#so I know what my subconscious was trying to say. I simply refuse to listen to it actually

[existentialcrisistime]

Had a dream the other week in which I read a powerful poem on the bottom of a bread bag, so of course I tried to write what I remembered of it down when I woke up.

Forgot about it completely until I just found it in my phone notes now:

[shirefantasies]

Hiiii hru? Can I request like the fellowship with a reader who is like a total push over? Like could be stabbed in the leg and would apologize to the attacker or like could literally be freezing but would offer their blanket so somebody who has slight chills. If you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine 😊 thank you ❤️

Yes you can! As someone who struggled with people pleasing for a long time & am still unlearning a lot, I really feel this! I didn’t go full apologizing for getting stabbed but hopefully this is a good representation of people pleasing behaviors 😅 Warnings: some blood/violence mentions, mental struggles implied

The Fellowship + People-Pleaser

Aragorn

“Why are we stopping,” you ask, “did you not say make haste?” “It cannot have escaped your notice that you were just stabbed,” Aragorn replies, gently urging you down and dabbing with stinging but necessary force around the bloody tear at your leg. His voice is hard to read- colored with wry amusement, perhaps, concern most definitely. His eyes shine at the sight of you and his gentle touch has heat rushing to your face. “Why do you think we would force you to bear a burden like this?” Struck. That is the only way you can describe the feeling, what his words do to you. You fear so greatly being a burden that the others see it as a poor reflection upon themselves. Like you think them heartless. You shake your head. “I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t want to slow us down since you said what you said. Never would I believe you capable of any great cruelty, Aragorn.” He nods. “That is not my intent.” His words are barely above a whisper now. “Now rest, please. We all could use it.”

Legolas

Shuffling behind you alerts you to another presence cutting like lightning through the spiraling clouds overtaking you. Panicking, you sniff and wipe frantically at your face with your sleeve, unglamorous as the gesture is. Straightening, you try your best to shakily apply the mask again, lips curving upward as much as you could will them. “What troubles you?” Legolas. Somehow it has, until this moment, escaped you that climbing into the trees was no promise of solitude when a woodland elf called your company temporary home. “Oh, nothing,” you say, cursing the waver of your tone, “nothing.” Brows furrowing, he stares pointedly as his dark eyes are soft and does not let his gaze leave. “Please. No burden is ever truly solitary.” Gaping, you try to come up with a rebuttal, feel too broken and melted to speak. Legolas sits at your side, leg brushing yours. “When you are ready, I will listen. There is no shame here. If you wish not to speak, I will simply stay.”

Boromir

Boromir's brows knitted at your repeated apologies. Breathy words of regret passed through your lips between waves of pain. Boromir's arms were around you, his steps shifting to guide you onto your back. Your leg was possibly broken, trampled in the last skirmish to great pain, and he had taken up the task of aiding your steps. “You did not ask for this,” his reply cut into your stream of words, “how can you apologize for actions beyond your control? You fought well, now come and rest.” “Thank you,” you manage, gritting your teeth as he lowered you onto a bedroll. “You are so like my brother sometimes,” Boromir chuckled deeply, smiling down upon your form as he unlaced your boots, “you need not prove your worth, you know. I care about you solely for what is in your heart.”

Gimli

“You can do anything! A great warrior lies within you! Every hit you take makes you stronger!” You had opened up to Gimli about the harsh words spoken to you in your past. The way you had subconsciously learned to live by them. Stay the desire to let people in lest they hurt you. It was exhausting, but you had been called a burden before and did not wish to be one again. Thus you told him to use those words again. You were used to them, after all. But all you received from the dwarf was staunch refusal. Kind words. Rousing words. “You remind me of my own kin,” he continued, “no challenge ever stops a dwarf for long. The fact that you spoke anything at all, naturally, is your first act of resistance. Thus now as you realize your own strength you can practice spitting it back in their face!” You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but in the flash of joy something else pierces your heart. Gimli immediately took those words as hogwash. Maybe those lessons had not been lessons at all, but hits just as he said. Maybe there was something to be said for rising better from them instead of lying down.

Frodo

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” you give your characteristic response the moment the others check in on you, unwilling to become the burden they could surely see you as. Seeing as how you gave no strong opinions the others nod and continue on. Taking a deep breath, you walk on as well, at least until an arm falls gently across you in restraint. “Why do you always do that?” Frodo asks, eyes imploring. “Do what?” You reply, unsure what you have done to bother him. “Put yourself down so,” he answers, “act like your say has no value. They would stop for you, you know.” “I…I do not wish to be the reason we slow,” you stammer out, voice quieting. Frodo just shakes his head at your words, hand reaching up to grasp your shoulder reassuringly. “Do not doubt our love for you,” he tells you with a small smile, “after all, it is not a thing that is bought and sold.”

Sam

“Oh, Sam,” you hold back a sneeze, “I love them!” “Really?” He doesn’t look convinced, starting to retract the hand holding the flowers giving you the unfortunate reaction. “Of course, why would I not?” Cocking a brow, Sam shot back “Because my mother was always having a bad time with these lot and you just gave the same twinge of your nose as she did. No need to lie over it, I’d love to find you some new ones.” Your face and head fell. “Sam, I am so sorry, truly I-” “You can’t control it,” he chuckled, “besides, the apology is mine if you felt like you needed to lie. You never have to lie to me, ok? We can work it out together.” His eyes shone and all you could do was smile and nod.

Merry

"No, no, really, take it.” Insisting, you hold out your blanket in a shaky hand as you peer beseechingly into Merry’s eyes. His brows furrow faintly, but no annoyance or even confusion crosses his face, only…concern, a look as though you held out your very soul. “You really don’t need to do that, you know.” Now it is your turn for an expression fading into concern, brows knitting at more than just the chill wind whipping the trees. “Do what?” The hobbit places one hand upon his hip, the other giving an accusing little wave. “Offer up your blanket and think to leave yourself none. I thank you, but really. You have needs, too, you know.” Both his face and tone soften upon those words, punctuated with one step closer. “And they’re no less important.” No one said such things to you. Perhaps they even came with some disbelief, a grate on the way down like a wrongly swallowed pill. But the way Merry said it: it was clear to you he believed it, and that fact alone gave you pause. “O-oh. Alright. Thank you,” you replied softly. “Of course. And if you’re really so concerned,” he gave the rakish smile that always had your heart leaping, “we could always share. If you were comfortable, of course.”

Pippin

“Oh, Pippin, I’m so sorry.” “What ever for now?” No malice colors his voice, only pure amusement and its usual jolly lilt. He peers at you with brows raised and green eyes wide as you glance down. “I’ve got to reach over you really quickly here.” “That’s it?” “Well, I was getting in your way and-” “If that is getting in my way, do your worst. In fact, you don’t have to be sorry. You don’t have to be sorry for accidentally stepping in front of me, either, or not realizing you spoke at the same time as me… wait,” stopping., Pippin gapes at you, “do you think I don’t like you? I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth!” Your heart flipped. How could he even consider that you would think that? You just felt like you were in the way all the time. Apologizing was something you always had done. Just in case. “Oh, no, I just…. Well, I suppose it’s silly,” you trailed off. “Oh, no,” Pippin grabbed your faltering hand with a shake of his head and a grin on his face, “no more apologizing on my watch, alright?”

[makoredeyes]

Ahhhh these are all so good! Rasputin/Osiris - 22…in a rush of adrenaline.

OH you have fed me WELL with this one shdkdhfkdbf

#22 a kiss fueled by adrenaline

"You're joking." Osiris stared, disbelieving, back at Rasputin, who leveled the Warlock his flattest, deadpan glare in response.

"I'm terrible at jokes," he said. "Surely you've heard the stories."

"Shut it with your cute baby stories," Osiris snapped. "I know you're merely testing me."

"I am not testing you," Rasputin insisted, "I'm asking that you-"

"I refuse," Osiris said, crossing his arms. Rasputin vented hard, huffing audibly, irked by the Warlock's standoffish attitude.

"Why?" He clipped, frustrated. "Why refuse?"

"You are too arrogant. You will not listen."

"I'll listen," Rasputin insisted. "I want to learn."

"You are not even listening now," Osiris countered. "I told you no under no uncertain terms, and yet you are still here, pestering me."

"Your response is illogical," Rasputin tried, shaking his arms out at his sides. He was fighting hard not to mirror Osiris' closed posture, or worse, take on a more aggressive one. Osiris was astute. Rasputin knew that his demeanor would have as much of an affect on the once-Phoenix as his words would. "I wish to have a clear understanding of my shortcoming."

"Oh?" Osiris' lip curled. "Had I not already established that?"

Rasputin vented again, feeling crestfallen though he did not show it. He was trying to close the gap between them. Stars above, was he trying, but Osiris was making things remarkably difficult.

"I will listen," he promised, as sincerely as he could. "Please, Osiris." He was such a wretched, precious man. Felwinter loved him, Rasputin reminded himself. Saint loved him. There was more to Osiris than this. He was being difficult on purpose.

Rasputin didn't like being punished, but he knew he had much to atone for.

Much to learn.

"I'd much rather learn it from you," Rasputin added softly, changing his approach ever so slightly. "We may not see eye-to-eye on many things, but that does not mean I don't trust you far more than most."

It was a strange delight to see Osiris' face change. He blinked, his harsh countenance softening, and the Warlock took a long step back, looking Rasputin over. Whatever it was he was looking for, he saw, because he nodded.

"Very well," Osiris said. "But not here."

It had been hours. Osiris was right. Rasputin didn't want to listen, and he had long ago grown weary of trying to grasp what the old Warlock was trying to teach him. But he persevered, shoving down the urge to turn away, to give up, to throw hands and simply blame a bad teacher as the problem, because he knew that wasn't true.

He was impatient, and this took time.

For the first time, he did not have the benefit of Felwinter's experience as a Lightbearer pre-loaded into his subconscious to aid his progress. For the first time in eons, he had to do it all from scratch. Nothing else he'd ever done or learned could stand in for this. He was at the ground floor, or maybe somewhere in the basement level, because the more Osiris spoke, the more he realized there was a human element to this Strand that he...simply did not possess.

Not to mention the notion of releasing control, rather than tightening his grip unnerved Rasputin to his very core. Was that really what was required of him here, or was this some mean prank of Osiris'?

He let out a long, rattling breath, drawing on the work of oft-forgotten lungs to try and better calm himself.

"We can take a break, if you are feeling worn down," Osiris offered, and his voice was not unkind, but understanding. "I recognize your determination but trying for so long can become oppressive, and even detrimental to your efforts."

Rasputin wanted to say he wasn't tired. He didn't think he could fatigue, not physically, but... Something like exhaustion was sinking into his systems. He was cranky, shaky, and feeling rebelliously put out by his lack of progress. He nodded.

"One more..." He grunted. "And then yes, I will rest."

Osiris laughed. It was a soft thing, a chuff of air, aimed down at his own chest and folded arms, and he shook his head when Rasputin looked over sharply.

"I'm sorry," he said, sincere. Too sincere! Rasputin almost recoiled. "I-" he let out another of the same funny, breathy little laughs. "I'm suddenly aware of how Felwinter must have felt all those times he had to fight to get me to just stop after a long day."

Rasputin stared at him, for a minute forgetting he meant to try and summon this new power one last time.

"Saint has mentioned you and I may have some things in common," he said carefully. Osiris made a dry sound of disgust, but smiled.

"You'd do well not to listen so closely to Saint. He is a talented story teller," Osiris chuckled, his voice warm with affection. He looked up, meeting Rasputin's eyes, and sterned up. "Now go on. One more so we can go home. We'll come back tomorrow." He flapped his hands impatiently at the Warmind, urging him to get on with it.

Rasputin snorted to himself but nodded, and turned his attention forward, eyes narrowing to mere slits in concentration.

To visualize nothing, and then reach into it, seemed absurd. As absurd as seeing any connection, any similarity between himself and Osiris, in fact. But Saint saw something. Saint saw things more clearly, Rasputin thought, than anyone else he'd ever known. Saint said they were alike, could build a connection, be friends, if they tried. It was why Rasputin had come to Osiris, not because he truly had any desire to wield the Darkness. His Solar flame was more than enough for him, blinding, burning, cleansing...the same heat that appealed to Saint. To their Phoenix. A point of connection. A thread between them.

Rasputin's fingers dipped into the darkness and seemed to tangle with the nothing. For a fleeting moment, the universe opened up before him as a fingertip plucked a single thread, its resonance reverberating through every atom of his being.

Rasputin gasped, eyes snapping open as a ripple of emerald energy washed over him. Beside him, Osiris murmured a soft, startled, "Oh!"

"I did it?" Rasputin yelped. He looked over at Osiris. "I did it?!" Osiris grinned and nodded.

A delighted whoop escaped Rasputin before he could contain it.

"I did it!" He turned on the Warlock and snatched him up and, without thinking, hugged him close and gave him a fast, ecstatic kiss. He was so fatigued, so frustrated with himself, so relieved, he didn't even notice, even when Osiris stared wall-eyed back at him as he continued to cuddle him in his excitement. "Saint was right," he declared, grinning. "I'm- what?"

Osiris blinked at him and laughed.

"Saint is going to love hearing about this," Osiris snorted.

[wonhes]

WARNINGS: ANGST 😞😞 …. anton is kinda really mean

☁︎ — JUNE 17TH, 2024 3:16 PM

at the sound of a door opening, you‘re quick on your feet and make way to open your bedroom door. spotting your younger brother making his way down the stairs, you quickly trail after him.

“yn, i really don’t want to talk to you,” anton sighs, refusing to turn around to face you as he continues walking down to the kitchen.

“anton,” you say behind him. jogging to get closer to him, you grab his wrist to make him turn to you. “can you please listen?” scoffing at your words, anton lets out a bitter laugh as he shakes his head at you.

“anton,” you desperately try again, ignoring how watery your eyes were becoming.

“yn, what exactly do you have to say?” anton sighs out loud. “there’s nothing to say. i caught you making out with seunghan. just own up to it.”

“i wasn’t-”

“he was fucking leaning in!” anton cut you off, bringing his hands up in the air as he points at you, accusingly. “and you just—” he laughs at himself before angrily looking right back at you. “be honest, do you even like sohee or was this all just a twisted game to you?”

“what?” you ask in complete disbelief, eyes wide at what your brother was suggesting.

shaking his head at you, anton shrugs his shoulders. “you and seunghan looked a little too cozy. this has definitely happened before, huh?”

annoyed at what anton was suggesting, you bite your tongue to hold yourself back. anton, irritated by your silence, decides to push your buttons even more. “was sohee not enough, is that why you went after seunghan?” he asks.

“anton-” you try reasoning. your hand subconsciously forming a closed wrist, annoyed at what your brother kept insinuating.

“sohee doesn’t fucking deserve this.” anton sighs, bringing a hand up to push his hair back from his face.

“i really li-” you quickly try telling your brother. but, before you could even finish your sentence, you’re caught off by a loud snort.

“do you now? because what i saw on friday told me a whole different story,” anton chuckled, shaking his head at your figure.

“what exactly was your plan? get with sohee and then with all of my friends?” anton asked. “oh no, i know!” he mockingly says as he brings a hand to point.

“anton that’s enough,” you mumble, feeling absolutely defeated as you angrily let your tears fall.

“sohee has been in love with you for literal years. if you wanted to get with seunghan you should’ve fucking left sohee alone!” anton yells back at you, completely disregarding your crying figure. he didn’t have it in him to care, anton was simply too far gone at this point and only seeing red. “wait is that it?” he mocks. “was the plan to use sohee to get with seunghan since he was the closest one to him?”

“anton,” you gasp at his accusation. quickly shaking your head at him, you step closer to him as you open your mouth to speak once again.

“don’t.” anton tiredly cuts you off. “end things with sohee and just leave him alone.” anton states and begins walking away from you. desperately not wanting to end things here, you reach once more for your brother. before you could even place a hand on his wrist, anton stops walking and turns back to you. at the sight of his angry eyes set on you, you shrink back down and bring your attention towards the floor.

“you know, this was why i was so against you and sohee being a thing,” anton lets out a quiet laugh. “now i’m going to lose my best friend and it’s all your fault,” he accuses you.

“you’re not- you’re not going to lose him,” you desperately try to reassure him.

“please! you really think sohee’s going to to want to hang out with me after my sister fucking played him to get to seunghan?” anton asks you. letting out a deep sigh, he rolls his eyes as he sees you wiping away your tears.

“yn, leave sohee alone.” he adds before taking one last good look at you. “and me. leave me alone.”

“i-”

“go back to making out with seunghan. you two fucking deserve each other.” anton says, as he pushes past you to go back to his room, completely losing his appetite.

with tears streaming down your face, you let out a broken sob and drop to the floor. this was never meant to happen. you don’t like seunghan. you kept everything to yourself to not cause issues between them. you were so certain you were protecting both anton and sohee by doing so. here you were afraid of losing sohee, never did it cross your mind that you could lose your brother too.

☁︎ — JUNE 17TH, 2024 3:37 PM

blankly staring at your entrance door, sohee couldn’t bring himself to move. he decided to show up earlier than anticipated to try and cheer you up. he quickly realized what a big mistake that was. blinking, he slowly comes back to reality as everything begins to sink in. “she kissed seunghan?” sohee sadly mumbles to himself.

looking down at the bouquet of lilies in his hands, sohee lets out a small whimper at the sight. “i’m so stupid,” he whispers to himself as he turns around to walk back to his place.

as he’s walking away, anton’s words keep echoing in his head. sohee quickly shakes his head, desperately trying to make it all stop but it’s only useless. closing his eyes, he lets out a deep sigh and brings a hand to wipe away the tears threatening to spill down his face.

“stupid,” sohee tells himself once more. annoyed at himself for ever believing you could like him back.

a million more thoughts raced in his head as he continues his walk back home. is it bad that despite you hurting him, he wants you to be the one to comfort him? he grew so attached to you and with a blink of an eye everything was all gone. gone because you had feelings for seunghan. gone because you didn’t care for sohee the way he cared for you. gone because you never wanted him in the first place.

as many more negative thoughts come racing through his mind, sohee spots a garbage can near him and slowly makes his way towards it. looking down at his hands once more, he closes his eyes before taking a deep breath and throwing the lilies he had originally gotten to cheer you up.

☁︎ — CLOUD 9

CHAPTER 39 — symphony

summary !! after years of constant pining after his best friend’s sister, yn finally takes notice of sohee and sohee swears he’s on cloud 9. or in other words, loser sohee finally gets the girl.

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CLOUD 9 MASTERLIST

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[bamf-jaskier]

So I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about how imbalanced Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship is in the show and while I might make another post about it, I don’t think anything shows that better than by comparing the Djinn scene in The Last Wish vs the show. 

For the set-up to meeting the Djinn in the books, Geralt and Dandelion are fishing together. They are both holding onto a line in and manage to haul in a 12 foot long catfish by working together and on the other line they have in the river  Jaskier pulls out the Djinn’s amphora. In the show, Geralt is hunting the Djinn in an attempt to try and get some peace of mind. Jaskier happens to run into Geralt and watches as Geralt pulls out the Djinn. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Ha!” Dandilion exclaimed again, proudly. “Do you know what this is?”

“It's an old pot.”

“You're wrong,” declared the troubadour, scraping away shells and hardened, shiny clay. “This is a charmed jar. There's a djinn inside who'll fulfill my three wishes.”

The witcher snorted.

“You can laugh.” Dandilion finished his scraping, bent over and rinsed the amphora. “But there's a seal on the spigot and a wizard's mark on the seal.”

“What mark? Let's see.”

“Oh, sure.” The poet hid the jar behind his back. “And what more do you want? I’m the one who found it and I need all the wishes.”

“Don't touch that seal! Leave it alone!”

“Let go, I tell you! It's mine!”

“Dandilion, be careful!”

“Sure!”

“Don't touch it! Oh, bloody hell!”

The jar fell to the sand during their scuffle, and luminous red smoke burst forth.

The witcher jumped back and rushed toward the camp for his sword. Dandilion, folding his arms across his chest, didn't move.

The smoke pulsated and collected in an irregular sphere level with Dandilion's eyes. The sphere formed a six-foot-wide distorted head with no nose, enormous eyes and a sort of beak.

Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Wow. Wow. What is- What is that?

Geralt: [inspecting the stopper] It’s a wizard’s seal. The djinn.

Jaskier: Do you mind if I- [He grabs the pot.]

Geralt: Jaskier...

Jaskier: Take back that bit about my fillingless pie. Take it back and then you can have your djinny-djinn-djinn.

Geralt: Let go.

Jaskier: No! No, let go, you horse’s arse! [Geralt accidentally pulls out the stopper. Jaskier upends the pot, nothing happens.] Hm. That’s a bit of an anticlimax. [A sudden breeze ruffles their hair.] Or is it?

Now, it’s important to note that the dialogue is actually quite similar when Geralt and Jaskier are arguing about taking the jar and the seal. However, where it really differs is the context. 

In the show, Geralt finds the Djinn and Jaskier takes it from him without asking and Geralt is clearly annoyed by this. 

In the books, Dandelion finds the amphora and Geralt doesn’t believe it’s a Djinn while Dandelion does and Geralt tries to warn Dandelion of opening it because he considers it dangerous. 

It’s the difference between Geralt being genuinely annoyed at Jaskier vs Geralt being concerned for Dandelion’s safety. There is a weird amount of contention between Geralt and Jaskier in the show that makes their relationship feels honestly unhealthy in many ways. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Djinn!” said Dandilion, stamping his foot. “I freed thee and as of this day, I am thy lord. My wishes—”

The head snapped its beak, which wasn't really a beak but something in the shape of drooping, deformed and ever-changing lips.

“Run!” yelled the witcher. “Run, Dandilion!”

“My wishes,” continued the poet, “are as follows. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, die of apoplexy as soon as possible. Secondly, there's a count's daughter in Caelf called Virginia who refuses all advances. May she succumb to mine. Thirdly—”

No one ever found out Dandilion's third wish.

Two monstrous paws emerged from the horrible head and grabbed the bard by the throat. Dandilion screeched.

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Djinn, I have freed thee, and as of this day, I am thy lord. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die. Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with glee, open arms, and very little clothing. Thirdly-

Geralt: Jaskier! [He grabs the back of Jaskier’s top and pulls him backward.]

Jaskier: Wha-

Geralt: Stop! There are only three wishes.

Jaskier: Oh, come on, you always say you want nothing from life. So how was I supposed to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself?

Geralt: I just want some damn peace!

Jaskier: Well, here’s your peace! [He throws the pot to the ground where it breaks. Geralt bares his teeth and growls before he bows down to collect the pieces, missing the fresh cut on his forearm. The wind intensifies and Jaskier raises a hand to his throat.] Geralt… Geralt… it’s the djinn! [Geralt casts a magical sign at the black, transparent smoke rushing by. Jaskier doubles over and clutches his throat.]

Geralt: Jaskier. [Jaskier vomits blood.]

Again, while the dialogue is very similar, especially in the case of Jaskier/Dandelion some of it being word for word in fact, Geralt in the books tries to protect Dandelion while the only thing Geralt focuses on is the wishes themselves. As well, in the books, Dandelion’s injury in the books is due to his own folly and arrogance while in the show, the writers make it indirectly Geralt’s fault. 

It’s another weird choice that seems to suggest a dislike and a hostility between Geralt and Jaskier. It seems that even subconsciously Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier around. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“A troubadour,” repeated Chireadan, looking at Geralt. “That's bad. Very bad. The muscles of his neck and throat are attacked. Changes in his vocal cords are starting to take place. The spell's action has to be halted as soon as possible otherwise…This might be irreversible.”

“That means…Does that mean he won't be able to talk?”

“Talk, yes. Maybe. Not sing.”

Geralt sat down at the table without saying a word and rested his forehead on his clenched fists.

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Chireadan: His throat was attacked. If the spell’s action isn’t halted as soon as possible, that damage might be irreversible.

Jaskier: Wha- [vomiting more blood]

Chireadan: And the longer he goes untreated, the more likely it is to spread. He could die.

Jaskier: [gasps] Fuck! Geralt.

Geralt: Uh... Yeah, we won‘t let that happen. [pats Jaskier’s back]

In the books, Geralt shows genuine concern for Dandelion and is heartbroken by the idea that he might not be able to sing again. Remember, in the books, Dandelion’s injury is a result of his own folly and Geralt still feels this obvious and clear sadness. In the show--he just has this awkward grimace and pats him on the back. He almost seems to be there out of a strange sense of duty and doesn’t seem to feel too much guilt about his part in Jaskier’s injury. 

Even when they are reunited after Yennefer heals Jaskier, it is very different in the two mediums (I actually want to do another post about Yennefer in Bottled Appetites vs The Last Wish)

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Dandilion!” Geralt shouted, holding Krepp back, who was clearly getting ready to perform an exorcism or a curse. “Where have you…here…Dandilion!”

“Geralt!” The bard jumped up.

“Dandilion!”

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Oh, Geralt. Thank the gods. I might live to see another day. We need to go. 

Geralt: Jaskier, you’re okay.

Jaskier: I’m glad to hear that you give a monkey’s about it.

Geralt: Let’s not jump to conclusions. What happened?

Geralt and Jaskier are overjoyed to see each other in the books meanwhile in the show Geralt is just...okay about it. 

And it’s really strange because Netflix!Geralt can show emotion when he wants to, he does with Yennefer in Bottled Appetites and Rare Species, he shows fear when she is with the Djinn and care when they are in the tent together and yet --- this emotion is not extended to Jaskier. This isn’t simply a difference of Geralt’s characterization.

In the show, the writers created an imbalanced relationship between Geralt and Jaskier where Geralt never asked Jaskier to be there. The bard is constantly inserting himself into Geralt’s life when he is not wanted and testing Geralt’s boundaries without permission. He almost seems like an invader in Geralt’s life and it makes it so that I honestly can’t believably see Geralt and Jaskier traveling together for 20 years. 

Dandelion and Geralt protect each other, care for each other and worry about one another. Even from the beginning of the Djinn incident, they were fishing together. Geralt and Jaskier on the other hand have a relationship where Geralt begrudgingly tolerates Jaskier while Jaskier plows along blindly. It’s not healthy on either side. Geralt is putting up with someone he doesn’t seem to have a genuine connection with and Jaskier is pushing boundaries and constantly talking to a man who has no interest in listening. 

There is no reciprocal relationship between Geralt and Jaskier and I think in the end that’s why there is this hostility between the two of them.

[devildomimagines]

Request: How the Demon Brothers React to a Very Competent Caretaker MC

The prompt: MC has to take care of lots of siblings back in the human world. Not, like, 6 or 7 siblings, but TWENTY-FOUR!! MC can multitask like no one’s business and can easily take care of any problem that might arise with their siblings. MC is great at taking care of others and enjoys it. The hang-up is that when they come to Devildom, they suddenly find themselves with a lot of free time and aren’t really sure how to fill in those gaps since they were always dedicating themselves to others.

Anon! Your message was so sweet but I was having technical difficulties writing the post as an answer so I decided to just make a separate text post. Btw, your great-grandmother sounds like a total badass, what an inspiration! I hope you don’t mind my work around for the technical issues and I hope this lives up to what you were looking for!

Edit: I wrote this for the formerly Undateables as well, check it out here.

Belphegor

As the youngest he doesn’t completely understand but he does love his family (even if he doesn’t always show it).

He is kind of amazed with how competent MC is and how easily adaptable to the needs of him and his brothers.

He’s kind of selfish so oftentimes he abuses your nurturing nature.

After the events in the attic, Belphie does worry you’ll hold it against him, even subconsciously. You cut the tension one night by saying, "You can't kill me, I've survived my little sibling trying to play violin with a chainsaw!" The mental image makes him laugh.

Belphie would be the best brother to consult with if you want to learn to be a little selfish yourself. It doesn’t have to be a complete personality overhaul but there is value in knowing what you want and making those wants known to others.

While taking care of so many siblings, you never had the opportunity to take naps and he is offended! But secretly loves that he gets to show you the joys of a nap.

Beelzebub

Beel loves taking care of others, just a very loving boy. The two of you get along like peas in a pod. 

It’s very easy to fall into old habits around him because he has a personality that makes you want to care for him.

Since he’s so strong, he does fear hurting you by accident. You let him know, “I don't fear pain, I do my school homework upside-down while on a ladder changing the lamp." While it doesn’t totally extinguish his fears, the thought of that total body workout intrigues him enough to distract him.

If you want to fill some time, he would love to have you join him at the gym or come see his games.

Physical fitness and nutrition are fundamental to taking care of yourself and Beel would be the demon to go to to learn more if you’re interested. 

Also, I’m sure you would agree but cooking is a form of love so if you enjoy spending your free time baking and cooking, Beel will follow you around (for the treats lol). He’s said it before, if you know how to cook then he wants you to stay by his side.

Asmodeus

“Treat yo self” is his guiding principle. He is your demon to teach self-care.

If you’re looking for something to do, part of your time can be filled with his routines for skin care, hair care and mental health checks.

Casually you mentioned one day, “"Me, go to sleep? I'm the oldest sibling, I don't sleep, I worry with my eyes closed!"

“MC! You need to get your beauty rest!” He countered. I can imagine that he basically drags you to Belphie to figure out how to sleep better.

Although he has a lot of knowledge to offer, you are quick to pick it up and help him in braiding his hair out of his face or gently applying a face mask.

The fun part of learning from Asmo is that there’s always some new beauty product to try and he loves having a buddy to try it with. 

Satan

He’s amazed with everything you can do. He asks you to teach him how to do things he watches you do flawlessly.

He’s definitely curious to hear about what it’s like living with so many siblings, 6 seems like too many sometimes so 4 times that is completely unknown to him.

Satan was helping with some homework and suggested tackling an easier assignment first, you challenged him with, "Don't underestimate me, I managed to make a toddler spell pneumoultramicroscopicssilicovulcanoconiosis!"

He laughs as he confirms he wasn’t underestimating you, just trying to offer some guidance for efficiency.

You need something to pass time? Satan has enough books in his room to literally last your lifetime.

He can help you find any kind of book, simply let him know what you would be interested in and he probably has a suggestion.

Leviathan

He’s drawn to you and at first he doesn’t know why. Later he realizes it’s because you’re so good at listening where his brothers usually just ignore him.

Games and anime are a great time filler if you’re interested, he’s got all the best recommendations.

It might be tough to get into first if you’re not used to binge watching a series or gaming for hours on end.

When he apologizes for possibly annoying you with his rants you assure, "You can't annoy me, I've endured eight rebellious teenagers!"

I could imagine that you’d resonate with slice of life animes as an introduction to the genre and possibly adventure games with a good story would catch your attention.

Even if you’re not totally invested, he enjoys your presence since you’re not dismissing his interest.

Mammon

Listen, he’s a good older brother! Some of his personal decisions are questionable but he’s dependable when needed.

Definitely king of random interests so your well-rounded abilities are actually well suited to keeping up with whatever past time has piqued his interest this week.

Mammon would probably be confused when you see something during one of his shopping trips that you clearly want but refuse to buy. Eventually he builds it up enough (like the demon on your shoulder whispering in your ear lol) that you do end up getting it.

What you had first dismissed as Mammon being materialistic, you slowly come to realize because of him that you can surround yourself with things that bring you joy and so your days are filled with happiness.

He can get reckless so he appreciates your protection from Lucifer’s punishments and hides behind you like some of your siblings did at home.

He protects you too though! He stands up for you and points out things that are unfair to make you aware. 

Lucifer

Oldest sibling comradery from the get-go.

You’re both very responsible individuals and when you join forces, it’s like nothing is impossible.

He’s the one you go to the first couple weeks when you find yourself with free time. He’s sure to have something to be done to help fill the newfound free time.

Over time he comes to rely on you but he’s worried he’s overworking you with the tougher assignments. You made sure to remind him, "I have no difficulty with this task, I'm the oldest of twenty-four siblings!"

Lucifer recognizes your competence and he excels at boosting confidence and pride so don’t think you are not immune to that.

The more time you spend with him, the more you develop a stronger sense of self-worth and self-determination. He practically gushes pride at the sight of you defending yourself and claiming the value of your time near the end of the exchange program.

[assassyart]

is it ok for me ask what your take on jatchet but as parents are? I made a ship child for em and I'm curious on your opinion on if Ratchet and Jak became parents

Oh sure! Sounds fun!

I'll admit, I kinda just ran with the idea of how both would individually act as a parent not necessarily parents together, but it still works shippy-wise, too!

Jak and Ratchet both love kids, but playing hero with some children and having to take care of a kid are two different things.

For starters, Jak has way more experience with parents than Ratchet does. Whether that was good parenting though...well...I guess that's up to you. 💀 Jak was raised by Samos and got to meet his actual dad, while the closest thing Ratchet's had to a father figure was Azimuth, and that...uh...yeah, didn't end well.

I think keeping this in mind is important, because Ratchet and Jak's backstories are very different and this would drastically impact how they would react to the challenge of raising a kid of their own. As a kid, Jak was reckless, stubborn, and never listened. He had an itch for adventure and that ended up only getting him into trouble. He's very aware of that now, and while he does look back on it fondly, I do not think he'd feel the same when faced with a kid that potentially acts the same way as he did. I think he'd end up subconsciously drawing inspiration from Damas and Samos. ("Oh my god I sound like Samos, what have I become" would definitely be something he says at some point.)

He'd likely become overprotective, especially knowing that he's got a lot of enemies that might try to target his kid. He would do or kill anything to protect his kid, even at the cost of not being home as much. That said, I think he'd do everything he could to be actively in the kid's life, especially since he was cheated of spending more time with Damas and would've given anything to spend more time with him.

Moving on to the lombaxy boy, Ratchet's childhood was filled with a whole lot of nothing. He was alone for most of his childhood until meeting Clank. As a kid that never got to leave Veldin, Ratchet's greatest fear would be that his kid doesn't get to see what the universe has to offer. Sure it's a scary universe out there, but Ratchet feels like it'd be better to grow up knowing that there is so much out there than to stay cooped up on one planet. (Or maybe he's simply projecting.)

He'd be the type of parent that wears one of those things you can strap to your chest to hold the baby so your hands are free (Clank on his back, the kid on his chest: an unstoppable adventuring trio). He's definitely the more carefree one, and tends to let the kid get away with things if it does no harm (and his definition of "no harm" is a lot different from everyone else's lmao).

I don't think Ratchet would ever let the kid get into any real danger, though. If some save-the-world thing came up, he'd demand for his kid to stay home so he can deal with it. His "chill dad" routine would be gone completely, because for all his faults, Ratchet will still always put his life on the line for the ones he loves, even if it means he has to hurt someone's feelings he cares about.

Overall, I think he'd be a decent dad? Too laid back probably and he'd definitely suck at disciplining, leaving his partner to do it.

Which brings me back to Jak. Jak wouldn't admit it out loud, but he would be terrified that the kid will end up being afraid of him. Consequently, I think he'd refuse to use his dark eco at all around the kid, only showing off his light eco. This is a complete contrast to Ratchet whom would show off his trophies for all the arena challenges he's won for the kid's fifth birthday. 💀

Jak would cherish the kid to hell and back, but he's always got a fear ingrained in his head that he'll screw everything up. In spite of that, I do think Jak would be the one to train the kid in self-defense, because Jak's pretty confident in his own abilities and would jump at the chance to ensure his kid is strong enough to take anyone on. I think that's where his bonding with the kid would flourish.

In conclusion: Ratchet's the fun one, Jak is trying his best, they're still a mess. <3

[honklore]

invisible string | dreamwastaken

(requested plot by red string of fate soulmate au, dream is still a streamer, reader has commitment issues, dream just wants someone to love, chat is the best wingman, sapnap and george try but they suck, reader is timid but dream makes them feel brave, taylor swift references, this is not very deep or poetic at all, i don’t like typing y/n so after this i’m going to move to ___)

listen to: invisible string by taylor swift

In kindergarten, red strings were simply a crafting tool, and teachers never mentioned how much pain they would eventually bring.

Because when they appear, from a child’s eighteenth birthday and beyond, they tighten like a godforsaken high school ring that came in one size too small. Like the universe is a child tugging their mother towards the ice cream truck, you’re pulled around central Florida, passes faces you can’t memorize and voices too garbled to hear.

The string knows where you need to go, and when.

And you’re at the park, feeding ducks and trying to ignore that incessant pull that tugs at your pinky, when you hear it.

It’s a voice you know only because it’s a voice that’s been in your house before. At least, through your brother’s tablet screen. Some gamer online — a streamer, with a distinct wheezing laugh that you’d recognize anywhere.

And you do. Behind you.

You risk a small peak, and your heart drops into your chest. He’s tall. Too tall to not intimidate you. And his sandy hair is wavy, curling at the collar of his sweatshirt, falling perfectly into place when he runs his hands through it. When he does, you see it, the red string.

Which means he could see it too. All he’d have to do is turn around.

But you’re not ready. You haven’t been, not since you watched your cousin get rejected on her eighteenth birthday. Since you watched a string of fate get clipped in front of you, like the three fates had finally had enough of your cousin’s happiness.

It was enough to make you curl into yourself, and reject the natural pull set before you. So you run, and you try not to think of what would’ve happened if he saw you before you saw him. You try not to feel the clippers, but the blade feels tangible against your skin.

You don’t stop running until you arrive home.

“Hey chat, just wanted to do a few practice runs and catch up with you guys,” Dream mumbles into the mic, already restarting his game after deciding he didn’t like his seed. The donos begin rolling in, even before Sapnap and George have unmuted, so Dream flits his eyes to the display screen, subconsciously reading along with the text-to-speech voice, “Dream, what if we shared a string of fate? Ahaha, just kidding... unless... love you bestie.”

Dream chuckles, “Actually chat, I felt a tug today! Isn’t that weird? I was actually reading up on what that could mean, and it seems like either my soulmate is in a lot of distress, or they were in my vicinity. I’m hoping, for their sake, it’s the second one. How would you even comfort a soulmate if all you can do is tug on a stupid string?”

“Simp!” George finally unmutes just to be annoying, and Dream knows soulmates are a touchy spot for him, considering he wasn’t given a string on his eighteenth. Which is strange, but not impossible. Of course, chat doesn’t know this, because it would give them more hope of becoming George’s metaphorical soulmate, but it certainly makes for awkward conversations once Dream and Sapnap get into their own soulmate bonds.

“I’m not simping, George!” Dream feels a bit defensive, because he’s genuinely just curious. He has no interest in meeting his soulmate right now. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He has his streams, and his friends, and chat. He’s fine.

[abbywastaken donated $10: dream why don’t you go back to where you felt the pull and see if you feel it again? that’s how i found my soulmate. okay luv u bye.]

“Thanks, Abby. Love you, too. Um, honestly I was in a pretty public place, so I don’t know if they would even come back anytime soon. Also, this is Orlando, right? Tourists are everywhere.”

Sapnap snorts, and Dream thinks it’s funny, since he’s in the other room. “Just say you’re a coward and go.”

“I’m not!” Dream says. “It was just a small pull, okay? It wasn’t even a big deal.”

He feels another lurch when he says that, but this one is in his chest. It taps against his heart, a quick reminder that it beats for someone else, and he needs to watch his words. “Okay, it was a big deal. Sort of. I’ll go tomorrow, okay chat?”

Chat is spamming all types of messages, from encouragement to jealousy. Dream manages to read off a few donos and create his first nether portal of the stream. He answers as they appear, eyes scanning for a fortress. “No, I didn’t see them… I’m not telling you guys where I was, that’s weird… I’m wearing a sweatshirt and jeans… Hi, Sarah and Patrick…”

He trails off as the donos do, and works at getting blaze rods. George is talking about a riddle he just learned, and he’s trying to trick Sapnap into saying something stupid.

Lost in his own thoughts, he finally closes the stream after a hasty goodbye. “What if I missed my chance?” He asks the two boys on the other line.

“It’s a string of fate, Dream,” George says. “You didn’t miss your chance.”

“Maybe they saw how ugly you are and ran away,” Sapnap says, completely joking, but the thought lingers in Dream’s head.

Did they feel the tug, and run away?

You pour cereal for yourself, and when your brother shuffles into the kitchen, you make him a bowl as well.

He’s eleven, and as little brothers go, he’s pretty chill. Aside from the inappropriate jokes and hogging the bathroom when you have to get ready for work, you like hanging around with him.

You pass him his bowl, and he grins. “I’m gonna watch Dream’s new video on the TV, since mom’s not home.”

You furrow your brows. Dream must be one of the dozens of streamers he likes. Maybe one of his friends will be in chat with him, and you will be able to connect a voice to a face. “Can I sit with you?”

He gives you an odd look, and it’s true, you don’t ask to watch videos with him often. “I guess.”

You eat a spoonful of cereal and settle into the couch while he gets everything ready. He clicks on a lime green icon of a little white blob man, and when the first video appears, you’re taken aback by the voice.

That’s the voice you heard. It’s this one, out of all the random men yelling about a block game. It’s Dream.

“Why doesn’t he show his face?” You manage, wanting information about the person that shares your string.

“What?”

“Like, he’s handsome, right? Why doesn’t he have a facecam?”

Your brother snorts. “Handsome? He’s never shown his face, Y/n. Don’t you know who Dream is? He’s like, super famous.”

“Oh.” You think of his golden hair, as sunny and soft as the glow around his entire being. His voice right now, joyous as he gets chased by his friends. “I mean, I don’t keep up with streamers.”

He begins to explain Dream and his friends, along with lore in their role play server, and it’s all interesting enough that you sit and listen, holding on to the little bits of information you can collect about your soulmate.

You file these facts in a secluded corner of your brain and try to make a whole person, along with the hair and the laugh and the intense music he plays as he gets hunted by his friends.

By nightfall, you’re following all of his socials and binge-watching his old streams, holding on to the way he speaks to his friends, and the fond way he replies to donos.

[dreamwastaken is live!]

You click on it, bundled underneath your covers as if someone might see you and find out your secret.

“Hi, chat! I know I was just live yesterday, but I cut it too short and wanted to come talk to you guys.”

He uses his avatar to wave at the screen, and it’s kind of an adorable sight.

[gogysimp donated $25: did you go see your soulmate?]

Your heart stops. Does he know? Did he see you? Or even worse, has he already found someone else, and he just hasn’t severed the tie?

“No!” Dream’s laugh pulls you out of your worries. “I was busy with meetings today, actually. And I was too nervous. Sapnap also refused to come with me, so I’m just going to go another day.”

So he didn’t see you. He just knows you were there.

You click the donate tab before you can stop yourself.

[y/n donated $1: would you reject your soulmate if you didn’t like them?]

Dream mumbles the question, and you try to ignore the way your heart deflates when he skips saying your name. “I don’t think so,” he states plainly. “I mean, logically, a soulmate would be your other half, so I wouldn’t not like them. But I know some people just don’t click, or there are other issues. So, I don’t know. I guess the only thing I can say is that I don’t want to reject them. And I hope they don’t reject me. I mean, imagine finding out your soulmate is a Minecraft Youtuber. That would be pretty weird…”

You giggle to yourself as he trails off and answers another donation. So he’s against rejection. Okay. Maybe you have a chance.

[kyra donated $60: i’m your soulmate.]

“Meet me where you felt the tug, then,” Dream says sassily. “Chat, don’t be weird, okay? I can’t control who my soulmate is, and I don’t want you guys to exclude them if they become a pat of my life.”

Oh, you think. So his chat is vocal about their opinions, and apparently they mean a lot to him. You shiver despite your warm position and imagine how annoying you might seem to his loyal viewers: someone who only knew about him because of their brother.

Insecurity pushes against your chest, so you close the stream and push your phone away, hoping to forget this ever happened, that maybe you won’t have to deal with the inevitable if you don’t think about it.

Yogurt Barn isn’t the first place on your list of dream jobs, but it has decent pay and helps you pay off student loans, so you appreciate it nonetheless. The teal sweatshirt they gave you as a uniform keeps you warm as you scoop the frozen treats.

Your coworker, a girl named Madison, is busy manning the counter, so you check each flavor and refill the ones running empty.

“Can I ask you a question?” Madison met her soulmate, Anna, only days after she got her string. It was a textbook romance, two people meant for each other, no doubt in anyone’s mind. She might be able to help you now. That is, if you can even admit to who your soulmate is.

“What’s up?”

“I felt the tug,” you say, avoiding her eyes in favor of restacking the medium cups.

“No way!” Madison is perky in a way that makes you want to be included. You like this about her. “Did you see them? Did you talk to them?”

“He—” You want to say that the part of him you saw was perfect, enough to keep you up when you should be dreaming. But reality is nothing if not disappointing. “I ran.”

“Y/n…” Madison gives you a stern look — like a mother finding out their child didn’t defrost the chicken in time. “Why would you run?”

“I don’t want to be rejected.” The magenta swirls painted onto the walls are a stark change to the clay sidewalks of the strip mall. “And before you say he wouldn’t… It’s happened to my cousin. It’s possible.”

Madison frowns. “But that can’t be the only reason, right? I mean, we all know someone who has been rejected. It’s usually not the end of the world for them.”

“He’s a famous streamer,” you blurt, and you’re thankful the shop is as empty as it is. Just the words themselves sound fake.

Madison snorts. “Like, gaming? That’s what’s holding you back? He’s a gamer?”

“I don’t care that he’s a gamer!” You hiss. “I care that he has a loyal fanbase who more than likely all want to be his soulmate!”

“You can’t say that for certain,” Madison says. “I mean, everyone knows about the soulmate system. If you watch someone and don’t feel the pull, you know they aren’t your soulmate, right? So why wouldn’t they accept you?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I’m just scared. I mean, he’s got this huge following and everything and I’m just me. I work in a yogurt shop for goodness’ sake.”

You head into the back to grab more cups, and the bell rings, signaling a new customer.

“Welcome to Yogurt Barn, what can I get for you?” Madison’s customer service voice pricks your ears.

You sift through the boxes to find the smaller cups and listen to the customer’s order. “Can I have a strawberry cone?”

Your string pulls, that same familiar voice filling your head, not on the screen but once again just a few feet away. He’s infiltrating your life, so close you could reach out and touch him, but it’s such a terrifying thought that you set down the cups.

You tear off your apron, and run into the break room to grab a water and calm yourself down.

It’s ten minutes before Madison comes back to find you. “Hey, are you okay? You disappeared.”

You take a deep breath and stare at the poster on the wall. It’s brightly colored, with a walking yogurt cup waving and reminding employees to wash their hands before scooping. “That was him. The guy— the pull— Dream— I can’t— Does he know? Is he following me?”

“It’s okay,” Madison runs her hand down your back. “It’s okay. He isn’t following you. When the pull starts it tends to draw the couple together until they meet. He probably doesn’t know it’s you.”

You nod and take your breaths in gulps. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you go home early, okay?”

Dream is live again.

Fresh out of the shower, you pull a t-shirt over your body and burrow into your blankets. Earbuds in, you try to focus on the sound of his voice, ignoring every ounce of anxiety that’s been riddling your mind.

“Hi, chat. I’m gonna practice speed runs again. I think George is joining soon.”

You open the chat and scroll through the emotes, clicking the ones you like and sending them, just to calm yourself down.

[kylo donated $5: did you find your soulmate?]

Dream laughs. The sound makes your chest tighten with longing. Your fingers ache. “Actually, I went to the place I felt the pull again. I dunno what I was expecting, but they didn’t show up. But after that, I was running some errands and I felt it, chat! I felt the pull again.”

He trails off while his character starts to look for a lava pool. “I feel discouraged but I don’t want to like, chase them, you know? I don’t want to scare them off.”

You click the donation tab again.

[y/n donated $1: maybe your soulmate heard your voice and got scared of you because they watch your videos.]

It’s not the total truth, but it might help him sleep better. You don’t want him to feel discouraged, but you can’t bring yourself to follow the pull.

“That could be a possibility…” Dream crafts a portal and sends his character through. “But I wish I could talk to them. I wish I could tell them that it’s okay. Like, we don’t have to rush into anything.”

[y/n donated $1: They probably wish they could talk to you too]

“Thanks, Y/n.” He sucks in a breath as soon as he says your name. The Minecraft pause screen appears and the sound of a discord call can be heard.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Something about him saying your name just solidified everything. Your arms feel hot and cold all at once, like you’ve just been thrown in a frozen lake. He has to be feeling it too.

“Chat, I gotta go, okay? I’ll try to stream again soon.”

“Hello?” A sleepy voice comes in through Dream’s earbuds.

“George! Their name is Y/n!” Dream is so excited, his voice raising a few octaves as he talks. “Someone donated with that name and I felt like, super weird. I didn’t feel it until I said the name out loud.”

“That’s crazy,” George says, monotone but supportive. “Do you think the dono is actually them?”

“I don’t know,” Dream scrolls through their past donos and quickly screenshots each one. “I mean, they definitely could be.”

He shares the pictures in their group chat.

George hums. “It sounds like they’re trying to tell you how they feel without admitting that it’s them. Where did you say you felt a pull?”

“At the park, and at the yogurt shop down the road.”

“So go there again. Maybe all they need is a little courage. If you feel the pull this time, you should follow it.”

Dream thinks about it for a moment before finally agreeing. He changes the subject to their next jackbox stream, and George is now happily talking about how they’re going to team up against Sapnap.

He goes into Sapnap’s room that night. He sits on his desk chair while Sapnap sits cross legged on his bed, scrolling through his phone. “Do you wanna get frozen yogurt tomorrow? My treat.”

“Hell yeah!”

The new strawberry-lemonade custard is a hit. Not only are the colors aesthetically pleasing for the teenagers who want a nice snapchat story, but there was a promotional coupon in the mail that has people lining up to the door.

“It’s not even that good,” you tell Madison while the two of you are on break. You’re both using a sample spoon to try out the new summer flavors, and in your opinion, strawberry-lemonade isn’t even the best one. “Blood orange is better.”

Madison wrinkles her nose. “No, blue raspberry is best.”

“It’s sour, though,” you say.

“Guys! Break’s over and you’ve got a line!” Your manager stares disapprovingly at the cups of custard the both of you are indulging in.

“We’re coming.” You toss the cup into the trash and walk out, scratching at the sudden itch on your pinky finger.

Pulling on your gloves, you grab a scoop and address the first customer, “Welcome to Yogurt Barn.”

“Hi!”

You still like you’ve been caught stealing on camera. You look up, hand clutching the scoop so tightly you can feel the cold steel through your gloves.

It’s Dream.

It’s him. He’s tall, and his hair is a sunshine blond, dark at the roots and curling beneath his ears. And his freckles… little spots all across his cheeks so endearing that you get a little distracted staring at them.

Then he’s talking, and you have to focus on his jade-green eyes, not his lips, which are a warm pink. “It’s you.”

You blink. Fear strikes your spine and you drop the scoop. “I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Dream calls, just as Madison shouts your name.

You exit out the back door again. Your heart is pounding against your chest, ribs expanding, and all you can hear is the sound of your name coming out of his lips, just last night through a screen.

“Y/n?” Only it’s in front of you, a few feet away, and he’s searching your eyes for any reassurance that you won’t run away again. That you won’t reject him. “That’s your name right?” He keeps talking, a nervous smile flitting across his face. “The donos? That was you?”

You can see the string now, red and blaring, tightening with each step Dream takes. It’s signing off your fate, for better or for worse, and you can’t fathom why he’s trying so hard, why he cares so much.

It’s hot in Florida but you feel cold, chilled to the bone. You straighten up. You figure you owe it to him to look up in the eye.

He leaves you breathless, eyes shining in the sun. “It was me,” you say. “You’re Dream.”

“Clay, actually,” he says. His smile widens, and it’s magnificently bold. He’s triumphant, just from your reply, and that alone gives you the slightest bit of hope.

“Clay,” you say. “I’m— I’m not— I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to be.” Clay is quick to reply, hands open and palms up. It’s a complete surrender — putting it all in your hands. “We don’t have to announce it. We don’t have to be anything at all, if you need time. But I would like to be your friend. If— If that’s okay.”

But you want to be close to him. The draw of your strings pulling each other closer and closer makes you want to wrap your arms around him. If he hasn’t rejected you, maybe you can do this. “I– I want to be more than friends, but I’m terrified of you rejecting me. I’m afraid of the string getting cut.”

Clay set his brows, “I won’t let that happen. We’re connected. Fate, ya know?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and it’s a sigh of relief. “Okay. Maybe I’ll give you my number?”

“I’ll give you mine!” Clay is animated, holding out his hand for your phone. “That way you can text me when you’re ready.”

The red string shines like gold in the Florida sun, and when your fingertips brush, it burns with a satisfying warmth.

[cyncerity]

Mmmmm.,, thinking about how if Tubbo nommed Tommy and Tommy grew just enough in his stomach to make a little bump.,,

Ok when I asked for sizeshifter Tommy getting nommed prompts, you got the message. You understood the assignment completely, you genius anon. Funnier yet, I had the same thought about Tommy shifting while in someone earlier, so you’re pyscic and also very much pandering to what i like to write and it’s working very well.

tw: vore, cursing

Btw, I took my shitpost idea from this post and made it a full story

“Tubbo, no.” Tommy deadpanned at Tubbo, who looked back at him with puppy eyes. “Tubbo yes!! You actually studied for this and I didn’t and if I flunk another test my dads gonna kill me!” the shorter teen whined. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “Well then maybe you should’ve studied! I’m not gonna help you cheat this, I don’t even know how i would do that!”

Tubbo pouted and gave him a death glare that he ultimately couldn’t hold as long as Tommy could, so he sighed in defeat and started to get ready for school.

*****

School went pretty well for Tommy. He’d been pestered about the test a few more times by Tubbo, but he ignored most of the advances. He was just walking from the class he’d taken the test in to his next class when he got a text from his best friend: ‘meet me in the storage closet by the caf.’ Huh. Odd. Nevertheless, Tommy shrugged and headed that way. Not like he had much else to do at the moment.

He soon stepped into the storage closet, the heavy door closing behind him and shutting him in almost complete darkness as he fumbled around looking for a light switch. He could hear things clattering around him, but every time he reached in the direction of the noise, more noise seemed to come from another direction. What was going on? “Tubbo?” Tommy whispered. “You in here, big man?” Tommy said, a bit louder. No response, except the noises. Tommy could feel himself start to shrink in a bit as his movements became more sporadic looking for the light. “Seriously man, this isn’t funny!!” Suddenly, a loud clap sounded from behind him, scaring him and accelerating the shrinking he had already subconsciously been doing as he shrieked, now a measly 3 inches tall.

Suddenly he felt himself be lifted off the ground as the lights finally came on. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked up to see Tubbo holding him by his shirt collar, the heavy, large textbook that Tubbo had violently shut to make the clap noise now laying closed on the floor, looking smug with himself. Tommy glared daggers at him. “That was a low blow, Tubso.” “Of don’t be over dramatic,” the bigger teen smirked, “I’m just getting the help I need.” And with that, Tommy was tossed up into the air and quickly caught in Tubbo’s mouth. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing!!” Tommy shouted as Tubbo’s tongue lapped at his face. He was unceremoniously pushed into the side of Tubbo’s cheek as he tried to respond. “You just took the test, I’m going in to take the test now, so you can at least help me get some answers.” “You little-“ Tommy tried to finish before he was cut off by a loud swallow.

Tommy felt his legs get pulled down into the tight muscles of the throat. He tried to punch at Tubbo’s tongue to get his friend to spit him out but he only heard Tubbo chuckle as the muscles pulled him down to his shoulders and eventually sucked him in completely. Tubbo left the storage closet once he couldn’t feel Tommy in his mouth anymore and made his way to class. Tommy landed in his stomach with a dull thud as he heard the storage room door close and felt Tubbo start walking. Great. Didn’t this asshole know he had school, too?

Tommy pouted and laid back one of the wet spongy walls and slid down, begrudgingly accepting defeat. Eventually he felt Tubbo sit down, and he heard the lecturer start to speak, before silence once again. Tubbo poked his stomach. Tommy kicked at the wall where he had been poked. “You can’t just eat me and expect me to help you. Prick.” Another poke from the outside. Tommy kicked again.

There was an annoyed scoff from outside and soon the small space Tommy was sitting in practically folded in on itself as Tubbo moved to sit with his knees pressed against his torso. “Oh, fuck off, you dickhead!” Tommy shouted. “I’ll give you the fuckin answers, Jesus, just let up!!” Tommy could practically hear Tubbos smug grin as he put his knees back down and sat normally. Tommy sat fuming, giving Tubbo the answers to the test, waiting for the signal tap that signified his giant friend was ready for the next answer. So as Tommy sat and mindlessly rattled off information, he thought about what he could do to get a little revenge for the impromptu nom session. It was hard to think of something good enough. He needed something that was funny, but inconvenient, and that he could do from the stomach he was stuck in. Something that would piss Tubbo off in a playful way, and nothing that would cause him pain, maybe a bit of discomfort…wait. That’s it, that would work, all he had to do was time it right. The logical and mature side of Tommy’s brain said it was a bad idea: he’d never tried shifting while in a person before. Well, that part of his brain could fuck off for all Tommy cared. He’d never listened to it anyways. ‘Oh, this is gonna be so funny…’

****

A half an hour later, Tubbo finished the test. He was pretty proud of his successful plan to get Tommy to help him cheat, and he couldn’t see himself getting caught. There was no physical evidence of it, and he knew that as annoyed as he knew Tommy was, his best friend wouldn’t rat him out. He even made sure to fill in some answers wrong, it was foolproof! Tubbo leaned back, feeling the minuscule weight inside him, and if he focused hard enough, could even feel Tommy breath. He’d never get tired of how weird that felt, no matter how many times he ate Tommy. It gave him a sort of peace. He felt kind of bad for practically forcing Tommy into sitting in his gut, but it was his fault in the first place! If Tommy hadn’t refused to help him, Tubbo wouldn’t have had to resort to this! And he knew that Tommy would try to reign hell on him for this, but for the moment, he put that thought aside. There wasn’t much revenge Tommy could do from his stomach.

Tubbo soon heard the bell ring. And as soon as he went to stand up, he felt something inside him move. No, not move, grow. Double, triple the size Tommy was when he was swallowed, bigger than anything he’d ever even try to get down his throat, and all within the span of a second. The sudden shock of the change mixed with the uneven and unfamiliar added weight in Tubbos body made him fall backwards with a yelp, landing on his ass and knocking over a chair in the process. He heard some kids laugh at him on their way out the door, and saw other just stare. He could feel his face get hotter from the embarrassment. He not only heard, but felt Tommy laugh at him, the shifters now louder voice making the stomach walls around him vibrate slightly. And, oh god, that was a weird feeling.

Tubbo clutched his gut for dear life as he tried to stand. He grabbed a nearby desk and pulled himself up, doing his best to steady himself. And as soon as he finally managed to get used to the weight, more was added. He felt his stomach stretch around Tommy, more weight being added, making him stumble a bit more before he elbowed himself in the stomach, pulled his hood over his head, and tried to walk as quickly as possible to anywhere private, ignoring Tommy’s laughing fit.

Ten minutes later, Tubbo found a private, hidden area under a set of outdoor steps near his school. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it up to his ear just to be sure that if anyone saw him, they wouldn’t think he was a crazy person talking to himself. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Tubbo yelled, making Tommy laugh more. “Oh, you have no idea how much I would’ve paid to see the look on your face!” Tommy wheezed. “What did you do?” Tommy’s laughter died down as he tried to answer the question. “Well, I think that’s pretty obvious big man. I shifted.” “In me?!” “Well, yeah. Consider this payback for scaring me shitless and swallowing me without permission.”

Tubbo face palmed with his free hand and started to pace, feeling Tommy’s much larger form sway in his stomach and stretch it with every turn he made as he walked. “Ok, ok, fine I guess I deserved that. Just, why’d you have to do it in class? People were looking at me like I was an idiot. And how big are you even right now?” “Cause you are stupid,” Tommy answered part of the first question, but pondered the other. “I’d say a foot tall? Maybe a foot and a half?”

“A foot?!” “Yeah, that’s what I said. Listen, maybe.” “Alright, alright, ok, you’ve had your fun, now shrink so I can get you out of there and we can both go about our days.” Tubbo sighed. “No can do, big man.” Tommy replied simply, as if Tubbo were to have expected that answer. He didn’t. “Why the hell not?!” Tubbo yelled again, sitting on a step, to frustrated to keep pacing. “You put me in here in the first place. I’m now your responsibility, and you did this to yourself.” Tubbo felt a somewhat uncomfortable pressure on the front of his stomach and pulled up his shirt, partially horrified and partially amazed to see the front of his belly pushing forwards, slight imprints from under his skin. Tommy’s hands. Before Tubbo could even get a word out, Tommy finished: “Remember, I’m not stuck in here with you. You’re stuck out there with me.” The pressure released, and Tubbos abdomen went back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be. It still looked somewhat bloated for obvious reasons, the outline of Tommy practically indistinguishable from any other stuffed gut to everyone but Tubbo, but it wasn’t anything his hoodie couldn’t hide. Tubbo made it a point to stand up from the step quickly to try and jostle Tommy, but only succeeded in making himself feel a quick pit in his stomach, making him instinctually hunch over as it stretched downwards to accommodate Tommy’s weight. “Whatever. I’m done talking to you.” Tubbo replied sternly before walking off to his next class, which he was now horribly late for. “Sounds good, but I’m not quite done talking to you yet.” So the next 10 minutes was spent with Tubbo walking to class and Tommy rambling about increasingly bizarre topics in an attempt to irritate Tubbo, and with Tubbo unable to respond without being heard since he’d put his phone in his backpack like an idiot and now couldn’t reach it.

***

He walked into his next class 20 minutes late, and as quickly as possible made his way to his empty chair next to Ranboo, who started giving him weird looks a few minutes after he sat down. Tubbo gave him a weird look, and Ranboo looked back utterly confused and somewhat distraught looking. Tubbo shrugged and went back to his work, trying to pick up what the teacher was saying and drown out Tommy’s nonsense. Ranboo didn’t stop giving him weird glances though, and he seemed to be getting more and more anxious. Tubbo was about to ask him what was wrong when surprisingly Ranboo stood up and addressed the teacher. “Excuse me, I have a really bad headache. Like, it’s hard to concentrate and I’m seeing spots and it’s all around just really awful, can I go to the nurse, please?” He was given permission and was told to take someone with him, roughly grabbing Tubbo by the arm and practically dragging him out of the classroom as fast as possible.

At this point, Tubbo was worried. Ranboo was an introverted guy, there’s no way he’d draw that much attention to himself in class unless it was an emergency. He got even more worried when Ranboo dragged him past the nurses office and into a storage closet not dissimilar to the one Tubbo and Tommy had been in earlier. “Boo, are you alri-“ “Out of curiosity, where’s Tommy?” Ranboo interrupted. Tubbo froze. “Ummm…I don’t know, why do you ask?” He replied, trying not to sound as guilty as he was as Tommy, who had been silent since Ranboo had dragged Tubbo out of the classroom, mumbled to himself. Something about Tubbo being an asshole. “Oh, maybe because once you came in late and sat down I started hearing Tommy. Quiet, muffled, even, but I know his voice. That, and literally no one besides Tommy can talk about absolutely nothing for so long.” Tubbo heard Tommy let out an offended scoff and a “fuck you” at Ranboo, who apparently also heard it. “See, there it is again! You can hear him to, I know it. So where is he? I thought he was in your backpack, but you didn’t bring it with you to the ‘nurses office,’” Ranboo said, putting in air quotes, “so I don’t know where else I’d be able to hear him from.” Tubbo was left speechless again. Luckily for him, or actually rather unlucky, depending on how you look at it, Tommy was incapable of being left speechless. “In here, Ranboob!!” Tommy shouted, punching the front of the stomach walls, making Tubbo let out a hiss of pain as he punched himself in the stomach. Ranboo just stared blankly. “He’s…he’s in there?” Ranboo asked, pointing at Tubbo’s midsection. Tubbo sighed and nodded. Thank god he had to explain this to Ranboo and not some rando who didn’t know that he and Tommy did this regularly. “I thought that no one besides you could hear him when you ate him? I’ve never heard him from in there before.” “Probably because I’ve never been this big in a person before.” Tommy shouted in reply. “He’s a fucking foot tall, Ranboo. He’s making me miserable.” Tubbo deadpanned. “Just returning the favor!” Tommy shouted. “Ok, ok, wait, what happened, I’m so confused.” Ranboo questioned.

Tommy and Tubbo filled Ranboo in on what went down, who had his face in his hands by the end of the explanation, his thoughts clear to Tommy and Tubbo: ‘why do I have such idiot friends?’ “…ok,” Ranboo finally spoke out, “If anyone asks, I have a fever and you two, er, well, Tubbo helped me walk home. School ends in, like, 3 hours anyways, so it should be fine.” Tubbo and Tommy both seemed ok with that idea, so they went back to Tommy’s house, since Tommy’s family was at work, where Ranboo made both Tommy and Tubbo apologize for being assholes to each other, eventually convincing Tommy to shrink back down and finally give Tubbo a break. Tubbo didn’t spit him out though, and from the one sided conversation Ranboo was hearing, it seemed like Tommy was fine with that. Soon enough, all three were taking a nap.

***

At 2 o’clock, Phil got home, surprised to find the front door unlocked. He carefully made his way inside the house, looking for anything that could have been stolen or god forbid a thief still in the house. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until he got to Tommy’s room, where he found Ranboo and Tubbo asleep on a backup comforter they kept around for the two when they slept over. Phil only had to wonder briefly where Tommy was, until his mind registered Tubbo’s hand, which was pressed protectively against his stomach. ‘Wait, shouldn’t they still be in school?’ Phil thought. But he took one look at the sleeping teens and decided he would chew them out later, turning of the light and closing the door.

[slashbitch2]

The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

[vampiregirl1797]

All Because of a Jacket

Stiles x Reader

 GIF Not Mine

 Summary: A collection of the times Stiles lends Y/N his lacrosse jacket.

 Warnings: None.

 Word Count: 2,039

 A/N: I have no idea where this came from guys. Actually, I do—I ordered myself a Stiles lacrosse jacket and I’ve been living in it since it came, so that’s most likely what inspired this little imagine. I hope you enjoy it! Leaving a link HERE to the jacket I got off Etsy if you’re interested—I cannot recommend it enough!

 Click Here For my Masterlist.

 It started off subtle, something I didn’t notice at first, and was merely grateful for. The pack had met in the middle of the lacrosse field on a Sunday evening, the location chosen as a way of avoiding any police cruisers who were out enforcing the town-wide 9pm curfew. Still, I didn’t understand why we couldn’t just have met at someone’s house, though I suppose that did run the risk of neighbours ratting us out.

 I’d been trying to listen to what Scott was saying, and the whole reason we were gathered in the middle of the freezing cold lacrosse field in January, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus. It was my own fault, really. I’d assumed we’d go inside the school once we’d all gathered together, which was why I’d forgone grabbing a jacket as I left my house. Now, I was there, scrunching the sleeves of my jumper in a vain attempt to retain some heat and reverse the cold settling in on my bones. I had my arms crossed over my chest, and was seriously considering just wrapping my arms around Derek and burying my face into his back—he wouldn’t have minded and the man gave off more heat than a damn space heater, but I was startled out of my thoughts by a curtain of warmth being wrapped around me. I blinked, surprised and my eyes fluttered closed for a second in complete and utter relief, before my brain registered that the wonderfully warm jacket hadn’t just landed on my shoulders of its own accord. I looked to my left and straight into a particular pair of honey brown eyes that I was more than a little fond of. His eyes were soft at that moment, and when I murmured a quiet thank you, he responded with a bashful smile that made my heart skip a beat in my chest.

 As I slid my arms through the long sleeves of Stiles’ lacrosse jacket and buttoned up the front in an attempt to retain the warmth the sarcastic boy’s body had provided, I found myself grateful that Stiles, like me, was one of the only humans of the group. It meant that I’d been able to successfully keep my more than platonic feelings from him. Of course, he was the only one who didn’t know.

 I narrowed my eyes at Derek’s teasing, barely there, smile and discretely flipped him off by scratching my nose with my middle finger. The action didn’t go unmissed by the blue-eyed wolf and he breathed a chuckle before returning his attention to the alpha in front of the group.

 My cold state now taken care of, I was able to concentrate on Scott’s words, subconsciously stepping closer to Stiles as I listened, my body seeking out the comfort his presence always provided me with without my consent.

 That was the first time Stiles gave me his jacket.

 //

 The second time had been during a “stake-out” with Liam and Stiles. The honey-eyed boy was adamant that there was something off with Theo, and honestly I hadn’t got the best feeling about him popping into our lives out of nowhere for one, adding in the fact he was also a werewolf… well it was just too much of a coincidence.

 ‘I’m telling you, there’s something not right about him, Y/N.’ Stiles said, for what must have been the hundredth time in the last four hours.

 ‘Stiles.’ My hand covered his on the steering wheel, and I felt us both immediately relax at the touch, ‘I believe you, okay? You don’t need to convince me of anything. If you say there’s something off with Theo, I’m not going to question it.’

 His usually honey-brown eyes were dark with emotion as his hand squeezed mine, ‘why? Why do you believe me?’

 ‘Because you have great instincts and I trust you and your opinions more than anyone else’s.’ I told him honestly.

 I felt my heart beat pick up the longer his eyes bore into mine, but I refused to look away, even knowing that Liam was probably smiling in the same smug way all the werewolves had mastered whenever my heart misbehaved around Stiles. What felt like hours later, Stiles blinked and bought my hands in-between both of his.

 At my look of confusion, he elaborated, ‘you’re freezing.’

 ‘Huh, I didn’t even notice.’ I shrugged, trying to fight the blush forming on my cheeks at what felt like an intimate gesture.

 He opened his hands a little so he could blow some hot air onto mine, and the warmth generated from the act seemed to travel through my whole body.

 ‘Better?’ he asked after a few minutes of repeating the gesture.

 I cleared my throat and kept my answer short, not trusting my voice, ‘much. Thank you.’

 ‘No problem.’ He released my hands and I slid them underneath my thighs to retain the heat he’d created.

 My eyes moved over to where we’d been watching for most of the night, to see Theo was still playing his video game, like he had been for most of the night. It made me frown; sure video games were what teenagers usually did, but it just seemed too convenient to me. I was about to voice my opinion to Stiles and Liam when familiar cotton was placed onto my shoulders. My arms moved through the sleeves almost reflexively as I offered my best friend a grateful smile, and tried to resist the urge to bury my face into the fabric to inhale his sweet and husky scent.

 ‘Thank you.’

 ‘Can’t have you freezing on me.’ He joked his hand squeezing my thigh briefly before returning it to the steering wheel.

 I couldn’t have stopped the blush that formed on my cheeks if I tried, so I turned my gaze to stare out of the window, my hand resting where his had touched me, and I wondered— if I were to remove the denim barrier provided by my jeans, would my thigh display a brand of his hand print?

 Because the heat left behind by his touch felt exactly like I had been branded as his.

 //

 The third time had been in the cafeteria.

 We were all sitting together, minus Derek and Liam, and all having different conversations in our own little groups. Allison and Isaac were making weekend plans, provided she could sneak out without her father noticing, Lydia, Aiden, Ethan and Danny were talking about something they could all do together on a double date, and Stiles, Scott and I were all talking about collages we wanted to apply to. Well, they were. I was trying not to fall asleep using my sandwich as a pillow; I’d been up late the night before, helping Stiles put together his criminal bored. Nothing had been solved, but we both found it helpful to have everything, every clue, and every detail all in one place.

 Of course, time had gotten away from us, and our party had been broken up by the Sherriff returning from his shift and gently informing us it was past three am. I’d been too tired to drive home and had slept on the couch, but two hours sleep wasn’t enough time for me, unlike Stiles; he was as hyperactive as ever.

 I pushed my tray away from me with a sigh, too tired to eat anyway, and laid my head down on top of my arms. I’d heard a few chuckles from the pack, but I ignored it; they knew how I could be when I was tired so they just left me to it. I was on the brink of passing out, knowing someone would wake me for our next class, when I found myself surrounded by what was becoming my favourite jacket emitting warmth and a scent I couldn’t get enough of. I slid my arms into the sleeves and nuzzled my face into the fabric once I’d returned them to my original position. Had I been fully conscious of my actions, I’d have been embarrassed at my audience, but the chuckles simply faded into nothing as I finally found sleep.

 What I hadn’t noticed was Stiles’ fond smile, or the knowing and frustrated expressions the rest of the pack wore.

 //

 The fourth time had been during a lacrosse game.

 I’d been standing in the bleachers, wearing a jacket that was not keeping me warm in the slightest and discretely trying to huddle closer to Malia—she gave off as much heat as her uncle did—when I’d heard Stiles shouting my name.

 I’d frowned, but manoeuvred my way out of the row I’d been sat in and made my way down to the benches, where he was waiting. He was holding his helmet under his arm and when I reached him, he held out his jacket and I took it, but didn’t put it on in case I’d misunderstood his meaning. Did he want me to give it to Malia? I’d noticed they’d been particularly close since she had joined the pack, and as much as it made my heart ache, I was glad the female wolf had someone to offer her comfort when she’d been without it for so long.

 ‘I noticed it’s pretty cold and figured you could use a jacket.’ He said, seeming nervous.

 I felt a genuine smile form on my lips as I slid the cotton on and buttoned up the front, ‘thank you. I feel like I should rent this from you with how often I wear it.’ I chuckled, pulling my hair out from underneath the fabric.

 He joined me in my laughter, ‘nah, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I like seeing you in my jacket.’ He looked nervous again and my heart skipped a beat in my chest.

 Did he mean…? ‘You do?’ I asked, my voice quiet to my own ears.

 ‘I do,’ he stepped closer and I felt wonderfully dizzy as a stronger wave of his heat and scent washed over me, ‘Y/N…I’ve liked you for a while. As more than a friend, and I’ve been too scared to say anything, but Scott practically threatened to kill me if I didn’t admit it to you.’

 ‘You like me?’ I repeated, dumbfounded. How had I missed it? Had I been so preoccupied in hiding my own feelings that I’d been blind to his?

 ‘Yes.’ He looked more nervous now and I found myself reaching out, my hands falling on top of his in an attempt to comfort him.

 ‘Stiles…’ I took a breath, finding the courage to say the words I’d been holding in for so long, ‘I like you too.’

 His honey-coloured eyes bore into mine for what felt like hours, but in reality it was only a few seconds, before his lips formed a face splitting grin that made my heart warm in my chest.

 ‘So, will you go on a date with me?’ he asked, seeming more confident but not much.

 ‘Absolutely.’ I grinned, my face leaning into his hand as it came up to caress the side of my face.

 ‘Awesome.’ He grinned again, and I was sure that we would both be wearing these giddy expressions for the foreseeable future, ‘pizza after?’

 ‘Perfect.’ I laced my fingers through his and almost jumped a mile when coach blew his whistle. I’d been so lost in him, his touch, his warmth, and his smell that I’d completely forgotten where we were.

 ‘I should get out there before Coach kills me.’ He chuckled.

 ‘Okay.’ I replied, reluctantly releasing his hands.

 He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to my forehead that I made my heart melt. Before he could leave me completely, I grabbed his jersey and with a teasing grin told him, ‘by the way, this jacket is mine now.’

 He blinked, and when he’d processed my words a bright, fond grin broke out across his face. He leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered against my skin, ‘you won’t find me objecting to that, sweetheart.’ He winked, waved, and left to join the huddle in the centre of the field.

 My cheek didn’t stop burning for the rest of the game.

[eremiie]

Hello there I really like your writing and I was maybe wondering I can get some angst of a cheating eren who break his s/o heart

yes you can!! i shed a few tears writing this bc i was listening to sad music & thinking, but i hope you enjoy, i am not the best at writing angst😪!

cheers to you - eren x reader

in which eren breaks your heart and you have no choice but to move on.

tw; crying, heartbreak ig idk

2.5k words | angst | modern au

"okay."

you pushed at sasha's phone, you didn't want to see anymore. you were trying to suppress your tears, refusing to cry in front of your two friends.

sasha took one more look at the photos before swiping out of her camera roll, looking back up at you with a frown, hitch likewise. "_____, are you okay?"

and you hated when people asked you that. you thought you were doing fine, you thought you could keep everything down but you simply thought wrong. you croaked out the smallest sound, but before you could even get a word out the tears began to spill, your eyes becoming bleary with the suffocating liquid and the suffocating feeling surrounding your heart. you felt so dumb.

hitch rushed to your side pulling you into a hug until your head fell against her shoulder, body going limp besides the soft heaves that would leave your shuddering body. the pictures of eren were embedded in your head, replaying in your mind, constantly on repeat and you wished to think of anything else that wasn't clawing at your heart like the photos lingering in your subconscious. it was all you could see, almost like a photo album; eren's hands sat on some random girls waist while she straddled him, his jaw slacked open as she ground against him, whoever taking the photo catching her mid grind. his eyes were half lidded if you remembered correctly, reddening, he must've been high.

you couldn't tell if that fact alone hurt you less or more.

your mind swiped, another photo with the same blond haired girl, this time her hands cupping his face and his hands gripping her ass while they engaged in a kiss that you wished was chaste. you were repulsed that your lips had met his in almost the same manner before he left for that party the same night. more sobs left your poor quivering lips, hitch's grip around you tightening as she tried to shush your sobs and cries.

sasha's hands ran over her face as she shook her head clear disappointment evident as she watched you and hitch.

"what did i do wrong?" you gasped for air finally pulling away from hitch, the only body part connecting with hers be your hands that she clasped so delicately as if, if she squeezed too tight you would break. "my heart hurts, it hurts, it hurts," you babbled as tears fell from the bottom of your chin and the bridge of your nose, your eyes were puffy and swollen. "this hurts so bad," you conveyed your emotions through words another gasp leaving your lips.

"you did nothing wrong," hitch reassured rubbing her thumbs against the surface of your hands. "he's just an idiot."

"it's gonna hurt, and that's okay," sasha scooted forward from her position on the floor laying her head in your lap and you knew she was right but god, you didn't want it to hurt. you wanted the pounding in your head to stop, the recurring thoughts to stop, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks to stop, i mean you wanted someone to tell you exactly where you messed up so you could go back and try again.

"do you want us to stay with you tonight?"

you looked down at the side of sasha's face, one of your hands letting go of hitch to comb through brunette hair, and the lazy bun in the back of her head seemed all too familiar already, the way a couple of flyaways framed the front of her face had you covering your mouth, repressing a gag with your palm, sasha whipping her head around to confront the source of the sound, worry on her face, but you squeezed your eyes shut, even the furrow in her brow reminding you all too much of the boy.

"______?" hitch's arms were back around you but you quickly pushed them off feeling the rising feeling of your breakfast you had not too long ago, rushing to the trash can in the corner of your dorm letting your remnants spill from your stomach. the feeling of throwing up felt so foreign to you, you couldn't even remember the last time you did it, and to some degree you wished your heart came up with it.

hitch's mouth parted in the slightest not even sure what to say but the anger behind her eyes was apparent. "baby, i'm so sorry." was all she could say in response while your body crouched beside the trash can, your hands slipping from the rim until they were palm first on the floor, slowing turning into fists.

"i wanna be alone for a couple hours." you managed to utter with a sniff.

"you sure?" sasha asked, standing up awkwardly with hitch reciprocating. you nodded your head and it felt like everything was going in snapshots, them walking to the door, the door opening and their bodies disappearing, your figure laying back in your bed and then the next snapshot didn't come, sleep had came so quick you didn't even have time to process it.

❈ ❈ ❈

your eyes fluttered slightly and you relished in the heat over you for a minute. your mind felt like a clean slate for the time being, as your eyes opened to the bed next to you, sasha's figure vacant from her bed. you remembered asking for some space before you left but you thought she'd had return by now. it was dark, but it couldn't have been too late as orange rays from the sun were attempting to shine through your curtains, making you assume that it was just around seven, the sun setting soon. but you craved the warmness that was around you a little more, pulling down to reach for your blanket, until your body froze.

the hand wrapped around your waist, much like in the photographs engraved in your brain twitched and that same sickness felt like it was resurfacing yet you dared to move, tears brimming again subconsciously.

"eren," you mumbled under your breath.

"hm?" oh, so he was awake.

your face scrunched up in agony at the sound of his voice, your eyebrows coming together, your eyes shutting and you biting your lip so hard the taste of blood collected on your tongue. "please," your breathing began to thicken again, you wanted to move his arm but your body was almost stuck in place. "move."

eren groaned against your back, nose nuzzling into the back of your neck and you mentally cringed. "get out," you said abruptly, body jolting at the sudden movement and you felt him still behind you. how did he even get in? and then you immediately regretted making an spare dorm key and giving it to him only a couple months into your relationship. "get out, get out." you finally regained some self control, your body slithering from under his until your arm touched the floor and you crawled away from your own bed. "go, what are you doing?" you lashed, his gingerly stare making you aware of the tears cascading down your face again.

eren stared back at you finally lifting his head up from the spare pillow that he always slept with when he spent nights with you, the pillow that stayed tucked away on your bed and the same pillow that you'd have to wash and get rid of that stupid recognizable cologne he wore, the same cologne that would linger on most of his clothing that you owned. "_____,"

"no, leave, please leave, i can't do this."

eren seemed genuinely confused, sitting up completely now and scooting forward until his legs dangled off the bed. "baby, what's-"

you winced at the nickname and clutched at your stomach, feeling the emptiness inside from the lack of food, yet you still felt the urge to dispel anything inside of it still. "please leave." you almost felt lightheaded, you felt as if you weren't being heard and you were sick.

the significant sound of the dorm keycard slot beeping until sasha's figure came back in, "_____, i left the key hear but luckily i had a keyca-" her voice slowly died down as she studied the scene of the dorm, your body on the floor away from your bed and eren's figure sat on the same bed, both pair of eyes now looking up at her."

"what the hell?" sasha stormed over to eren grabbing his arm in a feeble attempt to pull him off of your bed. although she wasn't strong enough eren did stand up, mainly because of your pleas for him to get out just earlier. "get out! she doesn't want you here, weirdo!" sasha exclaimed pointing towards the door clear anger flashing in her eyes. "and don't just come in here uninvited again!"

those green eyes that would unknowingly keep you up for nights after today kept that confused gaze on you as he walked around you and made you feel stupid and small. we're you overreacting? were those pictures just your imagination?

"_____..." eren mumbled before looking at your frame on the floor once more.

“get out!” sasha exclaimed.

you weren't sure if he was just that dense or he was hiding the fact that he knew exactly what he did. the door shut and you immediately began crying again, this time harder. wails of pain escaping your throat. your cries were loud and full of pain. you clutched at your shirt as if to grasp at your broken heart.

"oh my gosh." sasha dropped her keycard and bag onto your bed where she still stood and got on the floor with you pulling you as much into her lap as possible. you felt fragile in your hands, her gripping at the sweatshirt around your body. she listened to your cries, responding with "i knows," and "mhm," as if they were telling her a story, simply listening to the aching noises that were leaving you.

"sasha," you finally mustered the courage to speak a few words again, although they resembled your words from yesterday. "i'm hurting."

"i know, i know."

"i loved him." you blinked so you could see a little clearer, lifting your head to look at sasha, bringing your hands to either side of her head, your thumbs stroking her jaw. "i thought he loved me? why? why?"

sasha couldn't bare to look at your sad, damaged eyes and instead pulled you back against her chest. although your sobs died down she could feel the convulsing of your body and opted to hold you for as long as you needed.

“does he even know what he did? does he even know how much pain i’m in right now?”

sasha couldn’t even answer that question. by the looks of it he didn’t, maybe he was high? under the influence? but either way you didn’t have the courage to confront him about it.

instead you spent the next couple of weeks sulking, mending to your broken heart and staying out of eren’s way, no matter how many times he tried to communicate with you. it seemed as if word got to him on what he did, sasha getting connie to talk to him, and as angry as eren got there was no denying what he did, especially with photo evidence.

your phone blew up with his own pleas begging for forgiveness, begging for you to talk to him, to come back, to do something.

but you were fragile, and you knew that even being in his vicinity would tear you apart bit by bit. you didn’t want to weep in front of him, you didn’t want to be in front of him in the first place, nor did you want his pity.

did you want to get back with him? the question still pondered on your mind constantly but both sasha and hitch refused to let you, and they were perfectly fine with the situation going unresolved if it meant better for you.

"so?" hitch pointed the straw of her frappucino at you. "i really think you just need to try exploring your options, just living a little. you can go to the next party with sasha and i, i promise we won't mind."

“hitch i want her to go to a party too but i don’t know about her getting with anyone.” sasha swirled the stick inside her latte to mix it up before sucking the liquid off the end.

now it had been a few months since you had seen eren, a few months since you began to heal yourself slowly compared to those first couple weeks. you had to really thank hitch and sasha for being there most of the way for you, and you had to especially thank netflix and sleep for being two of your greatest distractions.

you never officially broke up with eren, sure you saw him in the hallways (and you were certain he saw you as well) you had a couple lectures with him where the two of you would sneak glances at each other; which kind of reminded you of when the two of you first began liking the other. he never made an effort to speak to you after the first couple weeks when he would text your phone constantly, as much as it seemed like he wanted to still.

"i don't know hitch. i haven't even got rid of his stuff yet. they're still sitting in that stupid box in the corner of me and sasha's dorm." sasha nodded in confirmation taking a bite of her biscuit.

"but i don't think that box should stop you from getting out the house again. you haven't really been anywhere besides maybe target with sasha. plus i miss seeing you!"

you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle. "you see me at least three times, especially when... you know, you came like everyday at first."

hitch shrugged her shoulders and then took another sip of her drink. "but do you think i can start seeing you more is the question? c'mon this is the first step towards a new life without that bastard."

you pondered on the thought before a small sigh escaped your lips, and you slowly nodded your head.

"really?" hitch exclaimed, her hands reaching across the table to grab yours. "you mean you won't mind coming to the party this saturday?"

you narrowed your eyes at hitch. "this was your plan wasn't it?"

"yes, yes it was. but there's no backing out now."

"yes, hitch, i'll come to the party this saturday." you decided that maybe this would help your healing heart in the least and you would try to push aside the boy that broke it for the couple hours just to spend time with your friends. but you couldn't help and wonder, "what if i bump into him at the party? or he tries to talk to me?"

sasha looked at hitch and hitch looked back before both turning their eyes to you. "we can be with you the whole time if that's the case."

"i wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

"babe, hanging out with you is one of the points of bringing you, ____." sasha smiled.

you internally twitched at the mention of the nickname ‘babe’ but neither one of your friends seemed to tell. you were getting better with reacting to things that reminded you of him, and you didn’t hysterically start crying at the slightest mention or object that related to him.

"we got you, okay?"

you frowned slightly but gave sasha a smile back and squeezed hitch's hand in the slightest. "yeah, okay."

this was the beginning of a new life for you, you wouldn’t spend your days sulking after him anymore. cheers to you and your first big step forward.

[tommysparker]

Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :) 

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks. 

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.  

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving. 

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that. 

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst. 

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed. 

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it. 

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.” 

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.” 

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.” 

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made. 

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka. 

You left without sparing a glance back. 

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward. 

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.” 

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.” 

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?” 

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.” 

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently. 

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.” 

“Like what?” 

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts. 

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth. 

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is. 

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted. 

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?” 

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.” 

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests. 

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Crystal.” 

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much. 

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily. 

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…” 

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?” 

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest. 

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?” 

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.” 

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves. 

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.” 

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.” 

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?” 

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically. 

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted. 

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.” 

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.” 

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.” 

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.” 

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back. 

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt. 

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state. 

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you. 

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.” 

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.” 

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.” 

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.” 

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal. 

Peace. 

Like this moment. 

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. 

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go. 

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long. 

“Hey! We’re here.”  

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reblog and comment what will happen on the mission  👀👀

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[glitchnovax]

From Smirks to Chains

• Genre: Smut/nsfw (Mafia! Dazai x Reader)

• Word count: 2K

• Trigger Warnings: bondage, slight voyeurism

Ok so this my first proper fic so don’t judge me too harshly-

Might open requests if enough people actually like my fics/if I actually feel like writing more

You didn’t mean to end up like this. To have your hand in his hair, limbs a mess, lying there dunk off him. But who could blame you? Who could possibly blame you for surrendering to the bandaged Port Mafia executive?

It wasn’t unusual to be tempted during work, but this time Dazai simply couldn’t wait til the two of you were alone. Dazai smirked at you, his half-lidded eyes darkening as he imagined every little thing he planned to do to you to make you scream his name.

But that would be for later, right now he needed to break you down, and right in the middle of a port mafia meeting no less. At the back of the room, you tried to focus on what Mori was saying but you just couldn’t ignore the way he gazed at you. He refused to draw his attention back to the meeting, “I just can’t hold back anymore darling” his breath was hot against your ear sending ripples down your back. Your breath hitches and you freeze. You knew exactly what that meant. His smirk grew as he leaned back, fingers gliding up your inner thigh, under your skirt. He knew the risk of getting caught but his thoughts were too clouded with lust to care. “Dazai.. please not now- aH” your hand flinches over your mouth, face heating up as you feel his fingers stroke against your underwear. A few mafioso turn their heads toward you but quickly glance away once they realise what caused your squeal of pleasure.

“Something wrong my love?” Dazai’s voice was low and dripping with ego. Bastard. You bite your lip hard to conceal a moan, worried that if you even open your mouth to answer you’d alert the whole of Yokohama as to what Dazai was doing to you. Burying your flushed face in his neck, he hits the perfect spot making you wince “mmh, Dazai- AH! please.. stop-“ Subconsciously grabbing at his suit, you glance up at him as he pulls you onto his lap, his eyes were filled with desire and he was still wearing his signature smirk “Not until I’ve gotten exactly what I want”. He groaned as you tugged at his tie, only subtly grinding into you, but still enough for you to crave more. “Dazai, I want to leave…I want you” Twisting your waist to face him, you got goosebumps purely from seeing the lust in his eyes. You pull on his tie drawing his head closer as you locked your lips with his, kissing him over and over, rougher, deeper, biting his lower lip as he tried to pull back for air. It was his turn to let out a moan “Level E, you know where” that alone sent a shiver down your spine “I’ll only be a few minutes behind you, love” he continued, giving your underwear a final rub before his fingers left your body regretfully.

Pushing yourself up with the back of his chair, you suddenly became aware of just where exactly you were. Your mind had been too fixated on him that you’d completely forgotten about the fact that you were in the middle of a meeting. Your legs shook, still weak from what had just happened. You didn’t look back but as you slipped out of the room you were sure Dazai was smirking in that way he always did, that stupid smug smirk that could make you melt simply by glancing at it.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Dazai slammed you against the wall of the port mafia torture chamber and you hear the chains clink around your wrist as he turns your neck black and blue. He lifts his dazed head back up to your eyes. You moan into his lips as he slips his tongue in, kissing you rougher only to pant heavily as he pulls away “out of breath already, Dazai?” you smirk. Big mistake. He presses you harder against the bricks, lips travelling down your collarbone “Darling we’re only just getting started” he groans, voice seeping with lust.

Dazai’s right hand becomes tangled in your hair while his left snakes down your waist, making you shiver. He unzips the back of your skirt before gliding his fingers round your hips and down to your underwear “D-Dazai.. please” you moan, already weak as he rubs up and down your clit “hmm you provoked me, now I get to tease you, this is my revenge” you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest as you arch your back, the chamber echoing with your moans. The chains clash against the cold bricks, marking your wrists as you tug at them, craving his touch, and longing to be closer “now now my love, don’t go breaking those chains in excitement. So desperate. Only I get to decide what happens to you and when” Dazai tosses his coat to the blood stained stones.

Kissing your waist the entire time, he loosens his tie and undoes only two buttons on his shirt, taunting you, drawing you in more “Dazai…mm-“ his lips are back on yours and his fingers fall to just above where you want “if you really want me, you’re going to have to beg, show me what you want” he lowers the chains so you’re almost straddling him, but doesn’t let you free. As your legs wrap around him, you feel something twitch against your inner thigh. As you try to pull yourself closer, he pulls away “what did I just say? Beg.” His fingers toy with your hair as he slowly grinds against you, never fully allowing you to get close enough “Dazai, please, you’re the only one I want, I want you, I need you, please-“ your breath hitches as the chains fall to the floor, and you in turn fall into Dazai’s lap, fully straddling him, hissing as the feeling of his hardening cock between your legs “see? that wasn’t so hard was it love?” His hips grind up into you as his pants tighten even more finally allowing him to hit right where you need it.

You unbutton his shirt, moaning and panting down his chest as you pressed your forehead against the crook of his neck as he quickened his pace. Your hips unintentionally buck as he thrusts deeper and deeper, longing to get rid of the rest of your clothing “quite vocal today aren’t we darling?” He breathed, trying his best to keep himself together. The combination of his perfect thrusts and dirty talk he knew you couldn’t resist, made the knot below your stomach twist and turn. He pulls your waist in closer and you wrap your arms with bruised wrists around his neck, the pleasure and pure dirty adrenaline overriding the pain. The marks on your neck and chest were another story, those would tell every mafioso that you were his, and his alone. And if that didn’t work, well he’d have to show it up front, to their faces.

Dazai’s pace slowed as one hand brushed up your leg to the knife holster around your thigh, a secret only he knew about. The dim light danced along the blade as it slid up your outer thigh “Dazai ah- what...what are you-“ you were out of breath and delirious from pleasure as you felt the knife slash through the last bit of fabric you were wearing “there, now we have one less issue” the knife clinked against the ground as you look up to see Dazai looking a mess and yet, still beautiful as ever. It was only you that could do that to him, only you that could bring him to such a vulnerable point. He smirked despite his breathlessness “my my, look how drenched my dress pants are, what have you done?” Ignoring his pride, you hastily pull against his belt buckle, your thrusts quickening “how desperate you are…” he snickers before inhaling sharply himself as he felt you tighten around him “You’re not doing too well yourself love” You panted, wincing as you adjusted to his size.

His eyes were as dark as the locks of hair fell over his face, sweat already dripping down his neck. As he began biting down your neck, your left hand clawed as his back while your right slid up his toned core, pressing down on his chest. Dazai leaned back slowly as you pinned him down, letting you watch as his chest rose and fell shakily, flinching at every slight movement of your hips. His eyes never left yours as your bodies almost fall to the floor in desperation, your lips finding their way to his bare neck, longing to add your own marks “Ready, love?” His voice makes you melt, feeling of the groans in his chest “Only if you think you can take me” Fuck, just listening to your voice combined with the view of you on top of him could bring him to his limit right then and there, however he wouldn’t be so quick to give in.

He thrust hard, exactly where you wanted, over and over til you saw stars. His fingers danced their way down your waist, every stroke making your shiver, until he pulled you forwards as his hands grabbed at your ass, making you moan and whimper even louder. As you moved to his rhythm, one hand gripped his side while the other wandered across the chamber floor stones until your fingertips brush against a steel chain that had long been discarded, only to feel Dazai’s hand top yours. He thrusted deeper as he yanked the chain away “did you honestly think you could get the upper hand on me simply because you’re on top? I’m fucking you, I’ll ensure you remember that” He managed to gasp out between moans, surprisingly keeping his composure despite the state he was in “I- FUCK-“ you winced as his hips jerked you forward, you knew you couldn’t keep this up much longer. He tossed the chain over the back of your neck and before your delirious mind could register his movements, you found the metal clasped around your throat, not tight enough to choke you, but enough for him to pull you forward at his will.

“Fuck, fuck, Dazai I’m almost- Ah-“ you were both panting heavily, his moans and yours laced together with the chain clinking in your ear “Mmm you’ve been so good to me today darling- HH- just- a little longer- AH-“ He tugged on the chain while you tugged on his hair, each of his thrusts grazing that sweet spot, making you drag him in further, feeling you’re bodies slap against one another recklessly “Fuck, Dazai…I’m so close.. please-“ God, he loved to hear you whine, it made him feel so good knowing that he was the only one that could make you moan like that, that his name was the only one you’d scream like that, that he was the only one that dragged out your desperation like that “mmm I know doll, just look how fucking wet you are… because of me” He finds that perfect sweet spot thrusting up into you, panting as he watched the shocks of pleasure run all through your body. Fuck he was so good. It would only take a few more perfect, rough jolts of his hips and you’d be done for, but it all came crashing down in a matter of seconds as you felt his fingers brush against your waist, making their way down your inner thigh, hovering dangerously close. He stroked your clit exactly the way he knew you liked it “fuck, Dazai-“ you let out a loud squeak, arching your back violently.

Through glazed eyes you could see his jaw clenched, abs contracting as he fucked you mercilessly. The second his gaze met yours, you hit your limit throwing your head back only to feel the chain clash against your glistening core. Dazai continues to fuck you through your orgasm as your legs shake around him, until he himself caves.

He whimpers slightly as you collapse into his chest, arms wrapped under his and both your legs and his intertwined. Breath still heavy, he runs his still slightly shaky fingers through your hair, gliding down to the chain still lazily draped around your neck. He pulled it aside as it fell to the ground. “Fuck…” he breathed as you pulled yourself off him, only to fall at his side. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you rest your head against his chest, listening in silence as his heartbeat begins to slow “How are we going to explain this mess to Mori?” Your sparkling eyes gazed up at him concerned. He chuckled “The way you worry is adorable, my love” he floats his void-black coat over the two of you like a blanket “We’ll figure that out later, for now, there is no Mori, there is no mafia, there is only us” And in that moment, that was truly how it felt. You catch a glimpse of that signature smirk as you lightly press your body into his.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

[seriouslysnape]

Since you’re down with writing for him, can you do a Lucius fic where the reader stands up to ole Voldy and rips him to shreds with her words for his treatment of her love (Lucius), and takes everyone by surprise because she’s usually just an observer of things? Lucius internally freaks of course because he thinks Voldy will kill her or something, but he’s actually as stunned as everyone and even impressed that she has so much nerve and such a “talent” with her words. Then once they’re alone, Lucius dwells on about how recklace that was and how he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if anything ever happened to her, especially if he was the reason. But once she gets him calmed down, he just gushes over her for being so brave, strong, loving, and protecting of him.

Sorry if this is quite long!

Not a problem at all! Thanks for requesting! :) 

__

Words of Fire

Lucius Malfoy x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Sexual implications

Word Count: 2,117

“Nothing happened. I knew he wasn’t going to do anything.”

__

You fought the urge to let out a heavy sigh as you sat at the Death Eaters’ table. It was yet again another meeting with another round of Voldemort talking and no one else being able to get a word in. You rarely ever spoke at these meetings, only listening and soaking in every word that was said. Lucius was seated on your immediate left, refusing to look away from Lord Voldemort even for a split moment. Lucius’ hand was resting on your leg, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

Truthfully, you weren’t really sure what Voldemort was talking about. Your mind was everywhere but this current meeting. You glanced down at the strong hand that was on your thigh. You let your fingertips trace over his knuckles, feeling the cold metal of the rings on his fingers. He held back the urge to smirk at the feeling of your touching his skin. Your mind wandered to the night before, chills spreading over your body.

You had been up late the night before with Lucius, laid up together in his ridiculously massive bed and his bedroom that was bigger than your first house put together. He had been rather touchy throughout the day, so it wasn’t a shocker that he kept you up late with rough kisses and lots of lovemaking.

It was an intoxicating feeling, really. Lucius was very refined and well put together, never a stitch out of place. It wasn’t a surprise that he was experienced, and knew his way around a woman. You found yourself craving his touch, wishing for him at all moments of the day.

Your dirty thoughts were interrupted when Lucius subconsciously gripped your leg. You found your attention back to the meeting at hand. Voldemort was staring a hole through Lucius, which was never something you wanted to see.

“It seems that Lucius’ failure caused everyone at this table some form of distress.” Voldemort hissed, however his expression remained unchanged.

Lucius didn’t have much of a visible response to that. He was used to Voldemort often chiding him and tearing into him, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating. Lucius was very loyal to Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but lately he had failed to come through to Voldemort’s orders.

Lucius was distracted. Suddenly, there was more to his life than wealth and following Voldemort’s power. He had his heart in another place. However, whenever he messed up, Voldemort was always the first to hear about it.

“I assure you, my Lord, that it won’t happen again.” Lucius spoke, calmly and collected.

Voldemort looked doubtful at that. His cold eyes shifting to you for a moment before flickering back. He knew something was getting in the way of Lucius’ duties, and he had a pretty good idea that it was you.

“I would surely hope not,” Voldemort went on; “You would think that a pure-blood would be much more efficient.”

You felt your blood run cold. You hated the way Voldemort spoke to Lucius. Well, you hated the way Voldemort spoke to everyone, but especially Lucius.

“What is your problem?” You sneered loudly at the sunken man.

Lucius’ gray colored eyes snapped to you. They were full of desperation and fear. As a matter of fact, every pair of eyes at the long, dark table were looking at you. You were much more of a listener than a talker, and sometimes not even that. The fact that you were speaking up now (and with such feistiness) was stunning.

“[Y/N], do not-” Lucius began to warn under his breath, but you cut him off.

“I mean, seriously! Do you have nothing better to do than to nag like a prick for an hour and a half?” You questioned with a sharpness to your tone.

Lucius’ pale face had lost even more color. He was sure he’d be mistaken for a ghost to an outsider. He was fully panicking. He knew that you knew better than to smart off to Lord Voldemort, arguably one of the most powerful wizards in the world. With a wave of a wand and a simple mutter of “avada kedavra” would finish you off right then and there.

Bellatrix was watching with a face full of entertainment. She had always liked you, and was thrilled to see you standing up for Lucius like this.

Voldemort was watching rather stoically, but if Lucius hadn’t been totally about to lose his marbles, he would’ve noticed the hint of amusement in his eyes. Lucius could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, the silence in between your pauses was thick. He was trying to calm himself down. While what you were doing was unthinkable, you hadn’t yet said something that was completely impossible to come back from. Or, at least, not yet anyway.

“And aren’t you a half-blood anyway? How do you have any say over what a pure blood is supposed to be like?” You barked.

Lucius felt like throwing up. That was the final hit. He was preparing himself for the worst possible outcome. Maybe Voldemort wouldn’t use a death spell. Perhaps Nagini would make a snack out of you. A slow, painful death that was almost worse than anything else. Lucius, as frightened as he was, looked back to Voldemort with anticipation, begging Voldemort in his head not to kill you.

Lucius was sure he was hallucinating, or maybe he had witnessed your death and was having some sort of weird vision. But everyone else’s reactions were unmistakably real.

Lord Voldemort, the darkest of all wizards, began to laugh.

It wasn’t a laugh that read oh-you-should-not-have-done-that sort of sound. It was more of a shocked, impressed sort of laugh. The rest of the table began to nervously laugh in response, but eventually fell into side cramping laughter. Even you cracked a smile, not at all afraid of what was going to happen next. If you went out defending Lucius, then so be it. Lucius was too confused to laugh, or do anything for that matter.

Voldemort’s laughs did dwindle out into chuckles in between speaking, but even then he had a hard time piecing together sentences.

“Well, I have never seen such a fire come out of you.” Voldemort said to you.

Lucius dug his nails into his leg, not really sure if that was a good reaction or not.

“Really now, [Y/N], I do wish you would speak up more often at these congregations,” He said, rather galvanized by your choice of wording; “I must say, you have quite a raw talent for threats and messages.”

You fought the urge to beam at that. You had always been told that you had a way with words. Lucius felt the nausea pass, but he was shocked silent. You were the only person on the planet who could have gotten away with what you just did. As if that wasn’t groundbreaking enough, you were also the only person to draw an apology of sorts out of the Dark Lord’s mouth.

“Perhaps, I judged you unfairly, Lucius. However, I do expect you to fulfill your assignments next time.” Voldemort chuckled, looking at Lucius.

Lucius only nodded, still too in shambles to say anything more. Lucius finished out the rest of the meeting in a daze, though he noted you seemed to have actually enjoyed the remainder of the time. Lucius had it on repeat in his head. A million wonders and what ifs flying by him like a runaway train. That could have ended much more differently, and the fact that you weren’t even phased was bugging him.

He didn’t say much, which you noted as odd. Once you were alone in the Malfoy Manor, you spoke to him gently.

“Lucius, my love, what is it?” You asked, placing your hands on his shoulders from behind.

There was a roaring, warm fire in his spacious bedroom, heating the room in a wonderful way. He was far from comfortable though.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Surely not the fact that you fired off to the Dark Lord.” He growled, rubbing his forehead stressfully.

You had a feeling that this was about what happened at the meeting. You didn’t say anything, prompting him to go on. He stood from where he was sitting in his living area, removing himself from your touch and standing in front of you behind the sofa.

“You must be out of your mind. Do you understand how reckless that was?” He asked, grabbing the sides of your arms.

Anyone else would’ve read Lucius' expression as angry, but you knew it wasn’t that. His eyes told a different story than the rest of his face.

He was scared.

“Nothing happened. I knew he wasn’t going to do anything.” You told him, trying to comfort him.

His eyes were wide and his lower lip had a faint quiver to it. He put his cold hands to your face, almost as if he were trying to convince himself that you were really there.

“Did you know? [Y/N], do you not understand how badly that could’ve turned out if he hadn’t found it so funny?” He questioned seriously.

You shrugged, not looking away from his gaze.

“But he did.” You answered simply.

He felt like he was arguing with a wall. You had always been a tad riskier than he was. You often played your cards without looking to see what kind of hand you had. He’d put it this way: it had shaved some years off of his life more than once. He thought about the life he had led with you thus far. You had only been together a couple of years, but it had felt like a lifetime. He couldn’t imagine his days without you. Draco had grown fond of you, despite his grudges in the beginning.

If you had been hurt or killed...it would’ve left holes in more than just Lucius’ life.

“You can be so careless with yourself. I hate it,” He admitted, his voice raising a bit; “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you weren’t around anymore. I couldn’t live knowing you were gone on my behalf.”

You felt guilty for putting him through this. You hadn’t thought that this would affect him this way. You took his hands from your face, leading him back to the couch to sit him down.

“I’m fine, Luc. I’m right here in front of you,” You assured him; “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He sighed heavily. He had become rather...soft after meeting you. He felt more now. His voice was gentler now, but deeper.

“I know, I know, my darling. I just don’t ever want to see anything happen to you, especially because of me.” He confessed.

You nodded, caressing his cheek with your warm hard.

“You are, without a doubt, the bravest person I know. I don’t know of anyone who would stand up to Lord Voldemort that way.” He proclaimed.

You grinned cheekily. He went on before you could say anything else.

“Oh, I do adore you. You’ve always been so loving and protective over me,” He added; “You are one charming woman.”

A heat crept over your cheeks, you laughed bashfully.

“I also have a ‘talent’ for words apparently.” You reminded him.

Lucius cracked a smile as well.

“That you do, my dear. You are very quick that way.” He praised.

You hummed playfully, raising your brows a hair.

“And what else?” You prodded him on.

His smile turned into more of a devious smirk. He slowly inched towards you on the sofa.

“Intelligent, talented, beautiful,” He listed off, pushing you down onto the cushions of the couch, making you squirm with eagerness; “Sexy...”

He kissed you with such fervor that it almost made you dizzy. His lips were hotter than the raging fire in the fireplace, his lips leaving a trail down your stomach before he made it to your hips. Pushing the skirt of your dress up, before breathing out at the sight of there not being anything underneath.

“Someone was expecting to be rewarded, yes?” He razzed, kissing at the skin of your inner thighs; “Ask and you shall receive.”

You breathed out a whine, a hand above your head and one in his hair.

“Please, Lucius. I want your mouth on me.” You pleaded.

He usually would drag this out, making you beg for him until you were almost in tears. But he wanted to pleasure you, to hear your sounds as another reminder that you were there with him. He left a kiss on your heated sex, purring before pleasuring you mercilessly.

“Anything for you, my star.”

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

the last of my thoughts on the homecoming au, the au where maedhros and maglor are taken back to tirion at the end of the war of wrath and proceed to be relentlessly abused by elves more interested in them being ‘normal’ than happy. it’s pretty much exactly as dark as you’d expect from that description, lots of medical/caretaker abuse towards the mentally ill, just a horrible situation in general. one last time, @sunflowersupremes wrote the original au this is an extrapolation from, and @outofangband listened to me blather on about this for ages and contributed lots of ideas of their own. part 1 is here, part 2 is here. this the last part, it isn’t quite as intense as part 2, but it’s a lot more hopeless. also there’s some off-screen torture

on the first post i made about this au, i got some comments to the effect of ‘oh this will only last until person x bails them out’

there were several suggestions - fingon, nerdanel, any of the ainur. it seems like there are a lot of people who’d want to get maedhros and maglor out of this nightmare

seems. these aren’t necessarily my usual interpretations of their characters, but for the purposes of this au i can easily imagine a finrod who already bore a grudge over the whole letting-their-younger-brothers-steal-his-kingdom incident and subsequently heard the version of the nirnaeth where the fëanorians left everyone else to die. he is the only other person in the palace who knew beleriand, and he loathes them so viciously he can barely stand to look at them. they’re lucky he doesn’t do worse

i can easily imagine a nerdanel who was already having trouble processing what her husband and sons did at alqualondë when eärendil and elwing told her every awful thing they’d done since in the span of half an hour. she smashed all their statues, burned all their gifts, and curled up sobbing in a ruined house, wondering why she was such a terrible mother her children grew into demons

and this isn’t long after that, that wound is still fresh. whatever vain hopes she held that the boys she loved were somewhere in there are shattered when she sees them, and they’re talking and laughing just like they did when they were young

like nothing had happened. like nothing had changed. like the monsters had always been waiting patiently for their chance to strike

(they just didn’t want her to see the things they’d become)

i can easily imagine a fingon who is blazingly furious with maedhros over the later kinslayings. he spends most of their only meeting railing at maedhros, and the apologia his caretakers offer up only makes him angrier

so does the fact that maedhros won’t defend himself, won’t even raise his voice. does none of this matter to him? did it ever?

(it does. but maedhros knows what will happen if he yells at his cousin, and he is just so exhausted)

fingon is eventually asked to leave. maedhros’ minders tell him that if he can’t keep his temper around their patient, they’re going to have to cut off contact until maedhros is in a better mental state. fingon snaps that that’s just fine by him, and storms off into the city, trying to hold back his tears

the ainur, now, the ainur would definitely drag them out of the palace and haul them up to the máhanaxar. finarfin’s managed to get as much out of eönwë

what would happen to them after that, eönwë refuses to say. finarfin suspects he doesn’t know, and none of the valar will until they’ve had a chance to actually, like, hold a trial

even so, it becomes pretty obvious to finarfin fairly early on that the noldor simply can’t give the brothers the help they need. it’s plain to see that they’re very unhappy and they’re recovering slowly if at all. whatever the valar decide to do with them, odds are good they’d end up in some permutation of elf afterlife therapy, with well-practiced carers and the family they’ve lost. for their sake, and the sake of the people around them, handing them over to the valar would clearly be the best option

except finarfin doesn’t. he keeps his nephews in his palace, where they break things and make messes and generally give their caretakers constant headaches. when asked why, he always talks about the soul-deep terror on maglor’s face when he asked him not to give them to the valar

he’s not lying about that. but he does have other motives

there’s lots of suppositions in finarfin’s reasoning. there’s every chance the valar would throw them into the deepest depths of mandos until the second music. there’s every chance maedhros would choose to disappear into the woods and never trouble court again

but if the valar do decide to send them to lórien with no limits on their movement, and if maedhros does still harbour nelyafinwë’s political ambitions...

the closest finarfin has gotten to admitting it, even to himself, is saying that the noldor have enough problems right now, they don’t need a succession crisis on top of everything else. sometimes he’ll joke about not wanting maedhros to set up another functionally autonomous military government out in the wilderness

but it’s hard to deny that a maedhros, free to act, with his head screwed on straight, could potentially be the single biggest threat to finarfin’s crown

not that he doesn’t want his nephews to get better! it’s heartrending to see the pain they’re in, he sincerely wants to see them happy

he’d just prefer them to be happy in a way that's... convenient

maedhros and maglor’s contact with the outside world is kept to a strict minimum and heavily monitored when it does happen. they’re only allowed to visit the public parts of the palace when their caretakers know exactly who’s going to be there and if they can be trusted to not make a fuss about the brothers’ presence

it’s all in the interest of keeping the peace, you understand. maedhros’ followers are difficult to handle at the best of times, if they somehow got it into their heads that the last of their lords were being held captive in the palace...

well, finarfin says over tea. maitimo can see the wisdom in not provoking a civil war, can he not?

(he will not bring death to the blessed realm again. not even if his last baby brother is rotting away to a shell, not even if he’s being smothered to death from the inside out. he will not, he must not)

(if he did, there would truly be nothing left but the monster)

and then, one day, maglor gets the chance to escape

his minders aren’t paying much attention to him, he’s been a lot quieter since they put the gag on him. he’s small and fast and good at sneaking around, by the time they notice he’s missing he’s already found a way out of the palace

he jumps out of a third-floor window, bites down the pain, and runs. he clears the grounds and disappears into the city

he makes for - he doesn’t know where. subconsciously, he navigates towards the craft guild districts, where his family’s staunchest supporters always were

except the city’s changed a lot since he was last loose in it, and before he knows it, he’s completely lost. he wanders the streets half in a daze, his raw nerves unused to the bustle and noise of it all. wherever he goes, people stop and start and turn away

finally someone calls him over. ‘hey, you want that collar off your neck?’

it’s a smith of some sort, he can tell that much. they’re smiling, welcomingly and without pity. he’s rushing over to them, nodding his head, before he can even think about

the trouble is, maglor doesn’t remember the faces of most of the people he saw in beleriand, but they all remember him

the trouble is, this smith was at sirion

back in the palace, who gets access to the brothers is very strictly controlled. which isn’t to say that nobody tries to hurt them; finrod tends to put the worst spin on things when he’s asked for advice, there’s all kinds of minor acts of sabotage, and they come across innocuous-seeming harmful objects more often than mere chance would seem to allow

but even their caretakers can tell that letting desperate revenge-seekers get near the brothers wouldn’t be particularly conducive to whatever recovery they’re hoping for. anyone who might randomly come across maedhros or maglor in a hallway is intensely vetted for ulterior motives, and while this process isn’t airtight it does filter out the most obviously malicious

and outside of that bubble, none of that applies. the smith does take maglor’s gag off, purely to hear him scream

soon enough, the palace guard tracks him down. they take him back to the palace, where he’s bandaged up and comforted and then, as a special treat, allowed to see his brother

(they’re kept apart more often than not these days. being around maglor makes maedhros agitated, being around maedhros makes maglor sullen. they’re just more cooperative when they’re alone)

maglor does the same thing he’s done every time he’s seen his brother for the past year, which is immediately bury his face in maedhros’ chest and shudder. it takes him a moment to remember he can speak now

‘we’re trapped’ he whispers. ‘we’re trapped’

because he was screaming for what felt like hours, and nobody came to help. as he was being carried back to the palace, he saw the scorn and the disgust in the passers-by’s eyes

there’s nobody who will shelter them outside the palace. there’s nowhere on this continent they can go

and that - that’s the end, in a way. maedhros remains stubborn and ill-tempered, never quite letting them forget he doesn’t want to be here and doesn’t like what they’re doing, but the fight goes out of him. he does what they tell him just as biddably as he did before they took his brother’s voice

maglor, surprisingly, takes a turn for the better. he starts acting cheerful again, doing everything that’s asked of him with a smile and a wink. he’s making excellent progress, his minders tell finarfin

(they don’t tell him what maglor looks like when the mask starts to crack)

finarfin is very pleased to hear that one of his nephews is finally starting to recover! it’s been a long, painful journey, but it looks like it’s all at long last working out

to celebrate, he decides to give maglor a gift he’s been holding onto for a while

he calls maglor into his office. the tension in his posture is a bit worrying, but his expression is all makalaurë, a casual, mildly disrespectful grin. he swans into the room, flounces into a chair, and asks what his uncle wants

finarfin praises him for all the progress he’s been making, and hands him a letter

it’s from elros

the first line is ‘how are you doing, you old bastard?’ it calls him a kinslayer six different ways in the first three paragraphs. it asks him how many people he’s stabbed since he got back. it closes off by wishing him some fun loud arguments with maedhros

finarfin was a little concerned maglor still not might be in the right emotional state for it, but the tightness bleeds out of his nephew’s frame as he reads. a couple of times he even bursts into snickering that sounds more genuine than any sound he makes in court

he finishes reading with a truly relaxed smile on his face. then he freezes, and looks up at finarfin

in a tiny, quiet voice, so unlike the way he talks nowadays, he asks, ‘may i write a reply?’

finarfin hates to take the wind out of his sails, but maglor deserves to know. ‘that letter is centuries old. i’ve been holding onto it until you were ready to read it.’ he shuts his eyes. ‘i’m afraid elros passed some time ago’

maglor’s head drops. the letter in his hands begins to shake. little whimpers escape his trembling body. finarfin walks over, places a hand on his shoulder. ‘i’m sorry, we -’

that’s not whimpering, finarfin realises. those are growls. his nephew’s head snaps up, face twisted with rage

maglor tries to tear finarfin’s face off -

and that’s all i have. these headcanons have been exhausting to write, i’ll clean them up and put them on ao3 in a bit, but not now, if for no other reason than it’s 3am. again. i hope these weren’t too incoherent. going to try to unbanjax my sleep schedule now