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#shitty witch tips
shittywitchadvice · 2 years
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shitty witch tip #296
the queen’s grave is a gender neutral bathroom
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vstheworld · 2 years
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I met my first ‘regular trying to live out their coffeeshop AU fantasy in my workspace’ and I fucking hate her so much
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thespectralcottage · 9 months
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Getting Back Into Your Practice
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Sometimes life is shitty and your spiritual practice doesn't take priority. Thats okay. Here are some tips for how to get back into your practice once you're feeling up for it.
Cleanse and Clean Your Space This is defiantly the first think you should focus your energy on. This can take as long as needed and as intensive as you want or feel is needed. Spiritual and physically cleanse your space. Pick up items, open windows and start your cleansing method of choice.
Redo Wards and Protections Once you've cleansed its important to redo your protection. Cleanse to get rid of, protect to keep it away. Even if nothing has *hit* your protections and wards, its important to keep up to date on them being energized.
Keep Actives Low on Spoons Now that you've done the basics, stick to low spoon actives and slowly build from there. Even if you feel super energized and ready to get into it- you want to take things slow. This'll help you from losing steam..
Slowly Add Back In Your Daily Practice This is totally unique person to person, but dont expect to be back into your multi step daily routine right away. Add in each step one at a time, or slowly so you wont feel overwhelmed.
Come Up with a Ritual Youre EXCITED About You want to focus on the parts of witchcraft you love. Do something you've always wanted to try, something you always love doing, or anything that will make you excited for the working.
Pick a New Topic, Not an Older One Getting into your practice and going to an older topic might feel disheartening. Pick a new topic like astrology, plants, or an aspect of witchcraft you havent gotten too into before. Then go back to the older topic you left on.
Do Some Divination on What You Need Right Now Spend time with your spirit team, deities or ancestors and figure out what you should be focusing in on right now. Maybe you need more rest, maybe theres a ritual they want you to work on.
Remember You Dont Have To Do Magic Daily Dont put too much stress into doing something every single day. Take breaks. Youre still a witch.
I hope these helped. Remember to take things slow and dont let the pressure of getting back into it weigh you down. Magic is suppose to help not hinder.
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your-nanas-house · 2 months
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Voldemort x malfoy reader where he’s in desperate need for an heir so he ‘does’ the reader over the large dining table with a lot of ‘yes my lord’
Love it, sorry if it took me so long 😭
Yes, my Lord
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◇ Pairing: Lord Voldemort X Malfoy!Reader
◇ Warnings: age gap (both off age but it's a clear big age gap), smut, HEAVY DUB-CON, public sex, p in v, wet spell (dunno if it exists but I use it every time 😬), breeding kink, creampie... just Tom Riddle, the death eaters watch them
◇ Summary: The dark Lord was ready to have heirs.
◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. The writing is pretty shitty, 'M so sorry and it's kind of dark.
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Her eyes snapped up as soon as the dark lord pronounced her name in a strange tone, she wasn't exactly following the whole monologue that the now former Tom Riddle was gifting his followers. So she was oblivious at the topic connected to her name.
As she carefully scanned the room, her father, Lucius Malfoy, spoke with a worried expression on his face “B-But… my lord, she—” he tried, shutting his mouth as soon as the red eyes of the dark wizard glared slowly at him.
“I made my choice, Lucius… do you have anything to add?” He asked in a calm voice as he leaned closer, receiving just a head shake… the blonde man too scared to defend his own daughter in front of the older wizard.
When Voldemort called her name again, moving his slender fingers to indicate her to move closer.. she got up, her body shaking softly and sweating due to the fear and panic she was feeling at the worried expressions of her family.
She inhaled loudly as soon as the cold fingers of her lord brushed the side of her neck, traveling slowly down to her hips… making a grin appear on his face as her skin reacted with goosebump.
“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n… my poor little dove,” Tom cooed, moving his free hand in her hair before taking a firm grip and bending her down on the wooden table, a loud thud echoing in the room.
Every gaze was now staring at them, some were concerned, others worried and complacent… as Y/n's eyes started filling with tears, shutting tightly as the cold slender fingers lifted the skirt of her dress so that they could rest on her covered ass cheeks.
“My little dove, you know why I'm doing this, right?” Her lord cooed again, starting to knead her flesh harshly “I need a young cunt with a body that could carry strong heirs in it, hm” he continued while covering her now naked lower half with his cape, which swallowed the sinful act perfectly.
The death eaters had just a perfect view of the young witch’s face which showed clear fear and worry.
They could see Tom’s hand moving under the cape, silence except for noises of metal caused by his belt hitting the floor… sounds that made them stare more intently.
Some started to look away while others kept focusing on them, admiring how the older man leaned down to whisper in her ear something that remained between them before her front body hit the table harshly.
A loud whimper escaped her mouth as soon as she collided with the wooden surface, her hands grabbed into whatever she could reach as an uncomfortable whimper broke the silence.
A soft light of a spell appeared from under the fabric and little time after that her whole body jolted forward, her head hitting the table as well.
Given by the dark lord’s expression of pleasure and hers of pain the dark wizards knew that was happening.
His movements were clear and the noises loud, his thick long cock kept forcing her walls open, as he pulled almost completely out so that his tip was the only thing inside of her.
Soft whimpers kept leaving her pretty mouth, tears kept running down her face wetting her young skin as she took everything her idol was giving her.
“Take it” Voldemort hissed, holding her flat against the table while snapping his hips forward, his cock hitting her cervix in a painful but pleasurable way as hisses kept leaving his mouth.
The Parseltongue sent shivers down her spine, those hiss and smooth noises kept swirling in her head, making her wetter than usual and almost too submissive.
It was her first time, Tom knew it, and he was enjoying it way more than he should… his breath getting heavier and heavier as he moved faster and harder not really carrying to make her cum or her pleasure.
“Going to take my heir!” he hissed, his tongue daring out to lick the skin of her ear shell sinfully
“I’m gonna fill… you.. up” he added, speaking after each thrust, as he smirked evilly when her body started to shake due to the intense feelings.
Her mind was telling her how wrong the whole situation was while her body kept reacting positively— her voice even cracked softly due to his fast thrusts… making it get higher while she continued to repeat the same answer as a mantra.
The young woman's eyes rolled back as her lord cupped her breasts through the fabric of her dress, squeezing and kneading them roughly to continue the now pleasant assault.. now a bit sloppier since he was reaching his own peak.
Y/n was on the same path, and after a particularly hard thrust, her body spasmed and her jaw dropped open…. her walls clenched around his hard and veiny cock, allowing Tom to finally release inside of her. Thrusting his hips to get it deeper inside of her before slowly pulling out.
A soft sigh of satisfaction escaped his mouth, his slender hands moved under the cloak as well, assuring that his seed wouldn’t leave her body.
Both were still breathing heavily as the young witch took a couple of deep breaths, falling slowly down, her bare knees hitting the cold floor of her family Mansion.
“Lovely… You have such a wonderful and useful daughter, Lucius” The dark lord murmured in a mocking tone, petting softly her hair while staring deeply in her father’s eyes, who was still at the table
“Make sure she will be there next week, for the next… encounter” he ordered, taking a grip on her hair to move her head easily, so that her eyes could meet his piercing red ones “I will see you later, dove”.
His voice was smooth and tempting, a contrast to the rough actions that just happened… his caress feeling almost soft and loving even if his stare was just communicating pure possessiveness and domination.
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Taglist:
@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter
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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year
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Letterman Jacket
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Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot
{ Main Masterlist }
Rating: E (18+ only)
Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.
Word count: 3.5k
Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier
Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️
P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!
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I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰
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It’s cold.
Why is it cold in fucking Miami?
If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.
We found him.
Who?
Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.
What the actual fuck, Peña -
You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.
Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.
Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.
Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.
The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.
Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.
You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.
Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.
His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.
Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.
You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.
But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.
A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.
The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’
Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’
Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’
The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.
You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.
Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’
‘I don’t think it. I know it.’
‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.
You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’
He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’
‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’
‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’
‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’
The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’
He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’
Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’
‘I don’t hate you -’
You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’
Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’
You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’
Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’
‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.
‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’
You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’
Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’
Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’
He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’
You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.
Want you.
His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.
You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’
He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’
‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.
You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.
You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’
‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.
‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.
Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’
‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.
He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’
You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’
He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’
It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.
‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.
Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’
‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.
He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’
There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’
‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.
You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’
Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.
‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’
Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.
Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.
Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.
Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’
Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.
He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’
‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’
Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.
‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’
‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.
Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’
Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.
Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.
‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.
‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.
The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.
As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’
Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’
‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’
‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’
And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.
You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.
You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’
‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.
Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.
Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’
The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’
You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’
You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.
You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’
Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’
A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’
With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’
Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.
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At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.
For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.
What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.
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More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️
Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕
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springwitch26 · 18 days
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sweet daisy and the violet witch (agatha harkness x fem!reader)
tip jar / masterlist
summary: you are a baby witch in a tough situation. when a mysterious, brooding woman offers to teach you how to control your powers, you can't refuse. but what does she want with you? and... what do you want with her?
warnings: smut (18+), captivity and bondage but reader isn't exactly unwilling, mind-reading, sexy magic, humiliation, praise kink, dirty talk, enchanted strap, squirting, agatha is dark ofc, reader has a shitty sexist ex-boyfriend but he's only there to set up the story
notes: MY FIRST AGATHA FIC! this is set pre-westview and it is just pages upon pages of detailed, heretical, homosexual filth. it's been a long time coming, and i'm really proud of it. hope you guys enjoy 💜
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tears streamed down your face as you stormed out of your now ex-boyfriend's house. the relationship had run its course, you knew that. but you never expected the breakup to be so ugly. he called you a "crazy bitch" and threatened to call the cops on you for destroying his living room.
and you didn't even do anything! at least, not on purpose.
the fight lasted an hour. you told him you wanted to break up, and he didn't take the rejection well. he started cursing you out, following you around the house as you frantically gathered your belongings.
now, you could handle the insults to your appearance and the comments about all the other women who supposedly wanted him. but when he started making sexual remarks—talking about how "frigid" you were and lamenting that he never fucked you hard enough to put you in your place—you lost it.
"shut up!" you cried, and the house shook with the impact. a wave of daisy yellow light burst from your chest and wreaked havoc on the living room. every lightbulb in every lamp shattered. the tv fell off the wall. books flew off their shelves and hurtled toward your ex's head. the carpet was singed. a few cracks appeared in the ceiling.
your ex ducked to avoid the flying books, then fell to his knees. he was uninjured despite the destruction, but his pride was wounded. you used his moment of weakness to grab your bag and rush out of the house, running down the street as fast as you could while he shouted obscenities.
you ran for a minute or so before a black car with tinted windows pulled up beside you. you froze in fear, but quickly relaxed when the driver rolled her window down. she was an older woman, and a beautiful one at that.
long, dark waves framed her face, and concern was written in her expression. her left arm extended out toward you, and you could see she was wearing a deep purple blazer.
"hey, hon. i heard some commotion from down the street and then saw you running. are you alright?" the woman's low voice was soothing, and you felt much safer already.
"i'm okay, thank you. i just broke up with my boyfriend and it didn't go over well," you admitted, your shaky voice betraying your anxiety about the whole situation.
"well, i can't let you walk all the way home, sweetheart. how about i give you a ride?"
you considered her offer. it was cold and rainy outside, and your apartment was a good distance away. this woman was a stranger, but she put you at ease for some reason. besides, much worse people than her could be out at this time of night.
"that would be great. thank you so much. i'm y/n," you said, stepping into the passenger seat.
"agatha harkness," the good samaritan replied, offering her hand to you. you took her hand and shook it, noting the delicate veins running up her long fingers. her thumb stroked the back of your palm for a few seconds, and the skin tingled when she stopped. "lovely to meet you, dear."
you told her your address and she put it in the gps, beginning the 15-minute drive to your place. agatha was pleasant and kind as she listened to your story, how your boyfriend had treated you and how you'd reacted—omitting the magical details, naturally.
when the car pulled up in front of your apartment, you thanked agatha and gave her a hug. she smelled like violets and old books, and you hesitated to pull away. when you did reach for the door handle, it didn't budge.
it all happened in a flash: purple smoke obscured every window, your hands and feet were bound by glowing purple ties, and agatha smiled. the smoke cleared, and you were not at your apartment. instead, the car was parked in front of a small black house with gothic accents.
"wha—how—" you stuttered.
"i'm glad you asked. it was a simple illusion spell. couldn't have you getting suspicious, could i?"
"s-spell?"
"yes, darling, a spell. i'm a witch. you are, too, but i'm sure you already knew that."
you looked down at your lap and shook your head.
"oh? that's a surprise. i mean, i knew you weren't the most sophisticated witch, but i figured you'd at least have a grasp on what you are."
your mind reeled at the revelation. although she had basically kidnapped you, you felt a strange pull to the woman in the driver's seat. your gut told you to trust what she was saying: you were a witch.
"tell you what, baby witch," she offered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "if you promise not to run, i'll untie you."
what choice did you have but to obey her? you didn't know how to control your powers, and sooner or later, they were going to get you in trouble. agatha knew more than you did, and she was teasing you with the irresistible chance to understand your magic.
"i won't run," you whispered. you felt agatha lift her magical binds.
"good girl."
---
agatha did what she always did. she promised to teach you how to master your powers, lulled you into a false sense of security. and at night, when you were sleeping soundly in her bed, she would try to take your power.
it only took her a couple of days to realize that she couldn't access your magic. she tried everything, but your bright yellow power was totally incompatible with her mystic purple—a fountain of light, untouchable by other witches.
oddly, agatha accepted this. unlike any of her previous conquests, you inspired a curious fondness in the older woman. you were smart and beautiful, powerful yet unassuming. and you were hers to teach, to touch, to protect and corrupt. with some training, you would be a formidable ally.
as for you? you were neither her victim nor her partner, but something in between. you abandoned your old life and happily crawled into bed with her each night—so she could keep an eye on you, she said.
"women like us will never be safe in this world, y/n," she would whisper into your hair. "that asshole saw what you can do, and he didn't like it. you're too precious for the stake, honey. i have to keep you close."
agatha hated your ex, but she could use him to channel your rage. as you worked through the emotional toll of the breakup, you worked on your telekinesis. as you processed the extent of his manipulation, you learned the basics of mind control.
one day, agatha wanted to see if you could hold your own against her. she was anxious to know if you could protect yourself with the strategies she'd taught you.
"you ready, superstar?" agatha asked, looking you up and down hungrily. you were wearing the outfit she had picked out specifically for this occasion: a black mesh halter top with a little yellow skirt, "ideal" for mobility. "don't worry, i'll go easy on you."
"i think so," you responded, trying to settle your nerves and anticipate her first move. but it was hard to focus when she stared at you with dark eyes, hair pulled back into a ponytail and arms crossed, emphasized by her tight purple t-shirt.
"don't get distracted, now," a sultry voice whispered from behind you. agatha had teleported, and you were too focused on her arms to notice. "that's rule number one."
you shuddered at the feeling of her hot breath in your ear, but kept your guard up. purple strings began to flow from her fingertips and wrap around you. you swiftly floated up and out of her hold, yellow sparks carrying you across the room.
you landed with a flourish and agatha raised her eyebrows, impressed. she didn't let you rest for more than a second, though, as a blow of her magic struck you right in the chest.
you stumbled back, but quickly retaliated. with a snap of your fingers, agatha was knocked off balance by a burst of yellow. she smirked and waved her palm. but this time, you remembered to block, crossing your arms and projecting a white shield in front of you.
"so you have been listening to me," she cooed, flying toward you and pushing you up against the wall with her magic. "you always seem so preoccupied when i'm teaching you, like your pretty little mind is off somewhere else. tell me, do i scare you?"
the answer was complicated. yes, agatha scared you, but not in an unpleasant way. it was a thrilling kind of fear that left you breathing hard and wanting more.
"no, ma'am," you decided, using her momentary surprise to push back against the magic pinning you to the wall. agatha withdrew.
"hmmm, 'ma'am.' i like the sound of that," she drawled as you awaited her next move. "you're doing well, baby witch, but you forgot one thing."
in a split second, you were lying flat on your back, purple threads binding your hands and feet to the carpet. before you could even attempt to react with magic, agatha was on you. she hovered above your restrained form and leaned in.
"rule number two: protect your mind," her voice above you was the last thing you heard before being plunged into darkness.
---
when you came to a few minutes later, agatha was still on top of you. she wore a coy smile as she watched the purple swirls disappear from your eyes.
"welcome back, sweet daisy," agatha husked. "after reading your mind, it seems like you're not as sweet and pure as i thought."
you struggled against her restraints, but they didn't budge. you were definitely losing the fight, but with the way she was looking at you (like she wanted to ravage you), you didn't much care.
"you wanna know what i saw, pretty girl?" she taunted, and you swallowed thickly but did not respond. "i saw myself on top of you just like this, pumping my fingers inside you while you screamed out for mercy."
well, your secret was out. but agatha didn't seem displeased; on the contrary, she was basking in your humiliation like a true sadist. you felt wetness gathering in your panties at the sight.
"i saw myself bending you over," she continued, using her powers to lift you off the ground and maneuver you so you were bent over the couch. "punishing you for forgetting your spells."
she swatted your ass once, hard, and you whined pathetically.
"i saw you kneeling between my legs," she said, once again manipulating your body into that position. "listening to my directions, being my good girl."
on your knees, you nuzzled agatha's leg in embarrassment, and she stroked your hair. you stayed like that for a minute before agatha lifted you into her lap, spreading your legs wide.
"and i saw you grinding in my lap, squirming and whimpering like a needy whore," she concluded, running her hands up and down your inner thighs as you straddled her. "what do you have to say for yourself, honey?"
you were at a loss for words, now incredibly turned on and burying your face in her neck. her fingers twitched and you were pushed out of your hiding place, her magic forcing you to face her.
"your mind is so dirty. how are you feeling? excited?" before you could respond, she slipped her hand between your legs. she lifted up your skirt and traced your slit over your panties, inhaling sharply when she found them soaked. "oh, you are. you just can't control yourself around me, can you? all hot and bothered. do you need me to take care of you?"
"yes, please," you begged, wiggling impatiently in her arms. tendrils of purple magic snaked around you, tickling your skin and preventing you from moving any more.
"much better," agatha hummed as she restrained you. she laughed seeing your helpless face. "don't pout. i'm going to touch you, make you feel so nice. but you need to sit still and take it like a good girl."
you nodded, and she rewarded you by vanishing your top. she took your breasts in her hands and kneaded them, working her way to your nipples. when she rolled them between her fingers, you yelped.
"shhh, i know, you're so sensitive," she cooed as she toyed with you. "you're in for a treat, babygirl. have you ever used your powers to play with yourself?"
she knew the answer. of course you hadn't. you didn't even know how. but she reveled in the way your face scrunched up in wanton embarrassment at the mention of touching yourself.
"allow me to demonstrate," she said, removing her hands from your nipples and whispering a latin word under her breath. you gasped when a purple buzz settled on your buds, replicating agatha's touch without physical contact. "feels good, hm?"
you merely whined and tried to grind against her, frustrated when you couldn't move an inch. she seemed to know what you needed, though, as your skirt then disappeared in a flash of violet.
"as much as i love that little skirt on you, honey, it's in the way of what i really want to see," agatha drawled, and you held your breath with the anticipation. with no warning, she gently lifted your hips up toward her, leaned down, and latched onto your clit through your panties.
"oh my god!" you moaned as she suckled through the fabric, putting delicious pressure on your bundle of nerves. then she sat up again and returned you to your position on her lap, once again whispering the incantation to continue stimulating your clit.
"i'm flattered, but there's no god here. just me," she smirked, watching you writhe in tortured pleasure. "alright, superstar, you with me? watch this."
she held two of her fingers up to your eye level, and your eyes grew wide as her fingertips lit up. with a predatory grin, she thrusted her fingers upwards, and you felt them inside you. you couldn't suppress your sinful moan.
"don't you see how powerful we are? i'm not even touching you, and you can feel me in your pretty little pussy," she mused, drunk on her power over you. "and if i do this," she curled her fingers just right, and you screamed as she stroked your special spot, "i can feel you squeezing me. like a tiny piece of heaven."
while her fingers continued thrusting and curling, her power pumping in and out of you, she used her other hand to explore every inch of your body. she touched you like you were the most precious work of art, a soft and delicate masterpiece in her arms. her touch and her magic were all over you, and you felt yourself getting close to the edge.
"won't be long now. you're so easy, sweetness," she sang proudly. her free thumb found your clit and rubbed tight circles on it, direct touch compounding the pleasure from her magical suction. not even a minute later, your release swept over you. "there you go."
when you came, agatha lifted the restraints so she could watch your legs shake and your core convulse. she kept pumping her fingers until she heard you whimper helplessly, squirming away from her invisible touch. she then withdrew the magical stimulation and ran her palms up and down your sides to comfort you.
"how was that, sunshine?" she smiled as she checked in with you. you gave her a breathless kiss, pouring all of your passion and admiration for the older woman into her mouth. her eyes sparkled with adoration as she looked at you, fucked out and struggling to stay upright in her lap. she inched closer to whisper against your lips. "i want to fuck you."
you weren't entirely sure what she meant, but you knew from your recent mind-blowing orgasm that anything was possible through magic. you started to get antsy in her lap again. you stood up on shaky legs and started toward the bedroom.
"don't be silly, superstar," agatha laughed as she effortlessly raised you into the air until you were hovering bridal-style in her arms.
agatha swiftly brought you up the stairs and into her bedroom. she laid you down on the bed and nudged your legs apart with her magic before retreating to the closet.
"do you know what this is, princess?" agatha asked, emerging from the closet with a large purple strap-on dildo in hand. you swallowed thickly at the sheer size of it and nodded your head.
"it's a strap-on," you replied sheepishly.
"correct, smart girl. this is a very special strap-on, though. do you know why?"
"no, ma'am."
"well, i want you to think of it as my cock. because when i put on the harness," she snapped her fingers and the strap was secured between her legs, "i can feel everything."
she gave the dildo a few rough strokes and groaned to illustrate her point. you trembled in anticipation. agatha was going to take you with the biggest cock you'd ever seen. and she would be able to feel the warmth, the wetness, the fluttering of your most intimate place with her own flesh. you unconsciously spread your legs wider.
"ready for me?" agatha crawled on top of you and dragged the tip of her cock through your messy folds, getting it lubricated. you nodded tentatively. "i'll be gentle. wouldn't want to break my delicate little flower. at least, not yet."
the second her tip breached your entrance, you inhaled sharply. it was going to be a tight fit, even though you were soaked. agatha recognized your discomfort and leaned down to kiss your lips sweetly. with another latin whisper, you felt those soft kisses all over your body, on every part of you all at once—even your clit. this relaxed you, and agatha gave you a few more inches.
"you're so tight," the older woman breathed, marveling at the sensation of feeling your wet warmth around her. "and all mine, little witch. you'd like to be mine, wouldn't you? i'd dress you every day in those mini skirts and no panties, play with this pussy all day long."
agatha's words worked exactly as she intended. you lost yourself in the hazy fantasy of being hers, and she penetrated you all the way. you both cursed as she bottomed out.
"good girl, taking my cock so well, letting me fill you up. let me just..." she trailed off and pulled out before thrusting back in at a new angle, hitting your g-spot and conjuring stars behind your eyes. "there she is."
once she knew you were okay, agatha seemed to lose the last of her restraint. she fucked you fast and rough, slamming her tip into your sweet spot on every thrust. she forced her cock even deeper by pinning your knees to your chest with her powers. then she snapped her fingers and the suction was back on your clit, only three times more powerful than before.
"come on my cock, y/n," agatha commanded, sending you flying into an orgasm. this one felt different from the first one, like a spark in your core spreading into an uncontrollable fire throughout your body. your legs jerked and your face twisted up, and the sight of you sent agatha over the edge too. you felt her hot release coat your walls, satiating you.
agatha pulled out of you and coaxed you to sit up, at which point you noticed the mess. a glowing purple liquid seeped out from between your legs, and agatha's midsection was dripping with clear liquid... wait, was that glowing too? the yellow aura looked unnatural, almost neon.
"rule number three," agatha chuckled, sensing your confusion. "don't be alarmed when things start glowing. comes with the territory, dear."
"how did that...?" you wondered aloud.
"well, for me it was an artistic choice. some women really enjoy the idea of me coming inside them, so i added a special enchantment to make their dreams come true," she explained. then her face broke into a smug grin. "and you, my darling, you squirted. it's not a magical experience on its own, but apparently it was for you."
your eyes followed her hands as she gestured to the glimmering evidence of your climax.
"have you ever done that before?" she asked while waving her hands in the air. before she finished the sentence, you were both suddenly clean and wearing fresh pajamas, warm like they'd just been in the dryer.
"no," you admitted, still a bit shy after losing control so dramatically. agatha hummed and pulled you close, and you grew drowsy while she cuddled you.
"oh, sweet daisy girl. i still have so much to show you."
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bullet-prooflove · 11 months
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Back of a Buick - Angel Reyes x Reader
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Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @vannabanana1995 @multifandomloversworld @camelia35 @harperdoodle @queeniesdiary @laylasbunbunny @est1887 @justazzie
Angel finds your Zippo a few hours later in the back seat of the Buick. He’s standing in an abandoned lot with a petrol can in his hand and the lighter. His thumb trails over your initials engraved into the silver and he wonders if it’s fate. He knows this thing is precious to you, he remembers the way you clasped it to your chest in the aftermath of the fire. It matches the cigarette case you keep your blunts in. Someone cared about you enough to give you the set, he can’t help but wonder who.
He has to wait a couple of days to return it. Bishop has him on a run up to Stockton with a couple of the other guys. He spends his nights in a shitty hotel room, thinking about the time you spent in the back of the Buick, how tight and wet you felt around his cock, your hands pinning his wrists above his head. He jacks off in the shower imagining how good your mouth would feel on him, how you’d taste on his lips when you ride his face.
Before he goes to bed, he puts on the game and lights a cigarette with the Zippo, flicking the top of it closed with a satisfising click. He goes to sleep dreaming of your thighs locked around his hips, your lips ghosting over his as your fingertips trail over his tattoos. He remembers your hand on his throat squeezing just a little before you thrust his head back into the seat at the point of climax. Fuck that did something to him, something he hadn’t even realised he needed.
He doesn’t submit easily, but with you he’s complaint. He thinks you saw something in him, he’s not sure what but he wants to explore it. In that fleeting time he spent with you, he’d felt at peace, like all the chaotic thoughts that bounced around his head were finally silent. There was an intimacy in what you did, a level of trust he would never give to anyone else. He thinks about that on the journey to Stockton and back.
He tries to get the location of the illegal pot farm off Riz, but the other man refuses. The two of you have a good thing going and he tells Angel he’s not willing to sacrifice that relationship just so he can scratch you off his to do list. Angel doesn’t push, he knows he fucking deserves it, he has a history and Riz is simply looking out for his business.
He drops by the legal one instead, he doesn’t expect you to be there. He remembers you telling him that the crop had flowered early up on the second farm so it’s all hands-on deck. To his surprise you’re pulling up at the same time he is.
You don’t expect to see him, the surprise is evident on your face. You stand in front of him with your hands on your hips, the kush crop waving in the breeze behind you. You look radiant and fierce. Your hair is tied back into a messy bun, you’re wearing a flannel shirt that stained with smears of green and worn Levi’s. There’s a set of gardening gloves sticking out of your back pocket.
“What are you doing here?” You ask him, your eyebrows furrowing into a frown.
He withdraws the silver Zippo from his back pocket before holding it up for you to see.
“I found this in the backseat.” He explains before handing it over to you. “I thought you’d want it back.”
Your expression softens as your thumb runs over the initials etched into the silver plating, the edges of your mouth tips up into a smile as you clasp it to your chest.
“Thank you.” You tell him earnestly. “You don’t know how much this means.”
He shrugs.
“I had an idea.”
There’s a silence between the two of you, he kicks at the dusty road with the toe of his boot. He’s trying to get up the courage to say something else, but he finds himself tongue tied. He’s a man of action, not words. He isn’t sure how to vocalise what he wants, he isn’t even sure what it is he actually wants, he just knows it’s you.
“My grandmother gave it to me.” You say breaking the gulf between the two of you. “Along with the cigarette case. The kush we grow here, it helped her a lot when she had cancer.”
“I’m sorry.” He says quietly and he means it. His mother’s death was sudden, there one day and gone the next. His grief at the time had crippled him, cracked a part of his soul. It had broken EZ and wrecked his father. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to watch someone you loved waste away like that. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it.
“Thank you.” You said quietly before removing the cigarette from your back pocket and flicking it open. “That’s why the work we do here is so important. You probably think I’m no better than Miguel Galindo with his poppies but Rose Kush makes a difference in people’s lives.”
“I don’t think that.” Angel tells you with conviction, taking one of the joints you offer him. “Heroin breeds misery, kush provides relief.” He pauses for a second, waiting for you to light it before he takes a drag. “When my friend Coco came back from Iraq, he was a mess. His head was all screwed up, he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t relax, he’d jump at noises, he was all over the place. I didn’t know what PTSD was back then…”
He fucking knew now.
Some of the shit he did for the club, for the rebels, for his family…
It weighted on him. It haunted him in his dreams. It was the reason he suffered insomnia because some of those events he relived over and over again until the only thing that relieved it, was booze or women, usually a combination of both.
“It’s insidious.” You tell him as he passes you the joint. “My therapist once described it to me like a file getting jammed in a filing cabinet, you keep trying to close the drawer but it keeps getting stuck so you keep having to deal with it.”
You inhale the sweet floral smoke before blowing a smoke ring out of your mouth. You’re all or nothing and he likes that, likes the fact you’re so open, that you own your shit, you do something about it.
“Did it help?” he ventured, plucking the blunt from between your fingertips. “The therapy?”
“Hm.” You consider your answer. “It’s a process, I sleep better now, feel more like myself. If there’s something I want to do, I do it without worrying about what other people will think. I do the things that make me happy.”
“Was that what it was the other night?” he asks you, tapping the ash onto the floor. “Is that what I was?”
You tilt your head to look at him, and he’s ensnared by your gaze. He’s never seen such beautiful eyes before, so rich with colour and so fucking deep. He feels like he could spend forever getting lost in that gaze, he wants to.
“I enjoyed what we did.” You tell him honestly. “And I would like to do it again, just not in the back of a Buick.”
The two of you share a smile and he thinks this could be it, the moment that one night turns into more.
“I’ve got a bed, clean sheets and everything.” he informs you, taking another drag of the spliff before handing it back to you. “We can take our time, get to know each other a little. I’d like to see more, do more.”
It was too quick last time, too fleeting. He hadn’t got to touch you the way he wanted, he hadn’t got to explore your body, to learn what made you moan. It had simply been a rush of adrenaline in the aftermath of a crime you had both committed.
“Yea.” You tell him, dropping the blunt onto the floor and crushing it underneath the heel of your boot. “I’d like that too.”
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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
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virusinfected-memes · 2 years
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TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 1 ;
75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! 
“All I do is drink water and be stupid.”
“All I do is rotate three outfits and talk shit and have panic attacks.”
“All I want these days is to hike through a mossy forest filled with heavy fog and get lost for a while.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for the those two guys who died in the Blair Witch house? Who broke into HER home, trespassed on HER land, and messed with HER stick bundles? I don’t!”
“Baby girl, you are strange and off-putting.”
“Can necromancers heal depression?”
“Did I need it? No. Did I buy it? Yes.”
“Don’t forget that what you see isn’t all there is.”
“Do you ever wanna bond with someone so bad you’re like, “Damn, I wish we were knights on a dangerous quest...”?”
“Do you think the world could suddenly end on a night as quiet as this?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m an influencer! My content is clownery, I promote stupidity, and I’m sponsored by the circus.”
“Have people in horror movies never seen a horror movie?”
“Holy shit... I’M the demon living in my house?”
“Hot tip: bury yourself in the forest to recharge, never come back, and become a local cryptid.”
“Humans are really good at remembering each other’s bad decisions.”
“I am one percent human and ninety-nine percent tired.”
“I don’t really feel like existing today.”
“I do this really cute thing where I shut down and hate everybody.”
“I feel like I’m in the Sims where it takes five hours to make pasta and then you have to immediately go to bed.”
“If I can’t hand my lover a cup of coffee and kiss their forehead while they’re working, then what even is the point?”
“If my son is stealing pies off window sills, it’s because I taught him to do that, bitch.”
“If you aren’t someone the church wanted dead three hundred years ago, are you really living?”
“If your computer has malware... that’s me in there. If you take care of me like a little Tamagotchi pet, I will leave and give you a secret present in your files.”
“I hate those really vivid dreams that you’re still emotionally attached to after you wake up. You’re stuck, feeling for something that technically doesn’t exist.”
“I’m giving up personhood to become a full-time abstract concept.”
“I’m like a shitty anime dating sim. If I talk to six people, I have to immediately go to bed. If I go grocery shopping, that’s half my HP.”
“I’m off to kill the most powerful man in the world.”
“In the 90s, computers would scream every time you went online. That was foreshadowing.”
“I procrastinate so much now that if I ever became a vampire I will literally put things off for centuries.”
“I think I want my next piercing to be through my heart with a wooden stake.”
“I think my dark under eye circles are adding to the aesthetic, actually.”
“I think the far healthier app to have in middle school was the DSi camera, not Tik Tok.”
“It’s okay to be obsessed and in love with me.”
“I was born in the wrong generation. Take me back to the paleoarchean era. I want to be insentient. I want to be bacteria.”
“Little known fact: once you’re older and you’re no longer in school, time stops being real. Did that thing happen one year ago? Two? Five? A few months ago? Who knows.”
“Maybe if we all just collectively start decorating now, we can... force it to be Halloween.”
“Me? Tired? Sleepy? Yes, constantly.”
“My blood is glow stick juice. That’s why all my bones crack when I move.”
“My body is less of a temple and more of a rotting 19th century mansion rumored to be haunted by several wicked and vengeful spirits.”
“My body is my temple. Ancient and crumbling. Probably cursed.”
“My hobbies include laying in bed in my underwear while I listen to music and hate myself.”
“My kink is closing doors so that I’m in complete solitude.”
“My superpower is going into a book store and immediately forgetting the name of every book I’ve ever wanted to read.”
“Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value.”
“Nothing should go back to normal. Normal wasn’t working.”
“Not really a fan of this ‘being a person’ thing.”
“People keep saying “go big or go home” as if going home doesn’t sound like the best idea ever. Hell yeah, I wanna go home, and I’m gonna take a nap when I get there.”
“People who suggest getting breakfast together as a hangout plan are the kind of people you want to hang onto.”
“Pray for me. Nothing’s wrong, I just want more power.”
“Protect me from what I want.”
“Pro tip: instead of having feelings, try being dead inside. Everything is still horrible, but you will not care at all.”
“Remember, you can disappear into the woods whenever you want. You’re an adult.”
“Reminder: you can start over at any time. Your day is not ruined. Your world is not over. Take a deep breath. Start over.”
“Rest in peace to everyone killed by the gods for their hubris, but I’m different. And better. Maybe even better than the gods.”
“Sexting? Nah, I’m into spexting. Spooky texting. Ever seen a ghost? Hit me up.”
“Something all children covet is the generic black t-shirt with white skull worn by cartoon teenagers.”
“Sometimes a girly just needs to mask her declining mental state by calling herself a girlboss and that’s okay.”
“Sorry, bro, I can’t hang out today. I used up all my mana.”
“Sorry I tried to drink your blood. I think you’re cute.”
“The internet is awesome, but you can’t download love.”
“The only reason I still have depression is because I can’t take my brain out and blow on it like a DS cartridge.”
“The older you get, the more you appreciate just chilling at home doing nothing.”
“The world is just generally better when you’ve recently eaten a sandwich.”
“The worst part about kissing a perfect ten is the cold feeling your lips get from touching the mirror.”
“Very sexy of me to be isolating myself and rotting into the floor.”
“Well, the horrors may be beyond YOUR comprehension, but I understand them perfectly.”
“What does your soul look like?”
“What ever happened to personality? I want decorative towels that aren’t boring! I want NOVELTY! I want people to come over to my house and look at my trinkets, and immediately think “this lady is a wacko” and also “her stuff is haunted!””
“When fat Pikachu finally returns, I know he will single-handedly save our economy.”
“Yeah, I could have cracked the Zodiac cipher before those guys did. I just didn’t want to.”
“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”
“You can’t keep dancing with the devil and wonder why you’re still in Hell.”
“You know what I would be if I was in a video game? That dead body you find at the beginning with like ten gold.”
“You think too much. You’ll make yourself ill if you keep that up.”
439 notes · View notes
magicbystarlight · 1 year
Text
Him, Not It
*Bonus Content*
Series Masterlist
Summary: You'd been training under Madam Pomfrey since the beginning of the year. The TriWizard Tournament been the perfect opportunity for you to learn the basics of Healing. By the Third Task you thought you were prepared for whatever happened. This is backstory to “Before I Knew You”.
Word Count: 2,719
Warnings: 18+, Injuries, Death, Ministry Officials being shitty, grief, sleep deprivation. Minors DNI.
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Horror rooted itself in your lungs as you watched Fleur Delacour brought in the Medi-Tent, her body limp but breathing. Her piercing scream from minutes before still rang in your ears over the rapid voices of those scurrying around her. Whispers you caught as they tried to determine what had done this to her, their diagnostic spells turning up no physical injuries. It was obvious to them all, but the thought of it seemed impossible.
She'd been hit with some dark magic somewhere within the walls of the maze that had made their attempts at casting the reviving spells ineffective. It was unclear what exactly had hit her, but it was evident that no creature that had been set loose in the labyrinth could have done it. The only other option was one of the three people who had been in there with Fleur. Three people you would have never thought capable of such a thing.
Before the reality of that could take hold, Viktor Krum's frozen body was carried in. His diagnosis was less worrisome, only one Medi-Wizard pulling off from Fleur to work on him. Stunned. It did, however, leave the questions of why. To win? Had Harry or Cedric taken out the others to improve their chance? 
"Rennervate!"
Viktor shot off his cot, his wand still clinched in his fist from when he'd been hit by the spell. His head whipped around, assessing the space. The wizard tried to speak with him and get him to return to the cot, but Viktor paid him no heed. Instead his gaze locked on Fleur and his body went rigged. Not like when he’d been Stunned, but as if there was some unseen strain on him his muscles flexed and chest heaved. 
It was then as he blinked that you saw it. The familiar dark brown of his eyes was dulled, like something was obscuring the color. His hand shook as his wand began to rise, mouth parting.
“Stupefy!”
The red jet of light hit his shoulder and silenced the tent. A dozen sets of eyes danced between the Stunned Bulgarian and the wand you had pointed at him. “He’s Imperiused.” 
Questions flew at you. 'Who let the child in here?' 'How do you know what the Imperious Curse looks like?' 'What can we do to reverse it?' 'Who cast it?'
A joyous roar from the crowd in the bleachers outside the tent cut through them. Someone had won. Hogwarts had won. At what cost?
"He's dead!" "He's dead!" "Cedric Diggory! Dead!"
The Medi-Witches and Wizards ran from the tent, but your feet did not move. Cedric. Cedric dead. Ced—
You pushed it down. Not now. Not yet. Viktor was alive. Fleur was alive. They needed help. You stepped forward, overly aware of how poorly trained the others had been to have completely left them here alone. A dozen of them and not one thought to stay behind.
Professor Moody’s words echoed in your mind. “Only an exceptionally strong will can break the curse. Otherwise, it can only be removed by the caster or upon the caster’s death.”
The jinx you'd cast was already beginning to fail. Viktor's cheek began to twitch. A cart of potions sat between the cots. A bottle of dark purple caught your eye. Sleeping Draught. You swiped it and turned to him. He blinked. "Sorry, Vik."
You pulled out the cork, placed the rim on his lip, and tipped it. He was already falling back onto the cot when the potion emptied. It would keep him out for a few hours. 
Turning to Fleur you had the terrible realization that Viktor was not the only Champion who had an Unforgivable cast on them tonight. A quick diagnostic spell confirming again there were no physical injuries.
“A person will lose their mind if they suffer it long enough. Some last longer than others, but,” Moody had shaken his head with a deep sigh, “no one can suffer it forever without something breaking.”
Her scream had been brief, doubtful she’d experienced the Cruciatus Curse long enough for any extensive mental harm. But the only way to be sure was to wake her. Again, you looked at the cart. Draught of Peace to ease the anxiety of what she’d suffered and Invigoration Draught to wake her.
You adjusted the cot to have her upper body raised and poured each potion down her throat like you had for Viktor. It took longer for her to wake than it had for him to fall asleep. 
“Where am I?” she asked, her perfect features scrunched in confusion.
“The Medi-Tent.”
The answer seemed to stir her memory. A good sign. “I was attacked! I was hit by something from behind, a spell, I think? I heard a spell. It hurt like nothing I have felt before.”
A response died on your lips as the others returned to the tent. A cot carrying something covered by a cloak floated behind them followed by the Minister and Mr. and Mrs. Diggory. The Medi-Wizard who’d attended to Viktor tripped over nothing and fell to the ground. It appeared he’d been the one to cast the levitation spell on the cot as it too came crashing down.
Horrified gasps came as Cedric rolled across the ground until he finally stopped, his blue eyes empty as they stared at you.
-
The Common Room was quiet despite the entirety of Hufflepuff occupying the space. Professor Sprout had wanted everyone together. A few quiet conversations scattered amongst those left awake and a handful of snores. Compared to the sounds of grief that had filled it two hours before it, it was near silence.
Cedric was dead.
“A terrible accident,” Fudge had called it. A lie. There were already two Champions who’d suffered Unforgivables, it wasn’t difficult to recognize Cedric had suffered one too.
The scene of the previous night replayed your head again and again as you watched the crackling fire. Cedric had sat where you did now with a wide grin as your housemates suggested the things he could buy when he won. He'd been adamant about getting the whole Quidditch team new brooms. He'd blushed cherry red when asked if he'd also buy a new broom for Ravenclaw's Seeker.
There had been no color in the face of the corpse.
The gentle call of your name pulled you from the memory. Professor Sprout was there, a pitying expression as she stared down at you. "I'm very sorry, dear. I tried to tell them it could wait until tomorrow, but…" you followed as her gaze drifted to the entryway where a man and a woman stood. Ministry. "...they have a few questions for you."
You nodded, standing from the couch. 
"Would you like me to come with you?"
A shake of your head was all you could offer. You followed the Ministry officials silently as they led you through the dungeons, past the ground floor, and up onto the first floor. It was a familiar path. The doors of the Hospital Wing were ajar as you walked through. Only two beds were occupied. One held a sleeping Harry Potter. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and an older woman with fiery-red hair you didn't know were asleep in chairs around his bed. 
The other held a disheveled but awake Professor Moody missing his usual magic eye and seeming rather annoyed by the Ministry man he was speaking to.
Why was he here?
In the very back of the wing were Madam Pomfrey, Headmaster Dumbledore, one of the Medi-Wizards from the tent, and a man whose face was scrunched in distaste. "This," he asked the Medi-Wizard, "is who determined Unforgivables were used? An actual child?"
"A very intelligent young woman," Dumbledore said calmly. "She was the most equipped in that tent to identify such things, as we have told you."
"Forgive me for being skeptical of the stories you have told tonight," the man sneered. What else had been said tonight? "I'd like to question her alone."
Madam Pomfrey was outraged. "You cannot question a child alone!"
"Which is it? Is she a child incapable of answering questions? Or an intelligent young woman who can identify Unforgivables?"
Some piece of you snapped. The Ministry was trying to sweep this under the rug and claims of your incompetence would only further their agenda. Cedric deserved the truth, whatever it was. As did Viktor, Fleur, and Harry. You spoke for the first time since you'd left the tent hours before, voice dry with disdain. "It's fine. Can we use your office, Madam Pomfrey?"
Your mentor looked unwilling as she nodded. Dumbledore assured you they'd be outside the door and that you could end the questions whenever you wished. 
It irked you how comfortable the man seemed to be as he sat in Pomfrey's chair. 
“So," he began, the chair creaking as he leaned back, "why were you in the tent tonight?”
You had to unclench your jaw to answer. “I've been training under Madam Pomfrey to become a Healer.”
“But Madam Pomfrey was not in the tent.”
Obviously. “No, she wasn’t. She was here in the Hospital Wing.”
“Then why were you in the tent?”
“Because Madam Pomfrey ensured my inclusion in every medical aspect of the tournament so I could learn as many valuable skills as possible, even if she herself was not there." You spoke slowly, hoping the words would take root. "It was approved by the Ministry and St. Mungo's."
"That doesn't tell me why you were there." 
"I was in that tent to learn how to quickly identify and heal bites and scratches from the various magical creatures and plants they’d placed in the maze. Instead," you said leaning forward and poking at the desk, "I witnessed a dozen Ministry assigned Medi-Staff fail to recognize the effects of two Unforgivable Curses and leave two patients of unknown status unattended for an extended period of time.”
The chair squeaked as he adjusted himself and folded his arms. “Or given your lack of experience and young age, you misdiagnosed them.”
He wasn't dense. He was looking for a way to discredit you.
“Viktor said nothing after he was revennerated. He's not a man of many words, but the last time he'd been Stunned—which was only a few weeks ago by the way—he was quick to explain exactly what had happened to him. And his eyes were cloudy! Like, like there was something over them. He was raising his wand at Fleur to attack her again, but he was struggling. He was under the Imperius Curse, but he was fighting it. That's why I Stunned him and gave him the Sleeping Potion. I was afraid the mental toll would harm him."
His chair squeaked again as he sat forward. "What do you mean he was going to attack Miss Delcour again?" It seemed that tidbit of information hadn't been passed around.
"Fleur was hit by the Cruciatus Curse in the maze. Given how Viktor responded in the tent, it seems obvious that he was the one who cast it."
It took a minute for him to process that. He cleared his throat before saying doubtfully, "Or you're jumping to conclusions."
"I'm not. Fleur had no signs of any physical injuries. Not on my diagnostic and not on the ones the Medi-Staff did. But when she woke up she said she'd been hit with a spell from behind and it was excruciating. That sounds exactly like someone hit her with a Cruciatus."
"Diggory or Potter could have cast it, couldn't they?" More doubt.
"No, they couldn't have."
"But Krum could?"
"Under the influence of the Imperius Curse, yes. Otherwise, he'd be incapable of it." Viktor had a strong dislike for Dark Magic.
His fingers strummed against the desk. "How do you have any idea what these Unforgivables do? Or what they look like?"
"Because Professor Moody taught us. I saw first hand what it looks like when someone is Imperiused and what it looks like when they're fighting it."
"Ahh," he said, straightening up. There was a gleam in his eyes that sank your stomach. "It seems to me that you were under quite a bit of stress. It can't have been easy dealing with school and having all the extra responsibilities of your training. You were exposed to Dark Magic in the classroom, a great failing to you by this school." His eyes danced as he made irrelevant connections. "All that combined," he interlocked his fingers and gave you a pitying smile, "skewed your perception of the things you saw tonight." 
"It seems to me," you snarled, grief fanning the flames of your rage, "that the Ministry is trying to cover up its own failings in what happened tonight instead of looking for the truth. There is someone out there who mur—" you choked on the word "—murdered Cedric and hurt Fleur and Viktor and you're doing nothing about it."
"Cedric Diggory's death was a terrible accident. What happened to Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum were unfortunate accidents. I am very sorry that you had to experience these things tonight. You are far too young to be put into this position and the Ministry will reevaluate your training."
"When's the last time you slept?"
It took a moment to comprehend the question, blinking at Alastor Moody—the real Alastor Moody you'd learned—as he laid in the only occupied bed of the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had told you what she knew. That all year Professor Moody had been locked in a trunk while a supposedly dead Death Eater working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named assumed his identity. That he'd somehow gone unnoticed as he carried out a plan to bring him back. That Viktor had been Imperiused and Fleur had been Crucioed and that Harry had witnessed Cedric's death with the Killing Curse. That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned and the Ministry refused to believe it.
"But we must believe it," she had said. "War will come as it always does and we must be ready for it."
"I'm not sure," you admitted. It had been a long few days. The Third Task, Cedric's death, a fight with the Ministry to keep your position in the Hospital Wing that you'd only won with the support of St. Mungo's. Cillian had been there offering support. Held you when you'd gotten the news of the burial. He'd tried to coax you to relax, but you couldn't. Couldn't close your eyes. 
You had a task. A potion Alastor was meant to take. There was a bottle in your hand full of a dark purple liquid. What was it? The letters on the label were neat and precise, but indecipherable as they blurred the longer you stared. Then it was gone. Seemingly disappeared into nothingness. Perhaps it had never been there at all.
A sharp pain in the back of your knees had you collapsing into a chair you didn't remember being so close to the bed. You'd walked into it maybe.
"You're going to hurt someone," a voice growled. All you could do was blink at the man in the bed as he held out a glass bottle of dark purple liquid. "You need to rest."
Your head shook. "I can't." You couldn't see it again. Wouldn't.
“You have to,” he said gruffly, pushing the bottle into your hand. “Cedric would want you to.”
Cedric would have wanted that. But Cedric was gone. Gone. Senselessly. Mercilessly. Gone. “And I wanted him to come back.” The tears were cold as they fell. “But he didn’t, did he?”
Softly he said, “Potter brought him back.”
“He brought back a corpse. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Cedric.” He hadn’t seen it. Trapped in a trunk, he didn’t hear the wails of Cedric’s friends and family as they saw it. He hadn't seen the eyes. “Not anymore.”
“He is still Cedric. He’s not just a body.”
"It doesn't matter. They've already buried it."
"Him," he said harshly. "Not it. The dead still deserve respect. Cedric still deserves respect."
You were silent, watching the liquid swirl. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him.
"They buried him," you finally said, uncorking the bottle. The potion was easy to drain down your throat. "They buried him and I didn't even get to say goodbye."
Part Five
Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog @pearlsofme @minstens @sofrian @sheeple @alldaysdreamers @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @itshardbeingamultistan @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid
HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie e @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie e @pancakefancake
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sweetpandorabox · 1 year
Text
What these HP boys would be like as a dad. (Gender Neutral)
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⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆
⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙
A/N : Hey sexy it's Angel, I have just got a small little quick blurb here of what these HP boys would be like as a dad, let me know if you end up enjoying this blurb and I might make more, I take requests as well okay enjoy. <33 (Also I know that some of them have kids and might treat them a bit differently than the way I'm interpreting them in this, but... ngl I don't like the Cursed Child book so I'm not including Harry as a shitty dad lol)
Warnings⚠️: None what's so ever it's pure fluff
Word Count: 994
List of Characters :
Harry Potter
Ron Weasley
Neville Longbottom
Draco Malfoy
Cedric Diggory
Oliver Wood
Fred Weasley
George Weasley
Blaise Zabini
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
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Harry Potter :
A really proud dad, no matter what his kids achieve even the smallest of things he's incredibly proud of them.
A very encouraging dad, he'll push his kids to do the things/fight for what they love and are passionate about.
He makes other Dads pale in comparison. 
He's very humble despite all his achievements and uses them to inspire his kids to be good wizards/witches.
He's a very present dad, he makes sure he's there for his kids every step of the way.
Often tells stories about his Hogwarts days and all the times he defeated Lord Voldemort because his kids begged him to.
He protects his family even if it means torture and death.
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Ron Weasley :
He likes to eat - EVERYTHING. But makes sure to save his kids some and usually buys the best snacks.
He lets his kids win every time during board games or bets and even a round of quidditch.
Takes care of his kids when they're sick and lets them have some junk food, even if their other parent doesn't let them.
Takes out his kids for a dad and kid day out once in a while approximately every fortnight.
Takes a lot for him to get mad, and when he is mad it's just the silent treatment for a full day then back to normal tomorrow.
Get his kids their first pet when they're 11 years old and are all ready to go to Hogwarts as a present.
He has integrity.
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Neville Longbottom :
He is a good listener.  He will listen and let his kids speak and give the best advice.
He is reliable.  You can count on him for anything and everything.
He loves gardening and tends your huge garden and probably has a greenhouse too.
Helps his kids with school work especially Herbology.
He reads story books to his kids during bedtime.
He is generous. Too generous. Many people can attest to this.
He's probably very affectionate toward his kids like hugs and pats on the back.
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Draco Malfoy :
Probably spoil his kids and buys them anything they want no matter the price.
Become a better dad than his dad, because he wants his kids to feel loved and appreciated.
He tries to be as honest as he can toward his kids no matter what.
One of those dads that are fun to shop with because he has style and is actually helpful at giving fashion tips.
The type to enjoy a glass of wine for dinner.
Strict, but in the best way because he wants what's best for his kids.
Talks about his kids constantly at work, at dinners with friends or colleagues, and to anyone he can talk about this too.
Enjoys taking his family on expensive and lavish vacations.
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Cedric Diggory :
He constantly checks up on his kids and asks how everything is going for them.
He's an amazing dad to his kids, but he has a soft spot for his grandkids.
He can fix anything that's broken like furniture, his kid's broken hearts during their first break up, and many more.
The type of dad that shows his partner (his kid's other parents) so much love and respect to give an example of what a good partner and a healthy relationship looks like.
The type of dad that adores and loves all animals.
Stuck up for his kids when they're in trouble with his partner.
A literal saint, because he's so kind and nice and just the best dad.
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Oliver Wood :
He teaches his kids how to play quidditch and bond with them through it.
He is always willing to try new things with his kids to show examples of curiosity.
He never loses his temper in front of his kids, always keeping a calm face in front of them no matter how angry he is.
He's the type to carry his kids to their room after they'd fallen asleep on the couch.
He sacrificed a lot to give his family a comfortable life.
He gives his kids a chance to put forth their views and opinions no matter how much he disagrees with them.
He never hesitates to admit his mistakes and apologies to his kids not believing the stereotypes that parents/adults are always right.
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Fred Weasley :
He is a good dancer.  He can cut a rug and you don't have to ask him twice to dance.
The type of dad that makes a cool handshake with his kids and shows it off as much as he can.
He teaches his kids how to Apparate carefully so they can pass their Apparating test.
A really brave dad.
He loves adventures and is a thrill seeker and brought up his kids to be the same.
A bit of an immature dad but is serious when people need him to be.
He makes funny faces to make his kids laugh until their stomach hurts.
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George Weasley :
He tells funny jokes. Inappropriate jokes.  Silly jokes. Lots and lots of jokes.
Probably good at building things like cabinets, tables, chairs, and other things.
He's not just a dad he's also his kid's best friend.
Enjoys cold beer on occasion, especially watching a quidditch match.
He's extremely supportive of his kids no matter what they do and chooses in life.
Makes fun of his kids about crushes and early relationships that they had.
He is grateful for what he has in his life.
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Blaise Zabini :
Reads the daily prophet like every morning with a cup of hot black coffee in hand.
Probably the most patient dad out of all the boys in here.
He probably cries at his kid's wedding, like an ugly cry out of happiness.
He's the type to like singing/karaoke.
He is not a quitter and he won't let you quit either.
He sends letters quite frequently to his kids while they're away in Hogwarts to keep in touch with them.
He's probably the type to be a good cook and knows what his kids love to eat.
He forgives easily and never holds grudges.
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A/N: Hey sexy hope you enjoy that little blurb let me know which one was your favorite in the comments, love you all, and have a great rest of your day xx.
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chromatic-fate · 5 months
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Thinking about more Dadsley adopting Diona
Dude becomes a fucking surveillance camera to make sure Diona is safe, cause he KNOWS there are rapists and pedophile in the Fortress that would happily take advantage of her, so he would probably have her wear some kind of tracking system out of (reasonable) paranoia.
The other inmates (minor criminals) actually start to like Diona and start treating her well, and even Wolsey decides that she gets the better welfare meals. Like, she still has to pick a straw for her meal, but she doesn't get the bad ones anymore.
Wriothesley teaching Diona how to fight in hand to hand combate while Diona teaches him or gives random tips about hunting. I like to imagine Diona accidentally punching him in the nuts during one of their spars and he collapses to the ground groaning in pain while Diona panics. Sigewienne is just laughing the background.
Wriothesley seeing Diona getting harassed by an inmate, and before he can intervene, she just straight up decks him in the balls like she did to Wrio during their last spar before walking away, and he can't help but cry from being so proud of her.
Diona would definitely help out Sigewienne in the nurses office since she's a healer in the game, and Sigewienne would teach her better ways to heal people.
I think of the barret society was still there while Diona is there too, Dougier would definitely try to kidnap Diona and torture her into following him, and when Wriothesley inevitably finds out, he'd 100% torture Dougier in a much worse way. After comforting Diona, of course.
Wriothesley would send letters back to Mondstadt to let the authorities and/or her extended family know about what's happened, and once Diluc gets wind of it, he makes plans to fly over to Fontaine to check on her (because the knights can't even be trusted to do this), only for the residents of Springvale to come to him, asking if they can come with him or deliver letters for them.
When he arrives to Fontaine, he goes to Neuvillette and asks if he can see Diona, to witch he responds that "the Fortress of Meropide works independently from the Court of Fontaine, and I would usually suggest that the person asking to give up their endeavors. But given the unique circumstance of Miss Diona's case, and the Duke's relationship to her, I can at least send a letter to inform Wriothesley about your request "
Wriothesley accepts Diluc's request and he goes down to meet with Diona in his office, but when he gets there, it's just Wriothesley and no Diona in sight. Diluc starts getting defensive about the situation and start "subtly" demanding to know where she is. To which Wriothesley would respond with "she's here and will arrive shortly. I just wanted to prepare you in case she has a fit and runs out, considering how negatively she's talked about you."
Diona eventually comes in after Diluc and Wriothesley talk for a few minutes, and she's angry and defensive at first, but eventually apologizes about how she treated and talked to him, and Diluc says that he doesn't mind and understands why she said the things she did.
After the awkward greetings, Diona starts asking about Mondstadt and how her friends and extended family are doing, and Diluc gives honest replies, relieved that she seems to be at least safe within the Fortress.
Diluc hands over the small bag of letters from the residents of Springvale to Diona before leaving and waving goodbye, and Diona honestly starts to break down crying after he leaves from all the people that wrote to her. Wriothesley hugs and comforts her about it, happy that she has people who care about her (despite her shitty dad.)
Diluc and Wriothesley would definitely keep in contact, mostly to give Diluc updates about Diona, but also to try to get to know each other better. Wriothesley sends him tea from time to time, and Diluc send him grape juice.
Diona would definitely sneak past her curfew (cause Wriothesley would absolutely have one for her) just to see him fight in the Pankration Ring and kick serious ass. During one particularly challenging fight, he'd get hurt pretty bad, almost getting knocked out, and Diona screams to him "GET UP AND KICK HIS ASS, DAD!" without realizing it. After the fight, Wriothesley is stuck between scolding her for staying out late and crushing her in affection for calling him dad.
Diona denies ever calling him dad.
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averseunhinged · 3 months
Text
wip wednesday!!! this was super fun to write. it's another bit from the au about an augustine society that's more of an insidious, anti-supernatural terrorist organization than one shitty professor with delusions of grandeur, and the mystic falls crew has been dismantling it, one isolated cell at a time.
There was more of the woman as the recording played on. She was quick-footed, a clever fighter rather than a savage one, flitting around the edges while her partner drew most of the attention, snapping a neck here, using one of their own as a meatshield there. Her kills were tidy, neatly accomplished with as little gore as she could manage.
The Mikaelsons present watched silently for a few moments until the woman used a minorly impressive feat of acrobatics to splatter a poorly concealed sniper onto the street below. If Josh hadn't spent several years around the oldest vampires in existence, it would have been a lot cooler. Klaus, however, straightened up out of his slouch, querying hum backed by a soundtrack of gunfire and dance music.
By the time she vigorously inserted what Josh thought might be an abandoned bar spoon into someone's ear, Klaus's shoulders were shaking, one fist pressed firmly against his mouth, nearly exploding with mirth.
Elijah’s annoyance was palpable. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in sharing whatever it is you find so amusing, Niklaus.”
Klaus crumbled, going nearly boneless with peals of what Josh could have only described as giggling, if he’d been interested in throwing his unlife away. It wasn't Klaus's usual cocky, cool violence, bro laugh or the one he used when he was playing with whoever happened to really piss him off that day. He sounded almost…happy.
Josh had never felt so disturbed in his life, and he'd once watched Klaus literally eat someone's face off when he was in an especially bad mood, as Kol ripped out another vampire's trachea with one hand while playing Pokémon GO on his phone with the other. The nightmares had been terrible and Josh hadn't been able to think of Jigglypuff in the same way since.
"Rebekah!" Klaus catapulted out of his chair. "Where is Rebekah? Oh," he spun around and grinned at them, "she's going to hate this."
"That is deranged," Josh said under his breath.
Marcel frowned as Klaus flung open the study door and bellowed his sister's name. "He's excited."
"He's been bored," Elijah said, tipping his head back ever-so-slightly, a gesture Josh had come to interpret as weary acceptance of the mess his siblings were creating, "in spite of two insurrections and yet another witch plot."
"Please," Klaus said over his shoulder. "They’re barely trying, now. It's disheartening. Pop a few heads off and suddenly everyone's apologizing. No-one breeds their children with backbone, anymore. Rebekah!"
The loud bang of a door flung open upstairs made both Marcel and Josh cringe. Rebekah manifested in the doorway in a tornado of matching satin pajamas, glossy blonde hair, and righteous fury.
"What!?" she shouted into Klaus's face at the same volume he'd used.
"Temper, temper. You'd be sorry if you missed this, little sister," he sing-songed, ushering her into the room.
"Stop pushing, Nik!" she complained as he sat her down in the chair next to Josh, who made himself very busy.
Clicking on…things. So much clicking to do on a laptop. And definitely not thinking about whatever clicking Rebekah had been doing.
(Davina's guess was hired assassin. Josh didn't have a guess, because he valued not being 100% dead, but if he did, it would be drug smuggling.)
"Start the recording over again, Joshua," Klaus commanded as he perched in his chair again, vibrating with glee and cutting quick glances at Rebekah.
"You're annoying," she snarled at him. "You annoy me."
"I'm your brother, sweetheart. Of course, I do."
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motleyfolk · 1 year
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Craft/Lifestyle Bookmarks
Since tumblr mobile tags play up, just compiling all my bookmarks here, so I can use it on mobile and find things easier. None are like fact-checked, using them as inspo or starting points. Some are taken from solarpunksoup’s soup.
Last updated: 14/12/23
Herbology and Nature
Alchemy Works - Herb and Resins for Magic Enyclopedia Type Thing (found from this post)
Bee Friendly Garden
Bird Feeding
Free Seeds
Gardening for Climate Resistance
Guerilla Gardening
Heirloom Seeds
Plant Insiders Knowledge
Plant Dye for Fabrics
Recommended Reading
Seed Saving
Veg Growth Cheat Sheet
Pinkies Parlour - Janky old website but has info on flowers and religious symbology.
Physical Craft/Hobby
Toilet Roll Satchel
Cleansing and Another
Sewing, Mending, Craft
Projects & Patterns
Misc Projects
Making Stuff & Doing Things Book Rec
Miracle Hands - Free hobby and craft craftbook and pattern downloads
Practice Prayer  - Lil affirmation/helpful customizable tool for whatever hobby you have.
Tips for writing
Poetic/Thought Provoking
The weird little kid
Sustainability
Worshipping The World
Life/Craft
How To Sleep Better
Wardrobe Management + Misc
Thrifting Online
Make Your Own Socks
Mega Cooking Help
Random Life Skills (how to unclog toilet n stuff)
Upcycling Jumpers
Misc Recipes/Craft Stuff
Baking With Brain Fog and/or Arthritis - Includes tips for other disabilities
Solarpunk Masterlist - Cool SP list by @evilautisticsociety​
Journaling Prompts - Inspo if you don’t like writing diary entries and wnat other ways to journal.
More Journaling Prompts
Unfuck Your Habitat - How to clean your house, get rid of shitty habits in a gender neutral, inclusive of the mentally ill, students, full time job-ers, etc that fts small or large challenges, simple cleaning checklists, etc.
The Order of the Good Death - The current western funeral practices are bad for the community and environment, this site discusses that and gives you several ways to change it, from small personal to wider community.
New Year Resolution alt mindset
How to keep yourself warm in cold houses or outdoors
Mental/Physical Health
You feel like shit. - Simple interactive, flow chart questionnaire to help you identify why you’re feeling like shit right now and to make sure you’ve done basic self-care. *
the quiet place - 90 second relaxation exercise on stepping back from social media *
Pixel Thoughts - Put your worry in a star and watch it disappear in 60 seconds. *
Meditation Basic Instructions - Helpful detailed guide on meditating.
A Soft Murmur - Ambient Sound Mixer
Baking With Brain Fog and/or Arthritis - Includes tips for other disabilities
Self Care Checklist
softheartclinic - Cutesy self care fun
Scarleteen - Inclusive sex education website
The Analog Brain - Helps with executive dysfunction, figuring out if this is an impulsive decision. Lil question tool thingy
Taking care of your spine
Tarot
Year Ahead Tarot
Spells
Anatomy of a Spell
Basics of Spellcraft
Magic Circle for Spellcasting
Seeds of The Future Spell
Spell Design
Spell Dictation
Writing Spells for Beginners
Grimoire/Shadow Work/Exercises
Dig Through The Ditches
Grimoire Prompts and Another and Another
Home Brews
Make Your Own Folklore
Shadow Work Prompts
Organising Study Materials
Quantifying Your Craft
Yule
A neurodivergent witch's guide to starting a grimoire
Misc Resources
Witchy Resource Doc - Includes books, websites, yters, ingredients, etc.
Online Research
Research Jumping Points Inspo
How To Ward and Another
Recommended Reading  
Cailleach’s Herbarium - Scottish Folk Practitioner, lots of Scottish based history, folk magic, folklore, etc.
What is Sympathetic Magic - Infographic and links
Historical Scottish Beltane
Witchcraft on a budget
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where-is-francis · 2 years
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𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝘿𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙄𝙣 𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙮𝙖𝙧𝙙?
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[ 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙪𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨,
𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙠𝙪𝙡𝙡
𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙞𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 ]
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𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝!𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙄: 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠
Before You Interact | Part II
𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Weird things have started happening in Hawkins. When Eddie is nowhere to be found, he asks for help from the only person who might be able to navigate the situation. (Based on the songs by Secret Shame)
𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨: He/Him [female aligned DNI, you have enough stuff]
𝙎𝙩𝙮𝙡𝙚: Somewhat angst? Idk, Eddie’s just on edge.
𝘼/𝙉: This is going to be 2 parts at the very least. If I can hammer out some stuff (and find motivation), it might evolve to 5/6 parts. Depends on how this goes. You’re referred to as a Witch but the term is being used very loosely; no mention of a specific religion in here. You have my cats btw! Only one is mentioned in this chapter, but you’ll meet the other in the next.
𝙏𝙒: Descriptions of Vecna’s victims, you have a vision (Witchy related; not a hallucination or anything), lmk if I need to tag for anything else.
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Eddie Munson knew you like the back of his hand. Most days, he teased you with this fact; but he thanked whatever God above that you hadn’t changed in the few days since he’d gone into hiding. Like he expected, you were awake, focused on whatever was happening in the comic book you were reading in bed.
Even in all the chaos that was the past three days, your room was unfazed. Everything exactly the same as he remembered. Normal, even.
He closed his eyes, brows furrowed, and began to debate if he was going to be the one to ruin your normalcy. To bring you into the ongoing hellish nightmare cycle that had become his life. Ripped and torn away, thrashing, and tipped upside down.
The long haired male shook his head, beginning to climb down the large tree and go back to the safety that was Rick’s boathouse. No way in hell was he getting you mixed up in this. He shouldn’t have even left — you were better not being involved. As he reached the grass, a familiar voice caught his attention.
“Get your ass in here. And hurry, before the neighbors see.”
His eyes softened as soon as they saw your face, leaning out the window, motioning for him to come in. Eddie scrambled to make his way back up the tree, clumsily sliding through your open window. You held your hands out to brace him as he stood, shaken and unsteady in front of you. The familiar scent and low lighting of your room began to swallow him, as if it was wrapping around tightly and giving him a hug.
But it was you instead. Your arms coiled tightly around his shoulders, squeezing (what was left of) the life out of him. As you pulled away, it became more apparent how bad things had gotten.
Eddie looked worse than you’d seen in years. Dark shades of red and purple showed as rings around his — somehow, still soft — doe eyes. His long hair was matted in places, pine needles sticking out every so often, and signature Hellfire shirt covered in dust and dirt.
“You nearly scared the shit out of her, you know. I think you owe her an apology.” You smiled, nodding in the direction of your cat. “She saw you at the window.”
For the first time in days, Eddie smiled. “And I’ll do just that. But I really need to talk to you.”
You nodded once again and took a spot on the floor, to which the metalhead followed. The black and orange cat that once was content laying in the comfort of your bed made her way down, promptly laying in between your legs as Eddie scratched behind her ear as an apology.
He was finally able to get a good look at you and your features that he missed too much. Nights were spent in that shitty boat on the lake, tucked under a tarp, wishing you were there to make it better with a bright smile — or maybe some sarcastic comment. But in the familiar bedroom, that’s exactly what you did. So he began to tell you about everything that happened.
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No words left your parted lips after Eddie was finished. Everything was insane — absolutely, undeniably, wholeheartedly batshit. But the look in his eyes and trembling of his entire body gave way to how real it was. Time had come to a standstill as he talked about it, an eerily familiar feeling that sent your stomach to your knees.
“Why’d you only tell me?”
“You’re the only person that won’t think I’m crazy.”
You stood up and began to pace, thinking it over. The cogs in your mind started turning, trying to figure out what to do to help your best friend. But no matter how fast or hard they turned, it wielded nothing.
“I mean, I’ve had some weird experiences with… all of this stuff.” You gestured vaguely to an altar at the other end of the room. “We know that. I’m not sure exactly how to help.”
Eddie ran his silver-clad fingers down his face, grimacing at the situation. Not only was the sight of Chrissy being killed replaying in his mind at every waking moment, but now he’d dragged you into this. Before he could even open your window to try and escape again, you caught his hand with your own.
For the first time in what felt like forever, his eyes met yours. Those soft brown doe eyes that seemed to be able to convince you to do anything — like join Hellfire — were now glazed over and filled with fear. But, even if just for a moment, you could’ve sworn they softened when he looked at you.
“Eddie, you came to me for help. I’m not letting you feel guilty about that. Give me a few minutes, let me figure something out.” You spoke carefully.
It took a minute before he finally agreed. Once he did, your hand slid off of his wrist, exposing it to the cool air. The dungeon master laid back on the plush bed and began taking in your room again, hoping to ground himself.
Posters and tapestries covered the walls, sending a multitude of colors bouncing from the mirror that sat by your closet. In the daytime, a small sun catcher would aid in the spread of colors, but it was dark out now. Only a single lamp shed light in the small room and made the corners at the opposite end feel a little darker, a little colder. Eddie rolled to the side, motioning for your cat to come see him, which she happily obliged.
You smiled to yourself and picked up some books by the altar. “I remember when you first came over. Man, she hated you.”
The brunette grinned as well, thinking about the first time he found himself in your room. “Yeah, she wouldn’t stop growling at me. And now look, we’re best friends.”
With your cat and guest both distracted, you began shuffling through random sticky notes and scrap pages that rested near the altar. Determination filled your (e/c) eyes as if the answer was already written down. It was like losing a word you knew — having it right on the tip of your tongue, but sent you flailing helplessly as you struggled to find it.
Once the cat was satisfied with the attention and moved off the bed, Eddie sat up and sighed. He glanced in your direction, almost laughing at how you looked like a mad scientist or conspiracy theorist as you skimmed through the papers. Previous dreams, visions, spells, and rituals were all written down on the closest thing you could find at the time, and then placed in a general pile to be organized later.
Like a bullet in the back, it finally hit you.
“I think I know what to do.”
Silence had filled the room; with each passing minute, it became more and more eerie. You knew that delving into the current situation wasn’t a great idea, but it was the best you had at that moment.
Gray smoke swirls danced in the air as they rose from a stick of incense. Eddie always loved how it smelled, making your room come to life, but he couldn’t focus on it this time around. Three became two as you had (very nicely) evicted the cat from your space, telling her she could come back in later.
Your best friend sat with you in bed as you prepared. What it was that you were looking for, you weren’t sure. But if he was there, you knew you’d be fine.
“I’m not sure if I’ll see anything, it’s not exactly something I can force.”
The dungeon master nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer than usual. As your eyes closed, he took the time to look over you again. The way the low light of the room played and shadowed your complexion, highlighting smile lines and dimples around your mouth. How perfect the (h/c) (strands/coils/twists) seemed to sit without even trying. Everything about your appearance was effortless, but still gorgeous.
He was in deep. And this time he knew it.
Music in the background played softly, at first turned on to muffle the hushed conversations, but now just to calm your minds. For a few minutes, the blackness behind your eyelids was all that you could see. Having visions wasn’t uncommon for you; an amateur witch with the gift of clairvoyance.
Splotches of dark blue began to creep into your mind like a spreading fog, slowly consuming your focus. It wasn’t a normal fog — almost like the kind that only comes out when it’s super humid. A sticky and suffocatingly thick fog.
Eddie’s heart picked up as he saw your eyes begin to move while still closed. Instinctively, his hands grabbed your own, moving closer.
“Are you okay? Can you see anything?” He tried to keep his voice calm.
“Yeah,” you began to rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “I’m good, it’s… hard to explain.”
The softness in your voice seemed to ease his nerves slightly. You felt as the tension slowly fell away, his hands relaxing into yours. Though, what you were seeing wasn’t like anything you’d ever encountered before.
The blue tinted fog had begun to evolve into a scene. It was desolate, the plants just remnants of what once was. No signs of life, other than the strange black vines that covered everything — if you could even consider those alive. A lack of light seemed to swallow everything it touched. This time there was no fog or sign of weather to be seen in the hellscape.
“The air is so stagnant. I can feel it. Nothing is alive in this place… wherever it is.” Your brows furrowed. “It’s like nobody’s here.”
Eddie knew your mind was moving quickly, as it always did during a session. He grabbed a notebook and began writing down whatever you said; a precaution to keep it in the front of your mind.
Dark tentacle-like vines rose and fell ever so slightly like they took a breath in the barren land. Glimpses of a riverbank were all you could see before they parted and gave way to a red storm. Soundless lightning struck through the sky, slicing it open like a serrated knife. Pillars of the same material as the vines began to point in the direction of the storm.
An overwhelming numbness and cold feeling overtook Eddie as he glanced up and saw your expression. Your normally soft brows were furrowed, a grimace morphing your expression into one of pain, paling your face. The hands that rested in your lap were tense and fidgety — he had never seen anything like this.
The maroon storm stayed put but shapes in the distance became clearer as you caught images of moving closer to it. It was a strange sensation: to watch as the vision played out in snapshots like a ViewMaster, but still be able to feel the physical effects of it. A house that was pushed behind the thick fog now came into view. The inked pillars surrounded the house as it began to separate, giving way to a sickening set of trophies.
Bodies had become intertwined with the tar-like substance as a tree branch grows through a fence. First Chrissy, then others that you didn’t know. No hope rested behind their hollowed eye sockets and open mouths — they were there to stay.
A tightening sensation filled the other male’s chest as he watched, now concerned for your safety. Every light in your room began to pulse, sending goosebumps over your arms. At the height of the energy surge it had grasped control of your stereo. The chorus of a song rang out, though he didn’t recognize the song. Eddie glanced around, wondering if you were somehow controlling them; in your own words, weirder things had happened to you before.
Despite the tight feeling in your throat, you spoke again. “Whatever it is…”
You don’t belong here.
All at once a symphony of bursting lightbulbs and shattering glass filled your ears as they rang. Your eyes snapped open as the pressure between your ears became too much, a heavy feeling hitting the back of your head. It took a few moments before you could fully register what had happen, instead being shielded by Eddie’s arms that wrapped around your shoulders. Only after being submerged in darkness did the stereo turn off.
In the newfound darkness, you could barely make out his features. Labored breaths of his hit your lips from the close proximity. When the lights went out, he dove for you and knocked you into the headboard in the process. After some grounding, the two of you began to light the miscellaneous candles that littered the room, and began to clean up the shattered glass.
It was quiet for a while. Tense silence grasping at your throats like it wanted you dead. Every unexpected movement or new sensation caused the doe eyed male to flinch; now even more confused than when he arrived.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was going to happen.” You whispered as you emptied glass shards into an old photo box.
Pale streaks of moonlight and orange shadows kept the two of you company. If Eddie wasn’t already on edge before, he definitely was now. The usual rose tint that covered his cheeks and nose was now gone, leaving him visibly more pale.
“Jesus, man, I don’t care about that. Are you okay? What the fuck happened?” The brunette planted himself in front of you.
A nod was the only response you could muster, causing Eddie to release the breath he didn’t realize he was still holding. His brown eyes followed to find you sitting down on the dark gray sheets once again. You began to run your fingers across the headboard where Eddie had — somewhat accidentally — knocked you into it.
Neither of you knew what to say. Relative silence was soon replaced by birds chirping, making both of your eyes widen. Though it was around 3 when he arrived, the alarm clock now read 5:52 in bright green.
“Shit—! Oh shit, shit, shit!” Eddie peered out the window to find the beginning of sunlight beams hitting the trees. “I have to go. Fuck, I can’t believe I lost track of time.”
You stood from the bed and immediately started pulling the curtains closed. “Are you insane? The sun is coming up, and the entire town is looking for you!”
Your heart stopped as you watched him pace again, anxiously twisting at the silver rings. Lines had started to border where his long fingers had started to get covered with dust and grime from the boathouse. It was like a time bomb had been placed in your room, mere seconds from going off.
“Stay here.”
It came out more like a command than a question, but the other male still didn’t respond. He felt the familiar sensation of your hands running over his forearms. The pads of your fingers began to trace the shapes of the bats on his left arm; you could practically remember the first time he got them — grinning from ear to ear — showing them off like his new prized possession.
“Stay here. At least until it gets dark again. My parents leave for work at 7 — you can eat and get some sleep.” Eddie’s brown eyes locked onto yours. “I’ll keep you safe.”
The (shorter/taller) male’s body had never felt so heavy in his entire life. He was practically being weighed down with the pressure and stress of everything that was going on, melting into your arms, and then onto the bed. You watched as he tugged off the Hellfire shirt and mangled black jeans, his shaking form crawling into the clean sheets. The only noise that from his lips was that of a content sigh.
Safe.
Orange flames from candles slowly became snuffed out, one by one. Eddie needed sleep, but you did too. That entire incident had drained every ounce of energy from you like some sort of vampiric creature. Though it wasn’t able to physically grasp you, the effects were still there.
It wasn’t unusual to be drained after visions, or just dabbling in the practice, but this was new. Likely, you’d taken on the other male’s stress. With the flames extinguished and glass collected, you let the black and orange cat through the door again. This time, she was accompanied by her sister. They hopped in bed to bump into Eddie’s face, but he was too tired to smile at the gesture.
The room seemed a bit softer as it started to fill with the early morning’s sunlight. Once your parents left, you’d go downstairs and look for replacement lightbulbs, not wanting to explain why you needed a handful at the same time. Even though he was stressed and going through a lot, you smiled at the sight of Eddie in the queen sized bed. Valentine meowed as if insisting you needed to lay down. Who were you to deny her?
You got under the covers on the empty side of the bed. Eddie’s back was facing you, while you laid and looked up at the ceiling.
“(Y/N)?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“What’s up?”
“I… can you lay down… with me?”
Before registering what he asked, you nodded. Eddie moved slightly to let you a bit closer, hiding himself under the dark gray comforter. His bare back was still facing you, leaving his arms exposed to your touch. The gesture made him tense at first, then slowly relax.
Even with his entire life going to shit, all he could think about was the way you had now wrapped around him. It was a recurring thought and now reality. Eddie Munson was cuddled up to the most attractive guy in Hawkins. His lips parted just enough in an attempt to try and express his feelings in the wake of the rising sun, but all of the exhaustion had caught up, pulling him into a deep sleep. You and the cats weren’t far behind as you joined him in a state of vivid dreams.
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Like my stuff? There’s more on my blog. I make male/GN reader content. Reblogs over likes — it helps other people find my stuff, and motivates me to keep writing.
187 notes · View notes
kingyo-konbini · 1 year
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HAPPY HALLOWEEN [KILLER X READER]
[SUMMARY] killer's handing out candy at the beginning of halloween night, waiting for his friends to show up, when you come knocking on his door. [PRONOUNS] she/her [GENRE] crack humor/fluff | meet-cute | modern au [POV] second person [WORD COUNT] 1305 [CONTENT] first meetings | babysitting | chimney, gonbe, & kid cameos | slightly suggestive at the very end | language (it's kid so-) [A/N] I am aware we are very far away from halloween however this idea came to me and I needed something to post and this is all I have right now lol
Killer had never seen a more beautiful woman.
Which was saying something, considering he was somewhat acquainted with what many would consider not just beautiful, but drop-dead gorgeous women; how Straw Hat was able to find and befriend such people would always remain a mystery to him.
Not that it mattered, though. As soon as he looked upon your face any and all thoughts of Nico Robin and Nami could not have been further from his mind, his body and heart caught off guard by the sight before him.
He lived in a relatively small town and had a pretty decent memory, so he had absolutely no idea how he had never seen you before; he would have most certainly remembered your face.
“Trick-or-treat!” A voice shook him from his reverie, his gaze lowering to see a girl with wide eyes and gravity-defying green hair dressed as a witch, standing at his doorstep with a bag held open. A cat –rabbit?– stood by her feet, a smaller witch’s hat upon its head. “Woah! You’re huge!”
“Chimney!” The sweetest voice he’d ever heard chided, his gaze immediately switching back up to where you stood, hands on your hips and lips pursed. “What have I said about commenting on people’s appearances?”
“That it’s rude.” The wide smile never disappeared from the girl’s –Chimney? What an odd name– mouth.
“It’s fine.” Killer shook his head, finally finding his voice. “Happy Halloween.” He reached into the bowl of candy and grabbed a fistful, dropping it into Chimney’s bag while trying to keep himself from staring at you. You wore a matching witch’s hat, which Killer thought was adorable. Were you Chimney’s older sister? You looked too young to be her mother, but people around here hardly ever looked older than twenty-five, so he couldn’t say.
“Thank you!” Chimney cheered, a meow (?) coming from the rabbit-cat as though it were thanking him as well.
“Thanks.” You offered him a smile, and he felt his heart swoon. “Happy Halloween. I like the mask.” His cheeks heated up at your compliment, and he was overcome with a feeling of eternal gratitude that the aforementioned mask was hiding his blushing face.
“I like the hat.” He replied, awkwardly. He didn't want the conversation to end there, but he didn’t know how to continue it. Would this be the first and last time he ever saw you? He didn’t want that!
Your smile turned into a cheeky grin as you slightly tipped the hat in his direction, bowing a little as you did so. Chimney turned to bounce off to the next house but halted in her steps before you could even begin to turn around yourself.
“Woah! He’s huge, too!”
“Chimney!” You chided again, turning around to see who she’d insulted this time. Killer looked as well, spotting Kid walking up the driveway with two cases of beer in his hands. Devil horns protruded from his hair, but other than that he was dressed as he always was.
“Eh?” Kid stopped in front of you, peering down at you, Chimney, and the rabbit-cat with disdain. “The hell are trick-or-treaters doing out so early?”
“What are you supposed to be?” Chimney asked, still smiling. Was she okay?
“A fucking demon.” Kid replied, nonplussed. “The fuck is that?” His eyes darted to the animal.
“Kid.” Killer hissed, not sure how’d you react to him cursing in front of your sister/daughter/ward.
“That’s Gonbe! He’s my cat.”
“Looks more like a shitty excuse for a rabbit.” Kid countered. Gonbe meowed (??) again and Kid’s lips pulled into a sneer.
“Sorry about her.” You reached out and grabbed Chimney by the shoulders, pulling her closer to you and stepping out of Kid’s way. “We’re working on her filter.” Killer watched you intently, noticing how you didn’t say anything about Kid’s excessive cursing.
“I don’t give a shit.” Kid’s sneer relaxed into his standard frown, staring at you a moment more before looking back up at Killer. “Oi! You gonna give me a hand or just stand there, staring at her ass like a creep?”
Killer felt blood rush to his face and he was once again grateful for his mask. “I wasn’t staring at her ass!” He defended himself, hurriedly putting the bowl of candy off to the side before walking over to Kid, grabbing one of the cases. Kid snickered and Killer felt himself die a little when he heard your quiet giggle.
“Sure as hell looked like it.” Kid mumbled, Killer kicking him in the shin in a weak attempt to get him to shut up.
“Sorry.” Killer looked back at you, a shiver racing down his spine at the teasing glint in your eyes. “Uh, Happy Halloween.”
“No worries.” You waved your hand dismissively and glanced down at the beers. “You guys throwing a party or something?”
“Why? You interested?” Kid asked with a wolfish grin.
You shrugged. “Trying to figure out what people my age do around here on Halloween.”
“Are you new in town?” Killer questioned, cocking his head.
“Visiting.” You hummed. “Family friend lives here. Asked if I’d take Chimney trick-or-treating, and since I didn’t have anything better to do…” You trailed off and motioned vaguely to your surroundings. Chimney took that moment to tug on your arm.
“Can we keep going?” She asked, giving you what Killer assumed was her version of puppy dog eyes. “I want more candy!”
“Give me a second, I’m trying to make friends.” You swatted Chimney away and kept your gaze focused on the men before you. “I’m [Name].”
“Killer.”
“Eustass Kid. People call me Captain.”
Killer watched as you tried to keep your lips from quirking into what he knew would be an amused smirk, admiring your ability to keep your expressions under control. “Nice to meet you guys. Well, I won’t keep you any longer.” You raised a hand in parting, patting Chimney on the top of the head in a silent indication you were ready to move on.
Kid sent a knowing glance at Killer, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips and eyebrows. Killer narrowed his eyes –knowing that Kid would get the vibe even if he couldn’t see his face– and shook his head; a silent warning. Kid nudged his friend and widened his eyes, nodding his head towards your distancing figure.
‘If you don’t, I will.’ Kid’s expression read, and with a groan Killer opened his mouth.
“You can join us if you want.” He called out. You’d already made your way to the end of the driveway but stopped, grabbing Chimney’s hand to keep her from wandering. You turned back and tilted your head, and Killer felt like dying. His friend knew him too well. “If you’re not busy later. It’s not a big party or anything, just us and our friends hanging out.”
“I’d like that.” You yelled back, a smile gracing your face. “I have to finish taking Chimney around, but I’ll be back later.”
Killer nodded and watched as you continued on your way, Chimney bouncing next to you as she peppered you with question after question: “Are they your friends now? Are you gonna hang out with them later? They look scary, are you gonna die?” Her voice faded as the space between you two and the men grew. In the distance Killer could see more trick-or-treaters beginning to emerge, and he decided that was as good a time as any to head back inside and leave the bowl of candy out for the vultures. 
As he made his way over the threshold he pretended not to notice the grin Kid was directing at him, holding the door open to allow the redhead entry.
“Let me know if you want us to leave early so you two can have some alone time-”
“Shut up.”
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voyeur-clairvoyant · 3 months
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You know what, I expand my shitty free services.
BABY WITCHES!!! Send me any tarot cards related questions you have! And I'll answer
Yeah, if I'm gonna rant as an old man in his porch AT LEAST I'm gonna contribuite to the fucking community knowledge. Like, I'm nobody to give tips or courses but DAMN there's just so many misinformation that even basic stuff is a mess! ahsahsha
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