knows you’d likely lose your resolve the moment you look at him anyway; you’re inches away from the brink of tears already.

“Oh, blow me!” Is all you can muster.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Malice, all malice. It sounds so wrong.

“I’m gonna sweep the building.” This is too much, and you can’t cope. You need to clear your head. “Don’t follow me. In fact, just don’t move.”

You don’t turn to look at him as you leave, if he says anything, you don’t listen. 

You hadn’t told the Winchesters or Castiel about your spat the night before. So here you were, patrolling quarantine with Belphegor. Alone. Again. You’re certain any one of them would swap with you if you asked, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. They were hurting too. Besides, you figured after last night that Belphegor and you needed some kind of conflict resolution; you were just surprised when he broached it first.

“You haven’t insulted me all morning.” Belphegor nudges your shoulder with his own, and you can’t help the quiet chuckle that escapes you. “What’s up?”

“No… Yeah.” You’re not really sure what to say, so you offer him the only thing you know for sure. “My head is a mess right now.”

“I know.” He gives you that relaxed shrug you’ve begun to associate with him. There’s no way of knowing how earnest he’s being, but he seems surprisingly understanding, for a demon at least. “This whole situation is a mess, and you’re grieving. Can’t blame you.”

“Thanks. And thank you for helping us.” You smile at him, it’s a weak smile, but he smiles back and that tingle from last night returns. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“I know one way you can make it up to me.” You hold your breath in apprehension. Certain he was about to spoil the moment. “You can talk to me.”

Still tense from your moment of dread, you respond immediately and defensively, “We are talking.”

Clearly unbothered by your cautious reply, Belphegor goes on, “You can talk to me about Jack. It's not good to keep it all bottled up.”

You feel bad for assuming the worst. You’ve felt bad for a long time. How good would it feel to get some of that off your chest? How easy would it be to talk to Jack about it? Only, this isn’t Jack. This is Belphegor, who, for all his apparent kindness, is still a stranger. A dangerous stranger.

“I really don’t think I can do that.” The tingle on your skin is gone, replaced by the ever-lingering emptiness.

“Why?” The familiar venom creeps back into his tone.

“Because y-” As much as you want to tell him it’s because you can’t trust him, you don’t. You can't afford to lose his assistance right now. “Why do you want me to?”

“Oh what? Because I’m a demon I can’t care about you? Is that it? I find that offensive.” There’s a tinge of humour in his voice, but you’re still shocked by how accurately he hit the hammer on the nail. So shocked, in fact, that your only response is to stare at him slack-jawed. “You don’t have to be strong and good all the time, you know? Let me help you. I’m begging you to let me help you.”

He stops his strides, forcing you to halt with him and turns to look at you straight on, jaw clenched as he impatiently waits for you to say something. Anything.

In that moment, with explicit permission to be vulnerable, the tears you’d held back last night, the tears you’d been holding back for a long time, finally come out. It starts slow, a tear rolls down each cheek, and you sniff to try and hold them back. You press your jacket sleeve to your eyes, but for every tear you soak up, another falls, until you’re heart-pounding, blurry-eyed sobbing.

When you feel Belphegor’s cold hands on you, you don’t pull away. You let him come close, you let him cup your face and use his thumb to wipe your tears, you let him guide you until you're chest-to-chest, your face cradled in the crook of his neck, you let him caress your neck and rub your back. You let him Jack lean down to whisper in your ear. “It’s okay. I’m here, don’t worry.”

[gyutarling]

INFINITE

late night adventures with beomgyu...

♯ — beomgyu x gn!reader ⋆ fluff ⋆ wc 1.7k

warnings! — cursing, mentions of burning things, mentions of ghosts and death, catcher in the rye slander (not srs if u like that book thats cool!), a little pretentious, jokes about dating a senior citizen, lowercase intended, not proofread

note — went ballistic after gyu made an insta..... save me manic pixie dream boy..... save me....

“gyu, where are we even going?” you enquired. frankly, you were still a little grumpy from being woken up at 3 in the morning, with beomgyu outside your window holding your shoes, wordlessly telling you to follow him.

when no reply came after several pauses, you glanced over next to you, only to find him completely zoned out. you were about to open your mouth to snap at him, patience spreading thin from the sleepiness, but then he smiled.

“the library, we’re sneaking in.” he turned his eyes back to the road ahead after making eye contact with you, mischief still heavy on his cheeks.

what he said took you a few seconds longer to process. “oh, okay— wait. what?!” in your befuddled state, you stopped in your tracks, “what do you mean by ‘sneaking in’? why the library?” honestly, you were more surprised that you didn't have more questions, but then again, this is beomgyu, you wouldn't put something like this past him.

beomgyu casually fixed his bangs, “sneaking in as in, we’re gonna not-so-legally enter the library like, right now.” he stopped in front of said building, you didn’t even notice you had been walking for so long. “and the library because there's a book i wanna burn.”

you almost shouted out a question, if not for beomgyu placing his hand over your mouth when he saw you staring at him with wide eyes. “hush! we might get caught!” his hand dropped after he felt your tongue touching his palm, “gross! anyway, do you have a paperclip i can borrow? kinda need to pick this lock before we do the actual ‘sneaking in’ part.” he held out his hand as he inspected the lock.

“what the fuck? are you insane?!” you opted for whisper shouting instead. you take it back, just when you thought he couldn't get any crazier, he proves you wrong with his stupidly perfect smile that seems to grow wider with each late night adventure. “first of all, why did i have to come with? could you not have done this yourself? i don’t wanna get in trouble again.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“this is a two-person operation! besides, it’s more fun this way. so sorry in advance if i do get us into trouble,” beomgyu whispered back, and by the dimple peeking out from his smirk, you can tell he didn’t mean his apology.

you let out a relenting sigh and handed him a paperclip, “okay, but second of all, what book got you so enraged that you just had to sneak into the town library at such an ungodly hour just to steal and burn it?”

“it’s not like it enraged me, i mean, books are supposed to make you feel intense things, so i would have liked it if it did enrage me,” beomgyu mindlessly spoke while fidgeting with the paperclip, “it’s ‘the catcher in the rye’, borrowed and finished it recently, and i don’t know, the main character is just such a whiny ass bitch boy. he’s got this whole self-loathing, self-aware hypocrite persona going on, and throughout the book he pretty much just talks and drinks and pities himself. i think the author tried to make him too relatable, to the point that he became unrealistic, if that makes sense,” he rambled on, “the only part i liked was near the end, the part with his sister was actually pretty well-written.”

“so you are enraged,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his mini rant, “you’re cute when you ramble, by the way.”

“hm, i’d say the word would be ‘unimpressed’, i just don’t like it.” he pretended to inspect the lock closer, yet still failing miserably at hiding his reddening cheeks. a few minutes after poking and moving the paperclip around inside the keyhole, you heard a click, and seconds later, you two were inside the pitch dark library. “alright, we’re in. the rest should be fairly easy.”

“hold on, one more question,” you realised as you took out your phone for the flashlight, “why didn’t you just do this when you still had the book? why did you have to return it and then come back?” you were too far into the theft and arson two-person operation to be angry at beomgyu for dragging you into it at this point. you were happy to be hanging out with him anyway.

“hey, this might make me a criminal, but i’m not a heathen. i return my shit, never had an overdue book in my entire life,” beomgyu bragged, “mrs. librarian is basically my best friend.”

“and yet you don’t know her name?” you laughed at his antics.

“i believe in the magic of mystery,” he said in an exaggerated fancy accent, “besides, names and such formalities are for first dates, which i might score one soon, heard her husband’s been out a lot.”

“gross, dude! she’s like 78!” you couldn’t help but to playfully shove him.

“and yet she remains such a radiant beauty, her prune-like visuals never fail to amaze me!” beomgyu emphasised even more, and you both couldn’t help but let out loud laughs you weren’t supposed to.

“how romantic, even shakespeare wouldn’t have been able to be as eloquent as you. save it for her, though, i don’t wanna hear about how you’re into an old, saggy woman who’s pushing 80.”

as the laughter died down, you two decided to split up to look for the object of beomgyu’s hatred. you were a little unsettled by the dark, this was a library after all, a very fitting place for a victorian ghost to haunt.

just when you were about to let out a breathy laugh at your own absurd thoughts, you heard a creaking noise. you quickly turned off your phone’s flashlight, this was it, you always knew beomgyu would lead to your downfall by baiting you to some supernatural entity. he probably made a deal with the devil and offered up your soul. no, scratch that, beomgyu is the devil himself—

“boo!” you let out a squeak and fell backwards, startled as you saw beomgyu with his flashlight shining from below his face. you breathed heavily, trying to catch up with the shock as he let out silent cackles. beomgyu might be even more evil than the devil.

“oh man, you should’ve seen your face!” he spitted out between laughter, but that abruptly stopped when you two heard the jingle of keys. you looked at beomgyu, panic still in your eyes, but for a different reason this time. you were still on the ground when he helped you up and dragged you to a corner, sandwiched between two bookshelves as he covered your mouth.

you didn’t know if you were dizzy from being out of breath, or the distance (or the lack thereof) between you and beomgyu. one hand covering your mouth, one hand on your waist to keep you steady, his equally fast breaths on your cheek. if you weren’t insane enough already, he gave you a reassuring squeeze, and leaned his forehead on yours from exhaustion. you wanted to stay like this forever.

of course, your dazed moment was interrupted by the lights of the library turning on, and then came the sound of approaching footsteps. your anxiety returned, and beomgyu glanced to the side just to quickly turn back.

“change of plans. fuck the book, we’re booking it.” he smiled. honestly, how can he have time for word play in such a predicament?

“what—” at that, he grabbed your hand and bolted out from between the shelves. you could hear the shouting of someone, presumably the security guard, but the buzzing adrenaline was louder. beomgyu hurriedly bursted through the doors that you both came in from, with your hands still connected, then down the streets. your legs burned, but at that point, you two were laughing like crazy. in the small, empty neighbourhood, well into the night, you swore you could take on anything if you had beomgyu by your side.

slowing down, he continued to hold onto your hand as you came to a stop. inhaling and exhaling rapidly, the rush died down and you noticed the delicate snowflakes that nipped at your skin. beomgyu seemed to notice as well, he stood up straight and stared upwards, mesmerised by the fluttering whiteness.

“it’s the first snow,” he mumbled, “you know, they say that seeing the first snow together with someone means you’ll be with them forever, and any wishes you make will come true.” he looked back at you, and you found yourself admiring his twinkling eyes.

“that’s pretty,” you smiled at him, “did you wish for anything?”

“yeah, i wished that you were mrs. librarian instead— hey, ow! i’m kidding!” beomgyu dramatically rubbed his arm after you very lightly and playfully punched him.

“moment ruined.” you said, unimpressed as beomgyu giggled.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you continued watching the snow, it’s light enough to not be too cold, but cold enough for beomgyu to pull you closer to him, close enough for the moment to feel real.

“sorry you didn’t get to take out your burning anger on the book.” you slightly chuckled as you remembered the events of the night.

“it’s alright, didn’t matter too much to me,” he shrugged, “i didn’t even hate the book that much, just wanted an excuse to drag you out with me.”

you looked at him, stupefied, “so you couldn’t just ask me to hang out during the day like a normal person? what if that security guard was secretly a victorian ghost protecting the library? and what if said ghost happened to die from a thief who burned their house down?” you started exaggerating to show that you weren’t actually mad at him.

beomgyu jokingly scoffed at your silly rambling, “normal is boring, and from your whole spiel just now, you’re clearly not normal either, weirdo.” at that, you both smiled at each other.

beomgyu is truly beautiful, but especially when he smiles. the way his nose scrunches, pinkish from the cold, eyes turning into crescents with tiny sparkles in them. the way his lips curl up, matching the wispy ends of his soft-looking hair, framing his face perfectly. his smile is truly perfect.

in that moment, all you could feel was beomgyu and the world, both infinitely yours.

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[westside-rot]

Kill For You

Authors note: This was intended to be my first drabble but my brain wouldn't let me stop and here we are with all these words. I'll get it right and stop rambling eventually lmao

Also, I'm dipping my toe into fanfics, having fun with ideas and seeing what sticks so please be nice. It's never that serious. This has light editing so excuse any errors.

Minors dni. I do not consent to my work being copied/reposted anywhere. Stealing is lame so don't do it. Reblogs and comments are always welcome after you hit like lol

Protective husband Toji

Mentions of violence and smut *sorry not sorry*

Choosing an outfit is never easy for you. Most days it’s more like a chore and less like a first step in having fun. The way Toji’s eyes tear away from the video game he’s playing to shamelessly appraise your body is confirmation you made the right choice. Going out tonight was a last-minute decision. With limited time to get ready you opted for a backless navy-blue halter dress that showed off plenty leg without having to worry about your ass being exposed. A modest selection for the club. There’s nothing modest about the way Toji admires your curvy frame.

You pretend not to notice as you drop your phone into your purse and inform him of your plans for the evening.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. Enjoy your game. I love you.” It’s foolish to think you’d get away with a rushed explanation and a quick kiss goodbye. When Toji’s large hand catches you by the wrist you aren’t the least bit surprised to have your departure interrupted. You huff and scrunch up your nose to hide your amusement. The charade ends the moment you lock eyes. With a smirk on your face you melt into his broad defined chest and the kiss accompanying his possessive hold on your waist.

“Now let’s try this again Mrs. Fushiguro. Where do you think you’re going in this dress?”

You can’t answer right away as your husband leads you into one kiss and then another. Soon you’re in a full-blown make-out session. When he does finally let you up for air it’s a miracle you can speak. An even bigger one that your panties haven’t melted right off your ass. You explain how one of your girls is going through a bad breakup and you and the rest of the friend group have decided to get her out of the house for a night of drinks and dancing. Toji hums in what you assume to be understanding. The way his lips ghost over the creamy brown skin of your collarbone, tongue dipping between your boobs says otherwise.

“You look gorgeous my love. Maybe you should change. I don’t think I want you wearing this dress without me around.”

“Baby, I can’t. The girls will be here in five minutes. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve felt pretty in a dress.”

He knows you’re being genuine just like he knows you don’t fault him for the long work hours and long overdue date nights. Giving you his blessing is the first step in making amends. Even though he raises you to your feet and readjusts the bottom of your dress back into place you can see the conflict happening behind his dark green eyes.

“I promise to be good.” You pout and run your fingers over the clipped black hair hanging over his forehead. He growls and pulls you closer.

“Keep your phone on. Should any man dare speak to you let them know disrespect is a crime punishable by death. Your husband is the executioner.”

“Yes sir.” You purr against his lips and erupt into a fit of giggles when he sends you on your way with a firm smack to the ass that stays with you long after you join your friends in the rideshare. It requires some convincing not to fake an illness to stay at home with your husband. Nurturing your friendships is important to you. The last thing you want is to become the friend who forsakes all others for her man. A night away from him will do you both some good. And so you turn your thoughts away from him and focus on the night ahead.

Hours later you’re regretting your decision. It’s not that you haven’t enjoyed yourself. After spending weeks going from work to home you loved every second of existing in your own bubble with your girls. The music had been on point and the drinks were nice and strong. That seemed like a good thing in the moment. By 1am you remember why you could only handle the club in small doses. The men had officially lost any sense of decency. While you understood wanting to end the night in good company, you were tired of having to relay Toji’s message to every man occupying your personal space. The massive ring on your finger should’ve been effective fuck boy repellent. Yet here you were on your fourth insincere apology. To their credit, they eventually cut their losses and backed away. There was always one that refused to take no for an answer. This particular jerk refuses to accept your no, going as

Deciding you’ve reached your fill on corny pick up lines, you and your girl decide to wait for the rest of your group outside. You've dealt with your fair share of thirsty men, none crazy enough to get physical and call you an uppity bitch for dismissing him. Pulling away only gives him reason to tighten his grip on your arm. Before you or your friend can respond with a swift kick to the balls a strong pair of hands pull the man off his feet and cast him aside like a rag doll. Your eyes practically fall out of your head when you realize it’s Toji. He’s too busy making good on his word to acknowledge your shock. While the dumb ass puts up an impressive defense he’s easily overpowered and pummeled to the ground. Every punch he throws is reciprocated with two more that land directly in his face until he's unrecognizable. Toji shows no sign of stopping. Even though you'd bet money you weren't the first woman this piece of shit has put his hands on, he isn't worth a prison sentence.

It's your voice pulling Toji back to his senses. One more punch and a kick to the ribs and he's snatching the man up by his collar to hold the man's bloody face in your direction.

“Apologize for putting your filthy hands on my wife. I’m only sparing you because she asked.

He complies and stammers out an apology through the stream of blood running down his nose into his mouth. You’re disgusted by how little you care about the beating he’s taken. Unlike the idiot before you, no one is going to force you to apologize for noticing how well your husband is filling out his thermal. In the hours since you last saw him his corded muscles appear larger and more defined underneath the black fabric. It looks painted on. The color has always been your kryptonite. Toji is wrapped in it, from his jeans down to his work boots. It’s the black beanie tugged down over his ears that turns you feral.

Toji’s voice cuts through your thoughts with a clear directive you can’t ignore. “Let’s go. All of you. NOW.” He leads you out of the club with your gaped mouth friends trailing closely behind, the crowd parting like water to let you pass. Some women gawk, one gave you a thumbs up, while other voices agreed with Toji’s methods. You have the urge to remind everyone he's your husband but decide against it.

Once in the car Toji instructs you to put everyone’s addresses into the GPS. After that the ride is tense and mostly silent. In the group chat your friends are remain crazy and undeterred as they unanimously decide Toji’s deserves immaculate head on everyone’s behalf.

You bite down a laugh then respond in chat, assuring them you will but you can't pinpoint Toji’s mood. He seems upset with you. Despite being grateful for his presence you’re somewhat annoyed with him for infiltrating your girl’s night out. Exactly how long had he been spying? Why hadn’t you noticed him before? Was he being protective, or did he not really trust you?

It pisses you off that while you’re stewing in emotions you shouldn’t feel Toji is being the perfect gentleman, not only driving your friend’s home but escorting them to the door to ensure they make it inside safely. Upon arriving home you decide you're going to sleep off your frustrations and be a responsible adult tomorrow.

Toji has other plans. Resisting your inner brat, you allow his firm yet pleading tone to keep you in your seat with arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry for not getting to you sooner baby. I was trying to be respectful to the hoe asking me dance and got distracted.”

The way your jaw clenches at the mention of the faceless woman proves Toji isn’t alone in his unhinged behavior. In your defense your patience runs a bit longer than his. You certainly haven’t beaten any women to a pulp for getting close. No woman had dared to touch what belonged to you either.

“Sure.”

“I got this bad feeling after you left that I couldn’t shake. Maybe it was nothing. But I rather have you upset with me than ignore my gut and something happens. You’re my entire world. I can't exist without you.”

Suddenly you’re climbing into your wonderful man’s lap to shower him with appreciation one kiss at a time across his beautiful face. You’re a brat that needs to correct her attitude. To further drive home the point you drag your tongue over his scar then back down to his chin, bearing your teeth and latching on. Toji’s lips curve into a vulgar smile but otherwise appears unfazed.

“How do you intend to make it up to me brat?”

His dick, hard and restricted against the crotch of your panties sends a message to put action to words. You comply with eager hands fumbling with his belt as you lean back on the steering wheel. “By letting you use me. You can start by fucking me right here in the driveway.”

He groans as though he’s already inside of you. What you mistake for passion on the verge of release is restraint to keep both hands firmly at your waist. He refuses to touch the intimate parts of you with soiled hands. Another reason to despise the piece of shit from earlier. But you’re too horny to argue. You practically race up the driveway, fumbling with keys to unlock the front door. The kitchen to wash your hands or a shower. You can’t decide. Toji makes the decision for you.

“Take off your panties.” Pulling them down your shapely legs, you toe the lace off to the side along with your heels. You abruptly clamp on the taunt you’ve prepared when you see him kneel before you, presenting his shoulders as a thrown he wishes you to occupy. Always mindful of safety you drape one leg across him and keep the other on the ground for leverage until he demands your trust. You comply. Your husband is a strong man. You’re reminded how much when he straightens his back, hoisting you off the ground, trapping you between the door at your back and the tongue in your pussy.

You close your eyes and surrender to weightlessness, tugging at his hair and mewling your pleasure, vocal but not too loud. You want to hear him lewdly slurp at his meal, burying his face in it like he’s eager to drown and die a satisfied man. His tongue is just as big as the rest of him. You love the way he alternates between the wavelike motions against your clit to stuffing your needy walls. It doesn’t take long to come like this. You whimper his name on its arrival, shudder then relax on his shoulders with your feet set firmly at the center of his back. When he finally sets you on the ground with a suckling kiss to each thigh you follow him on shaky legs into the kitchen.

The energy shifts from two wantons chasing pleasure to comedic and downright absurd. Toji has you pinned in front of him at the sink, his burly figure towering over you in playful competition for his share of the running water all while he struggles to penetrate you handsfree. You wish you could see how silly he looks with his jeans below his ass grinding near your entrance like some inexperienced teenager. The failed attempts have given your abs the workout you haven’t asked for. You’re the drunk one. Toji has no excuse for his antics but you’re honored he trusts you with this silly version of himself, a side the world doesn’t know exists.

"Spread your legs a little wider—push your ass up."

"Give up please." Laughter splutters from you when he notches the head between your folds, almost but not quite. The way he dips and rolls his hips as if he's sure it'll get him where he needs to be put tears in your eyes. "You’re trying to kill me." Resting your head on the counter, you give up attempting to wash your hands to fully commit to laughing. Toji joins in while taking full advantage of the water.

"Not at all gorgeous. I’m trying to fuck you." He doesn’t bother to dry off his now thoroughly washed hands as guides himself to your entrance. He reaches his target on the first try. Neither of you is laughing anymore.

The first thrust is always the sweetest. Especially when you’ve gone deprived for so long.

"There ya go. Shut that pretty fuckin mouth and let me inside." He kicks your legs apart to widen your stance and ruts into your ass. You nearly submerge your head under the water from the impact but recover quickly, stretching your soapy fingertips into the water instead and deepening the arch in your back. It gives him a full display of your ass bouncing off his pelvis and aligns him with just the right spot. He drills you for several heavenly minutes then fucks you into a standing split. Somehow you manage to cut off the water and just in time because he's snatched you off your feet, locking your knees over his elbows to fuck you midair.

There's nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. He fucks you like he's upset, like he's secretly harboring a grudge he doesn't want to speak on. You love it but feel as though you owe him another apology.

Toji isn’t giving you the chance to speak. Even as he walks you into the living room, he’s slamming you down on his dick, knocking the words right out of you. He’s relentless even in the way he places you back on your feet and jerks you around by the hair to segue right back to hard thrusts in one disorienting motion.

"I’m sorry. I’ll burn the dress—Don’t be mad." You wail over the sound of his balls colliding with your ass and frantically attempt to leverage yourself on the couch. He’s quick to restrain both arms behind your back, locking them at the elbow in a one-armed restraint. His free hand snakes your throat. There’s nowhere to run even if you want to. You don’t. He slams into you numerous times before his brain processes what you managed to say.

"What? No baby--just need to feel you and remind myself you’re mine... beautiful and all fucking mine."

"All yours. Only fucking yours." You echo the words. It earns you more sharp thrusts in powerful succession, the intensity forcing you on to the tips of your toes. You chant the words through your delirium and yield as he cranes you backwards by a makeshift ponytail to roughly kiss his way into your mouth. Not the most comfortable position but you love being treated like his personal doll. It doesn’t matter that you watched him mark his territory in the most violent way possible or how ridiculous it might seem to need the reassurance. He's a man, your man, the person you vowed to spend your life with. If he needs his ego stroked, you'll gladly stroke it. Perhaps not in the way he’s stroking your insides but close enough for him to feel cherished and irreplaceable. He deserves it after giving you some of the best orgasms of your life.

All you can do is scream your praise when the third one hits. Every nerve ending in your body feels like tiny focal point detonating at once. The pleasure overtakes you, seizing control of your limbs and coherence. You topple over the couch’s armrest to sob face first in the cushions below. Tremors ripple through your fingers down to your toes now arched and pointed at the ceiling. You fear any sudden movement will remove you from this new blissed out existence. So you don’t. You remain in your wilted position, crying and fully possessed by endless quaking yet aware enough to sense Toji kneeling at eye level. Warm hands caress your face, coaxing a gratified drunken smile to confirm you hadn’t passed out.

"Did I break you?"

“Uh-uh.”

His thumb catches your bottom lip and pries your mouth open. "I’m putting you to bed."

Instantly you muster the strength to speak. "Nooo. Just gimme a minute."

His laughter soothes your rapid pulse and puts breath back into your lungs. You think you won’t need the minute you requested. Not anymore. You only need him to find his way back home. Toji ignores your pleas with soothing kisses to your nose and lips. He guides you out of the awkward position you landed in and carries you to your bedroom.

It's a welcome change to be returned to your plush bed with your husband looming over you, gaze imbued with love you'll never get tired of seeing, removing the dress still gathered at your waist as though you'll break if he handles you poorly. He removes what remains of his attire and rejoins you on the bed. Finally you’re both gloriously naked. You pull him down on top of you, hard lines melding with soft russet contours and entangled limbs sharing a single heartbeat.

He fucks into you slow, takes his time delving to where your soul resides, whispering his devotion against your damp skin. When you reach orgasm for the last time he isn’t far behind you, filling you with his cum, marking you as his. It isn’t until he pulls out, when the urge to watch his cum leak from your spent body is too great to ignore do you realize how turned on you were watching him defend your honor. It’s toxic to wish for such things but it’s a subject you refuse to drop until you’ve talked it out with your husband. Toji will have to be the one to put a stop to your fantasy, that or replace it with something different, something better. Until then you drift back to the present, shut your eyes, and plan out your next outfit.