#i don't know i'm just letting things happen as they happen

[cythraul]

Legolas doesn't mention things he sees or hears because he thinks the others have noticed them too and just assumes they have a plan

Honestly, I think there should be issues around this even with everyone knowing stuff about each other.

Like, Legolas doesn't have a switch in his brain that lets him toggle between "normal sight" and "super elvish sight". If he sees a thing, he doesn't have a good way of knowing if the others can see it too or not, other than asking.

He should absolutely be misjudging that sometimes - either assuming they see things when they don't, or constantly asking "Do you see that?"

(Okay, I'm saying "should" a lot, and I don't actually think these things necessarily should happen; it would be realistic, but wouldn't fit the tone of The Lord of the Rings by Jolkien Rolkien Rolkien Tolkien.)

lotr but nobody knows anything about the other races

Pippin thinks Legolas is a woman

Boromir is convinced that the hobbits are all 15 max

Everyone thinks that Merry and Pippin are twins, except for Legolas, who is convinced the hobbits are quadruplets

Sam thinks that Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas don't have to eat to survive

Legolas doesn't mention things he sees or hears because he thinks the others have noticed them too and just assumes they have a plan

Pippin complains that he is hungry and Legolas just gives him a handful of grass. Pippin is so confused that he just takes it, and now Legolas tries to figure out what hobbits can eat by just giving them random shit, like

Things the hobbits have accepted and likely eaten later (a list by legolas)

-Grass - Leaves

-Stones - a hair tie

-A feather - one of Gimli's shoes

The hobbits and Gimli just assume that this is what elves eat

[themultifanshipper]

Sometimes, there's nothing like some heavy drinking and extreme cold to make sure best friends don't stay best friends.

You and Franco found this out the hard way.

Warnings: don't fuck on the beach guys it's really not a good idea, smut, belly bulge, squirting, alcohol, so many petnames I lost count, no good judgement to be found anywhere

I'll set the scene.

Winter break, at a beach house on the Argentinian coast, at night.

Everyone is sleeping, the only sound that can be heard is the waves crashing on the sand.

You and Franco were indeed best friends. And deeply, deeply in denial about your feelings for each other.

You followed him everywhere, fucking up your education to go to all his races, ever since you were 14.

And he never had a girlfriend because... well, how could he even look at other girls when you were around?

Now you were 23, and he'd fucked around a bit, and so had you. But it was never anything serious, drunken one night stands mostly.

But there you were, on the beach at 2 in the morning, playing a game of drunk hetero-chicken.

Like gay chicken, but longer and more painful to watch.

It involved throwing back shots, and running into the ocean.

The twist was that the ocean was fucking cold when there was no sun to warm you up, and there was only so much the cheap tequila could do, so once you were in the water you had to huddle up to share body heat.

It was only a matter of time before the huddling turned to groping.

You can't even remember who initiated the first kiss, but neither of you wanted to stay in the water for long after that.

Franco carried you out, your thighs firmly wrapped around his waist and his hands digging into your ass.

He set you down in the sand and climbed over you, shoving his way in between your legs.

You both knew what was about to happen, but were too fucking in love to care.

You whined at the stretch when the first of his thick fingers made its way into your quickly dampening cunt.

“It's okay, querida. Let me take care of you”

He bit your bottom lip at the same time as the second finger slipped in, both actions making you groan into his greedy mouth.

Mouth that decided to start traveling south and sucked a couple of bruises into your skin before going even further.

The hand that wasn't pumping in and out of you came up to pull at the string of your bikini, exposing your tits to him as he gulped and looked deep into your eyes.

“You are perfect, mi vida”

He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch into the sensation and he took the opportunity to slip a third finger in.

He hooked them upwards and you groaned your approval of his ministrations.

“Franco, fuck me- please”

“In a minute, baby, let me just-”

You looked down at this hand, and the sight of him slipping a fourth finger in was enough to make you clench around them, and he groaned, the squelch almost audible over the crashing waves.

“Fuck Franco, that's- I think that's enough, no?”

He chuckled. “I need to prepare you, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I am... uhh, big” he muttered, almost shyly, and if it hadn't been night-time you would have seen the blush creeping along his cheeks.

And if the bulge in his shorts was anything to go by, he wasn't lying.

You slipped a hand in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, and marveled at the thickness that met your touch.

Your fingers were barely long enough to wrap around him, and he grunted as you started pumping him slowly.

“Come on Franco, I won't break. I need you inside me, please”

And who was he to deny such a request.

Despite his inebriated state, he went slow, and was incredibly careful as he inched inside you with measured thrusts.

When his hips were finally flush with yours, you let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, I'm so full”

“I know querida, just breathe”

He let you adjust at your own pace, kissing your neck in an effort to distract you from the intense stretch.

“Okay” you gasped out “You can move baby”

The first gentle thrust was eath-shattering and you couldn't help but let out a shrill cry, which spurred Franco on.

He lifted you with an arm around your waist, sitting back on his haunches and holding you up so that he could thust into you while you clung onto him, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

You came once like that, panting and moaning into his mouth, before he lay you back down and put your legs over his shoulders.

He pounded into you hard and fast while you squirmed and whined at the overstimulation.

“Franco, oh my god” you gasped, feeling the beginnings of another orgasm approaching and he chuckled when he felt your cunt squeezing him tighter.

“You can do another one for me, baby, can't you?”

He looked down at you with a sick smirk and you nodded.

He glanced further down and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

“Look baby, look how good I’m filling you”

You followed his gaze and landed on the slight bulge that appeared when he was fully inside you.

You moaned and he laughed, his hips speeding up.

“You like that, huh? Go on and rub yourself for me while I make you feel good”

You complied immediately, fingers going down to rub fast circles on your clit, and at the same time Franco put a hand over the bulge and pressed down.

You saw stars, literally and metaphorically as you spasmed around him, juices coating his hips and thighs, and seeping into the wet sand.

Your head was thrown back while you cried out his name into the night, and once you were sated he quickly pulled out and fisted his cock until the thick ropes of his cum landed on your thighs and soaked folds, mixing with your own release.

He leaned down to kiss you, not caring about lying in his own spend because, after all you just needed to have a dip in the water to clean off.

You lay like that for a bit, just kissing in the moonlight while the sound of the waves faded into the background.

After a while you separated and he chuckled.

“Thank god we are outside. I don't think I've ever made anyone squirt that much before.”

You slapped his chest lightly and giggled. “Franco!”

He smiled and leaned down to capture your lips once more.

“Come, lets go inside before we catch un resfriado”

You didn't know what that was, but you followed him anyway.

You took a long hot shower, and curled up together in bed, like you always did.

The next day you learned what a ‘resfriado’ is (it’s a fucking nasty bitch of a cold), and you also learned that Franco's poor mother had gotten up in the night to get a glass of water, and had the misfortune of looking out of the window.

She apparently got quite an eyeful of the filth that you two were getting up to.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

QUINN IS SO CUTE I JUST WANNA CUDDLE HIM ALL DAY

Babe, he's the cutest in the league! Sweet, soft boy! I don't think you were asking for anything, but I typed a little something! 🩷

You had just tucked yourself in beneath a heavy throw on the sofa. Head propped up by a few pillows, wearing one of Quinn's crewneck sweaters and sweatpants, you were warm and comfortable. He was away at morning practice leaving you to preoccupy yourself until he had come back. The curtains were drawn, the heat was up, and the room smelled like vanilla and caramel, fully rounding out the cozy feeling you were hoping for. 

On the coffee table, sat a new book you had been excited to finally start. Quinn had rekindled your love for reading, something that you hadn't had since you were a child. However, when you picked it up to finally delve into it, the door pushed open; a very tired-looking Quinn standing in the doorway. 

"Hi, baby," you said, sitting up to greet him, the blanket falling away from your body. Looking at him, you could tell something was wrong. "Are you alright?"

His shoulders rolled forward as he sighed, "I'm fine." Quinn dropped his bag at the door, kicked off his sneakers and walked past you and into the bedroom. "Long practice."

It wasn't his normal greeting, by any means, which made you unsure about what you should do. Smothering him with love and affection didn't feel like the right thing at the moment, so you decided to simply let him be and wait for him to come to you. Just before you talked yourself into getting up and seeing if he was okay, you heard his soft footfalls coming towards you. He had changed his clothes into something more lounge-like and less restrictive, but his expression still conveyed that something was wrong. 

You were laying down when he emerged from the bedroom and stayed that way even after he pulled back the blanket. 

"Quinny?" You questioned, as he squeezed himself between your legs to lay his head against your chest, all without a word. He had done this a few times, but it had been while the two of you had been in bed, never on the sofa. His hands snaked under your sweater, up your ribs, and behind your back to rest on your shoulder blades. His touch was warm as you shivered against his it. "Baby, what's wrong?"

He sighed again, his hair just out of the reach of tickling your nose, but your fingers would get lost within it almost immediately. "Took a hard hit today and I'm in a fair amount of pain."

"Oh, baby!" You lamented, doing your best to cover him with the blanket. "That's not good!"

"It happens," he exhales, fingers gripping you tighter. "Was an accident. 

Once you had the both of you sufficiently draped in plush warmth, one hand returned to his hair, the other to his middle of his back. You hoped he wasn't seriously hurt as he seemed to be having such a rough go as of late; you couldn't take him missing any more games. Feeling his breathing sync with yours, you tried to relax yet your worry still lingered. 

"Where does it hurt? So I don't touch it by accident." 

"Left side of my ribs," Quinn mumbled, turning his face inwards towards your chest. 

He was always targeted with hits to his ribs, something that always pissed you off. Worse yet, when most of those hits were never called for a penalty. But this time, it had happened at practice; friendly fire. You hoped the pain would subside by the end of the night, even though you knew he was accustomed to such ailments. 

"I'm sorry, honey."

His words were muffled as he spoke, like he was trying to hide from you, "It's fine." 

"It's not fine!" You pouted, feeling sorrow for his situation. "You're hurt!"

"I'm always hurt, babe, it's hockey." 

Your expression dropped. He had a point, but still, that didn't invalidate your concern for his health. "I'm sorry, I just...care."

Quinn lifted his head to rest his chin between your breasts. "I know you do. I'm sorry," he apologized before his eyes disappeared again, face hidden from view. 

Poor thing, just couldn't catch a break, and you didn't want to make things worse. You'd keep playing with this hair for as long as he would let you, but then you had an idea. In your eyes wandering the room, deep in thought, you caught sight of your book teetering on the edge of the coffee table. 

"Want me to read to you?"

Unsure if he was awake or if he had drifted off into a nap, you waited for an answer before reaching for it. If he was asleep, you decided you'd take a nap with him. His weight on your body was so comforting and soothing and you knew you would drift off to sleep almost immediately upon closing your eyes. 

"You'd read to me?" He asked, bringing his eyes out of hiding once more. 

"Yeah, I was just about to start a new one I got when you came home."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry! I'm glad you're home."

"Okay," he sighed, laying his cheek against your chest, face facing the rest of the living room. "I'd like that...if you'd read to me."

Smiling, you'd extend your arm to grab the book, hoping it didn't fall or it would just stay there till later. Thankfully, you were close enough to secure it between your fingers and bring it back to you. 

"It's a murder-mystery," you said, hoping he wouldn't mind your reading choice. 

"I was expecting a hockey romance," Quinn teased, the fainted smile heard in his tone.

"Oh, ha, ha!" You teased, "Why would I need to read that when I live it everyday?"

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION PT. 4 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw, nsfw, smut, fingering omgg

If you're underage, be responsible and don't consume smut content. I AIN'T YOUR MAMA TO SPANK YOUR ASS.

Word count: 5,384 (yes, things HAPPEN in this chapter)

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Two years earlier

"I'm fine." Sevika murmured, in a tone that could scare anyone away. Except you.

Third day in a row you slept in Zaun's main square, you were cold and your stomach was asking for a more substantial dish than the cookies you could afford. You smelled of street, oil and rain, you were risking everything to get some money and sleep under a roof today.

Many warned you about Sevika, it was better not to mess with her or even show your nose, unless you were proposing a card game, a business or you were a lady-in-waiting. You were none of the three, but you trusted what your hands and your tools were capable of. You held the toolbox, keeping an upright posture even though inside you feared ending up in a dumpster or bleeding to death in the middle of the Last Drop.

"Your arm seems to need a checkup." You insisted. "I know the model, I assume you've had it for about five years, yeah?"

Sevika frowned, putting down the cards and letting out a puff of smoke. She didn't look convinced, more irritated. You insisted.

"I don't charge much."

Sevika flicked her eyes up and down your form, her expression stern. She had seen you before - a street rat, hanging around the less salubrious parts of the city. You were skinny, dirty, and reeked of poverty. You had no business approaching her, let alone with such audacity.

"And what makes you think you can fix it?” she scowled, her voice as harsh as sandpaper. "You some kind of mechanic?”

"Yes." you said, noticing the way Sevika was studying you. You couldn't call her out, you had to swallow your pride in order to swallow a decdent meal later, if everything goes right. "I used to work at Benzo's pawn shop, fixing unused appliances. I brought fine pieces back to life." you said, your eyes flickering to Sevika's mechanic arm. "Like yours."

Certainly Sevika was not pleased with your audacity, she was forced to answer for Silco to idiots, drug addicts, gang members and murderers, so you were just another one to add to the list.

"Used to?" she grunted, her eyes narrowing as she took another drag on her cigarette. "What, you get fired or something?"

"He's dead." you reminded her, knowing damn well Silco's goons were behind that.

Yes, you were bretraying yourself and your past by turning to Sevika to offer your services, but your situation wasn't getting any better. Not with a dead father, an absent mother, and debts to deal with. You should have known better, gambling leads to no good, neither does the air of Zaun. You fell victim to both, the first killed your father, the second probably killed your mother, you weren't sure. And the debt collectors were breathing down your neck.

She eyed you for a moment longer, her gaze weighing your worth. You were desperate, that much was obvious. And she couldn't help but see an opportunity in that. "Alright," she grunted, her voice gruff. "Let's say I let you take a look. What's it gonna cost me?"

You huffed, you were losing dignity there. "A meal." you shrugged. "And a sip of whiskey if you're feeling generous. But I assure you, I do a fine job."

"You'll get your meal and your shot of whiskey," she grumbled, knwoing she would regret giving you a chance. "But if you don't do a damn good job, I'll rip your pretty little head off."

"My head will stay above my shoulders..." you stated. "And your arm, brand new." you added.

Sevika raised her eyebrows, giving the guard a signal to let you come over and take a seat next to her on the couch. You had little time to prove that your offer was not talk but fact. You opened the toolbox, taking out a screwdriver to begin taking apart the arm and separating the pieces. The supply of Shimmer on top seemed novel, but predictable. You knew what to do

As you progressed with your work, Sevika's first impression about you began to crumble. Beneath the hollow cheeks and dark circles under her eyes was a beautiful girl intent on her task, with attentive eyes, deft fingers, and latent confidence. The woman then began to ask questions, hoping to intimidate you.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-six."

"So young, and already out on the streets?" she grunted, her voice carrying a hint of mockery. "What, your parents throw you out or something?"

"They're dead." you mumbled. Sevika was holding her card with her flesh hand, still gambling while you were attending her prosthetic arm.

Your confession did not move her, having parents alive and present in Zaun was a privilege. However, her curiosity only increased. "Orphan?"

"You could say so." you said, glancing at the disassembled parts, studying the system of Sevika’s arm. The thermal paste needed changing, luckily you had some on you, the seals needed oil too, and some of the gears could use replacing.

"So you're just a street rat then," she said bluntly. "No family, no friends, nowhere to call home."

"Rat." you huffed. "I'm prettier than that." you might have been hungry, skinny and dirty, but you were a lot smarter and prettier than a goddamn rat.

"Maybe," she smirked. "But you still smell worse than one."

As Sevika took the time to mock you, your eyes were split between the arm and the opponents' play. You were sure that Sevika was taking a big risk by continuing to allow the cuprier to keep adding cards to the deck. "Stand," you whispered. "You're too close."

Sevika raised her eyebrow, planning to ignore you, however your comment didn't seem to be wrong. She let out a sigh before raising her hand to the cuprier. With that, the man turned over his cards. "Seventeen." The man said, to which you looked with pleased eyes at Sevika's nineteen.

"Agh, for fuck's sake." groaned one of the opponents, losing the bet. Blackjack was quite unpredictable, but you advised Sevika well; she hit the jackpot.

She chuckled, turning to look at you with a mix of surprise and respect. "Well then, not bad," she said, her voice gruff but impressed. "You really know your stuff."

"The rat's useful." you mumbled. "I have a name, though."

"I haven't asked your name." she replied, as she placed her just won chips on the pile.

"I rather you to remember the quality of my work than my name." you stated, assembling the arm back on Sevika. You turned the last screws, applied oil to the parts, and finally inserted the supply of Shimmer into the shoulder compartment, clicking your tongue. "Set and done, miss."

As the arm connected to her system, Sevika immediately noticed the fluidity of the gears and the restored sensitivity of the metal fingers. She flexed her arm and stretched it out, looking at you with a half-smile. It was all she would give you, along with an, "And here I thought I would rip your head off."

Before you could accept the praise wholeheartedly, there was this sudden commotion in the club. Another bastard too immersed in Shimmer to contain himself had entered, knocking out the guards with just the touch of a hand, and actually, knocking down everything in his path.

Fuck.

Sevika tensed, eyes flickering to the situation. She recognized the signs of a Shimmer-induced maniac, and knew damn well the trouble that could follow.

"Gods," she growled under her breath. "Not this bastard again."

Sevika quickly rose from her seat, her eyes watching the Shimmer-fueled maniac with a steely glare. It was only a matter of time before he would turn his attention to the rest of the bar, and Sevika knew she had to act fast. One of the other players had already fled, hiding behind the wall near the bar. The other stood frozen in fear, unable to speak or move. But you remained calm, your eyes on Sevika, awaiting her next move.

Sevika looked more irritated than alert, she moved her mechanical arm and walked towards the purple beast in front of her, her bearing filling the entire place, her confidence latent. You watched the fight unfold with a smile, the arm worked like a charm and there was no denying that you did a great job, especially when Sevika pulled the opponent’s leg against her and her elbow landed on the knee joint, bending the limb at an unnatural angle, followed by a punch capable of sending him flying through the air and landing in front of the bar. You drank from her glass, watching the guards carry the unconscious opponent away and Sevika letting out a sigh. The music began playing again.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, and by then you had realized that it was a habit of hers, and before scolding you for your attitude and your audacity in drinking from her glass, the woman called for the waiter. "Bring the girl dinner, and a glass of whiskey." she mumbled.

"I like it with soda," you added, smiling pleased from the couch.

Sevika rolled her eyes. "With soda," she said.

When you had already filled your stomach and calmed your nerves with a good whiskey, Sevika reappeared through the door. She had disappeared during your dinner, but returned to the room with a small bag of coins between her fingers and a less cold look than before; you could read the ambition on her face.

"For the arm repair," Sevika said, placing the pouch next to you on the table. To it, she added a small card with an address and the Silco symbol on the bottom, known as the "Eye of Zaun."

You knew that card was your golden ticket.

"This..." she said lowly. "Is a way to keep yourself fed and off the streets, if you're interested."

As you nodded, Sevika leaned in to whisper in a tone that made you shudder. Her scent of tobacco wafted into your nose, her closeness overwhelming. "Report to this address tomorrow at 8. Not a single minute later. We'll talk business when the time comes."

"Yes, ma'am." you said, making Sevika grin.

"Sevika." she said. "I am not into formality."

With that, she walked away, leaving you with a job opportunity and a pouch full of coins.

You did it. You fucking did it.

And tomorrow you would prove that your actions weren't just talk but pure merit. You counted the coins, it was enough for a hotel room and half of what you owed Horner. You smiled, he's always been good faking a Shimmer overdose.

As the days went by, you went from rat to girl. You met Silco, you closed a deal for private services to the organization, you took care of the maintenance of machinery, clothing and weapons. You were a full-time worker, you spent your hours within the four walls of the workshop, living off of coffee, bread, fruit and whiskey. Sevika watched you from the beginning, it was the task that Silco had entrusted to her; "Keep an eye on the girl, make her work and keep her mouth shut."

And that's what you did.

When the time came, you went from girl to mechanic. The workshop was not only your workplace, but your temple. Silco allowed you to accept external orders, you began to build a business that not only gave you autonomy, but also colored your cheeks, filled out your muscles and gave you the beauty that poverty had taken from you.

It was then that you went from mechanic to sweetheart. And Sevika forced herself to keep her distance, but the numerous appointments to check her arm, the jokes, the glances and the talks had loosened this armor against you. Now you ate full dinners, steaks, roasted vegetables, drank lemonade and replaced coffee with Shimmer, with Sevika as your only provider.

That was her mistake.

She thought she had done you a favor by providing you the doses. You worked better, your efficiency was through the roof, your performance impeccable. But that night, seeing you unconscious on the floor of her office, surrounded by paramedics and pale as snow, Sevika knew that you ended up like this because of her.

Her fault. Her damn fault.

"You've allowed this." said Silco, dragging from his cigar. He seemed quite unbothered by the situation, considering your incident as another problematic worker that couldn't control herself. All businesses have causalities, however, this wasn't just any. "She wasn't supposed to be at your office."

Your inert eyes, the way your body lay languid, a purple substance coming out of the corner of your mouth as if your insides were melting, the paramedics trying to revive a being whose life was hanging by a thread. It was a nightmare.

"She's dead." The paramedic said.

Dead.

Dead.

You died for her.

Because of her.

"Ah!" Sevika sat up suddenly, a drop of sweat wetting the back of her neck when her eyes landed on the halo of moonlight that was leaking through the window. She had dreamed of the accident again.

She wiped the sweat from her neck with a quick gesture and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Just a dream, she told herself, just a damn dream.

Sevika didn't even stop to put her mechanical arm on, which was resting next to her bed, but left the room at a quick pace and uncovered your sleeping figure on the living room couch.

You were fine.

You were curled up on the couch, your bandaged wrist resting next to your face, serene and calm. Your breathing reminded Sevika that you were still alive, even though you threatened to die on the old wooden floor of her office a month ago. But you were too stubborn to die from an overdose. You shifted in your spot, the breeze biting at your skin in the absence of the blanket over you, and when you opened your eyes you found the immense silhouette of Sevika before you. You screamed.

Sevika winced at your sharp cry, her hand reaching out instinctively to cover your mouth, to silence the sound before it echoed through the apartment.

"Shhh!" she hissed, her eyes darting towards the main door. The last thing she needed was for someone to think she was murdering someone in there.

"Quiet, quiet," she whispered, her hand still firmly over your mouth. "You'll wake the whole damn block with that shrieking."

Your heart skipped a beat before connecting two coherent thoughts and realizing it was Sevika. The woman pulled her hand away. "Fuck, don't stand in front of me like that again," you gasped. "I thought it was the grim reaper."

She took a step back, giving you some breathing room. "Believe me, he must have more important things to attend to," she said, her voice still low. "Just came to check on you. Didn't mean to scare you like that."

You sat up, reaching out to turn the oil lamp on. Sevika was still on her tank top and boxers, it was unusual to see her without the prosthetic arm. "I'm fine." you said. "You could've came to check in the morning, damn... what time it is?" you asked.

It's three," she replied, her tone still hushed. "Go back to sleep, girl. I just... wanted to make sure you were alright."

The lamplight outlined Sevika's silhouette, you could see the sweat on her neck and a certain pallor on her face. You assumed it was another nightmare, you already knew about them, but you avoided bringing them up because every time you did, she would shut you up with an "I'm fine, girl, go to sleep."

You watched her walk towards the balcony, a pack of cigarettes in her hand and a deep sigh leaving her lips. When she had the cigarette between her lips, you were suddenly beside her, lighting it up. “What’s really going on?” you asked.

"Can't a woman just enjoy her smoke in peace?" she grumbled, taking a drag from the cigarette. But there was no real malice in her voice, just a touch of weariness. She leaned against the balcony railing, the metal cool beneath her bare arm.

You sighed, coming up against a wall again. Sevika was impenetrable, so much so that you didn't know what was going through her mind unless she said it, and you could certainly assume it had to do with her nightmares, but you didn't dare to intrude on her fears. Still, you stayed next to her on the balcony, your stomach aching as the first sign of withdrawal.

The first few days were atrocious, you trembled and vomited every hour, you believed that dying was more pleasant than enduring such nausea and fits of anger and pain. However, Sevika stood firm by your side, brought you to her apartment and such a nurse, kept track of your symptoms and silenced them with the medicines the doctor had prescribed you. More than once, she stayed next to you on the couch, talking to you about trivialities or reading a book until the sleeping pill took effect and you could sleep. Only then did Sevika allow herself to stroke your forehead and relive the guilt of the accident.

Sevika had lived long enough to witness the effects of Shimmer on people. It didn't just destroy wills, it destroyed bodies and minds. The mutations from overuse of Shimmer were morbid and grotesque, luckily you didn't experience any, but that didn't make seeing you on the office floor, languid, pale, with your eyes open any less terrifying. Silco saw Sevika lose her temper for the first time in his life.

"I shouldn't have let you take those doses," she finally muttered, the words coming out with a hint of gravel in her voice. "I should've found a different way. This..." she gestured to you, the signs of her failure still lingering in the bags under your eyes and the scars along your arms, "...this is on me. My fault."

So that's what it was all about; guilt. Sevika had learned to take the blame for other people, to take responsibility for other people's mistakes, and this time was no different. Yes, she made a mistake by giving you doses of Shimmer for two years, but you were the one who decided to relapse. And you took all the blame. "Nobody forced me to relapse that day, Sevika." you stated. "And nobody could've stopped me neither, not even you."

For a moment, she was quiet, mulling over your words, the smoke from her cigarette spiraling up into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be the one consoling me, girl,” she said finally, the vulnerability in her tone betraying her gruff exterior. “I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

"We both know that a worker isn't taken care of the way you take care of me," you stated, your words implying more than what they said.

"You've never been a mere worker for me," she stated, letting out a puff of smoke, moving away into the air. Zaun was quiet, as if the city had stopped the day you nearly died. "Sometimes I can't stand you, you don't know when to back off."

You reached for her cigarette, taking a drag. "I never learned to back off."

“Of course, you didn’t,” she said, a note of resignation in her voice. “You’re as stubborn as they come. Should’ve known from the beginning that I’d have my hands full with you.”

And here you were, two years later, sleeping on her couch and making her coffee in the mornings, refusing to die without proving once again that you are many things, but not a street rat.

You had already settled into a routine. Sevika would leave early in the morning, usually returning at noon to check on you. You always waited for her with a cigarette and a cup of coffee, you started adding a touch of whiskey when you realized she liked it. You used to keep the apartment clean, read the books Sevika kept, play with her cards and sometimes take out your tools and make crafts or repair unused items, even though Sevika had forbidden you to work until you had recovered.

"Your recovery comes first, girl. Go easy."

Sometimes you found yourself chatting with her on the balcony, taking drags from her cigarette and oiling her mechanical arm, before daring to ask how her day was, absorbing her worries and whispering a "you always put up with too much, Sev" afterwads, only for her to shrug and light another cigarette. Being her tenant had allowed you to see Sevika in a much more intimate setting, without the need to maintain the impenetrable facade. You watched her sleep, yawn, train, and even cook; your favorite was the mushroom stew with enhacium powder. It was quite the meal, always leaving you with a heavy stomach and a pleasant drowsiness, although your tongue took the brunt of the sting of the powder. Sevika could feel you starting to itch as your cheeks colored, and with a smile, she would hand you the lemonade.

You were embarrassed to admit it, even more so considering that the overdose could have killed you, but you were grateful that circumstances led you to live with Sevika. Sometimes you wished you had done it sooner, but you remembered the way she reacted when you woke up in the hospital and regretted it.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, girl, understood? Never again." she said, agitated, holding your hand in hers.

You could never apologize enough to take the blame off Sevika's chest, so you just limited yourself to being a good roommate.

"Would you mind helping me with the painkiller?" you asked then, placing the cigarette between Sevika's lips. Despite having started the methadone treatment more than a month ago, it still gave you the shivers to handle the syringe.

"Of course," she said simply, her voice a mix of gruffness and understanding. "Let me do it."

You two sat down on the couch, Sevika holding the cigarette between her lips as she wrapped the elastic around your arm and tightened it. You didn’t admit it out loud, but ever since you’d been staying at Sevika’s apartment, your favorite time of day was when she helped you with the methadone. You loved the way her eyes focused on you, her thumb gently searching for your vein, commanding you to close your fist, then after piercing your skin, whispering “there you go,” pulling the needle back out before caressing the mark with her finger and purring “good girl.” She made you feel special, you were pampered by a woman who didn’t pamper anyone, and it was exhilarating in the most unusual way.

You thought you could take a thousand injections if it meant continuing to be Sevika’s good girl.

"Easy as pie," she said, her voice a rough whisper. "No pain, no drama." she added, disposing of the syringe in the trash can.

You watched her put out her cigarette in the ashtray, expecting her to sit next to you and wait for you to fall asleep like she always did. You had gotten used to hearing her voice by now. Just then, the first hit of the drug bathed you. It was always the strongest, however after a few weeks, the dose had decreased and only gave you a pleasant drowsiness.

"You're getting sleepy." she said. "Good."

Sevika watched as your eyelids fluttered shut, your body slumping back against the couch. The drug had done its work, a gentle drowsiness seeping into your limbs and calming your nerves. You felt an arm wrap around your waist, Sevika lifted you over her shoulder and carefully carried you to her bed. "It's too damn cold in the living room," was her excuse, even though you didn't ask for one. The bed was still warm, wide and the sheets smooth. Sevika wasn't lying when she said she prefers her whiskey neat and her bed soft.

She turned off the lamp, snuggling up to you, keeping a prudent distance that at the moment seemed ridiculous to you. "Do I scare you?" you teased her.

"Scare me?" she huffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Come closer then." you said, pushing your luck just enough. And Sevika seemed to give in.

You rested your head on her chest, allowing yourself to inhale her scent and feel the beat of her heart; it was slow, imposing, just like her. Sevika frowned, ignoring the urge to bury her nose in your hair and entwine her legs with yours. You heard her sigh, you were dozing off by then. "Rest, girl, you need it."

Sevika wasn’t the best early riser, but she woke up in a better mood that morning. A hand around your waist, her nose on your neck as if your scent alone had calmed all her nightmares, and it did. You were still asleep, comfortable and serene while she spooned you, unaware that Sevika pulled you close to her, taking in your cleavage from where she was; your shirt had shifted in the night, revealing more of your skin.

Look away, Sevika, get a grip.

Sevika sighed against your neck, knowing she was treading unfamiliar and inappropriate territory, but she couldn't help it. Her hand found the edge of your tank top, pulling it down just to reveal your breasts; smooth, tender and full.

No, she shouldn't, but... she wanted to? Absolutely.

Her lips found the sensitive area of your neck, trailing kisses and nips down to your shoulders and collarbone, daring to squeeze one of your tits between her fingers. You shifted on your place, the air biting on your bare chest managed to draw your attention and Sevika pulled her hands off, as if she was spooked of herself.

What the hell am I doing?

"Mhm..." you uttered, your hand seeking for Sevika's, bringing it back towards your chest. "Don't stop." you whispered, your eyes still closed.

Sevika gulped, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body as she reached out again, catching your breast between her fingers and massaging it gently, peppering kisses down your neck, your cheek, your shoulder. You felt her abdomen press harder against your back, you shifted your ass against her, half asleep but perfectly aware of what was happening, and you wouldn’t let her stop.

She grunted against your neck, her hand squeezing harder your breast. "Don't move," she growled softly, her breath hot against your ear. "Stay just like this."

You moaned, your hand reaching her cheek, urging her to touch you, to kiss you. Your eyes fluttered open as she ran her hand down your stomach, teasing your lower belly, down to your legs, the inner side of your thighs. "Sev..." you purred.

"I'm here," she whispered against your ear. "I've got you."

"Shit." you whimpered, your eyes shutting once she slipped her hand into your shorts, settling between your legs. That's all you needed to fully wake up. "Ah, god." you panted, feeling her fingers against your slick.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?" she breathed against your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. She pressed kisses along your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "Yes, you are."

As much confidence Sevika showed, the truth was that inside she was shaking with fear. She was crossing a line she had imposed on herself when she met you two years ago, and she had never felt so out of control as she did now. It wasn’t just your moans, it was your scent, your heat, the idea that she was the one who gave you the opportunity that night at the club and now you were lying on her bed, squirming under her hand. She forged this situation from the moment she laid eyes on you, not knowing that you intended to end up in this position ever since she leaned in and her tobacco scent filled your nostrils. You intended to work for Sevika, to be her confidant, her best partner and above all… to become her weak point.

You pulled your head back, moaning as Sevika parted your legs and eased a finger inside you, licking your ear. "Sleeping on my couch, playing with my cards, wearing my clothes while I'm gone; all you've done to end up here." she mumbled, easing a second one, knowing you could take it.

"Yes, I... I did it." you whimpered, gripping the sheets between your fingers.

"You were testing me." she stated, biting on your neck. "Always pushing my buttons to see when I would give in."

You knew Sevika wasn't just playing around with you when she rubbed the heel of her hand against your clit, already swollen and sensitive for her. The room was filled with the obscene sound of your slick, your moans and Sevika's words. "Legs apart." she commanded. "You never learned to follow instructions, learn now." she said.

"Yes, ma'am." you whined, before Sevika chuckled.

"Didn't I tell you I'm not into formality?"

She could never forget the details of the time they met, no. Not when she was the one who saw you enter the club with your toolbox, your tired eyes, your steely confidence. Not when she was the one who asked Silco for a job opportunity for you and paid you with her own coins. Not when she chose you, for herself, from the first moment.

You were hers from the beggining, and somehow you knew it.

Her hand continued to work between your legs, her fingers moving expertly, making pleasurable heat pool in your belly. "You can pretend to be tough all you want, but when you're with me, you're not."

Your legs were locking around her hand, your breathing quick and ragged as Sevika sped up the motion of her fingers. Fuck, you were starting to shake, that tickling sensation settling in your stomach.

"You and your insolent mouth, your smug smile…" she whispered. "I wanted them for myself, I always did." You shifted, knowing that if Sevika had the mechanical arm on, she would already be choking you. However, you felt her move over you, trapping you against the mattress.

"Sevika… I'm…" you mewled, realizing you were on the very edge. "Huh, please..."

"I know." she smiled, as she laid above you, her hand firmly working on your throbbing pussy. "Now kiss me, pretty girl. Earn it."

You cupped her cheeks, kissing her as much as your moans would allow, tasting the tobacco on her tongue, her teeth between your lips. Sevika kissed like she walked, and that was saying a lot. You pulled back, realizing the trembling of your legs was the hint of an orgasm you couldn't contain. "Oh... god...!" you cried against her lips before you dove into the sensation.

And you melted.

Sevika leaned down to kiss your chin, your neck, totally in love with your whimpers and trembling lips, your smell of sweat, your juicy pussy. You barely rode the high when Sevika kissed your belly, a hand tracing fingers on your knee as her mouth hovered over your core. "I could lick it off of you, y'know?" she smirked.

You were in no position to ask or deny anything, but Sevika was in the perfect position to tempt you and play on your desire. “If only I didn’t have that meeting with Silco in…” she glanced at the clock beside the bed. “Ten minutes.”

Oh, no.

"Ten minutes is more than enough." you said, even though it sounded like a plea.

But Sevika chuckled, leaning to place a kiss on your lips. "I don't rush things when I eat a pretty girl out." she stated, leaving the bed.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, staring at Sevika with your lips apart. Unfazed, she took the mechanical arm and connected it to her shoulder, glancing at you with a rose brow.

"Wait for me with the coffee ready," she said, walking to the dresser to get ready. "I'll finish what I started, sugar, don't worry."

To be continued...

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias @sevikashairbrush @lipglosskxsses @chaosfieldflower @kairuvhen @moodient @izzy120 @bonemarrowstew @abbysunderwear @batman-2 @karmalovessimonriley @fandomsinthegalaxies @fudosl @femme-historian @poprostuhybryda-blog @kifuqe @xblinkx2 @tamikahoshiko @lia-winther @https-mika @armeenix @bambishaven @xblinkx2 @luvg1s3l1e @dopemusiccowboy @imheadintothemountains @lilithyys @soullessbody @lavendersgirl @lovesickdreamer @makaylaislovely @demonofpuns @celestialst4r @ilovehotd @emmanetalias @bethany-l87 @marah280 @srtuna @jannesyjane @victoriaanne9 @rottngrl3 @depressedqueersocialists @slut4sevika @fragilsnoopy @stmvivs @sillystarv @vyvvycg

Also, I haven't stopped to thank u all for your reception of this series. It makes me absolutely happy you girls like it so far! Thank u all <3

[dduane]

(off the previous tags --

#I will die for those books #so incredible #Diane please finish the series #I beg you #I need to know how it ends #so you want to be a wizard #diane duane )

Please imagine all the following being stated in the kindest tone of voice possible:

(a) I'm not sure I understand what would make anybody think I've ever intended to "finish" this series. It was never from the very beginning planned with a concrete ending, and I'm certainly not thinking that way now. ...And trust me, when I do intend a series to have a concrete ending, that planning happens from the very start. I've known how this series was going to end, for example, since 1977. In fact, the ending was already plain to me by the time I finished the outline for the first book, let alone the first draft. When I choose to play the Long Game in its "hard ending" form, I don't equivocate about it, and—as a good screenwriter should—I play it hard.

In the wider sense, though: People seem to have gotten the idea over time—or to have been trained into it, possibly for marketing purposes?—that a series has to have a beginning, a middle and an end.

I don't think that's necessarily the case. (And honestly, who did make that take up? A question for another day. But the assumption's done a lot of authors a disservice, for reasons not germane to this particular discussion.) In my case, though, my plan is to continue writing Young Wizards books until I'm rendered no longer capable by mental or physical dysfunction, or by having inadvertently stopped breathing. ...I will say that YW 11 (currently in process) is intended as a place where people could, if they liked, decide that the series has ended. But the premise for YW 11 ends with the sentence "This book leaves the decks cleared for books 12 and 13, Wizards in Transit and The Wizard's Knot." So I wouldn't hold out much hope. 😏

(b) "I need to know how it ends." Well, wouldn't most of us be tempted to say that about a lot of things? ...Yet I can just hear Tom saying, "What, you mean like the story of what we laughably refer to as 'real life?' The best we get to see is what's happened. There's no judging what's ended until we've run out of all the time."

(c) Anyway: I know you were speaking in life-online idiom. But please don't die for these books. That's not a job I'd wish on anybody else. Live, and keep reading! (Not just my stuff, but others' too.) That's what makes this writer happiest. :)

Anyway: thanks for enjoying the books so much! It's heartening. Meanwhile, I have to get back to work. (goes off to get more tea)

rudolph the red nosed reindeer

[saymio]

Who's most likely to force reader to sleep with someone for money. Basically forcing her into prostitution.

Hwang inho

Thanos

Nam gyu

Myung gyi

Player 388

Player 246

_🎀

A/N: omg??I LOVE REQUESTS LIKE THIS I make them quickly n I have fun nyehehhehe.

contains: thanos, namgyu, inho, gyeongseok, daeho

Thanos

I see him doing this the most, does not gaf about what happens to you, doesn't even try guilt tripping you into saying yes he just tells you the two of you need more money and that you're going to sleep with guys for it one random night. you cry and plead for him to not do it for actual hours but he ignores you and basically turns into your pimp and keeps all the money you make from then on. "its for us baaabee" is all he tells you when you express concerns about what he's spending all the money on...and of course you believe your sweet boyfriend.. when your landlord personally came to your apartment door and told the two of you that you were late 4 months of rent you exploded. this was the first time you stood up for yourself, yelling at Thanos and asking why he even needed the money if it wasn't for 'us'. Thanos just found this amusing and funny. he paid the late rent and forced you to keep selling yourself off. more than before. now you're just stuck in this loop of sex work with no way out..you knew Thanos would kill you if you left..

2. Namgyu

he's similar to Thanos, but less aggressive about it and manipulates you more into it. uses your financial position as a reason to start doing it. (that he's the reason you're in) will try to sway you into it as well, "just for a weeekk you're debt will be covered and you could live the normal live you've always wanted babbyy." he'll say all this while he's hugging your back and whispering it into your ear. if that doesn't work he'll start using his position to convince you. "we need the money babe!! I'm broke, I can barely afford food. if you start doing this we'll have enough for my debts and food...don't you want me to be happy?" he'll beg and beg for weeks until you finally give in. once you do he basically does what Thanos does but only give you a small portion of the money telling you "its all we made" when it clearly wasn't.. but you believed him, your boyfriend wouldn't force you into this just so he could take the money for himself!! doesn't even use if for his debt or said food he was so lacking of. he just buys drugs and nice things, ingoring the fact he has a group of men going for his neck.. he doesn't let you stop once you say your week is over, he forced you to keep going and if you quit he'll leak all the videos he took to everyone you knew.... so you really had no choice but to keep doing this until he thinks he's had enough money.

3. Inho

i don't see him forcing you into sex work in person, but I see him forcing you to sell your nudes and sex clips online just for the fun of it. he obviously doesn't need the money to take care of you or himself he just finds it amusing how uncomfortable and upset you get from it. will take tons of photos and videos of you on his cock while you beg him to stop and that it makes you uncomfortable. he loves seeing you in pain, it turns him on like crazy. will force you to read all the comments and messages you get from your little twitter account, he doesn't understand why you're so upset!! random guys on the internet think you're hot and would fuck you any day of the week just like him. what's the problem with that? will buy you a ton of tiny lingerie and toys and lock you into a room for hours until you make a certain amount of content for your 'fans'. doesn't like to admit it but he jerks off to your photos almost every night

4. Gyeong seok

he wouldn't do it unless he REALLY needs it..like now. he wouldn't be like namgyu or thanos that takes all the money just for nice things but uses it so he can put food on the table and pay his daughters medical bills. will 100% manipulate you into it, but it'd be really subtle. "you know how nayeon is really sick right...she really needs the money.. i- im sorry for asking but would you ever like..sleep with a man for money.." acts like he'd accept no as an answer but really wouldn't, he knows this money is valuable and will do anything to have you say yes. "nayeon would be really happy if she could finally treat her cancer" "nayeon's been really hungry these days" uses his daughter as more reason why you should say yes. you're his girlfriend and you love nayeon, right? you should do this small favor for her... you end up saying yes only after a few weeks and gyeong seok doesn't make it a secret that he wants to take all the money so he can put food on the table and pay the important stuff for his and his daughters needs. he thought you'd fight back but you just accepted it, you wanted to help your boyfriend and maybe by doing this he'd finally marry you once he gets back on his feet like he tells you.. he doesn't really know how to feel about you sleeping with other men but he knows he's the reason for it so he cant complain.. 100% fucks you again when you get home so you remember who you actually belong to. it makes you feel better about everything that's happening.. wont force you to keep selling yourself off once he pays off everything he needs, will just try his best to provide for both and nayeon like he should be doing.

5. daeho

he doesnt, I KNOW! IM SORRY! I KNOW BORING, THROW TOMATOES ALL U WANT!! I just don't see him doing this like AT ALL. would rather work 6 jobs at the same time than ever force you into something like this.

A/N: I feel like this highkey sucks but oh well. noeul fic is prolly dropping today or tmr doe YAY #writersblock

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[tobesolonely]

untitled angsty but then sweet piece...

hello guys!! it's been like over a year lol. I was going through my google doc and found this and I feel like I never posted it? so now I am posting it. maybe this can be a part 1 but also we know I'm great at starting multipart stories and not finishing them so lets see

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

warnings: none (~1.2k words)

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“You're just gonna ignore me then, babe?”

Y/N continues silently puttering around in the kitchen, going out of her way to make sure her back remained turned on Harry. There weren't many ways to get under his skin, but throughout her years of being with him she learned that being on the receiving end of the silent treatment usually made him fold pretty quickly. She was annoyed with her husband and the fact that he seemed clueless as to why made her even more upset.  

“I take your silence as a yes?” 

More puttering. More re-wiping the already clean counters. Starting the tea kettle. Washing her hands. Anything to not acknowledge Harry, really.

“I can’t make it better if you don't tell me why you're so upset, love,” he takes a tentative step toward her. “I know we've been together for ages but I still can't read your mind. Think ‘m gettin’ real close, though.”

This is said jokingly, and she knows her husband is just trying to dissipate the tension that's thick in their kitchen, making the spacious room seem impossibly small. She doesn't acknowledge his joke, doesn't crack a smile because that would give him too much satisfaction. Nothing made Harry cockier than being the reason for Y/N’s laugh, a sound so sweet she’s pretty sure he’d forbid everyone on the planet except him from listening to it because he wanted it all to himself. He always told her it was music to his ears.

The fact that he doesn't even know what he did is what finally causes her to break, muttering about how fucking ridiculous he is under her breath. It's not lost on Harry. 

“Now you've moved on from ignoring me to cursing at me?” he sounds more curious than upset, taking another step toward her. She backs away, defensively crossing her arms over her chest and she doesn't miss the way Harry’s brow furrows at the action. “Can y’please tell me what I did, Y/N? Please?” When she looks down at the ground, ignoring his please, he begs some more. He’s not above groveling, really. 

“Please, angel? Lemme fix it,” his eyes are wide and wild as he wildly searches hers for some clue as to what he did wrong. “Tell me-”

“Am I always just gonna come second with you?” 

She can almost see the wheels in her husband’s head turning, knows he's choosing his words carefully before he speaks so as not to upset her any further. 

“Okay, love,” he runs a ringer hand through his hair. “Can you be a little bit more specific?”

“We had plans this afternoon, Harry. We were gonna try that new café that just opened. I was looking forward to it,” she doesn't care if this makes her sound selfish and childish. “I know you were working and I know you how much you love to do that, but sometimes I feel like-”

“Don’t even finish that thought,”  Harry cuts her off and his tone is sharp, calloused. “That’s not true.”

“You know, at first I was worried something happened when you didn't show,” Y/N continues like she didn't hear him. “But then I realized nope, you probably just forgot or couldn't get out of another meeting. Just like always.”

A look of sadness flashes across Harry’s face, which quickly transforms to indignant anger. “Don't throw this in my face, Y/N. You know how much I hate that.” 

“So I’m supposed to be mindful of the things you hate, but you can't be mindful of the things I hate?”

“You don't get it,” he mumbles under his breath, growing increasingly done with the conversation the longer it drags on. “You're not in the industry. I can't just always leave-” 

“Then blame it on me! Make me the bad guy, Harry,” she finally turns all the way around to face him completely. “The people you work with get to see you more than I do…the fans…” Y/N trails off, letting her unfinished thoughts hang limply in the air. 

It’s quiet between the couple for no more than thirty seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Harry breaks it first - he always does. He inhaled a deep shaky breath, trying to call forward the breathing techniques his therapist taught him to use in high-stress situations. Right now counts as a high-stress situation. 

“You’re right, angel,” the pet name slips off his tongue easily which comforts Y/N. Harry’s not as upset as she thought he was. He’s still her Harry. “That’s not fair of me, is it?”

All Y/N can do is shake her head, lower lip jutted out. She knows if she tries speaking she’ll start crying, and she doesn't want to cry. All she wants is for Harry to understand. Harry however, knows her too well. He knows the look she gets on her face when she's trying really hard not to cry and he knows she goes silent because she doesn't trust her voice not to come out shakey. He decides to continue talking.

“I should've called you and let you know I’d be late- or told you we needed to reschedule. I’m sorry I left you hanging, darling.” He pauses, selecting his next words very wisely. Harry knows his wife is sensitive. The last thing he wants is for her to think he's blaming her for anything. “...but it seems like this is about more than me missing our lunch. Which, again, I'm very sorry about. I'm taking you wherever you want for dinner tonight and I'll make you dessert when we get home. Let's talk more about this though, yeah?”

“You also have to be in charge of picking up after Hershey for a month,” Y/N responds with a small smile on her face. Hershey was the couple’s tiny brown poodle who was the cutest puppy in the world. “Thank you.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, knowing his wife was trying to keep the conversation lighthearted since she hated confrontation. Since being with Harry her communication skills have improved tremendously since he was so good at it and wanted to talk about everything, but healthy communication clearly still didn't come as easily to her. “Talk to me, angel. What’s this about?”

Harry’s in front of her now, arms wrapped limply around her waist. He walks her backward until the small of her back hits the counter then he tells her to, “jump” so he can lift her onto the counter. Once she's situated he settles himself in between her legs and places his arms back on their place on her waist. Harry looks intently into Y/N’s eyes and she knows she won’t be leaving that spot until she tells him what's bothering her, so she just says it.

“I want a baby.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows in quick surprise before breaking out in a wide grin- the kind that causes his nose to scrunch up and wrinkles to form around his eyes. 

“You want a baby? W’ me?”

Y/N doesn’t return his smile, which quickly makes Harry’s turn into a frown.

“Why don’t you look happy?”

Y/N sighs, her eyes avoiding Harry’s. He gently places his index finger under her chin and pushes it up, forcing her to look into his eyes. He’s desperately searching his wife’s eyes, trying to figure out why she isn’t more excited about coming to this big decision. Harry has been ready for years of course, but he never wanted her to feel pressured.

“You’re never here, Harry. I don’t want to feel like a single mom.” Y/N looks down again and Harry doesn’t lift her chin back up this time. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. It’s silent for what feels like a couple minutes but is actually maybe only twenty seconds, the faucet leaking being the only sound heard throughout the whole house.

“Y/N…love,” Harry inhales a shaky breath, removing one of his hands from her hip to run his fingers through his curls. “I never want to make you feel like you’re alone. Not just with this, but…with anything.” Harry gently knuckles away a stray tear falling down Y/N’s cheek. 

“I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way, H. I guess it’s just what I signed up for when I married a popstar, yeah?” Harry can tell Y/N is trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t like that he’s the reason for he feeling this way.

“You didn’t “sign up” for anything, love. I’m your husband and you’re my wife and we’re supposed to be there for each other through it all, good and bad.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something but Harry gently pinches her hip, muttering for her to let him finish. “I want a baby with you. I want everything with you, Y/N. I want to be here for everything. I’m going to be better about being here.”

“H…I love you and I know you’ll try, but you’ve said this before-”

“I’ll take a break, babe. Cancel everything,” Harry’s talking faster now, excitement about his plan evident in his voice. “We’ll focus on ourselves and start our family. Go out of the country and leave my bloody phone here, if you’d like.” Y/N giggles at that, which makes Harry give her a big, dimpled grin.

“Will it be okay? With Jeff and everyone?” Although Y/N’s sure people on Harry’s team won’t be happy with his sudden change in plans, she can’t deny how charming the idea sounds. She could already picture them at their favorite villa in Italy, the one Harry purchased as a wedding gift to her and where they spent their unforgettable honeymoon. In all honesty, she’s surprised they didn’t get a baby out of that trip.

“Let me worry about that. You just worry about buying yourself some new bikinis, yeah?” Harry places a lingering kiss to Y/N’s jawbone. “Perhaps a few things for me to rip off you too, hmm?”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

hooray for happy endings :')

[gothicfied]

a fic where Dae-Ho (or anyone) comforts a reader to bed because she/he is haunted by seeing people getting shot, blood and etc. Pretty please?🥺 He also is on watch during lights out and comforts them again while noticing them having reoccurring nightmares and mumbling in their sleep. You could also turn this the other way around because my boy Dae-Ho needs some comfort too! 😖

love your fics and past work btw!! ^^

Sleepless Nights - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After past trauma from being a marine, Dae-ho isn't handling the circumstances of the games well. Thankfully, you're there when he needed you the most.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots, PTSD (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's fluff/comfort, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word count: 812 Words

A/N: hii and thank you sm! I loved this idea actually🙏🙏

Your eyes hurt from staying up so long, counting down the seconds until it was Dae-ho's turn to be on watch. The night was grueling and long — all you could do was stare ahead and think about all the past decisions that led you here. I shouldn't have done this, I could've done that.. you were just breaking your mind like that. After you almost nodded to sleep *again*, you decided this was the best time to wake your friend up and get some well deserved rest.

Quietly, you shuffled to the mattresses Gi-hun had your group set up, searching for Dae-ho in the dark. When you spotted his jacket from behind, the number '388' still readable with little to no light, you went to tap him on the shoulder. That was before you noticed him jolting and breathing quite heavily in his sleep, his face contorted with something like fear. Oh, he was having a nightmare. What are you supposed to do now? Wake him up to free him from his dream? Or should you just leave him be? Would that be bad?

While you were slightly panicking, Dae-ho woke up himself from feeling someone looming over him. His eyes immediately darted to you and he quickly sat up, like he was ready to fight you. "Hey.. hey, it's okay! It's me." you whispered, backing up a bit to give him some space. Dae-ho blinked a couple of times, his mind still reeling with the thoughts of his nightmare. The one that was reoccurring ever since he got here. The man took a deep breath and dropped his head down for a moment, just staring at his lap. "Are.. you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

Dae-ho simply nodded and smiled, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah, don't worry about me. This happens.. all the time." The shakiness of his voice suggested otherwise. "Is it my time to be on watch?" With a confused, and slightly concerned, look you slowly nodded shifting a bit. Dae-ho slowly stood up, as not to disturb Jun-hee who was sleeping right beside him, and took another deep breath. "Are you actually okay? You seem really shaken up. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Dae-ho smiled again, this time genuinely, silently appreciating your concern. "No.. no, I don't want to bother you. You need to sleep, come on." He pointed down at the mattress, signaling for you to just lay down and let him handle his own business. That's how he always did it anyway, he didn't like to feel like his problems were burdening others, especially in here. "No, don't be ridiculous. I'll sit down with you for a second." So, you just took Dae-ho's hand and led him to the designated spot a bit further away from your sleeping space. The blue 'O' and the red 'X' on the floor illuminated the whole area, the light of both reflecting on his face.

"I've had this nightmare since I got here." Dae-ho started the conversation again, his eyes glued to the big metal door, where the pink guards would always emerge from. "This whole thing.. people getting shot, people dying all because they're in debt," his voice was barely above a whisper, "it's so messed up. I'm a marine.. I should be- Oh, I don't know. It reminds me of all the things I had to facd while serving this country." You nodded along, letting out a 'mhm' to show him you were listening. You didn't really think about it that way at all — Of course this would affect him so much, he probably had PTSD.

"I can't say that I know what that feels like, but I definitely understand." you whispered back, slowly turning your head to look at him. You felt really bad, but you also didn't know how to better the situation. All you could do is wish that this nightmare would soon end with everyone finally coming to their senses and voting 'X'. Dae-ho scrunched his nose, now burying his face in his hands. You couldn't tell if he was crying or was still shaken up, but you put your arm around him nonetheless. Like he always did with you when you were scared or stressed.

Feeling your arm around him, Dae-ho took this as an invitation and immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you for being here with me." he mumbled into your shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Your expression softened, hugging him back after a few moments. His skin felt hot against yours and it kind of felt like he was suffocating you with his arms, but you couldn't be happier when Dae-ho expressed his gratitude.

"Of course. I'll stay up with you for a little bit longer, okay?"

[secriden]

One of my favourite things about the way Fadel's plan (to "make them [Style] fall in love with us [me]") plays out is that when he dials up his affection and goes all out on the sweet flirtation and tenderness, Style immediately finds it weird and strange and suspicious and off-putting. Fadel pretending to be #whipped actually makes Style pull away like none of Fadel's aggression and violence and outright rejection did -- because it wasn't sincere, and Style could sense that.

When Fadel first drags Style out and starts peppering kisses on his face, Style turns away from his kisses and pulls back/pushes Fadel away from him to start questioning why Fadel is acting so strange. This is the same person who later propositions Fadel in a public bathroom whilst knowing one of the stalls is currently occupied by a stranger, so whilst I fully acknowledge Style probably genuinely did not want his dad to see them necking in his place of work, I'm also convinced it wasn't the only reason.

Because when Fadel allows some honesty to slip out, when he says "Don't you ever think that I'm only like this because of you?", Style actually softens and turns into Fadel's kiss for the first time in the scene. His hands go from pushing upwards at Fadel's neck to clenching softly against his shoulder and upper arm, like he's finally able to relax and hold Fadel closer (you can actually see the difference in these screenshots compared to the ones above). Style stops resisting and sinks into the kiss, lets his eyes almost slip close because something in him recognises that Fadel spoke true.

The same thing happens in Style's bedroom when Fadel continues his charade: Style is smiling, but there's a distinctly uncomfortable and awkward air about it, and he actually pulls away when Fadel continues to sniff-kiss him while going on and on about loving the way Style smells like gasoline. Fadel tries to be clingy again and Style outright calls him out on how weird he's being, so Fadel is forced to backtrack into sincerity:

Suddenly, Style's wariness turns to excitement and interest; he happily agrees to come along and asks what he should get Bison as a gift. Fadel is literally torturing himself to keep up this excessive affection and tenderness (the away Fadel's softness and sweetness just drops once Style goes to take that shower. Ugh. T_T) and gets nothing from Style until he offers something genuine -- a request for time to celebrate someone Fadel truly loves.

In fact, it's the pieces of honesty (or at least I'm assuming that this is also true since he was honest about Bison's birthday), and only those, that Style responds positively to. We have seen Style flirting constantly in previous episodes but he literally has not said anything scandalous or suggestive so far, nor has he initiated any affection even once until this moment.

And the reason why I love all this SO MUCH is because it really shows the evidence of Style's words before he even says them. In the midst of all the secrets and lies between them, ever since he found out about Fadel's secret and decided he was going to keep pursing him anyway, Style has been chasing and chasing Fadel's sincerity. And each precious revelation that Fadel gave him -- his parents' murder, his inability to trust, his desire for something genuine from Style -- has been carefully stored away in Style's heart like nuggets of gold. Which is why Fadel's performance was doomed from the start; because Style was moved by the true things and not the lies, and Fadel's pretensions can have no effect when Style's heart now has the ability to recognise that which he has already grown to love.

[thewertsearch]

TG: jakes bday is coming up really soon TG: just a few days before mine remembr […] TG: i just wanted your advice on what to get him TG: something sentimental i guess? but i mean im mostly tapped out of precious heirlooms atm so idk TG: but not like anything coming on too strong

I don't think you need to overthink things, where Jake is concerned. Just like John, he strikes me as a rather straightforward guy, and would probably appreciate the direct approach.

Seriously, just be upfront with your feelings. He'll respond with either "capital! let us begin courting, post-haste!", or "sincerest apologies, my dear compatriot, but my heart lies with my cerulean beauties!"

Either way, the issue will be resolved. Simple as that.

TG: something that says TG: this is totes platonic and everything TG: no eyebrow raising funnybiz is goin on over here TG: but still says you know TG: call me TG: if you wanna

Nah, I'm just fucking with you.

These are teenagers. They're full of big emotions that they don't know what to do with, and they're navigating the treacherous waters of romance without a map. I might have dunked on Eridan when he said it, back in our Hivebent days, but when you're a kid, growing up really is hard, and nobody does understand. Not even you.

Roxy's not going to initiate a frank discussion about her feelings with Jake - she's going to pine for at least fifty pages, and then impulsively confess everything at once, probably in the middle of a crisis. Sometimes, that's just how it goes, when you're a teenager - and it's always how it goes when you're a fictional teenager.

TG: u dont think that if i didnt say he was off limits on account of you being my best friend TG: i wouldnt be all the hell over that????

Wait, ok. So Roxy is pretending she's going to flirt with Jake - but she's really just messing with Jane, because Jane's also into him.

It's nice that there's no bad blood between the two as a result. You just know that in a lesser story, Jane and Roxy would proceed to squabble over this guy until it completely ruined their friendship. Thank you, Homestuck, very cool!

TG: you dont even let me say your dad is hot even though we both know he way the fuck is i mean come one

In every timeline, Roxy is destined to swoon over the prefect gentleman that is Dad Egbert.

GG: I don't see why you don't try to court the favor of Mr. Strider. If you ask me, he and you are perfect for each other. TG: oh jane TG: so naive TG: soooo niaev

The Bro we knew probably shouldn't have been dating anyone. Perhaps this version of him is equally unapproachable, and Roxy knows it - his little out-of-office responder would certainly suggest that that's the case.

GG: How can you be this fargone so early? […] TG: its a lot later here GG: You're three hours ahead of me! TG: youd would be amazed TG: how much can happen TG: in 3 hours GG: Tsk. What would your mother have to say if she caught you? TG: p sure she wouldnt give a shit

Rose, what the fresh fuck!

Look - guys, I know she's not exactly the maternal type, but come on. Even the adult Roxy, absent and alcoholic as she was, at least lifted a finger to keep her daughter safe, and you're telling me Rose can't even clear that bar?

Maybe Roxy's projecting a little. Rose often assumed her mother was acting in bad faith, even when that wasn't necessarily the case, and there's no reason that something similar couldn't be happening here.

...right?

[slu7formen]

uhmmmmmm luke castellan "can I be the godfather?" but he is the actual father??? is that anything?

luke castellan x pregnant!reader

idk if this is what you asked for, but it’s what I understood 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ pls let me know if I’ve done it wrong (tw: high chances of that)

warnings: reader is pregnant (duh), swearing, fluff ig <3

₊˚⊹♡

"I'm pregnant"

Luke stares at you, his expression stunned. You don't even know if he's happy, sad, scared, or has completely turned into a whole-ass statue.

"What?" he pushes out of his lips with inmerse difficulty.

You sigh. This boy knew damn well you hate having to repeat yourself. "I'm pregnant, Luke"

"I heard what you said" he clarifies, lifiting his hand. "I'm just... trying to process."

There's a weird silence, not tense and thick, but not a comfortable either. You cover your legs more with the blanket, lifiting it up to your tummy, as if trying to cover the ungrown belly that was very much already working on its own to bring to the world a new life.

"How long have you known?" he finally breaks the silence.

"I found out yesterday" you answer.

Luke's eyebrows raise, as if you had just said something far more surprising than ´I'm pregnant´. "And you didn't tell me?" he pushed.

"I'm telling you now!" you retort.

Luke covers his face. You still can't figure out his feelings; if he's mad, if he's excited, if he's freaking out. And that makes you feel a bit scared. You start feeling a bit desperate; you didn't plan what you would do if he didn't react the way you wanted him to react. You didn´t exactly know what reaction you were expecting from him either.

"How did this even happen?"

You give him a look. "Do you want me to explain it to you?"

"Gods-, not..." he smacks his own forehead in an act of dumbness. "I'm sorry"

You nod. At this point, there's nothing else to say or do. The bomb had already been thrown.

"Are you gonna keep it? I mean, do you want to?"

You knew he wasn't asking you to do exactly what you thought of doing the second you saw that test. He was asking you the same question you asked yourself for hours and hours, what were you gonna do now?

You sighed heavily. "You know I've been thinking about leaving camp" you say, forcing Luke to go back to that conversation you two had just a few weeks away, "My time has ended here. Maybe this is what I needed to realize I should leave"

"No, don't be ridiculous" he answers almost immediately.

You raise your eyebrows. "Don't call me ridiculous. You know I can't stay here forever, Luke"

"I'm very much aware of that" Luke seems to want to add something, but he doesn't.

If it were up to Luke, he would stay at camp until the day he died. What could he possibly want from the outside world? Studies? A family? A normal life? He forgot about those possibilities before he even turned twelve. Most demigods outgrew camp, like you wanted to do, but that was not on Luke's radar. You weren't surprised; he was a hero, the perfect son of Hermes. Of course he would stay at camp, and that would only be his first of many heroic achievements.

"I'll leave as soon as camp ends" you state, as if you had suddenly decided it all.

But now, Luke wanted to leave with you. He wanted to take care of you, the same care he's been taking for the last months since he got to know you better, maybe even treat you a lot better, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. You wanted to leave, and you weren't inviting him.

"Then, can I ask you something?" he asks.

You shrug with a small nod, "Anything"

"Can I be the godfather?"

He had a serious face, not the one when he was playing pranks or joking around, the one he wore when he was dead serious. Your stare at his face, ice cold. He seems like he had already come up with the idea, as if that was the first thing that he thought about when you gave him the news.

"Luke, are you fucking dumb?"

The poor guy widens his eyes, surprised by the sudden and very offensive answer. "What did I do?" he asks.

"Why are you asking me to be the godfather when you are the father!?"

His expression turns into an understanding, a sudden ´oh´ moment. "Are you serious?" he asks, almost as if he was asking you if you were totally fully a hundred percent sure.

You wanted to punch his nose.

"Luke. Who else am I having sex with if it isn't you!?" you can't help but yell at his face, his dumbness in a situation like this surprising you more than anything else.

"I was just making sure! What if it was from your ex? You slept with him a few months ago"

"I've been pregnant for less time than that, Luke!"

"I'm sorry! But I had to be sure!"

You take a deep breath, covering your face in frustration.

Luke stares at you for a second, almost as if trying to decipher your own emotions now. Then, he starts laughing, a real laughter. You lift your gaze, seeing his head tilt backwards.

"What are you laughing at?"

"It's just-," Luke's laughs continue for a little longer, "it's so weird. It's so weird to think I'm a dad"

"The dumbest dad to step a toe on earth, yes" you bite back, still unable to believe you were having a whole conversation with a guy that thought he was not the father of your child. Like-, why would you say it first to someone who isn't the father? He ignores your comment, but his lips curling up in a tiny smile. His expression shows you he's happy, and the realization makes your heart jump.

"Can I ask you another question?" he asks again, biting back a little grin forming on his lips.

"Depends, are you gonna ask if we used protection?"

"Wouls you let me go with you?"

That caught you off guard. You stare at his eyes, dark and shiny in the summer night. He seems nervous, anxious for the answer. His hand is fidgeting, and his leg is jumping. You feel yourself getting a little dizzy, the adrenaline in your blood making you a little more lightheaded.

"Why would you go with me?" you ask, as if the answer would explain all the possible reasons.

"Well, now that I know that it's mine," he begins, trying to lighten the mood a little. The cold stare of your tired eyes makes him instantly stop though. He clears his throat before continuing, "I'd like to help and be by your side. If you let me"

The last words stung a bit, knowing that he knew that there was a chance you would deny his offer. You weren't with Luke, not explicitly, or oficially, yet you'd known him for so long, and so well, that it felt odd not having him in your life. He was like a constant, a stable, and a good friend. It would be difficult, but you knew the road wouldn't be impossible, not if he was the one walking the same path.

"I'd like to take responsability. I don't want this kid to grow the same way you and I and all of the other demigods did" he continues, as if the silence was hurting him.

You'd never met someone as hurt with this whole demigod situation as Luke, which was ironic judging by how perfectly skilled and behaved he was. A clearly absent father, a mother gone mad, living in the streets for years, alone, hungry, cold, sweaty, hurt. If it was you, you wouldn't have survived, yet he managed to put on that mask and walk out and not let anyone know how destroyed his heart was. Luke was strong, which led him to be heroic. Did he need it? No, but he knew when and who to use it with. You loved that about him.

Besides, he was good with kids.

"You know, you're not the worst choice of a father" you tease. You can see him smile, relieved, his shoulders relaxing.

"Really?" he asks, hopeful.

He smiles widely, and his smile is so contagious that you can't help but mirror him. He pushes himself off his seat in a flash, kneeling next to you. He puts his arms around your body and lifts you up. You laugh loudly, surprised by the sudden act. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him lift you off the bed.

He stops for a moment, gently putting you down on the floor again. He hugs you softly then, pressing his forehead to yours.

"We're suppossed to get married now, right?" he asks with a tilt of his head.

"What?"

[svetamillss]

You came home drunk🥂

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f)

Summary: You had a fun celebration of your friend's birthday.

A/N: The stories with my beloved girlfriend are back!

🩵🩵🩵

It was your best friend's birthday, of course you were going to go to it, but the truth is that your girlfriend was at work that day and couldn't join, so you went alone.

You had rules. First of all: to be always in touch. Secondly: don't drink a lot of alcohol, because it be a bad effect on you. Thirdly: be at home at eleven o'clock in the evening at most.

But you safely forgot all these three points...

No, no, you were in touch with Hyun Ju at first, but then the fun stunned your head.

And it's two o'clock in the morning. You were able to get home thanks to the taxi. True, not in a normal form. You could barely stand on your feet.

You quietly entered the house so that your beloved girl wouldn't wake up, you did everything very diligently, despite the darkness in the room and the headache. But then the light suddenly turns on and your eyes almost burst with pain, when you focused your eyesight, you were able to see your girlfriend in cute pajamas (which you gave her for her birthday), but with a very strict face. You got scared.

- Hyunnie! - you shout at the whole room, holding on to the ottoman near the door so as not to fall, but your girlfriend didn't even smile at you.

- So where were we?

- At a friend's birthday.. you know.. - you said stuttering, big thoughts and suggestions were given with difficulty, you wanted to lie down now and fall asleep in the arms of Hyun Ju, and not listen to lessons of behavior.

- I'm in the know. But it's two o'clock in the morning.

- Two o'clock in the morning? And you're awake?? You're tired at work..you need to get enough sleep..- even changing the subject didn't help you in any way, the severity of your girlfriend trampled everything.

- Don't interrupt me. We agreed that you would come back no later than eleven o'clock! We also agreed that you would always be in touch, but I've already lost you for four hours. - you looked back in a hurry, took out your phone to check and realized that it was turned off.

- Oh..he discharged..- a heavy sigh was heard from your girlfriend.

- I could have picked you up, but I thought that if you wanted to write to me, you would find an opportunity, but you had too much fun there. And the last one. You promised not to drink much, but you didn't do it either, you can barely stand on your feet, thank God you don't vomit yet. - Hyun Ju went to bedroom with disappointment, leaving you alone.

You immediately realized how many mistakes you had made and decided to act quickly before it was too late. Taking off your shoes, you crawled to the bedroom, where a girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, silently looking at the floor. You immediately crawled closer to her (it's just very hard for you to walk).

- Hyunnie... - you almost started crying, taking her hands in yours. - I'm sorry... I'm very guilty. It's just..just..we went for a walk so much that I'm completely lost..you know that I'm becoming so irresponsible without you. I really didn't want to..I'm sorry please..I love you very much..- after you looked into her eyes and noticed that her resentment was gradually disappearing, the girl touched her forehead with yours.

- I'm not mad at you. I'm very worried about you, you know. Don't worry, everything is fine. Just more, so that it doesn't happen, okay?

- Yes! Good! - in joy you want to kiss her, but she gently pushed you away, you looked at her with incomprehension.

- This is a small punishment for you. You'll be a little bit without kisses. Besides, you carry a lot of alcohol, and I can't stand it. So, let me help you undress, we'll go to bed, and tomorrow you'll rest after all this, okay? - you nodded understandingly, the girl said the truthful things.

Hyun Ju helped you change into your pajamas, she also brought you a headache pill and put you to bed. Like a real loving girl, she still kissed you, but on the forehead. After that, you fell asleep peacefully.

After all, living with a very disciplined person is still a task, but nothing prevents you. But you won't go to parties without her anymore, and it's not only because she won't let you go.

🩵🩵🩵

[mellowmusings]

death bed | coffee for your head

Azriel x sick reader

A/N- I had the idea for this when I heard the song and instead of sick Azriel I made a sick reader, please don't kill me and let me know if you wanna be tagged. Enjoy :). Warning- Angst, reader is depressed and sick, Azzie baby is depressed too. Mainly a really sad fic (mentions of death due to illness). Summary- You had been sick for sometime now and upon visiting a healer you find out the reason, unsure how much time you have left, you wish to spend every second of it preparing Azriel for the moment you leave.

'Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed'

You were tired to say the least, for the past few nights you hadn't been able to sleep at all, and your sweet mate was worried sick for you, and so you had to change your plans for the day, ditching shopping for a visit to Madja instead.

A bell rang as you step into the healer's shop, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and incense, instantly calming your nerves. Soft light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on shelves cluttered with jars, vials, and bundles of plants you didn't recognize. The space felt ancient, yet welcoming, as if it held the quiet weight of countless healing rituals. A small wooden counter sat at the back, covered with bottles and unmarked potions. The faint sound of wind chimes hung in the air, but it’s the stillness that stood out—everything in this room felt intentional, designed to soothe, to listen. There attending to a small plant with the smallest flowers you had ever seen stood Madja.

Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep I don't wanna pass away I've been thinking of our future 'Cause I'll never see those days I don't know why this has happened, but I probably deserve it I tried to do my best, but you know that I'm not perfect

You felt like throwing up, surely this was a joke? it had to be a joke, no she was lying or maybe you had misheard her, it had to be that way, right? "I know this can be shocking news y/n but like I said it's also a very rare illness" "No,no you're lying please tell me you're lying". She begged. Her voice broke on the last word, she couldn't breathe she felt choked, she wanted to throw up but instead she just fell to her knees and cried her heart out.

I've been praying for forgiveness, you've been praying for my health When I leave this earth, hoping you'll find someone else 'Cause, yeah, we're still young, there's so much we haven't done Getting married, start a family, watch your husband with his son

She didn't know how long she spent crying there with Madja comforting her and stroking her back, she was in shock but more than that she was worried for Azriel, if something happened to her then- No, no she wasn't going to think about that right now but for some reason her thoughts kept circling back to Azriel, to the quiet that would fill the room when she was gone. He’d wake up, reach for her, and feel nothing but emptiness. The bed would be cold, the silence too heavy. He’d feel it in the small things—no more shared glances, no more soft words in the dark.

Would he be okay without her? She couldn’t shake the fear that the grief would swallow him, that the shadows he kept so tightly contained would consume him without her there to pull him back. Would the memories be enough, or would they slip through his fingers? The thought of him unraveling, of him breaking, made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t ignore. She wouldn’t be there to catch him, and that terrified her.

Her gaze caught on a lovely family in the park, children being chased by their dad, their mom laughing at the scene and smiling lovingly at her partner, right, she would never be able to have that with Azriel either. Maybe, one day he'll find someone else, who'd love him just as much as she did, someone who'd start a family with him, give him heirs as lovely as he is. She hoped so because if Madja was right then-

I wish it could be me, but I won't make it off this bed I hope I go to heaven, so I see you once again My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed, yeah

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Yeah, I'm happy that you're here with me I'm sorry if I tear up When me and you were younger, you would always make me cheer up Taking goofy videos while walking through the park You would jump into my arms every time you heard a bark

You lay back against the pillows, your chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. Azriel sat beside you, his fingers gently brushing over your hand, but the tension in the air was thick, suffocating. You could feel the worry in his touch, in the way he kept glancing at you, like he was afraid to miss something, afraid to lose you before he could even understand what was happening.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice trembling as you gathered the courage to finally say the words. "I’m sick." You tried to keep your tone calm, but it cracked as soon as the words left your lips. "The healer said it’s a rare heart condition. Something... incurable."

His face froze, eyes widening with disbelief, and he leaned forward, as if to pull you into him, to somehow shield you from the world. But you didn’t want his protection right now. You wanted him to hear this. To know the truth, even if it shattered him.

"I wish it could be me," you continued softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I wish I could take it all. The pain. The time. But I—" You faltered, and the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. "I won’t make it off this bed, Azriel."

His hand tightened around yours, his breath shaky, but he said nothing, his eyes begging you to take it back, to tell him it wasn’t true. But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

"I hope I go to heaven," you murmured, forcing a small smile through your tears. "So I can see you again. One day, after this... after all of this."

Azriel’s face crumpled with pain, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He reached for you, pulling you close as if he could somehow hold you together, like he could make everything right if he just tried hard enough. "No," he whispered, his voice raw. "No, please. Don’t say that. Don’t leave me." It hurt to see the brave and stoic shadow singer crumble infront of you over such a small matter, he had faced death time and time again, but never had you seen him so broken.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of him holding you, but there was no denying it now. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep fighting against what you knew in your bones was coming.

"I’m not ready," you whispered, voice barely audible, "but I think... I think you need to be. This is the reality now, Love. I won’t have much time left."

Azriel held you tighter, but it was clear that he was barely holding on himself. You could feel his heart racing against yours, the fear, the love, the desperation. But you knew, deep down, there was no way to stop it.

"I just need you to be ready," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "Because I won’t be here for long. I need you to promise me something, Az."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face a mask of agony, but he nodded, clinging to your every word.

"Promise me you won’t forget me," you said, the ache in your chest growing, but you didn’t want him to carry this burden forever. "Promise me you’ll live, not survive, but live, even if I’m not there."

He pressed his forehead to yours, and for a moment, it was like the world stopped moving. "I’ll never forget you," he said hoarsely. "And I’ll never stop loving you, not even after…"

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek, but you could feel the finality of it, the quiet acceptance in your soul that you had already said goodbye. "I know. But you have to promise me, Love. Please. Live, for both of us."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy, inevitable. And in that moment, you let go. You accepted what was coming, not with peace, but with a sorrow that was too vast to express.

Azriel didn’t say anything after that. He just held you, and in the silence of the room, you both faced what you knew was coming, as painful and unbearable as it was.

Cuddle in your sheets, sang me sound asleep And sneak out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03 Sundays went to church, on Mondays watched a movie Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me

You were curled up against Azriel, the quiet crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. He held you close, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield from the world. The memories flowed easily now, the ones you both cherished, the ones you were trying so hard to relive, to hold on to.

"Cuddle in your sheets," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "like we used to, like we did so many times. You’d sing me to sleep, your voice soft, your hand in my hair."

Azriel’s thumb brushed over your skin as if committing the sensation of this moment to memory, the feeling of your body pressed against his. "I’ll sing you to sleep forever if I can," he replied, voice thick with emotion. "But you know... I think the best part was sneaking out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03. I used to look at the clock, and I knew you’d be there. We’d laugh, sneak away like we didn’t have a care in the world."

You chuckled softly, a tear slipping down your cheek at the thought. "Sundays, we went to church together. Mondays, we’d watch a movie, get lost in each other’s company. Simple, sweet. And it was ours." You pulled back slightly to look up at him, a small, sad smile on your lips. "I wish we had more of those Mondays."

Azriel's eyes softened with the weight of your words, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. "We still have now," he said, but even he knew the truth in the heaviness of his words. Time was running out.

You closed your eyes, trying to soak in every moment, every detail. You could feel the pain of the inevitable, but for tonight, for this brief moment, you clung to the idea that you could still make new memories. "But soon you'll be alone," you whispered, a sob escaping before you could stop it. "I’m sorry that you have to lose me."

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, his face pressing into your hair. "Don’t say that," he murmured, though his voice was thick with sorrow. "I’ll never lose you. Not really. Not in my heart."

You nodded, your body trembling in his arms. "I hope so," you whispered, holding him tighter. "But I’ll always love you. Every memory, every laugh, every quiet Sunday. I’ll carry those with me, even when I’m gone."

And for a moment, time felt still, like the universe had paused just long enough for you both to hold on to each other a little tighter, to try and make every second count before it was all gone.

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your own, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to constantly settle in your bones. Your breathing was shallow, weak, each rise and fall of your chest an effort, and yet, despite it all, you smiled up at him. It was the kind of smile that told him you were fighting, even when it seemed like there was no fight left in you.

"I don't want you to stay awake for too long," you whispered, your voice thin, but still full of the love you carried for him. "I know you watch over me, but you need sleep too, Azriel." Your hand squeezed his, the action small but intentional.

He looked at you, eyes filled with an ache that ran deeper than the shadows that normally clung to him. His gaze searched your face, searching for something, anything that might bring you back to him, but there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming. His grip tightened, but he didn't speak. What could he say? Every word felt like a lie in the face of what you both knew was inevitable.

"You've been so strong," he finally whispered, voice hoarse. "Please, don’t give up on me now." His thumb stroked over your knuckles, as if grounding himself in the reality that, in his heart, he knew you were slipping away.

You let out a soft, raspy laugh, and though it was faint, it made him want to smile, even though the pain was consuming him. "I’m not giving up," you said, each word a battle, but the light in your eyes still bright enough to pierce through the darkness. "I’m just… trying to make the most of the time we have left."

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, his chest tightening, but you gently cupped his cheek, urging him to look at you. "Don’t stay awake for too long," you repeated softly, your hand slipping into his as you pressed it over your heart. "Don’t go to bed, not yet. I’m still here. I’m still with you."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. You felt his warm breath on your skin, a small reminder of how much he loved you. How much he needed you.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Let me make you coffee in the morning, just like we used to. I’ll get you out of bed. I’ll help you find your strength again, just like before."

You smiled at him, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision. "I’ll make the coffee," you whispered, "when I can. I’ll make sure you get through it, even after I’m gone. I wrote you letters. Letters for the years to come, so you’ll know I’m still with you. So you’ll know that I’ll always love you, even when I’m not there."

Azriel’s heart shattered. "No," he said hoarsely, "No, you can’t leave me." His voice broke at the end, the rawness of his fear leaking through. You were fighting so hard, so fiercely, for him, but he couldn’t stop the truth from settling in his chest.

"You’ve always been my strength, Azriel," you whispered, your voice so soft, but so full of love. "And I’ll be yours, even when I’m not here to hold you. I need you to live. To keep fighting. And when the days feel long, when the nights feel too empty, I want you to read those letters. They’re for you. I’ll make sure you find your way."

Azriel couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He leaned down, kissing your forehead, his lips trembling against your skin. "I’m going to keep you here with me, in my heart. Forever. I promise. I won’t forget, I swear it."

You smiled through the tears, despite the weariness that clung to your body. "I’m not leaving you, Azriel," you whispered, "not really. Not ever."

But the truth, unspoken between you both, was that you didn’t have much longer. And still, you fought, not for yourself but for him, so he could have something to hold on to after you were gone.

"Please," he begged softly, his voice breaking, "don’t leave me."

You brushed a tear from his cheek, as your voice trembled, "I’ll never really leave you, Azriel. I’ll always be with you. In every letter, in every thought."

You paused, a soft, warm breath escaping your lips. "I’ll get you out of bed, Azriel," you whispered, a hint of a smile on your face, "I’ll get you going again. Even if I’m not there to see it."

His tears fell freely now, but there was a quiet peace in the way he held you—knowing, with an ache so deep it felt like it might swallow him whole, that he would carry you forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

A few weeks had passed, and the weight of each day was beginning to take its toll. The glow in your eyes had dimmed, and your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. Azriel stayed by your side every moment, his presence constant, like a shadow you never wanted to be without.

He had been trying to hold on to the last threads of you, keeping the hope alive that maybe, somehow, you would pull through. But he knew. He knew with every soft breath you took, with every fleeting smile you gave him, that time was slipping away from both of you.

Today, though… today it felt like everything was slower. The air in the room was thick with an aching kind of quiet, the kind where even the heartbeats that echoed in the space between you seemed too loud.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, his arms around you, pulling you close like you’d always been. His fingers lightly traced the line of your jaw, like he could imprint your face into his soul if he touched you long enough. His lips pressed to your forehead, trying to pour every ounce of love and comfort he could into you, but it felt like it was never enough.

You had grown weaker. Your skin was pale, your breathing labored, but you still smiled at him when your eyes fluttered open.

"I’m still here," you whispered softly, your voice raspy but filled with the love you had for him. "I’m still here, Azriel."

He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, his throat tight. "You don’t have to fight anymore," he murmured, brushing the damp strands of hair from your face. "I’ve got you. I’ll never let you go."

You smiled faintly, your hand reaching for his, weak but determined. "I know," you whispered. "I know… but I have to tell you something, something important."

Azriel leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Anything," he breathed. "Tell me anything, love. I’m listening."

"I wrote letters," you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open. "For the years to come… For you. So you know I’ll always be with you, even when I’m not." He silently promised himself would read every letter you left behind, each one a piece of your love, keeping him alive in a world where you no longer were.

Azriel’s chest tightened, a sob breaking free from deep inside him. "You don’t have to go," he said, his voice raw, breaking with the weight of everything he wished he could say, everything he wished he could change. "I can’t… I can’t lose you."

A tear slipped down your cheek, but your smile didn’t fade. You reached up with trembling fingers, tracing the line of his jaw, as if trying to memorize him the way he had memorized you. "You’ll be okay, Azriel. You’re so strong. You’ve always been strong. Just—just remember that I love you. I always will."

His breath caught in his throat as he kissed your hand gently, his voice cracking. "I love you," he whispered, "I love you more than I could ever put into words."

You closed your eyes, your hand slipping from his, but he caught it again instantly, holding on as if it would keep you tethered to him, keep you from slipping away.

Your breathing grew even more shallow, each one taking more effort than the last. Azriel could feel the tremor in your body, the slow, inevitable shift that told him everything he feared was coming. But he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

"I’m not ready to let you go," Azriel murmured, his voice hoarse, tears streaming down his face as he held you in his arms. "I’ve never been ready to let you go. Not now, not ever."

You gave him one last, gentle smile, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. "You’ll always have me," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "In every letter, in every thought, in every coffee you make. You’ll find me again, in the quiet moments. I’ll always be with you."

And then, as if your body had finally found peace, your chest stilled. Your breathing slowed, and for the first time in weeks, there was complete silence. Azriel’s heart shattered, his breath caught in his throat, and for a long moment, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

"No," he choked out, his voice breaking, his chest heaving with the weight of loss. "No, please…"

But there was no response. Only the soft, quiet sound of his heartbeat echoing through the silence, as if trying to fill the emptiness you left behind. His arms tightened around you one last time, as if holding you could bring you back, as if love could defy death.

For a long while, Azriel stayed there, clutching you to him, his tears falling onto your skin. He couldn’t let go. Not yet. He needed to hold you, to feel you close, to believe, for just a little longer, that you weren’t truly gone.

And in the stillness of the room, as the shadows of night stretched across the floor, Azriel whispered the only thing left in his broken heart.

"I’ll always love you. Always."

The room was silent. Still. But his words lingered in the air, a promise he would carry with him forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel stood at the edge of the balcony, staring into the endless void of night. The stars above seemed to mock him, distant and cold, twinkling as though the universe was still moving forward, as though life was continuing. But for him, everything had stopped.

The wind swept through the courtyard, its icy fingers clawing at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold that had settled deep in his chest, in his soul. He had not moved from that spot since… since that moment. The moment she had slipped away from him, her final breath trembling in his arms, leaving nothing but an echo of the love they had shared. The world felt like a hollow, silent place, and he was drowning in its emptiness.

He could still smell her, faintly. Her scent lingered in the air, in the folds of the blanket she had used to curl up in, in the spaces between the letters she had written him, all the things that were now gone—faded into the dust of the world she had left behind.

Her letters. He had read them, over and over, each one a tear-streaked page of her love for him, a love he could no longer feel against his skin, in her touch, in her smile. He had read her last words, over and over, searching for some kind of comfort. But the comfort never came. The words she had left behind—I’ll always be with you, Azriel—only left him feeling more alone. Her absence was a shadow that consumed everything.

"I’ll always be with you," he muttered bitterly to the darkened sky, as if the universe owed him something. "Where the hell are you now?"

He wanted to scream. To shout into the abyss that had taken her from him, to demand it give her back. But what was the point? The universe didn’t care. Time didn’t care. And now, all that was left was his hollow existence.

The days blurred together, the ache of her absence cutting deeper with every passing hour. He had stopped sleeping, stopped eating. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but exist, moving through each day as if in a fog. The shadows whispered her name—her voice, her laughter, the warmth of her skin against his—and all he could do was shut his eyes and pretend he didn’t hear them.

But the silence… the silence was the worst.

Everywhere he went, there were reminders. The empty corner of the room where her chair used to sit, the books she had loved scattered across the table, the coffee mug she had left on the counter—his mug now, though it meant nothing. All of it was just a reminder that she was gone, and he was left alone, trapped in a world where nothing made sense without her. Without her laughter, without the way she’d tease him in the mornings, the soft way she’d press her face to his chest when she needed comfort.

She had been everything to him. His light, his warmth, his reason to fight. And now…

The darkness pressed in on him, a crushing weight on his chest. His wings, once majestic and powerful, now felt like an anchor. He had no use for them anymore. They had carried him through battles, through pain, through moments of glory. But now they felt like a reminder of how empty he was. How much of a shell he had become.

The weight of the silence was unbearable. He could feel the crushing loneliness clawing at him, desperate to consume him whole. And as he stood there, staring out into the endless night, he almost wished for it to. He almost wished for the silence to swallow him, to take him with her, because what was the point of living in a world where she wasn’t there?

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered to the darkness, his voice cracking. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, each one a reminder that he was still alive—still breathing, even though every part of him screamed to be gone. To be where she was, wherever that was, because life without her felt like a slow, torturous death.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it as if the physical pain would distract him from the ache in his chest. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

The weight of everything pressed on him—the guilt, the anger, the regret. He had promised her, promised her, that he would take care of her, that he wouldn’t let her go. But in the end, he had failed. He hadn’t been enough to save her. And now, she was gone, and all he had left were the memories. The hollow echoes of her voice, her laughter, her touch.

“I wasn’t enough for you,” he whispered, a raw, broken sob escaping him. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, his wings folding around him like an armor of despair. “I couldn’t save you. And now… now I have nothing.”

He curled into himself, his arms wrapping around his knees, his head pressed against them as the tears came in waves. His body trembled with the force of it. Every sob was like a shard of glass digging deeper into his heart, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

The world had moved on. The stars had continued to shine. The wind had continued to blow. But for Azriel, it had all stopped. Because she was gone, and no matter how many times he whispered her name into the darkness, no matter how many times he begged for her to come back, he knew the truth.

She was gone. And he was broken beyond repair.

Time would pass, the seasons would change, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered without her.

And as the silence closed in around him, Azriel made a vow to the shadows, to the darkness that now felt like home.

He would never forgive himself. He would never forget the way she had died in his arms, the way he couldn’t save her. And as the cold night wrapped itself around him, he whispered through clenched teeth, “I’ll make the world pay. I’ll make everything pay for taking you from me.”

But even as the words left his lips, he knew they wouldn’t bring her back.

And he would have to live with that.

Taglist: @anarchiii @er1023 @siriuslystyle1989 @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @starlightazriel

[beatrixst0nehill]

"Please, Master, let me go out and make more money for you today! I want more! I need to please more men, ooo you can take me to that homeless shelter and drop me off for the night so I can satisfy those poor, lonely men! And maybe catch a new bug or two! ❤️"

"Tiffany, I just spent an hour cleaning all that cum and piss off you, you filthy little whore. I can't let you back out, my pet."

"Awww, please! I need cock! I want to make you lots and lots of money, it's my purpose, Master! Please, I beg you!"

"Ughhhh, so bratty. I didn't think you'd turn out this way. I guess a few years of mindless sex and pushing out kids has turned your poor brain to mush. OK, I better let you go."

"Let me go, what do you mean, Master?"

The man snapped his fingers four times in quick succession.

Tiffany blinked a few times, confused, suddenly realizing she's naked. She covered her breasts, completely horrified. "Oh my god, what the fuck is going on!? Huh? My body......? My boobs are huge! Why do I have so many tattoos? I don't under--my belly! No, no, no, no, no! I can't be pregnant, what happened!?" She looked up. "Who are you, why would you.... wait, no...... I know you. You were that magician."

He gestured like he was tipping his hat. "At the county fair. Remember how skeptical you were?"

"Wait, no way. You actually hypnotized me!? I never would've gotten on that stage if any of this was real! You monster, what did you do to me?"

"What day is it? And how old are you?"

"I'm nineteen! It's June 22nd, 2022!"

"Wrong, my pet, you're 22, it's June 16th, 2025."

Tiffany loosened her arms around her engorged breasts. "How could you..... I just thought you'd do some dumb trick, you hypnotized me for three years, into what? Your girlfriend? And did you seriously knock me up? That's disgusting!"

"You aren't my girlfriend, you're my plaything. You were so annoying on stage, not playing along at all, not flirting, not having fun with my show, you just folded your arms and acted so nasty to me and my audience, I simply had to put you in your place. And I didn't get you pregnant, you sleep with hundreds of men every week, there's simply no way of knowing who the father is. Oh, and this is your fourth pregnancy, you've already given birth to fourteen children. Triplets. Quintuplets, and sextuplets. You're actually only five months along right now so you might very well be carrying octuplets for all I know."

Tiffany was devastated, rubbing her thighs together. She felt her big pregnant belly, she looked at her breasts and tattoos. "I feel.... hot."

"Hm? The bath's probably lukewarm at best now."

"No, I--oh......" Tiffany reached between her legs, to her extremely swollen, over-fucked, disease-ridden pussy. "Oh my god! It hurts! It itches so good.... wow!"

"Yeah, you probably have every STD in the book. As my pet you were quite proud of getting them."

"I can see why..... I mean, um, this is so gross! I can't believe you did this to..... mmmmmmm. Oh wow." Tiffany giggled, shamelessly rubbing her sex in the bath, right in front of her captor. "It never used to feel this good! Oh my god, oh fuck. I think...... sir, I really think I need sex. Do I take drugs, too? I think I need some....."

"Indeed, you're quite partial to taking a big dose of heroin, getting so high you're barely conscious, and letting a whole club or bar's worth of men fuck your brains out all night..... You don't seriously want to go back to any of these behaviors, right?"

"Uh-huh!" Tiffany enthusiastically nodded, licking her lips. "Am I still in college? Doesn't matter, ooooo, I can't wait to show my new body to my friends and family and show them what a whore I am! Do you think I can go out after my bath and take my new body out on a test run? I don't know how good I'll be at making money for you anymore, but I'll try, Master!"

"I knew three years was too long....." He sighed. "Poor thing, I really scrambled your independent, clever brain. I guess you're my responsibility now. I was going to do some shows and train a new girl instead...."

"Let's do it! I can be your assistant! Then I can have a slutty sister I teach to whore with me, and we can get pregnant together, and rub our swollen, diseased pussies together! Won't that be wonderful?"

The man drained the water, patting Tiffany's body. "OK, my pet, I'll get you reacclimated to your duties as my whore. And get you a sister or two to have fun with later this week."

"You're the best Master a dumb, cock-obsessed slut like me could ever ask for!"

[jedi-enthusiast]

You're saying that the reason Anakin committed genocide against the Jedi was because of the things that THEY did or did not do, you are placing the blame on the VICTIMS of Anakin's actions---which, yes, counts as you robbing him of any agency or accountability and defending his actions, whether you acknowledge that he had predispositions to violence or did other atrocious things or not. Victim blaming isn't a good look, nor is it something that I find passable in a debate---no one MADE Anakin do anything, he made those choices himself, so the only person at fault is HIM.

Now onto your other arguments:

"The Jedi are deliberately telling their Padawan younglings to prioritize reason over emotion, which aren't mutually exclusive from one another."

I take it you didn't make it past the first sentence of my reply, so I'll explain it to you again in the simplest terms I can:

The Jedi teach them to ACKNOWLEDGE their emotions and WHY they feel them, so that they are not CONTROLLED by their emotions

AKA emotional mindfulness and control which are, again, things literally taught in THERAPY because they are HEALTHY PRACTICES. No emotion and reason aren't mutually exclusive, but if you let yourself be completely ruled by emotion then that leads to the type of shit Anakin did: multiple massacres, multiple genocides, the attempted murder of his wife and unborn children, etc.

The Jedi recognize that and quite literally just teach their members to be mindful of their emotions and not let them be controlled by them, I'm sorry if that sounds so awful to you but it's actually a very healthy mindset to have---and important, especially when you're a group of people with psychic abilities directly connected to your emotions and the universe.

Wanna know who also thinks emotional mindfulness is terrible and they shouldn't practice it? The Sith. Y'know, the genocidal, self-centered, evil fascists of the franchise.

And, not for nothing, but if teaching emotional mindfulness is so terrible then why did it work for basically everyone else for thousands of years, save for a couple rare cases---the majority of which happened because of Palpatine's influence.

If 10,000 people don't end up murdering children after being raised to be mindful of their emotions and 1 does, is the problem how they were raised or is that 1 person an outlier?

"You're telling me that someone who had become more in touch with the force than Grand Master Jedi Yoda for the first time in centuries was going to be overlooked? Especially since The Jedi had already become living weapons for The Republic in The Clone Wars?"

Being POWERFUL in the Force is not the same as being IN TOUCH with the Force.

Anakin WASN'T "in touch" with the Force---to be in touch with the Force requires that emotional mindfulness you think is so terrible, and Anakin is shown to also think said mindfulness is stupid and not practice it- (again, I'll point to the multiple massacres, angry outbursts, putting others in danger because of his pride or fear or whatnot).

And, believe it or not...yeah, the Jedi would, and ARE SHOWN TO, treat Anakin like everyone else. Sure they'd keep an eye on him because of his natural power, but the Jedi don't value power over everything else---again, that's what the SITH do---what they value is emotional mindfulness and mastery of skills---something that takes both time and patience. It's why Anakin wasn't given the rank of master and why Obi-Wan was able to defeat him at the end of RotS, even though technically Anakin was more powerful.

Anakin is shown throughout literally everything he's ever been in to think emotional mindfulness is bullshit and to never practice it: why would the Jedi supposedly value him more than everyone else if he refuses to even TRY to practice one of their most basic tenants? And Anakin, by RotS, is also shown to have mastered zero skills---he just wants things when he wants them, how he wants them, without taking the time to actually learn and practice and ADMIT WHEN HE'S WRONG or NOT THE BEST AT SOMETHING.

Which are things we see him struggle with throughout the prequels: he rarely admits to being wrong and generally reacts ANGRILY when someone else suggests it, and he routinely thinks he's better than everyone else at everything else---even people with far more experience who've actually taken the time to master their skills such as Mace Windu, Obi-Wan, and Yoda. This leads to him overestimating his abilities which then leads to him eventually being defeated by Obi-Wan, because raw power is no match for mastery of skills and experience.

So yeah, the Council wouldn't give him a seat or think he's better than everyone else in the Order just because he was born with a little more power than your average Jedi.

That'd be like NASA thinking that I should be the lead person calculating the trajectory for their next rocket because I was naturally really good at math in high school instead of like...an actual astrophysicist that's dedicated years of their life to study and practice of that shit. You see how dumb that sounds?

"Dozens of people have made plenty of different outcomes for how the prequels could have ended, and a great most of them have pointed out that The Jedi Order could have treated Anakin differently. They are, for all intensive purposes, his foster parents until he becomes a jedi knight. Anakin wasn't born wrong, he was raised wrong, and the reason for his upbringing was because of the Jedi's negligence of the outer rim, and therefore, his family's slavery. He would have been found sooner, and ignoring the fucked up implications of taking a child from their family for the sake of making them a governmental weapon, (consented by the family or not) he wouldn't have been so attached to his mother that soon, and would've grown up fine. (if detaching yourself from the personhood of having acknowledged your emotions is fine to you)"

You can't use fan fiction as an argument, I can't, it's just fucking stupid.

If you're saying that the Jedi are in the wrong because FAN FICTION said so, then I can basically say whatever I want and it's true because I'm sure there's a fanfic out there that supports it.

"If Qui-Gon had just killed Jar Jar in TPM then everything would be fine and saved because Jar Jar was actually a Sith and the reason Palpatine got emergency powers!"

There. The end. No more arguments. Fan fiction said so.

If you're gonna sit here and argue that Anakin's actions are somehow the Jedi's fault then you're gonna actually need to go off of canon and not the fan fiction you read that directly feeds into your own confirmation bias.

----------

I've already explained why how the Jedi raised Anakin, and everyone else, wasn't bad, so let's go on to the rest of it:

The Jedi did eradicate slavery...in the REPUBLIC.

The reason the Outer Rim still has slavery is because it ISN'T part of the Republic---and therefore outside of the Jedi's jurisdiction---it's why Padme is so shocked in TPM. In TCW there's literally an entire episode dedicated to saying: "the Jedi took down the Zygerrian slave empire, so the Zygerrians hate the Jedi and take Jedi as slaves because they hate them so much, and are specifically joining the Separatists because the Separatists allow slavery where the Jedi, with the support of the Republic, didn't."

@antianakin @david-talks-sw and @gffa all have a couple posts each explaining it in better detail, but here's my regurgitation of their points:

There are only 10,000 Jedi at the time of the Republic and---even if we assume that that's ONLY including the able-bodied knights and masters---there are over a trillion planets in the galaxy. For the sake of easy math, let's say there's only a million planets total and only 100,000 planets in the Outer Rim.

That means that EVERY SINGLE JEDI is in charge of 10 planets EACH, every planet having millions---if not BILLIONS---of people on them. Does that sound reasonable to you? To have one Jedi take care of 10 planets by themselves alongside all the rest of their duties? And that's with us vastly UNDERESTIMATING the amount of planets.

The only reason that the Jedi could eradicate slavery in the Republic is because they had the SUPPORT of the Republic in order to enforce the outlawing of slavery. They DONT have that support when it comes to the Outer Rim.

Even if the Jedi somehow managed to eradicate, let's say, the Hutt slave empire, they have other duties that would then take them away from the planets involved---defending the Republic, providing aid to other planets, raising and teaching and taking care of their own people, etc.---which would then leave a power vacuum for another group to just come in and resume what the Hutts were doing.

The only way to prevent that is for a government, like the REPUBLIC, to step in and stop that from happening---again, the support of which they don't have.

It's not the Jedi's fault that the Republic doesn't want to start a war with the many crime lords of the Outer Rim in order to take power and outlaw slavery there---if you want to blame someone for that, blame the Senate.

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1. If you want to be pissed that the Jedi took Anakin, get pissed at Shmi---she's the one pressing Qui-Gon to take him in TPM and SPECIFICALLY RAISE HIM AS A JEDI. If you want to pretend that being a Jedi is such a terrible thing, get mad at the mother who's advocating for him to be one. Not to just get him out of slavery, but specifically to BE a Jedi.

2. The Jedi aren't WEAPONS until TCW when Palpatine---yknow the Sith fascist that's specifically planning on committing genocide and overthrowing democracy so he can be a dictator---uses his influence as the Chancellor to strong arm the Jedi into becoming generals. Mace Windu, on behalf of the Council, tells Palpatine that they AREN'T soldiers---but Palpatine and the Senate don't listen. Not to mention that, in TCW, serving as generals and trying to protect people is the best option they have, because the other option is basically just leaving everyone to die

3. Anakin being attached to his mother isn't the fault of the Jedi, it's just the natural result of growing up in slavery and the only way Anakin could've worked past that is if he actually practiced what the Jedi taught---which he didn't, which is also why we see him murder children in response to his mother dying.

And finally 4. so Buddhists are "detaching themselves from personhood" by practicing non-attachment? That's really the argument you want to make? Because I told you that what the Jedi practice is shit taught in therapy and taken directly from Buddhist doctrine, so you REALLY want to say that?

I'm sorry that you think acknowledging emotions and practicing emotional mindfulness is some kind of abuse or whatever, but just because YOU think it's bad doesn't mean it actually is. You don't become "less of a person" by not letting your emotions control you---acting out because of your emotions isn't what makes you a person, being a person is a lot more than that.

And, as for your tags, I DO consider you an Anakin apologist because you're basically saying- "yeah Anakin did terrible things...but if THE JEDI hadn't done x y z then he wouldn't have" -which, yeah, falls under Anakin apologia.

You're the one who's refusing to admit that they're wrong, so take the L and get your anti-Jedi bullshit off my page.

I’m gonna be honest, one of the main reasons why I can never really understand any defense of Anakin or get behind a good majority of “Anakin redemption” fics, is the fact that he murdered children.

Like let's just ignore the multiple genocides and enslavement of the galaxy for a moment, since technically you could argue that he only had a hand in that and didn't actually do it all himself, Palpatine, manipulation, blah blah blah-

He personally murdered children.

On two separate occasions, mind you.

Yes, murdering adults is also bad---don't think I'm saying it's not---but at least adults can actually try to defend themselves, most of them don't depend on the people around them to survive, and they have years of experience living in the galaxy that's given them skills they could use to survive if they managed to get away.

Children do not have any of that or---if they're a bit older and do---the skills they have are extremely underdeveloped. They cannot defend themselves, they depend on the people around them for everything, they have not lived long enough to develop sufficient enough skills to survive on their own in a world that's turned against them.

Argue all you want about the Council being "evil" and "stagnant" and "needing to die for the betterment of whatever," argue all you want about the other Jedi being "terrible to Anakin" and "deserving" their murder because of whatever reason, the CHILDREN had done NOTHING!!!

What could the children that Anakin murdered have done to "deserve" such a fate? Why did they have to die? Why couldn't they have been spared.

And the Tuskens!

Even if we assume that all of the adults in that village were personally involved in murdering Shmi, why did he murder the children? What did they do to "deserve" murder, other than having no control over who they were born as?

And like, we see in TBoBF that the Tuskens aren't just heartless monsters, they protect their own especially their young---are you telling me that none of the children tried to run? That none of the parents or elders told them to go while they tried to fight Anakin off?

And still, Anakin hunted them down and murdered them.

So no, even if you could explain away all the other atrocities Anakin has committed, I still wouldn't think any less negatively about Anakin.

He murdered children.

And I don't think that's excusable.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, I've been meaning to make this post and I never make it, but I'm rewatching s1 and the thoughts are in my head so, what better time than now. Like, I made this point before but I never went into detail.

The thing with 911 and love interests and the way none of Buck and Eddie's love interests ever stood a chance, is because in order for you to make a relationship work on a tv show, you need to make sure your audience cares about both parts. Obviously, getting 2 mains together, madney or bathena, works very easily because both characters exist on their own, so you're already invested in all parties involved, it's a lot easier to make the relationship work because you don't need to spend time making people care about anyone individually, you're just making them care about the relationship. But then you have the issue of making people care about a relationship when one of the parties is only there to be a love interest.

So let's take Henren. For all intents and purposes, Karen only exists to be Hen's wife, so if they didn't put in the work Karen would be very whatever, because as viewers, our loyalty in most cases will be biased towards the character we see the most. And considering we are introduced to Henren already established, they are already married with a child, which another thing that makes people be less invested, not seeing how it happened, the odds are stacked against Karen, which is bad if the show ever decides to use the character more heavily. But the show introduces her in a perfect way to avoid that happening. For starters, we meet Eva first. And we meet Eva while Hen is making up problems that aren't really there because of the ghost of Eva. We have Athena state how bad for Hen Eva is, we have the conflict Hen herself is feeling, we have her lying by omission. And yes, the whole thing leads to something a lot of people view as unforgivable, cheating, but during that whole storyline, we are siding against Hen, because she is letting this idea of rescuing Eva is making her step out on her family, so we are taking Karen's pain, we are taking Karen's side, and that makes us care about Karen, and therefore we end up invested on them together. And something else is how this all happens while we are still getting to know Hen, so there aren't any preconceived notions of how a relationship for Hen should go.

And the show knows how to work that concept in, but when we are talking about love interests for both Buck and Eddie, is that every relationship is introduced with something that's gonna make us side with them and ignore the other person. Shannon never stood a chance because she was written to be fridged, but leaving Chris is an unforgivable act, Ali isn't around and she fundamentally can't handle who Buck is, Taylor is introduced as willing to hurt Buck's family, Ana isn't around and Eddie is literally panicking about that relationship and even before that, the Christopher of it all, him getting hurt, not wanting Eddie to date, makes it so we're not the biggest fans, Natalia was only interested in Buck's death and since we were watching the damage his death did to everyone, it makes it hard to root for them, Marisol just didn't exist for the audience at all, and Tommy's past plus the circumstances they get together aka Buck hurting Eddie makes it very 😬.

And all of these happened while Buck and Eddie's partnership is continuously shown as getting stronger, so the relationships are fighting against two main characters who have a strong relationship, so it is really hard to establish something that will replace the idea of Buck and Eddie because they're fighting against 7 seasons of partnership. The thing that makes buddie is time. It's everything that happened to them (I mean, the actual thing that makes them it is Christopher but that's a different post). So for a relationship to actually replace them, you need to separate them and then give the new relationship at least half the time buddie had to establish themselves. Audiences generally don't get invested in relationships they didn't see happening, and usually when it's this far into a show and there is another option of paring 2 main characters, it's really hard to make a character likable enough to replace that. People just generally don't end up caring for a character that only exists to be a love interest.

The show knows that, see the way Karen was introduced, so that makes the way they handle Buck, Eddie, and love interests that more pointed.