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itsbeeble · 8 months

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I Think He Knows

SUMMARY: You've been in love with Joshua for as long as you can remember, yet you've never been able to tell him. Fortunately or unfortunately, you're pretty sure that he already knows.

GENRE: smut, fluff

PAIRING: Joshua Hong x afab!reader

WC: 4.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie

SERIES TAGLIST: @captain-brie @nobraincellmode @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan

18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: uhhh, best friends to lovers, Hoshi being a snitch, p in v sex, brief oral (fem receiving), ddry humping, a bit of spanking, brat tamer!Joshua, brat!reader, tiny bit of angst if you really really squint, consent is IMPORTANT, tiny bit of alcohol, horrible flirting, multiple orgasms, idk this isn't my best work. It's also not edited so uh....good luck lol.

A/N: heyyyyyy 🥰. I'm not dead clearly, but my god has it been a minute. part of me is wondering if this series will ever be done but i'm doing my best. school sucks, work sucks, life is a bitch, and I burnt myself out. Anyway, thank you to Brie and Ally for betaing, much love kiss kiss. ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYYY

Your heart pounds ferociously in your chest, butterflies tumbling through your stomach uncomfortably. You feel like a teenager again, sitting in front of Joshua who has a boyish grin on his face. One of his hands traces along the bottom of his champagne glass, the other resting on the table and playing with the cork of the expensive bottle. You wonder if he knows how he makes your head spin with just a little smile and a glass of champagne. The thought doesn’t linger for long, and you let your gaze lower back to the practically empty plate before you. A few roasted vegetables remain on the plate, and you pick at them with your fork to avoid looking at your friend.

Friends. That’s what you are. Nothing more, nothing less. As you always had been.

Friends that took each other out to expensive restaurants, bought expensive drinks and expensive meals. Friends that—

“Soonyoung told me something interesting today,” he leans forward, dipping his head down to try and catch your eye. You glance up at him, but the fluttering in your stomach returns and forces your eyes back down.

“Oh yeah?” You murmur, thanking god for the dim lighting around you.

“Mhm. He mentioned you, actually.”

Pause.

Kwon Soonyoung was the only person in the world who knew about your years-long crush on your best friend. If you could even call it a crush at this point. You’d admitted to yourself long ago that you were in love with him, admitted it to Soonyoung a few months back. You should’ve known better than to trust the mouthiest person in your friend group.

“Now I’m curious,” you lift your head again, steeling yourself against the onslaught of nausea at what your mutual friend could have said.

“He said,” Joshua shifts in his seat, running his tongue over his lower lip. “That you have feelings for me.”

Damn you Kwon Soonyoung.

You nod slowly, lowering your fork onto the ceramic plate in front of you. The pounding in your chest has returned, hitting so hard against your ribs that you fear your heart will pop out and land right on the table in front of Joshua.

“And…do you believe him?” You ask, failing to control the fear in your voice. Joshua smiles, and for a moment you let the fear wash away. Joshua Hong is the last person that you should feel afraid of. He was kind, he would never intentionally harm someone whether emotionally or physically, and he understood you better than most other people. You try to keep this in mind as you make eye contact.

“I would be lying if I said that I didn’t at least hope he was telling the truth.” Joshua sits up, lacing his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. A spark, and you find the corners of your lips lifting. “Otherwise, my plans for the evening are a bit…a bit ruined, I guess.”

“You had other plans?” The champagne burns against the back of your throat as you down the rest of your glass.

“Depends on how you respond to my question.” His eyes burn into yours and suddenly the table for two feels a lot smaller.

“What question is that?” I already know, and I know my answer.

“Are you,” Joshua slides his glass to the side, “in love with me.”

“Yes.” You respond without hesitation, ripping the band-aid off and shocking both of you. Never had you been this forward with Joshua. You were always somewhat reserved with…everything, really. Past relationships, struggling with a subject, a pet passing away. You never wanted to let Joshua in and it made his heart swell that you did now. “I’ve— I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

Joshua sucks in a sharp breath of air, leaning back in his seat and smiling thoughtfully.

“I answered your questions,” you drum your painted nails on the table. “Now you get to answer mine.”

“Ask away.” Joshua waves his hand.

“What sort of plans did you have for us?”

The question was innocent— at least to you it was— but as you watch Joshua’s eyes darken with lust, you realize that the implications…may not have been as innocent as you had believed. You think he knows where your mind has derailed to, knows what thoughts have begun to plague you.

Joshua tips back his glass of champagne, and you watch him carefully. You allow yourself to admire the way his neck cranes, the way his jaw is hit by the light. He drains the golden liquid in two long sips, wiping away the excess that rested on his lips with a delicate swipe of his thumb.

“We’ll get to that,” he emphasizes the word, watching you tilt your head down and bite at your lip. “I have some other things I’d like to do before anything else.”

He flags down your waiter, calmly asking for the bill. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, disturbed by how the mild flirting had already gotten you worked up, but wait patiently for Joshua. You wouldn’t deny the fact that you were eager to see what he had in store for the two of you, what he’d planned on such short notice.

“You ready?” He taps the table with one finger, already beginning to stand.

“As I’ll ever be.” Your lips twist into a smile as he helps to pull out your chair, grabbing your jacket before you even had a chance to reach for it. “Aren’t you just a gentleman?”

“You should know by now that all I’m doing is the bare minimum.” He scolds, and you don’t pretend you don’t notice his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips.

“Best friends don’t pull out chairs for each other.” It’s a joke, both of you know it. You’re fully aware that after tonight, neither of you will ever be best friends again. Whether he asks you to stay with him or not, at the end of the night nothing will be the same. This doesn’t, however, stop Joshua from scoffing and tugging you by the waist to come closer to him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest had his hands not been right there to catch you.

“I think you know,” his voice is a quiet rumble, “that we’re never going to be best friends again after this, Y/N. You’re mine now, and I don’t think I’ll ever let you go.”

You have to fight everything inside of you to not yank him down by that dark hair of his and kiss him in the middle of that crowded restaurant. Thankfully, it looks as if Joshua is fighting that same urge, one hand dropping down and the other sliding to the small of your back to guide you toward the door.

You’re mine now.

It’s a wonder that you make it to the car without jumping Joshua’s bones, but it seems you have more self-control than you’d given yourself credit for. The whole ride to…wherever it was that Joshua was taking you, you somehow managed to keep your hands in your lap, rubbing at your palm with your thumb. From the corner of your eye, you can see Joshua. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the center console. He glances at you periodically, scanning your side profile.

“You’ve gotten quiet,” Joshua comments, drumming his fingers while you wait at a stoplight. Your eyes flick to his, and you purse your lips. “Are you…did I make you uncomfortable at all? Do— do you want me to bring you home?”

“No,” you tell him quickly, shaking your head. “No. I want to stay with you.”

The response soothes him, and he lets his hand drift to your thigh. He lets it hover over your exposed skin, waiting for you to push him away before he finally lets it rest on you. His hand is warm, his touch sending sparks through your body. You swallow hard, leaning back against the seat and staring at the road in front of you. Would it be wrong to tell him you want him to touch you more? To bring his hands just a bit higher, to—

Joshua’s hand squeezes a bit, drawing you back to reality. The light is green now and your body jerks as he presses on the gas. He lets his hand drift a bit higher, grazing underneath the fabric of your dress before stopping. Heat begins to pool in the pit of your stomach and you contemplate grabbing his hand and putting it right where you need it if he doesn’t move faster.

“You’re a menace.” You click your tongue and Joshua looks at you with a mocking pout.

“I didn’t do anything!”

He’s right. Technically he hadn’t done anything. You, however, were on the verge of doing something very…inappropriate if he didn’t knock it off.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” You let your hand fall to his, tracing the back of it with your pointer finger, and watch the veins pop as he squeezes for the third time. You’re approaching a very familiar street with some very familiar houses. “Are we…are we going back to my place?”

Joshua smirks. “Small change of plans.”

The giddiness inside of you returns, your head spinning as you think of all the things he could (and likely would) do to you. Your fingers lace through his, your heel-clad foot tapping against the floor protector in his car as he pulls into your driveway. He puts the car into park but leaves the engine running. For a few moments, neither of you says anything. The air between you is thick with tension, tension that grows when he tugs you toward him.

“Tell me now if you don’t want this.” Joshua breathes out, his lips mere centimeters from your own. If you tilt your head just a bit, you’ll be able to kiss him— something you’ve craved since the day you met him. “Tell me now and I’ll walk you to your door and say goodnight.”

“And if I do want this?” Your eyebrow arches, a playful look in your eyes. “What then, Joshua Hong?”

His eyes flutter, exhaling heavily as he tries to keep his composure.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I think.”

When Joshua kisses you, it isn’t as rough as you’d imagined. No, he’s gentle with you. His kiss ignites a fire inside of you, the flames swirling through your veins and heating your body until you fear you’re burning up. He cradles your jaw in one large hand as if you were glass and you would shatter if he held you too roughly. His lips move softly against your own, parting the slightest bit to catch your lower lip with his teeth. It’s a delicate dance, almost playful, and you couldn’t have asked for anything more. Your head tilts, allowing you to kiss him deeper, and a quiet groan leaves him. You smile a bit into the kiss, Your hand sliding up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer to you. Both of you ignore the fact that your body is halfway across the center console, your thigh resting on the seat between his legs keeping you propped up when his hands become distracted by the curves in your hips

The two of you only stop when you feel like you can’t breathe, your chest tight with the lack of air.

“You taste good,” Joshua murmurs, his nose nudging yours as he gazes at you with heavy eyes.

“You think so?” Your lips press against his jaw, and he smiles tightly.

“Mhm.”

“You should turn off the car and take me inside so you can find out what else tastes good.”

That must have been the right thing to say, because Joshua’s eyes darken in an instant and then he’s shutting the engine off, slamming his car door shut, and walking quickly over to your side. When he opens your door, you don’t wait for him to outstretch his hand before you practically spring to your feet, grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him after you. He laughs as he stumbles along behind you, tugging his arm out of your grasp and squeezing at your waist over the fabric of your dress. Your hands are trembling, the heat in your stomach growing more intense by the minute.

“Struggling, pretty girl?”

His breath against your ear and his lips on your neck sends chills down your spine and you inhale sharply as his hand wraps around yours to help you guide the key into the lock. Your eyes are starting to flutter, your feet stumbling into the foyer of your home. Joshua presses you onward, one of his hands on the small of your back and the other flicking on the lights. You spin around to face him, your hands coming to his chest and curling around his tie to pull him down to kiss you again.

“At least let me get you upstairs,” he mumbles against your lips, grinning when you whine in protest.

“Can’t wait that long,” you deny, already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He grins, backing you through the doorway to your living room.

He stops your movements to spin you away from him. You face your window now, curtains drawn and the windows to your neighbor's house across the street staring right back at you. “All your neighbors will see us. Is that what you want?” He’s kissing down your neck, hands trailing to the back of your dress to undo the clasp.

“Let them see.” You hold your head high, hands clenching into fists as the fabric slides down your body and hits the ground with a soft thump, leaving your body completely bare except for a thin pair of lacey panties. “Let’s put on a show for them.”

“Interesting.” Joshua seems entirely unaffected by the statement, but the way he pulls you back against him to grind against the growing bulge in his pants is saying something entirely different. “Didn’t take you as someone to like being watched. I’ll have to explore that another time.”

You mean to respond, words forming at the tip of your tongue but never escaping your lips as Joshua pushes at your shoulder, slowly guiding you to the ground. Your knees fold beneath you, your eyes wide and filled with stars as he moves into your line of vision and then away from you. You watch as he lets the curtains fall and cover your windows, and then he turns back to face you and continues to unbutton his shirt, loosening his tie until it hangs loosely around his shoulders.

“What are you doing, Shua?” Your voice is weaker than you’d wanted it to be.

Joshua smiles coyly, leaning down until he’s at eye level with you. “I said that I would explore that at a later date, pretty girl. Not tonight. Tonight, you’re mine.”

“Yours?” Your hand rises to cup his cheek similarly to how he held yours just a few minutes ago.

“Mine.”

His knees hit the ground on either side of you, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay back. Your legs stretch out to make his position a bit more comfortable, your knees rubbing together in anxious anticipation for what’s to come.

You expect him to kiss you, your lips starting to pucker and your eyes fluttering shut as he lowers his face to yours once again, but nothing happens. Your eyes open to find him mere inches from you with that same smirk playing on his lips.

“What are you smirking at?” You ask him, but he doesn’t answer. He shifts further down your body, laying a soft kiss on your collarbone that has your breath hitching briefly. Another kiss, this one closer to where your heart lays pounding underneath your ribs. Your hand twitches, aching to run through his hair, but the second you move to act on this urge he’s pinning your hand to the ground and glowering at you.

“No touching.” Joshua commands, mouthing at the soft flesh of your breast. “Not until I’ve tasted every last inch of your skin.”

He slips further down your body, leaving trails of soft kisses in his wake. The only sound in the house is the soft pop as his lips leave your skin and the heaviness of your breathing.

When Joshua reaches the hem of your panties, he stops and trails his finger along it. The brush of his skin on yours is so subtle, yet you’re addicted to the feeling of it. So many nights you had cum to the thought of him tugging your panties down your legs, his eyes boring into yours as he lowers his mouth to your glistening cunt, imagining how it would feel to have him licking and sucking nipping at your folds. So many nights, and yet nothing comes even close to how it really feels.

The second he runs his tongue from your hole to your clit, your back is arching off the ground and a loud gasp is echoing throughout your home. Your hands fly to Joshua’s hair despite his prior instructions, but he doesn’t seem to care as he drags his tongue and teeth across you. Your legs try to squeeze around his head, attempt to trap him against you, but he doesn’t let you. His large hands pry your legs away from him, squeezing harshly at your thighs and pinning them to the ground on either side of you.

He mumbles into your cunt with loud and drawn out sounds that reverberate through your body and have your legs jerking with pleasure.

“Shua,” you gasp out, your eyes rolling as he sucks particularly hard at your clit. “Shua, fuck.”

A loud smack rings out, and your thigh begins to sting. Your eyes widen, your head lifting off the ground at the same time that Joshua’s pulls away from you, his mouth dripping with your arousal.

“What the fuck—”

Another smack to the side of your thigh, and you yelp. Joshua raises an eyebrow.

“Want me to keep going?” You can’t tell if he’s insane or not. You can’t tell if you want to smack him or beg him for more. You don’t get the chance to retort before he’s smacking your thigh again, harder this time. “That wasn’t rhetorical, pretty girl.”

Your teeth grind together, and one of your feet comes to his shoulder to shove him back. Maybe he lets you push him back. Maybe he wants you to fight back. Maybe he was waiting for it, because when you lean your body over him, he’s grinning maliciously at you.

“Who do you think you are, smacking me like that?” You hiss, and he pouts.

“Like what? Like this?” His hand comes down again, this time directly on your ass and sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

“Joshua Hong,” you snap, but there’s no real anger behind it as you begin to grind your lower body into his clothed cock. His hands come to rest on your waist, watching as you try to form words and pleasure yourself at the same time. “If you keep pulling shit—”

Smack

Your body shudders and an airy moan pushes out of your lips despite how you fight it. Joshua grins again.

“What were you saying, pretty girl? If I keep pulling shit…what? What are you going to do, baby?”

You can’t answer him, your hips rolling into his harder and faster as you approach your high.

“Oh, baby.” Joshua coos, his voice shockingly stable despite how you’re practically riding him over his pants, effectively ruining them with your juices. “You’re a little desperate, aren’t you?”

“Oh shut up,” you whine, folding forward until your mouth is right next to his ear. Your moans and whines are right in his ear now, intentional on your part, and his grip on your waist tightens. “Feels so good, Joshie.”

“Yeah?” He’s quieter now, a low growl in the back of his throat as he fights to keep his hips on the ground. Fights to let you have your little moment, your little bit of control over him. “How good, baby?”

“Gonna cum,” your lips find the skin beneath his ear, sucking a mark into his flesh as your hips begin to stutter. “F— god, Shua, please!”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” Joshua coos, a bit of pride welling in his chest at how fast you learned. “You can let go. Go ahead and cum for me, pretty girl.”

Almost as soon as he says those words, you’re letting out a loud, near pitiful moan and your body begins to shake over his. A wave of arousal soaks into his pants, seeping through and beginning to wet his boxers, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen is cumming for him, moaning his name and no one else’s.

Joshua can’t stop his hips from jerking into yours, pleasuring you even as your orgasm begins to ebb away. When he sits up, he cradles the back of your head in one hand, his eyes boring into yours in such a way that has you whining for him, clinging to his shoulders and turning away.

“So pretty when you cum,” Joshua murmurs, lifting the two of you up and giving you a second to wrap your arms and legs around him as he loops around your living room to the couch. “Gonna fuck you now, okay pretty girl?”

“Okay,” you nod, but your eyes aren’t focusing and neither is your mind. It feels like you’re on cloud 9, and Joshua hasn’t even taken his pants off yet.

He peers down at you, mild concern showing in his delicate features.

“Y/N,” his hands are caressing your sides gently, pulling you back down to focus on him. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you promise, smiling lightly at him. “I just…it’s hard for me to actually, like, believe that you want me how I want you.”

Joshua smiles. “And how, exactly, do you want me?”

“Wholly. I want everything. I want all your love, all of your problems, every doubt, and every moment— good or bad.” His eyes soften as you speak, and for the first time that night he’s the one that’s gone quiet. “I want you carnally, I want you to crave my touch and my taste as much as I crave yours. Every kiss, every intimate moment. I want them all.”

“And you’ll have them.” Joshua promises, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s a deep, lingering kiss. His lips part against your own, your tongues dancing together but not dominating each other. Your hands cup his neck, holding him close to you, and in that moment you don’t hear the clinking of his belt or the sound of his zipper sliding down.

“You promise?” You pull away from him, your lungs burning from the lack of air. Joshua smiles at you, and his lips press against your forehead.

“I think you know the answer to that, pretty girl.”

And you do.

He would never have to say it, you always know. Joshua Hong, in all the years you’d been best friends, had never once told you something if he didn’t 100% believe it, if he wasn’t absolutely sure that he would or could hold himself to it. He didn’t have to promise you, you could see it in the way he looked at you. Soft eyes, pretty smile, that little wrinkle in his nose. You knew the answer.

“I’m gonna start pushing in now,” Joshua murmurs, aligning his cock with your entrance, shuddering at the seemingly never ending flow of arousal. “Let me know if you need me to slow down or stop.”

“Okay,” you nod, draping your arms over his shoulders and forcing your body to relax.

He pushes in slowly, but the stretch of him filling every little crevice inside of your cunt stings and causes you to let out a whimper.

“I know,” he whispers, “just take it all, baby. Take it all for me like a good girl.”

Your body shudders at that, and you let your head fall back onto the cushion below you. Inch by painful inch, he slides into you until your body begins to convulse and try to force him out.

“Baby,” Joshua grinds out between gritted teeth, “You gotta stop clenching like that.”

“I— I can’t.” You moan out, your back arching off the couch. “Hurts so good, Shua.”

“That so?” Joshua grunts and shoves the last few inches into you, relishing in the pretty little wail that escapes you. “That’s another thing I’ll have to make note of, huh?”

He doesn’t give you much time to respond before he’s hauling your legs up and around his waist, one hand gripping the arm of the couch and the other planted beside your head. A silver chain dangles above you, glittering in the low lighting of the living room but capturing your attention just long enough to tell Joshua to start moving.

“Can’t,” he tells you breathlessly. “Fuck, clenching so tight I can’t move.”

“I don’t care.” You whine. “Just fuck me, please Shua, please, please, please fuck me—”

He cuts you off with a sharp thrust of his hips, shoving his dick just that tiny bit further into you that has you gasping as the air is punched out of your chest.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He groans as he slowly pulls back, his dick practically drenched in your arousal, and then thrusts sharply back in, sheathing entirely inside of you. You cry loudly, a tear slipping down your cheeks and your legs tightening around his waist. Joshua repeats the action again and again, drinking in the way your head lolls to the side, your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth.

Then he begins to fuck you, just as you asked. He thrusts into you with hard, deep strokes that have you wailing and thrashing against the couch cushion. Your body is convulsing beneath him, and he can only watch like a god watching his worshippers, as you beg for him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper as if he isn’t already going hard and fast and deep to a point beyond your fucked out mind’s comprehension. The couch shifts slightly on the ground, scraping against your hardwood floor, but the sound is drowned out by the combined volume of your cries and moans and whimpers along with his grunts and little moans.

“Close,” he grunts, his head dropping to your chest to bite and suck at one of your tits. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

You clench around him in response, your back arching off the cushion to get closer to his mouth, relishing in the pleasure he’s providing you. “S—so good, Shua. Fuckin’ me so good.”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead as he stares down at you. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over your best friend?”

Your body shudders in response, and suddenly your vision goes white. You can faintly hear your own voice, your own pleads and screams of Joshua’s name as he pounds into you, forcing your juices out of you and giving you no time to recover from your orgasm before he’s shifting his hips and driving his cock into a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. Your hand clamps down over your mouth to muffle the animalistic sounds that pour out of you, but Joshua rips your hand away, pinning it down on the couch.

“Don’t you dare muffle a single sound that comes out of you,” he hisses. “Not a single one.”

You don’t have the strength, will, or energy to respond to him. Not as his cock begins to twitch inside of you and another orgasm threatens to wash over your body. One of Joshua’s hands, the one that had been pinning your hand to the couch, moves over your hip, and his eyes stay on you as his thumb begins to rub hard circles into your clit.

“Oh my—” your voice cracks. “Fuck, oh my god, Shua!”

“Cum for me,” he grunts, forcing his orgasm back so he doesn’t cum before you, despite you already having done so twice now. “Now, baby. God, please cum for me.”

And you do.

It crashes over you like a rockslide, rough and strong, and crushing everything in its path. Your cunt clenches around Joshua so tightly you fear you might break him, but he only moans out your name and begins to spill white-hot cum inside of you. The combined fluids from the both of you are forced out as Joshua continues to fuck into you, slowly now compared to before. Soft, deep thrusts that carefully bring you down from the edge until both of you have finished, laying spent on your now ruined couch.

“That…” your voice is raspy. “Is that how you’re gonna fuck me every night?”

“Is that how you want me to fuck you every night?” Joshua’s tongue laves over your skin, pressing gentle kisses against your neck.

You think he knows the answer, but you tell him anyway with a sly grin on your face.

“You promised.”

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zzencat · 2 months

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Things To Expect + Advice In August 2024 - PAC

Hey, Teddy! What’s the forecast for August 2024? Where’s the energy headed? What should I expect? Any advice? What should I do?

Deck: deviant moon tarot

TO ENHANCE ACCURACY BEFORE CHOOSING: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

Breathe and choose. From left to right.

———————

Pile 1. Fight or flight?

• there might be a clash of ideas or communication issues. maybe a sucky group project. maybe some sucky friend group issues. maybe family is being a bit of a pain. whatever the drama is, you’re trying to keep out of it. in fact, you’ll be trying to avoid any drama.

• ^^it might bother you in the background, and if you have a leveled head, i suggest you speak up more this month. Stick up for yourselves or other people! This pile feels very introverted to me and keeping peace and harmony is very important for you. But keep in mind that sometimes, doing nothing is more harmful. Use your better judgment for these situations.

• if you have questionable people around you, people who do things you’re not proud of, or are in a bad situation, you’re being called to leave this group behind, find better scenery and connections.

• on the bright side, look forward to making a new friend or new friends this month!! I’m also hearing “stop being a wallflower”

• find those who share similar interests to you. Join online communities, get involved, find clubs, share your findings with others.

• have strength and be courageous! you might think you have no say or no right to speak up, but you do. this is going to unlock a side of you that you didn’t even know you had. You have a voice!!!Please use it!! Good luck pile 1!

——————————

Pile 2. Ehh…meh…feeling like a potato 🥔

• not much tbh. you might be at a standstill in life from trying to figure out what the next thing you want is, making yourself relatively comfortable first. so this month, there’s going to be extra effort going into self-care!!

• ^^ dance or sing when no one’s around!! Get moving!!

• be careful of any scams btw!! you should keep an eye on your belongings or money this month.

• you have dreams, but feel that it might not be the right timing. You could be in a stump. A lot of stagnancy and waiting for something to happen.

• ^^ this might be bothering you a lot, like feeling like you could be doing something better with your life (or with your time or skills). you might think in the back of your mind that life “oh, well. My life is just rotting away, but I’ll just deal with it” *shrugs* — Suggestion: Find a hobby or passion. Find your purpose in life again. Remember: only YOU can give your life meaning. No one else.

• not a lot of traveling. a lot of staying at home and figuring out life and what happens next. you might find your job to be extremely boring and draining, that you could use a break. Be careful not to get too careless or sloppy at work.

• there’s also a sense of laziness or not feeling motivated. An obvious lack of drive. You might make decisions without thinking too much or caring.

• (not my place to armchair-diagnose, but if you struggle with depressive symptoms and you’re not able to get professional help, sharing your thoughts/ideas with friends/family/even fuckin reddit, or writing them out in a journal would benefit you immensely. Just tell somebody. You just need any outlet to let out pent up creativity. Doesn’t even have to be creative—you could scribble something. As long as you’re not directing this self-loathing and pitying energy inwards.)

• a lot of stagnancy in this pile so this is a wake up call for change. Get active, get out there, and do something you actually like!!!! Don’t waste more time. Good luck to you pile 2 👍

——————————

Pile 3. Stop for no one.

• some people here will be going through a break up, but you’ll feel better after it happens. you’re going to leave a very significant thing behind you and move on with confidence. either some of you already saw it or you realized in hindsight that it hand to be done in order for you to move forward

• ^^ this is not exclusively romantic!! some will be cutting ties with friends or even family, but once it happens, you will finally be aligned with your emotions and what your higher self has been craving deep down inside

• it will be a little shitty, but I see some of you smiling!! Trust the process! You’re leaving behind things, people, and qualities that have held you down for so long

• a lot of you guys are taking a risk here, sending someone something, flirting, being honest, but you’re finally going in the direction you want. you’re tired of waiting. lots of doubts, but you’ll make your move and decide to see this to the end.

• you are going to face a lot of realizations (positive and negative) when it comes to other people in August (work, friends, school, potential love partners)

• it’s really up to you this month. stagnancy will lead you nowhere, whereas action will bring you great abundance

• ^^ some of you will receive awards or recognition for your efforts. others will be rewarded great wealth.

• a lot of business moves are prominent in this pile!!! investors, potential business partners and expansion! Be cautious and consider all your moves, but go for it pile 3!

• some of you will lead or have a chance to teach people while in a higher position (ex: a mentor, coach, etc.)

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Teddy note: Hey guys!! I hope you enjoy this pac! I’m starting a self-improvement series (sorta?) and I will be doing these monthly! Rmr to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. Thank you again 😎👍👍

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djarins-cyare · 4 months

Text

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it.

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

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flowerfreya · 2 months

Text

Cherry Wish

Deny

Cherry Wish Masterlist

Pairing: Omega!Simon x Alpha!Soap x Beta!Reader

Content: Johnny and Simon are in a established ten year relationship and Reader works at a grocery store, hasnt been in a relationship in three years and can't go to sleep without Nyquil, and they want her but she likes to be alone (not really, in fact it's quite the opposite)

They found you working at the grocery store. Immediately enthralled. Had to have you. Their one collective brain cell couldn’t think anything other than mine.

Simon and Soap have been together for 10 years, never thinking about taking a third, of course they have bouts. One night stands but the longest they had kept one was for a month. It doesn’t usually work out, they don’t discriminate with designation either , Beta, Omega, Alpha it’s really up to them.

But your scent calmed them , smelled like fresh laundry and lavender and one of those perfect fall days.

You smiled at them when you saw them, just like how you did with any other customer. You’re kind of over today , just wanted to go home and curl up with a good book and maybe some wine and Nyquill. You are checking them out with all their stuff , when you glance up again and see that they are just smiling at you. You give them a brighter smile and a small and awkward , okay. You haven’t seen two Alphas in a relationship for a long time, it’s actually very uncommon but not impossible. Good for them.

“Hi”, the one with the mohawk says.

“Hi” you reply back hoping to be polite but also get the point across that you don’t really want to talk.

“You smell nice”, the taller one says , which has you giving him a wide eyed stare. God damnit. Of course they are weird. It’s always the cute ones that are fucking wierdos. You know your beta and most of the time betas are with other betas, considering that the only gender that can really make an alpha’s knot comfortable is omegas. It is possible for other genders too , but it’s a lot of stretching , prepping , and messy.

For a beta, you do have a pretty strong scent, multiple people have told you that, but that is about where the similarities stop with identifying with omegas.

Mohawks gives the bigger guy an elbow to the gut and shake his head, “What he means is that you are really pretty and maybe you would like to go out with us?”.

You’re unamused but you know some men can’t take the fucking hint, “I have a boyfriend”, you shrug in a what can you do motion, “sorry” , you tac on just in case.

“You don’t smell like you have a boyfriend”, tall one chides.

“What’s it to you?” , you reply back, who the hell does this Alpha thinks he is talking to you like that. I mean he’s right you don’t have a boyfriend, haven’t had one in three years, you wouldn’t smell like someone else even if you wanted to.

“Woah, woah,woah, let's calm down everyone, no harm done, `M sorry hen didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” , you can smell him pushing off a calming scent.

“He started it”, you mumble under your breath. Looking up at the tall Alpha. And when he quickly shifts his eyes down it shocks you. Most alphas would stare you in the eye until you broke but not this one. Maybe he was broken.

“Stop”, mohawks chastise the tall one , and he bows his head and sort of shrinks into himself, smelling of shame and humiliation.

Oh.

An omega. Interesting, you’ve never seen one so big and tall and so Alpha. It’s interesting, and you want to know more.

Mohawk turn back towards you, “Sorry about him, I guess he forgot all his training at home” , he laughs at the end , you guess trying to make everything a joke, “Anyway, thank you for all your help, and see you around”, you watch them leave , feeling confused and sad and more lonely than you felt in a long time, maybe you should have gave them you number but maybe not.

Simon is angry at Soap , “You know she doesn’t have a boyfriend”.

“I know that” , he replies, calm, cool, collected, it makes him mad that he’s not upset about this.

Simon stumps his feet, having a tantrum, “So why can’t we take her out”, he whines. Soap already put the groceries in the back and is moving to the front of the car but to the passenger side, since he can’t drive because he could just pass out. Randomly. With no warning, so no driving for him.

“If she lied about having a boyfriend, she obviously didn’t want to go out with us”, Simon knows that, he just doesn’t understand why. It’s making him upset and he knows he’s stinking up the car but he can’t help it. He put his foot on the brake and is just about to push the button when Soap stops him , “You okay to drive?”

“Maybe I need to take a second”, Simon answered, as an Omega, getting rejected is hard and it makes his emotion all over the place but usually the only one that gets conveyed is anger, “She smells so good”, he groans out.

“I know hen, don’t worry, we’ll figure something out”, Soap answers with authority that only an Alpha with a plan would have.

#a/b/o #john soap mactavish #soap x ghost #soap x ghost x reader

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fatkish · 4 months

Note

Could you do a Aizawa x suicidal daughter please?Sorry if this is too dark but I’ve seen some of your other works about stuff like this and it makes me feel seen I guess thanks :)

(Sorry Anon, I know that you specifically asked for an x daughter reader, but I feel that this is a topic that happens to a lot of people so I decided that I would make it Gender Neutral since everyone could used a little Dadzawa every now and then. If you want me to make one specifically for a Dadzawa x Daughter Reader then I’ll do that.)

Father Aizawa x Suicidal Reader

If I was Happy

TRIGGER WARNING: The following contains mentions of suicide ideation, self harming thoughts and feelings and other potentially triggering things. Please be advised and refrain from reading if this will trigger you.

You hadn’t always struggled with these kind of thoughts and feelings, or maybe you did. Maybe you had these thoughts before, but it had felt like so long, you couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t feel this way.

You didn’t understand why you felt so horrible about yourself or when it started but you knew that originally, you didn’t think this way about yourself.

As these horrible thoughts ran rampant in your mind, thoughts of how you’re worthless, maybe you’re fat or you’re too skinny. Maybe you’re ugly or you have acne. Maybe your nose just doesn’t fit your face, or you have oily or greasy hair that you just can’t get rid of. Maybe you heard people who made fun of you and their words made you bully yourself worse than they did. Maybe you hated everything about yourself and you couldn’t take it anymore. Or maybe the state of the world was too depressing and you didn’t want to be a part of it. Whatever the case is, your world grew darker as you turned on yourself. You became your own worse critic. But still, you didn’t let anyone see the truth, especially your amazing dad.

And maybe that’s when you finally got the idea. The thought that maybe you should die.

You couldn’t remember when the last time was that you didn’t have these thoughts. It’s like a demon came inside of you and decided to poison you, making you hate yourself and everything that you were.

It hurts. It hurts to live like this. People can say things like, it’s selfish to kill yourself. Or killing yourself isn’t the solution. That you’re only hurting the ones that love you, but if those people really loved you, then wouldn’t they want your suffering to end? Why would the people that love you want you to suffer? Aren’t they the ones being selfish? You wouldn’t force an animal that’s in pain and has little to no quality of life to continue living just because you love them. Right? That’s inhumane. So why must you keep living if you don’t have any quality of life?

These were the kind of thoughts that plagued you late at night. You tried your hardest to live on and not let anyone know that you were suffering, especially your dad.

Your dad was amazing. He’s the best father you could ask for. Maybe he isn’t perfect, but you never once doubted his love for you. You knew that one of his best friends had died when he was in highschool. You know that it severely affected him. He might not be the most affectionate person in the world, but he doesn’t have to be. His eyes and smile say it all.

One night, you couldn’t take the thoughts anymore. You decided that you would write a letter and explain to your dad why you killed yourself and tell him is wasn’t his fault. You loved him so much, he’s always been there for you. But you know how stressful his life is and you just can’t fight off the part of you that believes you’re a burden to him. Your dad doesn’t need anymore stress especially from you. So you write a note and decided to do something special for him. You wrote, played and recorded a song for him.

(Play song above or play on YouTube)

Dear God, please, hear me out

I know it's been a couple years

Since I've reached out and said hello

I bet You're wondering

Why I keep

Obsessing on and stressing all the little things

When I should be

Living life and soaking up the memories

I know I've been selfish, I have

No excuse to give you, it's true

Hanging by a thread's how I live

I don't know why, but I feel more comfortable

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames, acting like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

As you played the song and sang, you didn’t know that your dad had come home. He knew that you had been learning to play instruments from Hizashi but he didn’t realize you were this good. He started to walk up the stairs and as he listened to the lyrics, his heart began to hurt, as he wondered why you sang this particular song, and with such emotion too.

Yeah, been this way so long

It feels like something's off when I'm not depressed

I got some issues that I won't address

I got some baggage I ain't opened yet

I got some demons I should put to rest

I got some traumas that I can't forget

I got some phone calls I been avoiding

Some family members I don't really connect with

Some things I said I wish I would of not let slip

Some hurtful words that never should of left my lips

Some bridges burned, I'm not ready to rebuild yet

Some insecurities I haven't dealt with, yes

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a lonely soul

And the last to admit I need a hand to hold

Losing hope, headed down a dangerous road

Strange, I know, but I feel most at home when I'm

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames acting, like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

Your dad listed outside your door as he took in the words and began to worry and hope that you were just going through an edgy phase but with his experience, and his gut, he knew that is wasn’t just a trivial thing.

Don't know what's around the bend

Don't know what my future is

But I can't keep on living in

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames acting, like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

If I was happy

As you put down the guitar and walked up to the recording device you spoke.

“Dad, I know that you’re probably upset… no… you’re definitely upset and I’m sorry for causing you this pain, but I just couldn’t keep living like this. The pain is never ending and I don’t think it ever will. You’ve been so great to me all these years and I love you so much… I … I’m sorry. I know it hurts and I don’t ever want you to blame yourself for what I chose to do. I’m sorry I hurt you and you don’t ever have to forgive me for taking my own life, I know I won’t forgive myself for the pain it’s causing you. There wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent this… I love you… and I always will…”

You couldn’t continue as your tears overflowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. As you fell to the floor with your face in your hands a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you into a strong chest. Through your crying you could hear the crying of another person, and through your tears you saw the familiar black shirt and white capture scarf that belonged to your dad.

As you cried you wrapped your arms around your dad and continued to cry into his shoulder. He pulled you into his lap and cradled you in his arms as he held you tightly, afraid to let you go.

“I’m so sorry that you feel this way but please don’t do anything drastic, please. Baby I love you so much and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. You mean everything to me and you’re the reason I come home every day. You’re my world and my everything. So please… please… don’t kill yourself or hurt yourself anymore. I don’t think my heart could take it”

Aizawa cried as he spoke softly into your hair as he held you. He remembered the day he first met you in the hospital. Your tiny newborn body was so small, your little hand could barely wrap itself around his pinky finger, but you held his hand for the first time. Your tiny little hand held onto his finger as tears spilled down his cheeks as he took in the sight of his newborn child. He feel in love at first sight as he held your tiny body. He vowed to protect you and be there for you no matter what.

And you opened your eyes and looked into his. You were his whole world. The only things that existed in the moment were Aizawa and his newborn child. To him, you’re everything, you’re what he fight to come home to, you’re his reason to live and survive even the most gruesome and brutal fights. He’ll never give up and he’ll always come home to you. After all, that’s the promise he made you when he first met you.

As you both pulled away and looked into each other’s teary eyes, you smiled and laughed.

“What’s so funny”

“You’ve got snot on your shoulder… I’m so sorry”

You apologized but couldn’t help but laugh at that for whatever reason. Your dad just smiled softly and wrapped his arms around you.

“You do realize I changed your diapers when you were a baby right? You puked on me, shit on me, there’s no body fluid that you haven’t already gotten on me” he smiled as you laughed even harder at the image of a younger him covered in baby vomit with a grossed out face.

As you both laughed and he told you stories of you as a baby, he remembered everything he loved about you.

“I love you sweetheart, I always will. Tomorrow, we are going to the hospital to get your mental health evaluated and whatever happens, I promise I’ll be there for you, okay”

“Okay”

You gave you dad one last hug before cleaning everything up and you decided to take a bath before bed.

Part 2:

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader platonic #aizawa x reader comfort #aizawa x child reader #dadzawa

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christinesficrecs · 10 months

Text

Happy Saturday! Enjoy these brilliant fics. 🩷

I don’t know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 17.8K

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

His Only Defense by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 78.7K

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha.

Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Laying Groundwork by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where Scott and Stiles go clubbing and there’s this broody Bouncer out to get Stiles-

Or get into his pants. Thank God it’s the latter.

Give you that thing you can’t even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he’s about to find out he’s very, very wrong.

Shot Through The Heart by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 64.8K

The one when Stiles and Derek work for rival assassin companies and are sent to kill each other. It definitely doesn’t go as planned.

Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 23.1K

“I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

“Then we have reached an accord.”

Oh baby give me one more chance (to show you that I love you) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 54.7K

“You like Derek,” he says slowly. “Derek Hale.”

His father grimaces at the accusation there. “Look, Stiles it’s complicated-“

“So when I was married to him,” he continues, voice rising. “He wasn’t good enough. He was taking advantage of me. ‘He’ll never be able to love you like you want, Stiles’. That’s what you said-“

Or the Sweet Home Alabama AU that nobody asked for.

I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11.4K

“All in favour of Derek not dating for a full year so he can get his shit together and stop romancing people who want to kill us?”

Everyone raises their hands. Every single pack member.

Or the one where the pack insists Derek can't date anybody for a year but he ends up finding romance much closer to home anyway.

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 135.5K

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 87.5K | Abandoned

“Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek’s head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

I'll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

How long have I been on the hunt for you? by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 20.3K

“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

“HAHA,” Stiles practically shouted, loud and unsettling enough that everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, yep. For. Sure.”

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lunacanislupus22 #author appreciation

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

candy girl 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: as you’re about to take the next step with your boyfriend, doubts begin to arise. (short!plus!reader)

Characters: Thor (boyfriend’s dad/silverfox)

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself. <3

You can hear Thor following you as you storm down the pavement. You cover your face as your horror overflows in choking sobs. You’ve never hurt like this before. The pain is so deep you could crumple to the ground then and there.

He grabs softly at your hand as he tries to stop you, “little one.”

“Please, let me go,” you beg as you tear away from him, nearly tripping, “oh god, I can’t believe--”

“Shh, shhh, please, breathe,” he grasps your wrist firmly and stops you, “it’s late, I can’t let you go running off into the dark.”

“I’ll find a bus,” you insist, “please, I--” you face him and heave, “how could he do this to me?” You babble and use your free hand to mop your cheeks, “how could I ever think he wanted me?”

“Oh, dear,” he sweeps you into a hug before you can stop him. “It isn’t that. He is wrong. He is... I am ashamed to call him my son.”

You want to resist. You know you should but his embrace is soothing. The sound of his heart beat as he pulls your head to his chest keeps yours from racing. You hug him back and sniffle.

“Thank you,” you murmur, “but he is your son.”

“And?” He rubs your back and rocks you, “it doesn’t mean I condone this behaviour. I’ve been soft on him too long.”

His words drift into the cool night air as you cling to him. He’s warm against the chill. You shudder out a breath as the silence roils with tension. His hand stills and crawls up to the back of your head as he slowly parts. He looks down at you as he holds you at arm’s length.

“You will stay. Just for the night so I know you are safe,” he says.

“I can’t--”

“Yes, you can,” he drags his touch down your neck and arm and takes your hand, “come.”

“Mr. Odinson,” you plead as he tugs you back towards his house.

“Thor,” he corrects swiftly, “trust me, just this once.”

You can’t argue. He’s already done so much. Your car, the tip, you feel as if you owe him. Even in this circumstance.

He takes you up the front steps. Your reluctance weighs down your steps and he coaxes you forward. He hushes you again as he takes you through the front door and stops you just short of the staircase.

“You will go to my room, right at the end of the hall,” he points as he turns to you, “lock the door for now.”

“Thor, what’s going on? What are you going to do?” You squeak.

“What I should’ve done long ago.”

“Are you...”

“He is my son, I wouldn’t harm him, yet he has hurt you. He has made a habit of using people, not only you but myself, his brother, his mother... it cannot stand,” he declares, “please, go, I shouldn’t like him to see you, in case he does choose violence. We both know his temper.”

Your mouth falls open and you look past him then to the stairs, “you don’t have to... for me.”

“It is right. He is not a child anymore. It is a lesson overdue for many years. I cannot help but blame myself for your pain so let me try at least to atone,” he squeezes your shoulder then nods to the stairs, “please.”

You lower your lashes and turn to climb the stairs. You stop at the top to peek back again. He looms. You continue on and find your way to his room. You shut the door but cannot move away from it.

You flick on the light. His room is painted a deep shade of evergreen. The wooden floor is dark and smooth, with a rug beneath the large four-postered bed. A king-size with a thick frame built of square planks. There’s a desk by the window and a chair of the same heavy wood as the bed. A large wardrobe stands opposite with a houserobe hung from the slightly ajar door.

You turn to the door and press yourself to it. You can hear his footsteps below. It happens all at once, muffled but decisive. Magni’s door swings open and hits the wall, Something falls over, probably that table you told him was too close.

Then a girl’s yelp and deep timbres. An argument you can only make pieces out of. Their voices rise higher and get clearer as you hear them moving. The front door opens and snaps shut again. They’re still yelling. Oh god, what do you do?

You can only listen as the tempest blows below. There’s movement too, some banging and slamming. Footsteps back and forth. It lasts forever. Your chest is about to split open. You hear Thor’s voice as clear as if he’s right beside you.

“Get out,” he demands.

The front door opens again and you hold your breath. There’s a strange cracking noise before feet stomp outside and across the porch. You scurry to the window to look out. Magni’s shadow stalks angrily through the dark, the outline of his knapsack crooked over his back.

You retreat and pace around the room. Waiting. The house falls back into silence and you hear Thor climbing the stairs. He sighs and it drifts toward the door. You face it as he knocks from the other side.

“Hi,” you utter dumbly.

He slowly twists the knob and peeks around the door, “he’s gone.”

You gasp as you see his face. There’s a split across the bridge of his nose. Your fear subsides in the wake of concern.

“What happened?” You rush forward as he lets the door fall all the way open.

He won’t look at you.

“Ah, he was caught offguard is all,” Thor rubs the back of his neck.

“He hit you?” You stop before him, looking up tremulously.

“I’m glad it was me and no one else,” he intones. “If you weren’t here, I can’t say I’d have left him in one piece.”

“Oh,” you whimper.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” he shakes his head.

“Your bleeding,” you say as his nose drips red.

“Ah, I thought I’d stopped it,” he presses his knuckle to his nose.

“Here, let me help, um,” you look around and rush over to the en suite bathroom. You dip inside as you hear his uncertain steps in the bedroom. You return to him, “er, can you sit? I can’t reach.”

“Of course, little one,” he sits on the bed and drops his hand. You unravel toilet paper from the roll and fold it into a square. You raise it to dab his nose gently.

“Does it hurt too much? Is this too rough?” You ask.

“Not even close,” he assures. His blue eyes sparkle at you. The way he watches you makes you sweat.

You stare at the split higher up his nose over the cartilage, “do you think it’s broken?”

“He had it crooked but I put it back,” Thor chuckles.

“Oh,” your frown.

“I can take it,” he says, “I’m so disappointed...” he flicks his lashes down, “to think I could raise a heathen like that. Someone who would hurt you.” He winces and reaches to take the toilet paper from you, “I’ve got it.”

You retract your hand as he presses the tissue to his nose. You clutch the roll and sway nervously.

“Where’s he gone?” You ask.

“It isn’t my problem,” he growls, “the idiot. How could he not see--” He stops and looks at you, agonized, “you don’t deserve that. What you said before, it isn’t true. You are easy to want, little one, but he is young and arrogant.”

You bite into your lip at the unexpected compliment. You can’t help but think he only says so because it’s what he’s meant to say. Everyone’s nice to the broken hearted.

“I suppose I shouldn’t care either,” you resign. You look him over and your chest pangs. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“Oh, no, I should be asking you,” he stands. “First, let’s get you settled. Modi’s old room should do, I think.”

#thor #thor x reader #dark thor #dark!thor x reader #series #drabble #au #candy girl #mcu #marvel #avengers

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tojivu · 11 months

Text

# SOBER UP ‣ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

✰ — author’s note should this be considered a shtpost LOL

✰ — playing mad riches by sonder .

✰ — cw / tags mentions of alcohol , comfort and fluff , f!reader , college au , ex boyfriend + situationship megumi , idk if i made him seem like a red flag here but idc… #megumiapologist

✰ — word count 1.7k

MEGUMI , who tags along when his friends go drinking at a bar nearby your campus and has an alcohol tolerance higher than everyone in the room, combined.

this man does not play when it comes to drinking games. honestly, he would not be interested in playing at all if not for yuji egging him on—any chance to prove himself will not go wasted, especially when it’s his own best friend doubting his ability.

you’re playing along, after yuji had pestered your friends to join in—you took one for the team and decided to go with it. truth or drink: two options, it would be an easy feat. just pick truth every time.

everyone is gathered around the large table at the centre of the establishment, glasses in hand. megumi is across from you, blank expression worn—he doesn’t seem to be enjoying the occasion, but he's partaking anyway. his arms are crossed, eyes locked on the surface of the table. you had hoped to speak to him tonight, but it seemed like you wouldn't be able to.

you’re swirling your glass around, generating a whirlpool in your drink—waiting for yuji to move on from asking nonsensical questions and to let the night get more exciting. he seems to be the life of the party, people often picking him to answer their queries: it’s a horrible time to be popular, because he soon excuses himself after a few glasses.

it’s that way with everyone in the group, with every popular student getting picked in order—eventually, it’s just you, megumi, and 3 other people.

“y/n.” an unfamiliar voice calls your name, one belonging to a boy you’ve never seen before. “truth or drink?”

“truth.” you respond, wanting to last as long as possible: not taking a sip until it was absolutely necessary. your apartment was quite a long way from where you were: a long cab ride with an intoxicated system didn’t sound appealing at all. you hoped it wouldn’t be too scandalous of a question, after all, not many people knew you personally—so they didn’t have much to ask.

“anyone here. . . you don’t mind going on a date with?”

that was a stupid question. your college was full of teenage-minded boys who didn't think twice before doing anything. nobody was serious enough for your taste, and regretfully so: you're unable to answer the question and you take a shot.

MEGUMI , who glares at you, despondently, from athwart the table because you didn't answer the question with his name. he exhales, eyebrows furrowing and the grip on his cup tightening. it was unfair of him to expect a response with his name—after what had happened.

fushiguro and you were a complicated pair. many have heard of you two and yet knew so little: you've dated him in the past and things were on and off since then. yet, people pretend they don't see you slipping out of his dorm as soon as the sun rises, and that they don't see him staring daggers into any man that speaks to you.

sure, you two would have your flings—each time swearing it was the last. you knew it wasn’t right, but if nobody uttered any ‘i love you’s, what was the real harm?

just a week ago, an argument ensued between the two of you. he was yelling about how he had too many classes and couldn't see you, and you were saying how he should've tried anyway.

he reminded you that night that you two weren't together anymore, and off you went; out his door and no calls returned.

megumi knew you were angry when you didn't bother scolding him via text, as you usually would, but he knew you were livid when you didn't bother thinking of your answer—instead chugging your glass.

your giggles get louder, and your head dizzier. you're holding onto the chair behind you, and megumi is pissed off with the way your friends are more concerned with taking pictures than looking out for you.

the circle remains, with the same boy picking you to answer his inappropriate questions regarding your love life. megumi is concerned with how much alcohol is entering your system. he's standing up straight now, worried that you'll black out any moment—he knew better than anyone that you couldn't hold your liquor. he can't help but blame the guy picking on you; you seemed to be stuttering and yet he didn't stop.

"you know what," he walks around the table and grabs the empty cup from your hands. "this is dangerous. you can't handle liquor."

you're stumbling over your own feet as you try to retrieve your cup from megumi, who's raising it over his head and out of your reach.

"'gumi . . ."

your words are slurred and your face is flushed red. your hands try to reach up, but come down to his chest as you almost fall on top of him. megumi is concerned, but his face shows annoyance; he places the cup down and slithers his arm around your waist to support you.

it's been a long while since you called him that, or any nickname at all. something stirs in his chest, it was something about his nickname leaving your lips—he can't help but stare at them, so that's precisely what he does.

"i'm taking you home."

you whine, but your uncoordinated self is unable to fight the strong arms that pull you out of the bar, away from the crowd and onto the pavement outside.

you're hitting megumi's chest while babbling nonstop about how much of a party pooper he is. the look on his face appears nonchalant—your ex couldn't care less about ruining the fun. he cared about you, and the least he could do was make sure you got home safe.

"you're always like this, 'gumi . . ." you hit his chest again, your head buried in the crook of his neck. your breath against his skin tickles, shuddering when you say his name. "always . . . ruining the fun."

megumi's attempts at hailing a cab render useless, and public transport had their last journey an hour ago. you complain about your heels to him, with a pout that makes him weak in the knees.

"your shoes . . . so comfy."

he swears under his breath because no other girl could embarass him like this. megumi walks with you, your gleaming heels in his hands and his socks getting torn by the harsh asphalt. he hates being barefoot—but you're treading the path happily, wearing his sneakers—so he thinks it's bearable, just for a short while.

MEGUMI , who takes you to a convenience store close by and buys you two bottles of water, hoping you could sober up a little.

it's 2 in the morning and you're sitting on a bench outside of a 7-11 with your ex boyfriend, who you can't help but stare at. he looks unusually handsome, you think, just a little bit more than usual. you feel like your first year self pining over him all over again, but this time, he's much closer.

you remember the fight a week ago and you're brought back to reality of what it was. megumi hit you cold and hard with the truth, and you find yourself shifting your gaze to the empty bottle of water at your feet.

you hear megumi's breath hitch a few times, almost as if he was meaning to say something—but you didn't know if you would want to hear it, after everything that had unfolded between you two.

"just say it, megumi." you blurt out, thinking there was no point in keeping things unsaid. you were annoyed with the way he would turn back and forth between you and the road.

he's not certain if he's glad to hear you say his full name, at least you're sober—but he hates the fact that you don't say megumi like you say gumi.

"i still love you, y/n." megumi mumbles.

you look at him, your eyes immediately noticing his staring at you before you even turned your head. you get up from the bench, unable to make sense of what he just said: apologies quickly leave your mouth and you're power walking away.

MEGUMI , who trails behind you, asking you to wait—he had your heels, and those were his shoes on your feet.

nothing changes until you arrive at your front door. you're completely sober thanks to the water megumi forced you to chug, and he’s behind you. you turn from the door to face him, and your stubbornness is suddenly dissipating.

your heels are still in his hands and his socks are completely torn.

"yeah, this is your fault."

you roll your eyes. "i did nothing."

megumi scoffs, looking down at the floor. he's not sure what to say to make this any less awkward—he's already spoken his mind.

"just come in, 'gumi. i've had enough of your complaining."

his eyes light up when you say the two syllable word. he takes his socks off in milliseconds, leaving your heels outside and letting himself be pulled by the sleeve into your apartment.

MEGUMI , who wakes up in your bed with his arm around the small of your back, keeping you close to him—sunlight is spilling in through the gaps of your curtains. it’s shining on his chest and subsequently, you: your head is laid on his bare chest, your legs resting on top of his. your breath is warm against his skin, your left arm hugging him tight around the waist.

your breathing is calm and slow, but it comes to a brief stop when you wake up soon after him. you yawn, head throbbing, but it doesn't stop you from looking up at fushiguro—who's been staring at you for awhile.

"we might as well just get back together."

megumi thought you were kidding, after you had just run away from him after his confession the night before: but you were everything but a joker.

he runs his fingers through your hair, before sighing softly.

"that's not a bad idea."

his fingers playing with your hair was lulling you back to sleep, along with the warmth of skin to skin contact and a voice that seemed as smooth as velvet. there wasn't much time before your headache and him combined knocked you out.

". . . i love you, 'gumi.” is all you manage to say before closing your eyes, allowing fushiguro to savour the words in private as you slept soundly.

he was thankful that you were exhausted—the red on his cheeks was much too embarrassing to be seen.

201023 — hello … new layout what do u guys think ? (　ﾟдﾟ)

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hoomandoescosplay · 7 months

Text

Static | Alastor x Reader Oneshot

“Alastor, the radio demon, is supposedly quite a popular name in Hell. So much so that his name had somehow ventured into the human world.”

“Some people have even tried to summon the demon by giving him offerings hoping he’d show himself to them and grant them powers beyond their own capabilities.”

My friend Naomi explains to me while we walk to our class. “Don’t tell me you’ve tried to summon him.” I sigh. “You usually don’t bring this kind of stuff up before you’ve tried it.”

She’s always been into magic and witchcraft. I honestly don’t understand any of it but she loves talking to me about it.

I definitely believe that kind of stuff exists in the world but it can be so confusing, especially when people make stuff up all the time.

Naomi has said she’s experienced many phenomenons before but she has quite a creative mind.

Naomi grins as she nods her head. “Of course I’ve tried it! Would you like to give it a try? I have the instructions written down in one of my spellbooks.” She starts to rummage around in her backpack.

“It shouldn’t take long. We can do it after school gets out today.” My eyes go wide as I pull her arm stopping us from walking.

“Are you crazy? Absolutely not. No way do I want to try that.” Naomi chuckles. “You really need to learn to have some fun.”

She continues, “There’s no harm in calling out a demon and asking for powers. Besides, you don’t think he’ll actually show up do you?”

I just stare at her. She’s crazy, she has to be crazy. “No harm?” I echo bewildered. I let out a strained laugh. “I honestly don’t even know how to respond to what you just said.”

Naomi shrugs. “The worst thing that can happen is the summoning doesn’t work and your day proceeds as normal. That’s what I call ‘no harm’.” Her smile widens.

“And,” she adds. “It’s our senior year. We have to do something fun and mysterious.” I sigh again. “I guess you’re right.” I readjust my backpack as I take a second to think. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Naomi squeals with delight. “Oh! You’re not going to regret it, not one bit! This is going to be amazing, just you wait and see!” She pulls a small leather bound book out of her backpack.

“Here we are. ‘How to summon demons 101.’ Let’s see what we need…” Naomi starts to scan through a few of the book’s pages.

I see other students look at us as they walk past and I can feel my face heat up. “Maybe we should look at your book after school.” I suggest quietly.

Naomi’s eyebrows raise as she looks up at me. “Yeah… I guess that would be for the best. This isn’t exactly the type of thing you can just pull out of your backpack and flip through in the middle of a hallway without drawing attention to yourself.”

She quickly puts her book back away and we continue to walk to our class.

A few minutes later, we arrive at our class and quickly shuffle into our seats. I look over at Naomi and she’s grinning at me before turning back to face the front of the room.

The teacher quickly walks into the classroom, and class begins. The class progresses as it normally would. The teacher gives the lesson and asks a few questions here and there.

A few times, I catch Naomi looking in my direction, likely waiting until the end of class to start the summoning.

The clock on the wall slowly creeps closer to the end of class. The other students gradually lose interest in the lecture and start to daydream as the teacher keeps lecturing on.

After a few more minutes of lecturing, the teacher pauses. “That’s all the time we have for today. I’d like to end the day with a reminder of our next assignment and the due date for the project we’ve been working on all week.”

I can see Naomi jittering in her seat as we wait to be dismissed and I roll my eyes with a small smile.

The teacher makes a few more announcements before the bell rings. The class quickly rises to their feet and most students start to shuffle for the door.

As I try to make my way to the door, I bump into Naomi who eagerly grabs onto my arm in a tight grip. “Let’s go, you ready?”

I nod. “As ready as I can be.” Naomi squeals once more. “Yes, that’s the spirit!” She starts to pull me out of the classroom, down the hallway and out the front of the school.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

We get to Naomi’s house after a short walk and as we walk in she checks to make sure her parents aren’t home.

“Quick, let’s go up to my room.” Naomi’s eyes dart back and forth as she leads me up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Naomi quickly shuts the door behind me and I can hear her quietly lock the door. She quickly heads over to her bed, places her backpack on it, and pulls out her spellbook.

Naomi quickly flips through the pages as she starts listing off some of the items needed. “Okay… Here’s what we need: a black candle, a glass of water, a salt circle, and the words spoken in the summoning.”

I nod as I walk towards her bed to place my backpack down as well. “Can I see?” I ask, trying to take a peek at her book.

Naomi chuckles and shakes her head. “Not now. As soon as everything is set-up, I’ll let you get a glance.” She closes her book fast.

“Now help me grab some supplies from the closet. I only have one candle.” Naomi walks over to the closet as she waits for me to join her.

I immediately get a strange feeling but shrug it off and walk towards her.

The two of us enter the closet and start grabbing the supplies needed for the candle and the salt circle.

Naomi grabs the candle and a lighter, as well as a small glass for the water while I grab a large bag of salt that’s sitting on the top shelf of the closet.

I make sure to hold the bag of salt carefully so that it doesn’t spill. I then join Naomi back in the middle of the room and she starts to pour the salt into a near perfect circle around the middle of the ground.

As she pours the salt, I can see Naomi make sure that every inch of the circle is covered.

At the very center of the circle, she places the candle and the glass of water. “What’s the glass of water for?” I ask curiously.

“It’s the vessel that holds the demon’s spirit which allows him to take a physical form.” Naomi’s eyes light up as she explains this to you.

I begin to ask another question but she cuts me off. “Oh! I forgot we also need a knife. I’ll be right back.” She runs out of the room as I process what she said. “A knife? Hmm that’s weird.” I mumble.

I have a quiet moment to myself while Naomi is out of the room. I take this moment to walk towards her book and flip through the pages quickly.

The last few cover the ritual we were planning on doing and my eyes widen when I realize none of the materials we collected were used to summon the radio demon.

Suddenly I hear her footsteps coming back up the hallway making me close the book fast. As I’m holding it I make a split second decision to shove it into my backpack.

I then quickly ran to stand back in the area I was in before she left. She opens the door, holding a small steak knife in her hand as she smiles at me.

Naomi happily holds up the knife for me to see. “Look! Isn’t it shiny? It’ll make the ritual look cooler, especially when we plunge it into... Oh well you’ll find out in no time.”

I just stare at her trying to remain calm. “That’s when the fun part starts!” Her eyes shimmer as she stares at me.

“You know,” I start off. “I don’t know if I’m feeling up to this anymore. I didn’t tell my parents I was stopping over here so I should probably head home.” I say quietly.

“Huh? What do you mean you’re not feeling up for this?” Naomi’s voice sharpens as she steps toward me.

I instinctively take a step back as I feel my voice catch in my throat.

“No, no, no. You’re not leaving until this is finished.” Naomi starts walking toward me with the knife held up in front of her.

I continue to walk back more hoping to get to my backpack. “I’m really sorry but maybe another time?” I lie hoping to sound believable enough.

Her voice grows louder as she continues to walk toward me. “Another time? What do you mean another time? No, you’re not leaving until this is finished! There’s no turning back now, we’re in way too far.”

I grab my backpack and try to sidestep her to get to her boardroom door.

As soon as I start to pass her Naomi’s arm quickly reaches out and grabs me.

She pulls me close to her and holds the knife close to my neck as she speaks in a slightly quieter voice, although she’s still angry and loud. “I told you there’s no turning back. You’re not leaving until this is finished.”

“Please let go of me Naomi.” I whisper out. “You really don’t need me for this.” Naomi grips my arm slightly tighter as she tightens the knife against my neck.

She laughs lightly as she stares into my eyes with a devious expression. “Oh, but I do. The ritual calls for a sacrifice and you happen to be the lucky one that I’ve chosen.”

I grab her hand trying to get her to let go of my arm. In response she tightens her grip even more with each time I try to pull her hand off.

“What did I just say? The ritual requires a sacrifice and I can’t have you backing out on me now. I’ve been waiting to summon this demon for months.” My eyes widen as I come to a realization.

“So, you’re gonna sit down and stay put until it’s finished. Okay?” I feel myself start to shake.

“Did you- did you become friends with me just because you wanted to use me for this…” I pause as I take a second to swallow. “For this ritual?”

Naomi’s eyes narrow as she leans in close to my ear to answer. “Of course I did. What, you didn’t think that I’d genuinely want to be friends with you, did you?”

She waits to see if she can get any reaction out of me before continuing. “I saw you standing there by yourself, like a lost little deer, and I knew that I could use you to my advantage.”

She leans back a bit to laugh at the situation causing the knife to stray away from my neck slightly. A strange static feeling in the air makes me notice the knife’s gap.

I quickly dart my eyes around the room and notice that she never re-locked the door after getting the knife.

I use this opportunity to sling my backpack off my shoulder and shove it into her creating enough distance between us.

Naomi lets out a shriek of frustration and surprise as the backpack bumps into her.

She drops the knife and I have enough time to make a break for it. I quickly run out of her room and down the stairs to the door.

I hear her shout out my name from behind me, but I don’t slow down and refuse to turn around to look at her.

Instead, I keep running down the stairs as I open the front door and sprint as fast as I can out the front door and down the sidewalk.

My heart beats out of my chest as I run as fast as I can towards my house.

I get there safely and rush inside, immediately shutting and locking the door behind me.

I sigh in relief as I lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths.

After I’ve calmed down a bit I stand up from against the door. I look around and notice my parents aren’t home yet so I head to my room.

My mind is racing as I realize what just happened. I’ve just escaped from Naomi who planned to sacrifice me in order to summon a demon.

I’m lucky to be alive, and it was pure luck that I happened to slip away. That weird static feeling in the air gave me enough courage to try and create enough space between us for me to run.

I can’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort knowing that the static feeling seemed to have given me some courage to make a break for it.

It’s like something was watching over me in that moment. Whether is was a good or bad something I couldn't care less.

I then remembered I swiped her book earlier. I immediately put my backpack on my bed and pulled out the book.

I flip through the pages, looking for anything that could give me a better idea of what kind of ritual Naomi was planning.

It’s clear it was some sort of demon summoning ritual, but I’m still anxious about what the book has to say about it.

Instead, I feel that static presence once more and before I know it I’ve flipped to the page about the radio demon.

The moment my eyes read the words “The radio demon,” I can feel my heart stop in my chest.

The static feeling in the air intensifies, making the words on the page almost glow. My mind becomes fuzzy while my body remains motionless as I try to process all of this.

I skim over the different sections describing the many reasons people try to summon the radio demon. Some of them are more selfish while others are more selfless.

The section on revenge catches my attention as I imagine getting revenge against Naomi.

It explains that one of the perks of summoning the radio demon is having the ability to exact revenge on those who have wronged you.

The exact method of how to summon him isn’t too complicated and only requires a few items, all of which I’ve got in my room.

I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t try this just for… fuck it I think. “What’s the worst that could happen?” I mock her earlier words.

“Alright. Two can play this game Naomi .” I mutter as I go around my room collecting the materials needed to summon the demon.

By the time I’ve gotten all the items set up, J can’t help but feel nervous.

What if this actually works? What if some kind of demon really shows up in my bedroom?

I feel the static presence in the air get stronger, almost as if something is reassuring me that I’m doing the right thing.

The static presence grows stronger but also warmer as it blankets over my body. The longer I stand in it, the more comfortable I feel.

That’s when my brain starts to wander with questions. What exactly will the demon do once it’s summoned? Will it just stand in my room or will it make itself home in my room?

I can’t help but feel the urge to summon him as the static starts to comfort me. As the static presence continues to grow the urge becomes stronger.

My body feels at ease and any worry or doubts I had start to diminish with every breath.

I begin to recite the words written in the book as the static grows even more.

As I continue to speak I start to hear whispers. Whispers that sound as though they are being transmitted through an old-fashioned radio.

I can barely make out any words from the whispers. They just sound like incomprehensible murmurs.

I close my eyes as I continue. As I finish speaking I keep my eyes closed and I can feel the static in the air. It’s so strong that it makes me think the static has formed itself into an actual presence.

“Well hello there dear. you’ve had an interesting day have you not?” A voice says in front of me.

My eyes snap open at the voice and I see a man, no a demon, in front of me.

He is dressed in a red and black outfit that looks like it’s from the 30’s with a cane that has a microphone attached to it.

He also has deer antlers attached to his head along with a monocle on his face.

He leans into the small microphone attached to his cane as he raises an eyebrow. “You know, I’m not that used to getting summoned by a young lady like you, but I must say your reasons for summoning me are certainly… interesting.”

He notices my stunned expression and lets out a hearty chuckle. “I take it this is your first time trying to summon a demon? And to think that you did it to get revenge on that Naomi girl. Very interesting indeed.”

I gain some of my courage back and speak up. “How did you know I wanted to get revenge on her?”

He smiles as he leans in closer to me, his voice a low hum as he answers. “I knew the moment you started the ritual. Those words of revenge are exactly the reason I answered your call. Revenge is one of my specialties, after all.”

I take in his features some more as he leans towards me and I feel my face flush. For a demon he’s not bad to look at.

My face flushes more as I process that thought. Something is definitely wrong with me to be thinking that.

He takes notice of the blush on my cheeks and raises an eyebrow curiously. However, he doesn’t speak up about it and instead continues to speak.

“And to think, all you wanted was to take revenge on dear little Naomi. What did you plan to do? Stab her?” I shrug and I glance away.

“I figured you’d just have a plan.” I mumble slightly embarrassed that I didn’t think this all the way through.

He nods as he looks me over momentarily. “Of course I have a plan. I’ve been doing this for quite some time now.”

He pauses for a moment. “So, are you ready to go and get your revenge? All you have to do is sit back and let me take care of the rest.”

I nod and his grin widens making the static feeling in the room intensify. “So it’s a deal then little deer?” He asks, extending out his hand to me.

I look down to his outstretched hand and feel myself hesitate despite wanting to take it.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m actually making a deal with a demon. Like this is actually happening and I’m not just dreaming it.

On the other hand, he seems fairly well-mannered and he did promise to take care of the entire thing. Plus, that voice of his is quite hypnotic.

I grab his hand and shake it. “It’s a deal.” A laugh track starts to play from his microphone and a chill goes up my spine.

I look at him straight in the eyes before the room starts to spin and I feel myself blackout.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

As I regain consciousness the first thing I notice is the blood on my hands and a static feeling in the air.

I hear a laugh track play from behind me and as I turn around I’m greeted with by the radio demon’s eyes.

“You did a wonderful job my little deer. Not the cleanest job but a wonderful job nonetheless.” He says while gesturing to Naomi’s lifeless body in front of my feet.

I realize what the blood on my hands means as I see Naomi’s lifeless body as I look down towards the ground. She appears to be lifeless and unmoving, not even seeming to breathe.

I start to take shallow breaths as my body shakes. “We need to…” I begin before taking a shaky breath. “We need to clean this up. Hide this-”

I don’t want to get caught. I don’t want anyone to find out I think as I am still shaking.

You can hear him chuckling softly in the background. “Relax my little deer, nobody will be finding this body anytime soon.”

He looks around and I can see his eyes shine as a thought comes to his mind. “Besides, we’ve got bigger plans to take care of now.”

“And those plans are?” I ask barely above a whisper. This causes his grin to widen.

“Why what I shall do with your soul of course.” He chuckles as I stare at him wide eyed.

“That’s exactly right my little deer. You summoned me and made a deal with me, and the moment I completed your little revenge the deal became sealed.”

He leans into his microphone as if he was addressing a crowded room of people. “The contract is signed, now all I need to do is collect my prize.”

My mind races on what he could mean by that. Is he going to kill me? Will he just take control of my body?

He chuckles as he reads the look on my face. “I know you’re thinking a million things right now. How about I get rid of that uncertainty for you and just get straight to the point.”

I gulp as I just continue to stare at him. “You’re an interesting one. So, I shall let you live out the rest of your human life.”

He pauses as more static fills the room. “However, the moment you die and come to Hell you are mine. Your soul is mine. And I will be able to control you like a pawn whenever I please.”

His voice shifts to more of a demonic tone as he finishes speaking. While I know I should be utterly terrified and live the rest of my life in unresting fear all I can think about is how I wouldn’t mind being a pawn to him.

I have a feeling this won’t be the last I see of him before I eventually end up in Hell.

His grin grows wider as he senses that I’m not feeling as frightened as most people usually are when confronting a demon.

Instead, it seems to him I’m enamored even. “I must say, my little deer, you aren’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

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audhdnight · 10 months

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OH MY FUCKING GOD

Seriously this has opened my eyes to something that I honestly feel like I already suspected because there is SUCH an emphasis on “teaching them while they’re young” and not turning them out into the world until they are “past the point of no return” like this is why Christian fundamentalists hate college so much, because at that age people are still capable of reversing the damage (at least, a hell of a lot easier then they are at say, fifty). The prefrontal cortex doesn’t finish developing until around 25, so if an indoctrinated teenager goes to college at 18 and begins to see reality, they are much more likely to leave the church than someone who is sheltered from the world until they’re 30.

(Side rant: This is also why it’s so frustrating to talk to Christian adults who seem to be genuinely incapable of thinking logically. It explains a phenomenon that I noticed a long time ago: when speaking to relatives, I attempted to show them that they didn’t actually agree with, let’s say for the sake of the example, capitalism. I would bring up all their complaints with our current system and demonstrate how each one is a facet of capitalism. I was able to get them to agree to each individual point, but when I tried to put them all together as a whole, the person (usually my grandpa) would revert back to “okay the system is flawed but it still works” even though we just spent an hour discussing how it doesn’t work, actually. They are incapable of putting multiple pieces together and viewing them as one whole.)

I remember so clearly growing up the sermons on Proverbs 22:6 (Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it) and the pastors stirring up panic about public school and colleges stealing our children’s faith and poisoning their minds. I remember how afterwards all the parents exclaimed how their children would never go to college, that this is why they homeschooled, that this was yet another reason why young men should go straight into the work force and young women should immediately get married and become baby making machines. I vividly remember the panic over statistics of how many people leave the faith in college and how it was so much higher than the numbers of essentially any other group.

Fundamentalists worst fear is reality. They do not want their children to have any exposure to any rhetoric besides their own, unless it is presented disingenuously by apologetics teachers. Everything is filtered and twisted and watered down to keep us “safe” from reality.

This is literally how cults operate. Fundamental Christian evangelicalism IS A CULT

This is also why they target vulnerable groups, because like the OP mentions, people who have damage to their prefrontal cortex are much more likely to fall for indoctrination. This is why you see Christian “outreach groups” in homeless shelters and rehabilitation programs and hospitals. This is targeted and it is malicious. Even the “good Christians” who really do want to actually help people are upholding this system that actively harms vulnerable groups.

#religious trauma #brain damage #tw religion #religious deconstruction #tw christianity #exvangelical

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sarahowritesostucky · 8 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4042

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

5. Jiggly Soufflé Cake

Steve

“I should be in there,” Bucky says again, making Steve roll his eyes.

They’re sitting next to each other, out in the waiting room at the Center. It’s been over an hour, but Steve remembers how the intake worker had told them that Mary’s evaluation wouldn’t be short. Already, he’s read through half the crappy magazine selection. He lets the edge of an outdated issue of Dominant Monthly flop down to his lap. “Babe …”

“It’s taking too long. What if they’re harassing her or—”

“You know that’s not true. The people here are good. You’re just trying to control everything,” he reminds Bucky.

“If I was in there I could—”

“Get in the way. She needs to feel like she can express herself.”

“What if she’s not honest? What if Linda’s not asking her the right—”

“Buck, stop,” Steve says, injecting some command into his voice. Bucky might be the Dom, but Steve can put his foot down with his husband when needed. “The therapist knows what she’s doing. All the people here do. This is what they do.”

They’re at the Center for Designated Peoples, the place where people like Bucky go for … well, anything related to their dominance or submission needs. That’s all Steve really knows. He knows that Bucky has been in and out of CDPs since he was a kid. “It took almost a week to get her this appointment, alright? You want to mess that up?”

Bucky grumbles. “No.”

“Good. Cause they don’t need you in there, interfering in her assessment. So sit tight.”

Bucky shuts up after that, satisfying Steve that he’s made his point.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky eventually says, when another ten minutes have passed and the door to the therapist’s office is still closed. “Of her?”

Steve glances over. “You mean in general?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Steve can tell when Bucky’s being defensive. “You like her,” he says. “And not just cause of her lemon tarts.” He’d seen him looking at weighted blankets on Amazon, yesterday. “Admit it,” he prods, nudging Bucky’s shoe with his. “You can tell me how you feel. Why d’you need me to qualify it for you, first?

“Because I’m married to you, not her,” Bucky snaps. “Jesus, Rogers. Never met a man with less self-preservation instincts than you.”

“Mmhm. Aand?”

“... Okay I’m drawn to her,” Bucky says. “But I can’t tell how much of that is instinct and how much is normal people stuff.”

“‘Normal people stuff’,” Steve echoes, amused.

“I want to know what you think of her.” Bucky kicks his shoe back. “Tell me.”

“I like her too,” Steve concedes. “It’s not just you.” He can see as Bucky’s shoulders relaxing a little bit, knows that his opinion matters to his husband. “She’s different. Plain, but …” Steve searches for the right word. ‘Cute’ doesn’t seem right. She’s too prickly for that and too old besides. She’s a woman, not a girl, and he’s not just trying to describe her physical appearance. “I don’t know,” he says. “Editorial?”

“Editorial?” Bucky scowls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I dunno, just, not off the rack. Different.” Bucky snatches the magazine out of his lap and chucks it back to the coffee table. Steve rolls his eyes. “Wish she wasn’t so defensive, though. And I wish we could’ve met her … you know, like on a date or at the gym or something.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah.”

“She grows on you,” Steve decides. Like an angry, stray cat. That’s dirty and scraggy a little.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky offers, but the words fall flat. They can both see that she’s attractive, that isn’t news. Bucky and Steve are attractive people themselves. They aren’t hurting for opportunities to be with attractive women (or men), if they want to. And it’s been a while since they invited another person into their bed. But …

“I haven’t been with a woman since my twenties,” Steve mumbles, thinking about it. He glances at Bucky. “You have.”

They both know Bucky was dating women casually when he met Steve, years ago. “Yeah,” he says simply.

“You ever miss ‘em? Women?” Steve kind of does sometimes. He likes how soft they are; the contrast. It had taken him a couple of dates and a few glasses of wine, back when they’d first gotten together, to admit to Bucky that he was bi. Steve had told him that, and then Bucky had disclosed his designation status. “We used to talk about the whole poly thing a lot more.”

“Hm, yeah I guess.” Bucky shrugs and reaches to take his hand. Steve gives it a squeeze. “I dunno babe. Kind of hard to think about anybody else when I’ve got you around.” He gives him a lecherous look that makes Steve glad they’re the only ones in the waiting room. “Your hot body’s been enough to keep my attention.” His eyes drag up and down Steve, mentally undressing him.

Steve feels heat creep up his neck and he chuckles, pushing Bucky’s hand away. “Stoppit. Jerk. I’m a person.”

“Punk,” Buck smirks. “You like it.”

“Shuddup. Not here. God, you’re such a creep.” They’re both grinning—probably like complete, horny letches—when the door to the therapist’s office opens.

The professionally dressed woman offers them a friendly smile. “Bucky, Steve.”

“Hey Linda,” Bucky greets.

“How’d it go, Doctor?” Steve asks, not on as informal terms with the CDP staff as his husband is. “Is she …”

“Mary is fine. Would you like to come in and talk with us?”

Bucky is immediately standing from his chair. “Yep.”

Steve has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He grabs Bucky’s wrist. “Hang on now, Buck. Maybe she doesn’t want us in there. We should try and give her choices where we can.”

Doctor Linda surprises him by saying, “Actually, Mary says she’s fine with discussing this all together.”

Bucky shoots him a smug look and tugs his wrist back. “See?”

This time Steve does roll his eyes, but he nods at Linda and gets up to follow her back into the office.

Bucky

Bucky can recall very clearly the first time he’d been told he had a mental illness. He’d been ten, had been sent to the school shrink for misbehavior. He remembers how his mom had come in, harried about being called off from work when her kid wasn’t even sick. Bucky had felt bad about that, had felt like he’d done something wrong (well, he had scrubbed Trixie Wallace’s face into a mud puddle at recess).

But still, even at ten years old he’d been smart enough to know that this meeting with his mom and the counselor was more serious than another simple admonition or in-school suspension.

Long story short, His mom wound up reacting with something like embarrassment, and Bucky had wound up internalizing that for a long time, feeling like his “condition” was something to be kept private and not discussed.

Now, he sits in Linda’s office and makes sure to exude an air of calm and acceptance. He doesn’t want Mary to be embarrassed about this like he was. It helps that times have changed a bit since Bucky was a kid, and he knows this particular Center very well. They do good work with the designated community. Bucky knows that no one here is going to announce to Mary that she’s a deviant.

Mary’s sitting in her own chair, separate from where Bucky and Steve share the couch. Even though Bucky’s instinct is to tell her to come sit with them, he holds back. He knows that the seating arrangement is likely purposeful on Linda’s part. He tries to remember Steve’s words about giving Mary choices where they can. Domination may be what she needs, but too much of a good thing, administered too fast, can still be harmful.

“High needs,” Steve is saying, echoing what Linda’s just told them. “... So, she’s like Bucky, but submissive?”

“Yes,” Linda confirms. “We did the assessment twice, and both times Mary tested at the far end of the spectrum.”

“Fantastic,” Mary mutters.

“We’ve been discussing what this might mean for her care plan, going forward. Mary has several other issues that I believe tie into her unfulfilled needs as a submissive.”

“I don’t understand how it went undiagnosed for so long,” Bucky says, feeling vaguely upset about it. “Doc?”

She shrugs. “Mary’s from a part of the country where mental health awareness isn’t so advanced. They didn’t test in the public school system where she grew up.” Mary makes a quiet noise of discontent and Linda adds, “So we’ve been talking about the physiology of it, the role of neurotransmitters and how important it is for her to be dropped regularly. And we’ve discussed what that might look like, different options she has.”

“Options?”

Here, Linda hesitates. “Well … Mary has expressed an interest in taking advantage of the Center’s social programs.”

“No,” Bucky says right away. “Absolutely not.”

“She said you do it,” Mary counters, and when Bucky looks over he finds her glaring at him. “Apparently, I don’t need you after all. I can just come here and hook up with any old body.”

“I’m your legal guardian right now,” Bucky reminds her. “And the clubs are for people who know what they’re doing. It’s too unstructured for you. You need more stability than that.”

Mary scoffs and crosses her arms, but Dr. Linda is already nodding in agreement. “I think Bucky’s right, Mary,” she says gently. “A reliable, dominant partner and regular drops in a safe space are what you need right now.”

“Why can’t you just write me a prescription or something?” Mary complains. “You said it was a brain chemistry thing, so why not?”

Linda looks uncomfortable as she explains, “Medication is usually only considered as a last ditch treatment option … and with your substance use disorder and other issues I'd rather not —”

“I am not an alcoholic!”

“No meds,” Bucky says, hating that idea. “Come on, Mary. You don’t want to be drugged up, do you?”

She glares at him. “You just want to control me.”

He fights very, very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he quips. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

Mary groans and slumps back into the cushions of her chair, looking put out. “This sucks.”

“It’s manageable,” Linda reminds gently.

"I don't want to be this way," she mumbles. "'High needs'. It's embarrassing."

“It's no different than needing air, or food or sleep,” Steve supplies. “You guys just have this extra thing.”

Mary makes a face, probably at being lumped into the ‘you guys’ category with Bucky. “So, what’s the plan then?” she asks mulishly, crossing her arms. “We go back to your place and you break out the whips and chains?”

Bucky barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Oh, honey. I promise there aren’t any chains.” He winks at her. “I prefer leather.”

Mary

After the therapist, it gets a little easier to be around Steve and Bucky. Mary’s still quick to anger, thinking about the situation that she's managed to get herself into, but there are some ameliorating factors to the situation.

Having an official diagnosis—no matter how much she doesn’t want this diagnosis—is at least a starting point. Mary doesn’t have to keep exhausting herself, arguing with Bucky that she’s not a sub. She is. That’s that.

And when he takes it upon himself to speak with Mary’s boss about her situation (effectively getting him to unfire her for the multiple days of work she’s missed) some more of Mary’s contempt for Bucky slips away.

“Thank you,” she says quietly once they leave the café, her next shift already scheduled for that upcoming Monday. “ I … this job, it means a lot to me.”

“I know.” Bucky says simply, though Mary can see the self-satisfaction in his posture. He takes her hand as they walk together down the sidewalk, and to Mary it feels like some sort of test, like he’s waiting for her to pull away.

So she forces herself to curl her fingers around his and keep holding his hand.

Again, she can practically feel the reaction coming off of him. He’s pleased with her. Mary’s cheeks flush from the domineering squeeze he gives her hand from time to time as they walk, and she’s grateful that she can blame it on the day’s chilly air.

Doctor Linda had explained everything, of course, when Mary went in for the assessment. The testing hadn’t been what she was expecting, hadn’t been embarrassing or invasive. And, perhaps most disappointing of all, it hadn’t been predictable. Mary hadn’t felt like she knew which way to fake her responses, to get the test to declare her mentally fit. So she’d answered honestly.

And where had that gotten her? Lumped into the same group of deviants as James Bucky Barnes. “High needs”—God it sounds awful.

“It’s not necessarily sexual,” Linda tells her at her second appointment. “Or, well … it doesn’t have to be, at least. There are ways around it, if you really need an asexual dynamic.”

Mary nods along, but inside she thinks about the last time Bucky scolded her or praised her or held her hand on the sidewalk. She thinks about when he’d put his hand on her throat and applied pressure. Thinking about those things doesn’t make her feel asexual at all.

The first time Bucky doms her in a coordinated manner, she’s actually unaware of what he’s doing at first. It’s one of Mary’s three days off and she’s terribly bored, researching how to make grapefruit soda caviar and wondering if there’s a gym nearby that she could join. She hasn’t exercised in weeks, and honestly, if there’s even the slightest chance that she’s going to wind up being naked in front of Bucky or Steve (or, oh god, both of them), then she really feels like she needs to work out.

Scratching fingernails over the skin of her lower stomach, she googles nearby gyms, finds one that looks decent, and tells Steve that she’s headed out to go join. She’s tying one sneaker when Steve objects.

“Oh but wait,” he says. “Um, Bucky’s going to be home soon. And I think he uh, I think he had plans. … For us.”

Mary raises an eyebrow. She likes Steve—thinks he’s kind of a big, beefy sweetheart, actually—but sometimes his devotion to Bucky and what Bucky wants is annoying. “Fine, you stay here and tell him where I went. I’ve got to get out of this apartment.” And out from under you and your bossy husband’s constant supervision. “Got to … I dunno, burn off some steam.”

Bucky’s timing is impeccable. He comes through the door just as she’s bending over to lace up her other sneaker. His arms are full of plastic grocery bags, which he dumps onto the kitchen counter with fanfare. "Honey, I'm home."

“What happened to using the reusable bags?” Steve drawls, earning an eye roll from Bucky.

“Forgot 'em.”

“Mmhm.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s grinning at his husband, until he catches sight of Mary crouched in her gym clothes. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks her.

“None of your business,” she snips, standing back up and heading for the front door.

“Stop right there, Princess.”

Oh. Well that’s a new one. Mary turns back around with what she’s sure is an incredulous look. “‘Princess’?”

Bucky smiles warmly and drags her over to inspect the groceries that are in the bags. She’s quick to catalog: eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. “What?” she asks, looking up at him. “You think I’m going to cook for you?”

“Oh I know you’re going to cook for me,” he says calmly, taking dry goods out of one of the bags and arranging them in the pantry. “Bake, in fact.”

Mary might stare a little, maybe with her lips parted. She feels equal parts annoyed and intrigued by his audacity. Something vaguely squirmy and warm stirs in her. She's planning on throwing some haughty quip back at him, maybe casually threatening poisoning, but somehow what comes out of her mouth is a subservient, “Well … what do you want me to make?”

He turns back around with bright eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you can come up with something,” he practically purrs. He gets right up in her space and says, “Something … delectable.”

Mary has to avert her gaze and turn away. She says a quick prayer that he hadn’t been close enough to hear the little hitch in her breath, then tries to focus her attention on cataloging the ingredients the jerk has brought her. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk …

Hadn’t she … hadn’t she been going out somewhere? Oh yeah, right. The gym.

She squeaks when Bucky claps a cheerful hand on her shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “Good girl,” he simpers, then walks over to the couch and flops down next to Steve, giving him a kiss hello. They proceed to chat with each other and chat about their days like Mary isn’t standing less than twenty feet away in the kitchen.

She suddenly feels like some 1950’s housewife. … One with damp panties, now that Bucky’s called her that right in her ear. Christ. Had Steve heard? She glances back over to them, but they’re not looking her way. Mary flushes and looks back down at the countertop. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. She tries to think if she has everything she might need for soufflé cakes.

“How can something so plain be so good?” Steve wonders at the dinner table, where he’s squinting closely at his third helping of dessert like he can glean answers from it. “And what is it?”

“Satisfying,” Bucky says sagely. “That’s the secret.”

“The secret is buttermilk. And it’s cake, Steve. Just eat it.”

“How’re those dishes coming, Doll?” Bucky calls back, shooting her a sly look from over his shoulder. Mary resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him and dunks her hands back into the soapy sink water.

Steve pokes the jiggly cake with his fork. “What are yooou?”

By the time they’re finished with dinner and dessert (and dishes), she’s figured it out. All the pet names, the casual touches and the confident demands? Bucky’s trying to dominate her. She thinks about calling him out on it, but promptly forgets to do that when they go into the living room to watch a movie and Bucky firmly suggests that she make herself comfortable on the floor instead of the couch. At his and Steve’s feet.

Forget about damp panties, she just hopes it doesn’t start to show through her leggings.

Asexual dynamic her ass.

Mary had only held onto the illusion that the guys were gay gay for about two whole days, before it became very apparent that they actually like women, too. Steve’s comments alone about Daenerys while watching Game of Thrones are enough to broadcast that he swings both ways.

So that takes it from regrettable to just plain insulting when, as time goes by, Bucky doesn’t initiate anything sexual with her. He keeps doing his whole Dom thing, aided and abetted by Steve, and almost always in ways that take Mary off guard. He’s never mean, never does any of the intimidating things she’d imagined a dom would do to a submissive.

And Mary won’t admit it, but she’s starting to look forward to when Bucky gets home from work at the end of the day. She spends more time than she’ll ever admit planning out something new to make for dessert, all the while anticipating the beginning of Bucky’s early evening commands and how they elicit those first tendrils of effervescent, pink fizz giddiness.

It’s the later commands—the ones that come after dinner and during tv time, that tend to bring on the warm, sunken bathwater feelings. Marys pretty sure that Steve is a bit of a voyeur, because he seems fascinated by it all, watching every night as Bucky bosses her around, sometimes even joining in his own small ways, by petting her hair or telling her she’s sweet, or something like that.

Every evening, they play this strange game. And every evening Bucky and Steve each give her a kiss on the cheek and send her dazed little self off to bed, the two of them retiring to their own room. In the beginning, being left alone to go to bed is nice. She ignores the arousal between her legs in favor of floating in her syrupy sea of sweet feelings. Going to bed in subspace gives her the most solid sleep she’s ever had in her life. But after another week of it, and then another, the arousal starts to linger a little more at bedtime. She starts to fantasize about what it would be like to keep things going, to take Steve’s hand at the end of the night and let him guide her into his and Bucky’s bedroom, rather than her own; be held between their two big bodies while they whisper more sweet things to her and touch her in new places …

Maybe Steve and Bucky really do just want this to be platonic, she thinks, as another week of the same goes by and her dreams are getting dirtier by the minute. She’d surreptitiously stuffed her vibrator into a bag when they’d gone back to her apartment to retrieve her belongings, but she’s been too afraid to use it when Steve and Bucky are right across the hallway in their room, mortified to think that they might hear the buzzing and know what she’s doing.

Best not to add fuel to the fire, she thinks, when she ignores how increasingly horny she’s becoming and forces herself to lie still and count sheep and not fantasize about the two insanely hot, not-gay-gay men in the next room. They’re still a happily married couple, she tells herself. They’ve got no interest in her as of yet, and she’ll just be making herself into a homewrecker if she pushes for more.

… Or maybe they’re just not attracted to her that way, she eventually starts to think. Steve and Bucky are both in amazing shape, and they’re very good looking. They probably see her as like … maybe a solid five—with makeup and a blowout.

She gets a little down in the dumps about it, realizing that all the heavy drinking and crap diet of this past year and a half has taken its toll on her, and she’s just not physically their type. She convinces Bucky to start adding salmon to the grocery list, she researches the pros and cons of lip filler, and starts whitening her teeth with one of those nasty little gel kits.

She stands in front of her bathroom mirror each night and scrutinizes her naked body, dragging her nails absentmindedly against the skin of her lower stomach and cataloging everything that’s not as good as it could be. She considers the scars on her hip that have no new slices added to the roster, wonders if Bucky ever wound up telling Steve about how … how awful they are …

“Night, Mary!” Steve chirps from across the hall, making her inhale and flinch in surprise.

“N-night!” she calls back through the wall, feeling the pleasant effects of that night’s drop fading away faster than she’d like.

Maybe she should just be happy that she’s getting at least this much attention from them, that things have improved a little and she at least isn’t drinking herself into a stupor each night anymore. That’s a positive, even if she is still left pining after them like a fool every night. Steve and Bucky are okay guys, but they probably just don’t want anything more than this from her. They’re helping her because she shares this mental illness with Bucky, and that’s super nice of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to be attracted to her, too. Mary’s not entitled to anything.

She joins a 24 hour gym and takes to binge exercising in the middle of the night to push away the uncertainty.

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ox-imagines · 30 days

Note

Dsgjfkk hello, sorry to bother you with my brainrot but I'm so curious. Which tokyo debunker ghouls do you think would be into taller women vs not? I'm 5'8-5'9 and a (chunky and comfortable) Heel Enjoyer, so I typically end up standing around 6', and it's made a couple reallll weird dates lol

Thank you for your ask! I hope I answered it to your satisfaction!

Into it: Alan, Jin, Haru, Zenji, Jiro, Sho

Alan

Really Alan isn’t too picky about his partners visually, and he’s a tall guy who doesn’t mind dating someone who’s also tall. I feel like he’d be the type to equate short=cute and tall=attractive. It also doesn’t hurt to be tall because that means you’re less small and therefore probably not as easy to harm, though regardless he will still treat you as if you’re fragile; it just helps subconsciously loosen his mental block.

Jin

Jin is another one who is tall and wouldn’t mind a tall partner, he’d just prefer you not be taller than him. Even if you are though, he’ll eventually put his reservations about it aside. Fuck society, after all; who cares if people don’t consider it “normal”? If someone has something to say about it, they can say it to his face, and let’s just say it won’t go too well for them if they’re actually bold enough to.

Haru

Ok look. I am pro sub Haru. I think a tall woman would easily have him weak in the knees. He finds it so attractive and too often catches himself thinking about you having him pinned to a wall. He would be a SIMP. Please step on him. If he has to climb you like a tree he will gladly do so. He often acts up and gets cheeky with you as a way of subtly begging you to put him in his place.

Zenji

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Zenji genuinely thinks everyone is beautiful in their own way! I don’t think he’d necessarily want to be with someone taller than him, but luckily he’s over 6 feet tall and usually wears platform sandals, so that won’t be a problem for most people. He otherwise doesn’t mind your height at all and thinks it’s part of what makes you unique! He enjoys waking up next to you because both of you have long limbs and you'll often end up tangled together cuddling.

Jiro

Like his brother, he is quite tall. He doesn’t view people the same way his brother does, but he would also date someone tall, though he wouldn’t care in the least if you happened to be taller than him. He doesn’t care about or think in terms of social norms, so he doesn’t think the height of a potential partner should matter, unless for some reason you’re trying to have children of a certain height. In fact, for Jiro, if you’re taller than average he’d probably take more interest in you because you stand out as compared to other girls he studies.

Sho

This man is another who finds tall women attractive. He’s fairly tall himself and loves the idea of having a tall partner, like the couples in the media who are both tall and hot. It doesn’t at all detriment his ego to be with someone his height or taller, even if Leo makes snide remarks about it. He likes to show off, and for him if you were around his height or taller it would be a point of pride that he was able to bag you since most women seem to like men who are taller than them.

Iffy about it/it depends: Lyca, Kaito, Tohma, Leo

Lyca

Social norms don't affect Lyca. In fact, a bigger mate might be beneficial because size usually equals strength, right? That being said, though, it might take a while to get to the point of being with him because girls make him nervous, and you being tall would make you seem a little more intimidating to him.

Kaito

Surface level, Kaito is very subscribed to what other people think and what the media says is cool and right. He's not actively into tall girls, especially since he's not very tall himself. However, if you start giving him attention, it won't take much to get him thinking about you and he'll quickly become more like Haru, practically begging for you to do whatever you want to him.

Tohma

Tohma doesn't really have too much of a preference either way. He'd prefer you to be at least a tiny bit shorter than him, but otherwise, he doesn't think it's much of a sensible concern. Height isn't a trait that makes someone a good partner.

Leo

Leo would prefer for a female partner to be shorter than him in most occasions. He thinks it's a better aesthetic, plus he could tease her about being short and put his arm on her head like an armrest. But just maybe you could convince him to date a tall girl. He's cuddly, so if you let him cuddle into your side and put your arms around him he'll enjoy it. Also if he gives it some thought, he might decide it would actually be beneficial to date a tall girl. It's outside the norm, so it would inevitably get people talking, and any attention is good attention in Leo's opinion.

Doesn't like it: Towa, Romeo

The only two I can imagine just not liking it are Towa and Romeo, and even they could be convinced if you can get past their initial distaste.

Towa

Towa wouldn't like the idea of a girl taller than him. It doesn't fit into his traditional understanding of romance, and he likes when girls seem small and weaker as compared to him, he thinks it's cute. He's an affectionate person, so if you can convince him to like you as a friend first it could go somewhere anyway despite him initially not seeing you as "suitable".

Romeo

Romeo is a bit too shallow and a bit too invested in appearances and societal expectations to even consider dating a woman his height or taller. If you somehow manage to endear yourself to him, you may be able to change his mind, but it'll take a lot of time and effort, so good luck.

#tdb #tokyo debunker #tohma ishibashi #zenji kotodama #towa otonashi #tokyo debunker x reader #haru sagara #jin kamurai #romeo lucci #leo kurosagi #kaito fuji #lyca colt #alan mido #sho haizono #shohei haizono #jiro kirisaki

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lu-sn · 5 months

Text

Arm has a top-secret file that he keeps on a separate partition of his hard drive, locked behind three different password walls. It’s a list of all of the main family’s bodyguards, ranked by how likely they are to be the mole.

(It’s top-secret because he’s not supposed to be looking into this. Chan explicitly ordered him not to.)

There’s a handful of people Arm doesn’t even bother putting on the list. Pol, for one. Pete. Erika. Chan.

By contrast, every single one of Kinn’s personal bodyguards, past and present, is a prime suspect. Kinn’s had a notorious streak of bad luck lately. Four murder attempts in four months cannot be a coincidence.

Ken is just aloof enough that nobody seems to know what he’s up to on his off-days. This rockets him straight to the top of Arm’s list, tied with Big, who has fallen so far out of favor with Kinn that Arm can’t help but wonder if Kinn is doing it on purpose.

And then there’s the name directly under those two.

“Be honest,” he says to Pete one day. They’re sequestered in his armory, but he keeps his voice low: there’s no harm in being careful with matters like this. “Do you think there’s any chance Porsche is the mole?”

Pete is silent for a good, long moment.

“You live with him,” Arm says. “You’ve been on more missions with him than me. If anyone here knows him best, it’s you.”

“There are reasons to suspect him,” Pete says slowly. “A lot of his missions have gone wrong. He didn’t stop that girl from attacking Kinn in the bathroom. The casino stakeout was a mess. The diamond auction was worse.”

“But…?”

Pete sighs. “I don’t know. He’s young. He’s made a lot of mistakes, but he’s improving.”

Arm stares forlornly at his list, cursor blinking innocently next to Porsche’s name. “Pete, I can’t clear his name just because he’s young.”

“No,” Pete concedes. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “But he’s kind, too. He’s principled. He won’t betray people he cares about.”

“And that’s enough? You trust him?”

“I do.”

The knot in Arm’s chest jerks tighter. “But… he’s so likable.”

“Ohhh, right, he’s nice. Never mind. Death by firing squad.”

Arm smiles, sheepish.

“Okay,” Pete says. “So you think he’s tricking us?”

“Shit, Pete, I don’t know,” Arm splutters. “Isn't it possible?”

“I don't think so. Porsche isn't like that.”

Arm considers this, then plops his face into his hand.

“Did you want me to say something else?” Pete says, faintly amused.

“Yes,” Arm groans.

“Why?”

“Because…” Arm trails off.

Because the security of the main family rests on his shoulders. Arm cannot afford to be anything other than objective; he needs to leave Porsche on his list.

But the problem is that Porsche barreled into their lives and immediately made Khun Noo happier than Arm had ever seen before. The problem is that Pol hasn’t been this comfortable around someone since Arm himself. The problem is that Arm vaguely remembers being carried home from Hum Bar by an equally drunk Porsche, who took off his shoes for him and tucked him into bed and grinned brightly over his shoulder before staggering out the door.

The problem is that Arm is biased.

Pete, on the other hand, is the most level-headed person Arm knows. Leaving Porsche’s name on his list wouldn’t feel so terrible if Pete agreed with it.

“I wanted you to give me a reason to keep him on here,” Arm mumbles. “I feel bad. He’s our friend.”

“You’re doing your job,” Pete says sincerely. “There’s no shame in that. But…” He reaches over to pat Arm on the shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with trusting your gut. If you think he’s innocent, leave him off.”

Arm mulls over this. Then he pokes Pete in the side. “I think I trust your gut more than mine.”

Pete lets out a laugh, incredulous, and pokes Arm back.

Later, Arm highlights Porsche’s entry with his cursor and drags it to the bottom of the file. Then he pauses. His hand hovers over the delete button.

He thinks about Pete saying, I trust him. He thinks about what Pete didn’t quite say: you should trust yourself, too.

He hits delete.

#kpanniversary2024 episode 9 + prompt 9: trust

#this one's for all the armpete girlies out there #(looking straight at dreamy)#brought to you by me thinking about how arm and pete show unconditional trust for porsche #and how curious that is given the state of the main family at that time #kinnporsche #kpanniversary2024 #arm kinnporsche #pete saengtham #mine: ficlet

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hollowed-theory-hall · 5 months

Note

How does the protection magic that Lily's sacrifice placed on Harry work? On that note- how do the blood wards placed on the Dursley household operate?

Like- does the latter act as a notice me not/ fidelius of its own? Protecting Harry's location from other magicals? (It would have been easy for another Longbottom tragedy to occur after all) from what I remember the blood wards have no affect on the protection cast by Lily's sacrifice, and instead sort of extend the effect to the household???

Also on the topic of the protection- we saw the end Quirrel met. And... I just wondered- why didn't this sort of reaction extend to all the people - the Dursleys included- who laid their hands + spells on Harry with the intent to harm? By all means the blood wards should have fallen the moment The Dursleys tried to physically harm Harry. Can't see a protection powered by Lily's intent, extending to people who mean her son harm.

Unless of course the magic and the wards are targetted at Riddle specifically. Which brings the question- why didn't it set on fire/ harm anything considering even the traces of Riddle's presence/ influence. Eg. The people with the death Eater brands, the horcruxes, the soul shard inside Harry himself??

Ugh. Just so many questions.

Ps. Could the blood wards have been transferred/ worked in a residence comprising of the people Harry considered as his family and who reciprocated this sentiment? (based on the importance of intent to keep the spell going)

Wow, @ana-lyz, just like with the veil and death asks, I just started drafting a post about Lily's blood protections and what Dumbledore says about them. So...

Lily's Love Protection and Dumbledore's Blood Wards

Alright, strap in...

Okay, so let's start by seeing what we're told about the blood protections and whether we can gather something cohesive that makes magical sense out of it.

We have Voldemort's statement on this piece of magic:

“...I wanted Harry Potter’s blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago . . . for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too. . . . “But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy’s future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy’s protection as long as he is in his relations’ care. Not even I can touch him there. . . .

(GoF, 657)

Notice there is the lingering protection from Lily's magic and the ancient magic Dumbledore invoked. These are, I believe separate spells.

Dumbledore's statements:

“But why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?” “Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign…to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

(PS, 215)

“But I knew too where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated — to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother’s blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative.” “She doesn’t love me,” said Harry at once. “She doesn’t give a damn —” “But she took you,” Dumbledore cut across him. “She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother’s sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you.” “I still don’t —” “While you can still call home the place where your mother’s blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years.”

(OotP, 835-836)

Here again, Dumbledore mentions the ancient magic he made the decision to protect Harry with as a separate thing from the lingering protection from Lily.

And (as per this post) the Dumbledore Harry hallucinates statement:

“He took my blood.” said Harry. “Precisely!” said Dumbledore. “He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood in his veins, Harry, Lily’s protection inside both of you! He tethered you to life while he lives!”

(DH, 598)

And then we have what happened to Quirrell:

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face — “AAAARGH!” Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn’t touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain — his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse. Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off — the pain in Harry’s head was building — he couldn’t see — he could only hear Quirrell’s terrible shrieks and Voldemort’s yells of, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”

(PS, 212)

What we know from this

Well, from the above quotes we can divide the magical protections on Harry into 2 different spells as I mentioned above:

Lily's sacrificial love protection - the intention magic Lily cast by protecting her son. This is the magic that blocked the Killing Curse and killed Quirrell.

Dumbledore's blood ward - this is the spell Dumbledore cast that (supposedly) protects Harry in his relatives' home. Voldemort says Dumbledore invoked this magic, and Dumbledore also mentions it's a ward he left that built upon Lily's protection, but it's not a spell Lily left.

So, what can Lil'y Sacrificial Love Protection do:

Makes the Killing Curse not kill Harry.

Returns the Killing Curse back to the sender.

Continues to hurt that initial "sender" whenever he tries to kill Harry.

What about Dumbledore's Blood Wards what do they do:

Nothing.

Dumbledore and Voldemort say this magic exists but it never does anything. We never see it active, it never protects Harry from anyone, neither his relatives nor Death Eaters. So, we don't know what it's supposed to be doing since it doesn't do anything in the books.

Voldemort says it won't allow him to touch Harry in his relatives' house.

How I think these spells actually work

I'll start with Dumbledore's Blood Wards:

I simply don't think this ward actually exists.

Dumbledore isn't very consistent with how this protection works. He says Harry needs to return for a bit to live with Petunia for the magic to work, but if that's all the requirement, why long weeks? Couldn't he return for a shorter time? And each year he spends a different amount of time at Private Drive? Couldn't he always be sent back just for the minimal required time? At first, the ward was about love but then it isn't, he says this: "While you can still call home the place where your mother’s blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort."

Harry didn't think of Private Drive as a home:

Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he’d already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had.

(PS, 123)

“I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet,” said Dumbledore. “Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home.” Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, for this was exactly how he felt about Hogwarts too.

(HBP, 431)

Harry never considered Private Drive and the Dursleys his home. Hogwarts was his first home.

If there is no love and it isn't a home, even if Dumbledore did cast a blood ward based on Petunia and Lily's sacrifice it won't actually be active. But personally, I don't think this ward actually exists.

Dumbledore needs a reason to keep Harry with his relatives.

Dumbledore needs Harry malleable, low on self-esteem, and lacking in a support network. Because he knew since October 1981 (but probably before) that he'd likely need Harry to die. He suspected Harry was a Horcrux from practically day 1:

Under a tuft of jetblack hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. “Is that where —?” whispered Professor McGonagall. “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “He’ll have that scar forever.” “Couldn’t you do something about it, Dumbledore?” “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Scars can come in handy...

(PS, 13-14)

And being raised by the Dursleys ensured that when the time came, when Dumbledore needed Harry to die to destroy Voldemort, Harry would be willing. Because Harry would not put much worth in his own life. Because of that, I think it's not outside the realm of possibility Dumbledore would lie about this ward to have an excuse to keep sending Harry to the Dursleys.

(Sure, Dumbledore would've preferred not to kill Harry if it could be avoided, but he had been preparing for the situation since October 1981)

It's not like he did anything to better their treatment of Harry until book 6, when he needed Harry to start trusting him more...

And like I mentioned above, even if the ward was there, it would not be active because Private Drive was never a home for Harry. And after year 4, when Voldemort took his blood, any protection from any blood-related magic would be moot. Because Voldemort would not be counted as a threat by the ward.

So Dumbledore sending Harry back to the Dursleys after he knew the wards he left (if they were there at all) were gone, proves to me Harry's placement at the Dursleys was never about the wards to begin with. Because if the blood wards are gone, literally anywhere else around wizards who could protect Harry would be safer than at the Dursleys, even when thinking of Death Eaters and Voldemort as the only threat. If they came to find Harry at Private Drive, nothing would've stopped them (except Harry himself).

I could guess wards like this, if they actually were active, would have been an extension of Lily's protection and stopped Voldemrot from being able to enter the Dursleys' residence. From what's said, it seems this ward seems to target Voldemrot specifically, and no one else. But, as I mentioned, I don't think it's really there.

Lil'y Sacrificial Love Protection:

I mentioned in the past how intention and emotion mean a lot for magic in the HP universe. Lily, a witch who we are told repeatedly was powerful, intelligent, and talented, could very well cast a powerful protection out of her love and intention to protect her son. That is 100% possible with what we see magic is capable of and how magic seems to work.

That being said, the fact this never happened before suggests to me Lily did something different than just having a very strong wish for her son to survive. Dumbledore says it's because she had a choice, and in a way it is, but not because Voldemort gave her the option not to die, but because she chose to die instead of Harry.

I'll try to explain it, bear with me.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” “Stand aside, you silly girl. . . stand aside now.” “Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—” “This is my last warning—” “Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy. . . have mercy. . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I’ll do anything—” “Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”

(DH, 297)

This is the "spell" Lily casts — the incantation. This is her wish moments before her death: "Not Harry, kill me instead," that's what she says, that's her promise, that's her wish, that's the magic.

Lily's protection only works on Voldemort because her spell essentially made a bargain with Voldemort (that he didn't agree to). that he'd kill her instead of Harry. Once he killed Lily, he couldn't kill Harry because that was the protection she left him, and Voldemort won't be able to kill him because she died in his stead.

That's why we don't see the same thing happen after James dies to buy Lily and Harry time, why when others die to protect someone they aren't protected from the killing curse. What Lily did is a combination of a few extraordinary circumstances coming together:

She's an incredibly powerful witch (shown by her childhood magic that was very controlled and advanced (not unlike Tom Riddle) and Slughorn's boasting)

She loved Harry dearly. Loved him enough to power an accidental spell.

Chose and intended to die instead of her son. She had intent when making her plea, intent required for any spell.

So what essentially happened is that Lily created a situation where Voldemort physically can't kill Harry because Lily died in his stead. If, for example, Quirrell touched Harry without intending to kill him (like he did when they shook hands in Diagon Alley or when he pulled Harry to stand in front of the mirror) the protection won't activate. All it does is stop Voldemort from killing Harry because he already killed Lily in Harry's stead.

So, Voldemort, as I mentioned in the past, wants to kill Harry, this is his only ambition in the 2nd war. So he takes Harry's blood into himself so the protection won't work anymore. And we see it doesn't in the woods when Voldemort casts the killing curse and it doesn't rebound back on him (which would've happened otherwise).

This love protection from Lily doesn't require anything to stay active. It was cast because Voldemort killed her and Harry doesn't need to do anything to keep it active. Staying with the Dursleys wasn't for the sake of Lily's spell but for Dumbledore's ward.

As for Lily's spell not protecting Hary from anything else, like I mentioned, the bargain was that Voldemort would kill her instead of Harry, it would only protect Harry from being killed by Voldemort. If Voldemort just asked a random Death Eater to kill Harry it still wouldn't have worked, but that won't be because of Lily's love magic, but because of Harry pretty much always being the Master of Death.

Basically, Voldemort was doomed because he had no chance of killing Harry. Ever.

But what about when Harry died in book 7 and said he cast the same sacrificial love?

Well, I don't think Harry cast the same sacrificial love. His feelings and intentions were completely different. In his case, I think he just took the mastership of the Elder Wand so it wasn't performing as well for Voldemort afterward.

Conclusions

There are actually two different and distinct spells referred to by the characters when it comes to the protections Lily left for Harry.

The first is Lily's Sacrificial Love Spell which worked like a bargain. She pleaded with Voldemort to kill her instead of Harry and after he killed her, he could no longer kill Harry because he was protected.

Voldemort taking Harry's blood does indeed circumvent this spell and allows him to kill Harry in the woods (if temporarily).

The second is the Blood Ward Dumbledore talks about that is supposedly placed on the Dursleys' home. This spell was invoked by Dumbledore and is not part of Lily's spell.

It's supposed to build on and strengthen Lily's protection from what's implied.

this second spell would've stopped its activity the moment Harry stopped considering number 4, Private Drive his home (which happened quite young, as he doesn't remember ever considering it a home)

Personally, I don't think this blood ward ever existed, but even if it did, it was moot from the get-go and never done anything.

Voldemort taking Harry's blood in year 4, circumvented this ward too.

Basically, Dumbledore kept Harry at the Durselys less because of the wards and more because it suited him to ensure Harry would become the martyr he needed him to be (something I should write a full post about eventually).

#harry potter #hp #asks #ana-lyz #harry james potter #lily potter #harry potter meta #hp meta #hollowedtheory #albus dumbledore #lily evans #hp magical theory

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