#But I soak up facts like a sponge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inosukijiro · 6 months ago

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𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗔 𝗖𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu is wholeheartedly in love with you.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. no bc i am making this man a pathetic simp for you idc. im writing these with myself in mind so yk, i have to pour out my feelings. and also i need to get all this giyuu writing off my chest, its actually a problem the fixation i have on this man but no fics tickle my brain just right so i have to write them myself

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. btw thank you so much for all the love and support on my last two posts. literally you all are so incredibly sweet !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i just graduated college so i might have a bit more time to write but no promises!

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. none. giyuu might be a little ooc. modern reader in kny. i rewrote this a few times so pls be nice 🤧. 1.4k words.

━ 𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩. im just going though and adding a synopsis and fixing my titles. og title: falling for you.

Giyuu actually doesn’t know how this occurred. No, actually that was a lie. He knew how this happened, but didn’t at the same time. And honestly speaking, the man does not care at all. You were so nice and sweet to Giyuu it made his head spin. Like it makes him ill in the best way imaginable. He doesn’t understand why you want to be around him so much, why you want to be his friend – not that he minds – but he just can’t get past his own indiscretions about himself. That was until you told him to his face.

You tell him that you thought he was cute – I'm sorry? – and you liked how calm he was – really? His brain can’t compute anything that you say. He doesn’t know if you need any medical assistance or he’s just dreaming. But it makes you laugh. The cute, dumb look on his face as he stands there, gaping at you like a fish.

It wasn’t like it was new information. You did enjoy his company the most. He was very quiet and by no means were you either, but you have this habit of matching the energy of people you were with. So, it was almost relaxing and refreshing spending time with Giyuu. Though Giyuu is silent most of the time, he does in fact talk. At first it's about a mission he was on recently, if and most likely when he gets more comfortable with you, he’s talking a little more in depth about random things that are on his brain. It's endearing really. Or sometimes he’s just talking about things that he thinks you might like to know, random facts, and so on.

But sometimes you do the talking and he likes that too. You could talk for hours and he could listen to every word you have to say. He would soak it up like a sponge as you focus your eyes on the crochet hooks weaving in front of you. Your voice is quiet and nice, soft and warm sounding.

This typically happens when you visit his estate. And you visit his estate a lot. Maybe Giyuu was a little disappointed that you weren’t staying with him, but he knows that he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. He’s lucky enough to see you this much, as much as he's lucky to see you at all. He can’t be too mad though. Mitsuri has jumped you the first moment she got when the Master had brought up your living arrangements. You had nowhere to go. And honestly, Giyuu may have been a little relieved that Mitsuri of all people had gotten to you first.

He really wouldn’t have minded if it had been Rengoku or Gyomei. For obvious reasons, Rengoku would be happy to have him stopped by and probably Gyomei too, because it seems like they don’t have a bone to pick with him. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t have minded Muichiro either, though the boy would have probably forgotten your existence within the day. But any of the others, the thought made his skin crawl for plenty of reasons. Maybe it was because it would have become a hassle, or he would be harassed every time he went to visit you. Yes, it does seem on par with him that might just avoid you so you don’t get verbally assaulted like he does if you were to associate with him. But he was a lonely, pathetic man who was enamored with you at first glance the minute you showed up out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that the stars had aligned so nicely for him – even if he felt he didn’t deserve it.

His only issue with the arrangement was Obanai. The man had almost butchered him on numerous occasions just for showing up to the Love estate. Even if he wasn’t there for Mitsuri, the Serpent Hashira didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was funny the first few times – it actually wasn’t – but you really couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. Obanai was wearing you thin with his commentary. Everytime Giyuu was around, it was like the others just couldn’t help themselves by making a comment insulting the man. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to disrespect a Hashira, especially if four of them were in the room with you, but Giyuu was here to see you, and it was almost like insulting Giyuu was an insult to you for wanting to spend time with him.

Mitsuri was okay with Giyuu coming to visit you, she actually encouraged it. So watching Mitsuri stand behind you while you gave Iguro a piece of your mind was something Giyuu didn’t know he needed to see until then. And maybe he did allow himself to feel a little selfish and smile mentally. He still remembers how Iguro had this look of disdain on his face, simultaneously looking like a scolded child and embarrassed because this was happening in front of Mitsuri.

Giyuu wondered if you caught the look that Obanai and Kaburamaru were giving you – if looks could kill and all that – but that was stupid. You most certainly did and just didn’t care enough. And Giyuu also wonders just what kind of sorcery you have, because he did hear you mention Sanemi by name at some point and now he's not bothering him as much, especially when you are around.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, not like he had ever done anything about it in the past. He never really had the heart to correct anyone in their assumptions of him, he never really thought he had to. Though, that mainly was because he thought he deserved such mistreatment. Regardless, it didn’t matter how he felt about it and himself. If you enjoyed his company that much to defend him, he was going to provide as much of it as you wanted. But there was something about it that made his heart swell a little bit bigger and flooded him with enough warmth that you could have mistaken it as him having a fever.

Now here the two of you were, sitting outside the Water Estate. You both had taken your places by the koi pond Giyuu has. It's so calm and cool. The soft moving of water could be heard every time the wind blew just enough, as well as the sharp sound of water splashing because some fish got too close to the surface.

Giyuu isn’t losing himself as he stares at the pond, watching the fish move around. He finds himself mesmerized though, as you talk. It’s nice, as usual. He likes how you talk and the way you talk. He could listen to you for hours and never get tired of hearing you. And he knows that if he glances at you now, even briefly, he wouldn’t be able to look away. You just look so… wonderful. It makes him dizzy. But he has such a weak will to do so, and now he's staring at you. Eyes soft and relaxed. He has never felt so content.

Giyuu doesn’t know if he realizes what kind of situation he is in. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s finally realizing just how much of an effect you have on him. He likes you. He likes you beyond anything in the world. He loves you and everything about you.

You don't notice him staring. You’re too busy weaving the crochet hook in and out of your craft. You make it look so effortless. So enjoyable. And you seem so happy crocheting away as you speak. The way you talk and do it at the same time, you're so smart. You have to be. And Giyuu can’t help but hope you don’t look up. You’re as mesmerized with your work as he is with you. He would die though, if you caught him. The thought makes him sweat almost, being so close to you like this. His hands are clammy, and he's never been this nervous.

Yeah, he definitely has it bad for you. And for the first time in a while, even despite his nerves, he found the corners of his lips curling upwards, in a soft and timid smile. He averts his eyes, almost to gather his bearings, but that isn't enough. The subtle flush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. But he couldn’t be more delighted.

thank you for reading !! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

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headspace-hotel · 2 years ago

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nature things that a lot of people don't know about and weren't even taught about adequately, but they're actually really fundamental and important to know about

how rivers work. Where do they get started? how do they decide which way to flow?? what makes one river muddy and the other one clear?

[They flow downhill. Always. If a river is flowing a Way, that way is Downhill. They start with rain flowing or soaking downhill until it forms into a little trickle through a channel like a gully or drainage ditch, and the farther it flows the more other trickles flow into it from the land around it, until you have a stream, and the streams all flow downhill until they run into each other, and eventually you have a river which finally reaches the ocean. Rivers never flow FROM the ocean because the ocean is the most downhill you can possibly go. I don't think rivers usually split in two—a fork in a waterway is usually two rivers joining together.]

[On the subject of pollution, rain is usually supposed to soak slowly through the layer of leaves, roots, and dead plant material that covers most biomes. But if you tear up the plants and leave bare mud, or replace a forest with a muddy cow pasture, there's no filter, and mud and contaminants wash into the river. Just plain mud can be pollution.]

how soil works. What makes different soils different? Why are some soils good for growing a garden and others terrible? Does it need more fertilizer?

[The sand, silt, clay diagram is very simplified and only deals with one aspect of soil. Roots, soil animals, fungi, and dead plant material are all part of soil and affect its structure, making it spongy and full of holes and passages for nutrients, water, and new roots. Tilling can break hard soil, but tilling doesn't make soil light, fluffy, and permeable—disturbing the soil as little as possible, protecting it with a layer of plant material, and allowing the natural life forms of the soil develop their networks and tunnels and slowly break down the plant material layer does. This is also very simplified. Soil is COMPLICATED.]

what fungi are, and whether they are dangerous.

[fungi cannot harm you unless you eat them or unless they're growing inside your house and you're inhaling their spores in a concentrated space. There's like, one species in Japan that causes skin irritation. You can touch any other species without any harm whatsoever. *Most* of them don't harm your garden either—in fact, most plants connect their root systems to the fungal mycelium in the soil and receive nutrients from the fungus in exchange for the products of photosynthesis.]

Whether lichen harm trees

[no. They're just hanging out. But a LOT of lichen on a tree might be a sign that the tree is dying. It's not the lichen's fault though.]

What moss is??

[it's a plant, but a very simple plant that doesn't have any vessels for transporting water, so it has to live somewhere damp and soak it up like a sponge. There are hundreds of species of moss, and different species live on the side of a boulder vs. the top, or a living tree trunk vs. a fallen dead tree trunk!]

where bugs go in the winter? I straight up had a book as a kid that told me that they just die, without explaining how the species doesn't go extinct if the winter kills them all.

[Tl;dr they're usually hibernating in fallen leaves and dead wood and plant material. Some do this as eggs or larvae/caterpillars; in this case the adults do die, but their children sleep peacefully through the winter to awake in the spring. And still others hibernate as adults. This is why you don't clean up your flower beds until late spring.]

How Many plants there are

[WAY more than you think]

How ecosystems work apart from "everything is out to get everything else and take resources from other organisms."

[Competition and cooperation are both important in ecosystems! Weeds are competitive and they can choke out other plants, but they also protect the soil from erosion and harsh sunlight, keeping it moist and helping organic matter to build up. A lot of plants, when they're young, need to be sheltered by other plants that protect them from dryness, heat, and herbivores. This isn't even getting into how some plants will send nutrients to seedlings or to understory plants in a forest! Before industrial agriculture made monocultures dominant, people used and were familiar with cooperative relationships between plants a LOT more.]

The range of creatures that are pollinators, and how important the variety is.

[Bees, wasps, butterflies, moths, flies, ants, beetles, hummingbirds, and bats are all pollinators, and flowers are usually shaped and colored and scented to attract particular pollinators. Bees can't do everything, and honey bees are only one kind of bee. Red flowers and long tube shaped flowers are often for hummingbirds, pale-colored flowers that open at night need moths, and flowers that give off strong foul odors often attract flies. It gets WAY more complicated than that—sometimes a flower is only pollinated by a single species of bee or wasp or beetle.]

How many bees there are besides honey bees

[LOTS. And you've probably never seen most of them, if you don't regularly spend time around native plants! There are 140 species of longhorn bee alone, and most people haven't even heard of longhorn bees! There are well over a hundred bumble bees too! Bees come in bright, metallic green, blue, and pure gold. In the USA where I live, some of the most endangered bees are the adorable, fluffy bumble bees—the American Bumble Bee is threatened, and we have some species, like the rusty-patched bumble bee, that are critically endangered.]

[Please, please, please do not use pesticides on plants unless it is a necessity, and please do a LOT of research on the specific pesticide you are using and its effects on non-target insects. If there is any alternative, Do Not Do It. ESPECIALLY not pesticides that come in dust or powder form, ESPECIALLY in the USA, because regulations are so loose here that regular people can buy pesticides in dust form that are horribly toxic to bees.]

[How horribly toxic? A pesticide like Sevin dust will cling to the fuzz on every single bee that visits your plant—like pollen—and those bees will probably die. And in social bees, before they die, they will take the poison back to their hive (like pollen) and potentially kill the entire hive.]

#nature

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beloveds-embrace · 12 days ago

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I just read the poly 141 w/ past abuse reader and omg I love them all so much 😭. Would it be possible for a pt.2 (obviously you don't have to) but like how 141 reacts if they encounter readers family or something along those lines you know? (Ps. I love your writing. It's just *chefs kiss* you are amazing and I hope you have a wonderful day lovely!)

Thank you for your kind words!! I love compliments sorry i soak them up like sponge but ne ways here is part 2 (though it’s on the shorter side) and i hope you have an amazing day!

Part 1

CW: mentions of abusive and neglectful family

You knew it would happen, sooner or later. You knew this fragile peace you had been given wouldn’t last; it was only a matter of when that all of it would crumble apart and you’d be left-

“Calm down, love.” John’s hands settle on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing the tenseness out. His eyes are warm and so is his voice, his face, only for you. He squeezes, the touch grounding. “Take some deep breaths for me. Everything’ll be fine. We’re right with you, remember?”

You do as he says, twisting the fabric of your clothes in your hands. Your lips are chapped- bitten raw even when you keep getting glossy kisses from Kyle and Johnny who have stolen your chapstick. Though you want to reply to him, you are far more focused on the that is parking right outside your shop.

You are being stupid, and you know it. Your parents are simply picking up a flower bouquet order. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less, but you know how they are. Nevermind the fact the bouquet is for your sister’s baby shower that you are not invited to anyways.

There is no reason for you to be so scared that all four of your boyfriends tagged along today for your sake (they would have tagged along anyways the second you mentioned your parents would be there).

You know, logically, that your parents are just here for the bouquet, but the familiar dread still claws at you, a reminder of all the ways they’ve made you feel small over the years. And yet, with John’s warm hands on your shoulders, Kyle’s steady presence, Johnny’s easy grin, the fond pecks, and Simon’s quiet strength surrounding you, it’s different this time. You’re… not alone.

Yet when the car door slams shut loudly, a shiver runs through you, but Kyle’s hand finds yours, grounding you along with John. “We got you, yeah, dove?” he murmurs, giving you a reassuring smile that brings a little calm to your nerves. You nod, drawing a deep breath just as the door chimes and your parents step inside already looking so unimpressed with your shop. They’d always thought your passion for flower and plants was useless.

But they pause, taken aback by the sight of you with these men. You can feel the judgment in their gaze, the thinly veiled disapproval that once would have made you shrink. But now, with your boyfriends beside you, you… don’t feel quite so afraid. You don’t feel like you need to bury every part of yourself and only show the smoothed out edges your parents forced on you.

Your mother’s eyes narrow as she looks at you, at the way you aren’t immediately bowing your head and making yourself smaller even if you remain as quiet as you’ve been taught, and then she looks at the men standing protectively around you. “We’re here for the bouquet,” she says, her tone clipped, as if even this brief interaction is an inconvenience. No greeting, not a single ounce of warmth. Typical, and by now the hurt has become far less sharp than it had ever been.

“Here it is, mother.” You say, your voice small but steady. Your hands only shake just a little as you show her the bouquet, thought it’s Johnny who gently takes it from your hands, all but shoves it towards your mother, and smiles at them.

Your father’s gaze shifts to you from Johnny, his mouth opening as if he’s about to say something scathing, but Simon steps forward, his posture relaxed but his eyes hard- and his mask makes him look even more intimidating. “Anything else you need?” he asks, his voice calm yet leaving no room for confrontation, or even any other request.

You don’t mind this attitude, you realize. You are just- so glad it’s not you on the receiving end.

Your father hesitates, clearly taken aback and unused to being addressed so rudely, and you watch as he realizes he has no power here. None of his usual tactics- snide remarks, dismissive gestures, cold silence- can reach you. Not with these men shielding you, grounding you, and reminding you that you are worth so much more than their disdain.

“…We are leaving.” He clears his throat instead, shooting you a scathing look that says they will definitely be calling you later and belittling you, but… you know you will not be alone to deal with that later. Not anymore. Your mother is shooting you displeased glares, her hands white around the bouquet. But she says nothing, and for that you are glad.

As they leave, at last, John chuckles softly, leaning down close to kiss your shoulder. “They didn’t expect that, did they?”

You shake your head, almost laughing, a strange, freeing sensation bubbling up in your chest. Kyle comes close and wraps his arms around your shoulders, an embrace so warm and gentle. “See, love? You don’t have to face them alone anymore.”

And you realize he’s right. You don’t have to hold up a crumbling wall on your own anymore. These men have become the family you never had- solid, unwavering, reminding you every day that you deserve love and peace.

For the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can truly let go of the fear they instilled in you. For the first time, you feel like you can simply be yourself and be loved all the same for it.

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streamofcolors · 3 months ago

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𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲.

Cregan Stark x Reader.

Summary: Your husband, Cregan, has been preoccupied with his duties, neglecting you in the process. He makes up for it in a delightful way.

Warnings: SMUT (mdni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), mutual orgasm.

Author's note: I must admit I'm petrified about posting this. It has been ages since I've written, but this gorgeous man has sparked my imagination. I hope you all enjoy! 🖤

You find yourself pacing back and forth in your chamber, unable to find rest. The pale blue sky of the day has transformed into a somber, dark canvas. Stars illuminate the sky like snowflakes in the night.

Cregan has been preoccupied with his duties as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, resulting in a lack of attention to you. And you could never begrudge him for it; his duties came first. That is something you came to terms with a long time ago. But, oh, how you desire his attention.

You succumb to your desires and slip your robe over your nightgown before crossing the hall to Cregan’s chamber.

“Who is it?” grumbles Cregan, who is taking a bath when he hears a knock at the door.

“It is I, your wife,” you say softly, leaning your forehead against the door as you silently pray Cregan will grant you entrance.

Cregan raises an eyebrow as you speak. He had assumed it was one of his servants. "Come in," he replies, readjusting himself in the tub.

With a sigh of relief, you open the door and enter the chamber. The pleasant aroma of the bath envelops your senses, creating a soothing atmosphere. Your breath hitches at the sight of Cregan in his tub, his bare, chiseled chest protruding from the water.

“To what do I owe your presence at this hour?” Cregan asks as you approach his side.

You kneel alongside the tub and gently take the sponge from Cregan’s grasp. “You’ve been awfully preoccupied lately,” you point out cautiously, scrubbing his shoulder for him. You can see the wheels turning in Cregan’s head as he thinks about how to respond. He can sense your frustration.

“Duty is sacrifice,” he sighs, his gaze softening. Though he would never admit it, the last few days have been tiring.

You hum in agreement. “I am aware of that, my love. But that does not change the fact that I miss my husband.”

Cregan’s lips twitch upward into a grin. “You miss me? I am right here.”

You grin and huff, “Not in that way, Cregan.”

Cregan gently grasps your forearm, halting your scrubbing. “C’mere,” he says softly as he gently tugs on you.

He slips the robe off your shoulders, leaving you in your nightgown. He guides you into the bathtub with him, unconcerned about soaking your nightgown.

As you sink into the tub with Cregan, your nightgown becomes clingy, the thin fabric immediately soaked through and rendered translucent by the water. Cregan's eyes roam over your figure, taking in the way the water has made the fabric cling to your curves, accentuating every contour. He reaches out, his hands finding your hips and slowly guiding you to sit on his lap, facing him. The water ripples gently around you, lapping against your skin.

“Tell me, in what way does my dear wife miss me, then?”

You awkwardly place your hands on Cregan’s chest, a scarlet flush creeping up your cheeks as you silently curse yourself for being so bold as to come here.

“You haven’t summoned me to your chambers in days,” you whisper so softly that it is barely audible.

Cregan snickers, attempting to maintain composure for your sake. “Come on now, love, don’t get all shy on me.”

“I have missed you too. You have no idea how much it pains me to spend so much time apart,” he consoles you as his thumb caresses your hip comfortingly.

“How about this? Tonight, I am all yours,” Cregan says in a husky voice as he raises your face by your chin in a gentle manner.

Your gaze flickers from Cregan’s grey eyes to his lips. The subtle gesture is all the confirmation he needs, prompting Cregan to delicately press his lips against yours.

You shriek against his lips as he rises, holding you in his muscular arms. He carries you to his bed with ease, leaving a trail of water droplets on the stone floor.

Cregan chuckles as he drops you on his bed, watching you bounce. You are soaking the furs, but he could not care less. He gets to his knees at the foot of the bed and pulls you down to the edge.

"I've been neglecting you," he murmurs against your calf, kissing his way up your bare leg.

His lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against your sensitive skin. Your soaked nightgown is bunched up at your waist. You can feel the soft tickle of his breath on your thigh, your fingers carding through his hair as he hovers near your core.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs before placing what he often referred to as a “northerner’s kiss” on your bundle of nerves.

Cregan’s tongue moves with precision, finding every sensitive spot that makes you whimper and writhe. Your hips begin to move in sync with his mouth, craving more of the delightful sensations he is giving you.

Cregan begins to suckle on your bundle of nerves, his eyes locked on your face as you let out a sharp gasp. Your fingers tug at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from him.

His fingers tease your entrance, delicately circling before gently pushing inside. The sensation of fullness feels overwhelming, causing you to arch your back and cry out.

His fingers move in sync with the movements of his mouth, curled inside of you, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Cregan, please,” you beg needily.

“I know, love, I know” he says as he rises from his knees.

Cregan's lips press against yours, your flavour lingering on his tongue. He guides you up on the bed, positioning himself at your throbbing entrance. You wrap your legs around his waist, gasping as he begins to push inside of you.

The pleasure is palpable as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. Cregan groans, his forehead resting against yours as he comes to a halt, allowing you to adjust to him.

“By the gods, you feel so good,” he whispers, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.

Cregan moves slowly, his thrusts deep and deliberate, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your gasps and moans blend to create a symphony of pleasure that resonates off the stone walls.

"Cregan," you gasp, your voice trembling from the intensity. "I'm close."

"Me too," he replies, his breath hot against your ear. "Come with me, love."

He moves his hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your bundle of nerves and rubbing it in circles. With a final, deep thrust, he pushes you over the edge, your peak washing over you in a powerful wave. You cry out his name, your body trembling with pleasure as he follows you into ecstasy, his own release filling you up.

One of Cregan’s hands is tenderly cradling your head as he gazes down at you in awe, admiring your afterglow.

“Do you still miss me, dear wife?”

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon smut #cregan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark smut

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pillowspace · 4 months ago

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HI….👉👈 AM I ALLOWED TO ASK ABOUT YOUR SIBLINGS AU????

sooo so curious if you have an facts or tidbits to share like! whats their dynamic like? is there any Backstory to this oooor just for fun? i am. very very interested ehe

(only if u want to tho!!)

(About this post and this post)

Mmmm! Let me see what I can think of!

Mal's full first name is Maldu. I imagine everyone would call them Mal except for Odile, since she calls Bonnie Boniface, and would presumably call Mal "Maldu."

Mal is like 12-15, I'm not really strict on the exact age. Since Mal would be the second youngest, they would probably like following Bonnie around even if Mal doesn't really know how to "play" or anything. They just kinda... stand there and try to curiously mirror whatever Bonnie does.

Mal is a bit quiet. They can speak, but they don't do so often, and are more likely to speak when they're upset than when they're pleased.

The red star that hangs from their bandana cannot be seen in colour unless Mal is especially upset. Not the most upset of their life like Siffrin, but even just a big cry could cause the star to shine for everyone to see.

Mal is very sensitive and cries easily. Siffrin's grown practiced at calming them down but still gets freaked out by the sudden tears.

Mal likes quietly watching and listening. They enjoy being taught by their allies how to perform certain tasks, and will give that wide-eyed look of a silent "really??" when praised for doing something right. They soak up praise like a sponge due to a perpetual feeling of doing something wrong.

While their right eye spirals, Mal's left iris is entirely white! It's usually covered by the slanted hat, however.

And! I hadn't actually really thought of a backstory until just now, but does this work? I think it maybe could

Siffrin accidentally created Mal through Wish Craft when he had a mental breakdown as a child/teen soon after the northern island's disappearance, though neither of them know this, and they did not meet until a couple years after this happened. Mal's existence slowly came to be with a clear understanding that they existed for a reason, but they weren't sure why. When Siffrin and Mal eventually crossed paths, it was like finding a second half that you hadn't even realized you had lost. Though even after meeting, the two are still unsure of how this happened to begin with. As far as Siffrin's concerned, the two just "clicked," and does not remember the breakdown. Meanwhile Mal's not really sure where they came from or what they are, but they gladly latch onto the protection Siffrin offers.

Mal is simultaneously an extension of Siffrin, and a separate being entirely. Mal was made from Siffrin's soul, even if Siffrin hadn't meant to share himself like that. When one is hurt, the other shares the echoes of their pain. Mal likely severely panicked when Siffrin lost the eye, and the echoing pain in Mal's own head surely didn't help. If ONE panicked kid (Bonnie) wasn't enough, you also get TWO in this AU! Congrats!

Since Mal was created from Siffrin's distraught state, it reflects through Mal in certain ways. How sensitive they are, how timid they are, their unease, their anxiety, etc. Siffrin's helping Mal every step of the way though, and is very protective of them, urging his allies to be gentle with them.

#ask #isat au #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #in stars and time au #little sibling mdp au #isat #in stars and time

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mysteria157 · 8 days ago

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Undone

nanami kento x black fem reader

wc- 2.8k

warnings- angst, heavy themes, mental health and healing, the fluff that nanami brings.

a/n: I have been feeling like poo these past few days and trying to find my voice in writing. So I created a little drabble that helped me feel better. hopefully, it does for others as well. happy reading

divider: @saradika | JJK Masterlist

He hasn’t heard from you in days.

Granted, that first date was 12 weeks ago, but Nanami is used to the string of texts between you that is consistently pinging—a feat that Nanami never thought to reach. He’s used to the late night phone calls, the FaceTimes that are meaningless because he just wants to look at you. But for the first time, you turned him down.

Three days ago, on the morning of a nice dinner he had planned, you called with a scratchy voice, “I’m just really tired today, but I’ll be shipshape in no time!” You had insisted.

With vigilance sewn into his body since the day he could remember, Nanami notices right away something is wrong. Maybe it was the distant crack of your words. Maybe it was the fact that you cleared your throat once, no—two times to make yourself sound as professional as possible. As if Nanami is an employer and not the man you’ve decided to let into his life.

Regardless, he was as polite as always. Content to change the subject and send you well wishes before hanging up. The meme texted to his phone five minutes later, sweetening whatever sour concoction had manifested in his belly from your phone call. But still…Nanami knows. So he waits.

He waits three days of agonizing silence before a maelstrom of worry finally claws its way to the surface of his pool of impassivity. He stops by the market first and grabs ingredients. There’s a soup recipe you love—a recipe he soaked up like a sponge as he hovered near you in your kitchen during your first date. He’ll make that.

On his way out of the market, his eyes catch a bouquet of Asian lilies. Sunset orange petals adorned with long dark stamen. He picks up a modest bouquet—something large enough to make you smile every time you see them, but not too much to make you sneeze from your allergies.

It’s 6:47 PM when Nanami’s shoes touch your welcome mat. Even as his eyes trace the tawny ‘Welcome!’ made of coir, he can feel the unease wafting from behind your closed door. Your spare key rests in his closed hand, the metal digging into his palm in a silent question. You insisted that it wasn’t too soon in the relationship for this, to have access to each other in this way. After all, finally opening his heart to love after keeping it locked behind the demands of work, Nanami wanted to take things slowly. But you had other plans—you always do. And now, Nanami is glad to have relented so quickly when you gave him the spare key two weeks ago.

You’re a tidy person, meticulous to a fault. So it’s easy for him to spot the littering of disarray. The curtains are drawn tight, casting your home into darkness. A trail of clothes starts from the door and trails to your room. There are dirty dishes in your sink—you hate going to bed with a messy kitchen. The air is permeable—a physical being that Nanami can see the particles as they float and scurry with his movements through your home.

He finds you in your room, a tornado of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers, three blankets deep, with only the top of your hair visible. The air is just as stale in here—heavy with the kind of silence that comes to life from too many hours alone with dark thoughts. Your phone lies on your nightstand, face-down, notifications from others probably neglected along with Nanami’s. He hates the sight, angry at whatever malevolent force that’s decided to torment you, and now he fights it.

The rustle of Nanami setting his things down makes you stir, the lump of covers oscillating with your movements as a flash of your melanin-rich skin pokes from the dark hole where you reside. Your eyes meet his—surprised, alarmed, and immediately angry.

“Get out,” you snap, your voice gravelly from disuse. Through the curtain of your textured hair, Nanami catches a sliver of your icy gaze, foggy with the heaviness he can smell in the room. He takes a step closer, and it’s a step too far. Your tired eyes widen with a simmering fury that makes Nanami think twice.

“Why can’t you listen?! You can’t be here…” you stop short, squeezing the covers around your already decaying form like a lifeline. “Not when I’m—like this.”

He takes another cautious step—your eyes narrow, a weak challenge—then another until he sits at the edge of your bed. The dip from his weight causes your feet to curve into the cavern, toes touching his thighs from beneath your covers.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The still air seems to vibrate from your fury, dust motes zipping haphazardly as if being pulled back and forth by an invisible force.

“Call you? Call you?? So you could see this? So you could see how I can’t even—“A lump of confusion and rage dies in your throat, the sound gurgling like a sewage pipe. His hands clasp the blanket that covers your shoulders, pulling you up gently with no resistance. You want to smack his hands away, to yell at him to leave and never come back. Because you’re not ready for him to see you like this. Not yet.

But despite the bark of your bite, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically.

“I wanted to wait a few weeks,” you ramble, eyes turned away from him as you shiver from the cold air on your exposed upper half. You’re still wearing the same shirt from three days ago when you called Nanami to cancel; your eyes had already been filled with tears, your throat suffocating beneath torrential thoughts and negativity that springs to life when you least expect it.

“No one wants to see this so soon.”

“From that statement alone, I’m going to assume the men you dated before were below average in all respects.”

“Everyone expects some grandiose gesture to make all of…this go away. And it’s not that fucking simple.” You don’t acknowledge his assessment. Still rambling, still trying to push him away even as he stands. He pulls you up with him with a firm grip still on your shoulders, his care poking at your defenses with inquisitive fingers.

Your knees buckle, threatening to give out without the reassurance of his hold. Your rambling falls to the wayside, fading into the air around you as you finally comprehend your new position in front of him. Standing for the first time in days, the strength of his hands radiates warmth down to your toes. The room falls quiet, opening its ears to your uneven breathing and the smell of tears.

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“It seems you’re standing now,” he says simply, the low crooning timbre of his voice wafting over your face. You heave in a stuttering breath, suck down his air, and let it fill you from the inside with care you’ve neglected. Nanami doesn’t leave his words open for discussion. There is no question hidden in his matter-of-face statement. There is no undercurrent of judgment.

“A bath.”

“What? Kento—no. I don’t need—I don’t deserve—“ His hand slides from your shoulder to cup your cheek, silencing you with its warmth. You resist leaning into his touch, too embarrassed that he can see you like this—stinky, tired, so utterly crestfallen that you can barely function.

“I’ll draw you a bath. I’ll make you dinner. And once I’m sure you’re at least full and clean, then I’ll go. Until you’re ready for me again.”

Steam rises around you in the bathroom, carrying eucalyptus and lavender from the bath oils you like to indulge in on a terrible day like this one. You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your limbs to bury your head in the gap it creates. Your eyes catch the water droplets on your skin, hydrophobic and suspended in time before sliding into the bath water.

When you turn your head to the side, you catch your living room from the open door. He’s cleaned up—opened the curtains, picked up the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. One of your candles burns bright, the low whir of your washing machine sashaying through the apartment. All things you just haven’t had the energy to do.

It started off small, it always does. One thought—fleeting and infinitesimal—but still heavy with a nervousness that plants in your mind like a maggot, burrowing its way through the meat. Your symptoms are more anxious thoughts, more poor remarks of yourself, more he’s successful who are you kidding? More maybe they don’t like you, why can’t you see that? More once Kento sees this side of you, he’ll never want you again.

More, more, more even though those thoughts hold little evidence to prove true. But for you, those maggots burrow until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell, a husk that has no choice and no energy but to lay down in bed and sleep the days away until the meat heals again.

Beneath the steam, you can spell the mix of thyme, peeled tomatoes, and garlic. The tomato soup you showed him how to make on your first date. He was inquisitive, watching silently, his eyes falling on yours too often to take good notes. Now, it’s another show of this man you’re growing to love, crafting something for you with his own hands, affection beneath the veil of reservation that he shows everyone else.

It’s too much for you. The tears come quietly, spilling down your cheeks and into the bath water, polluting the love that was used to create it.

You hear his footsteps, padded feet on your now clean floor as he walks into the bathroom and takes in the sight of you. You blink against the rush of embarrassment, too tired to wipe the tears away, too tired to hide a vulnerability you wanted to keep a lid on for awhile longer.

He walks to your sink, gathering product, a hair bottle, and a wide-toothed comb before coming back to you. He kneels beside the tub and rolls up his navy sleeves without ceremony, pinching off his glasses before he sets them on the floor. He’s soft but efficient in the way he rubs your bar soap on your loofah, getting it nice and sudsy. He’s relaxed but observant—his tie loosened but not completely off, his forearms flexing with quelled strength as he washes your back and shoulders, the slight furrow of concentration in his brows as he measures his next words.

“Strawberry and cream cheese danishes.”

“Hm?”

“If I eat one, I’ll want more. So I try to stay away when I can.” Nanami continues, washing the soap off your shoulders before he hands you the loofah. You take it without question, watching him disappear to sit behind you as you wash your limbs.

“After Yu…I would bury my sorrow in work. I worked and worked and worked until my boss forced me to take time off. It’s a sneaky sickness. It likes to watch over you and strike the very moment your guard is down.”

You hear the squeeze of your hair bottle behind you, your snarled strands soaking with rosemary-scented mist in his gentle fingers.

“It’s been years. But when it does hit, that darkness that seems to strangle me and tell me that I should have tried harder, that I should have protected him….I like to go across the street from my home and get a strawberry and cream cheese danish.”

You know Nanami has a sweet tooth. You’ve seen the way his eyes light up from the pies that you like to make, always bringing him a slice to work. You’ve seen the sidelong glance he gives strudel that steams behind glass display cases at the bakery he takes you to. But to imagine him leaving his apartment in the dead of night, wrinkled clothes and bags beneath his eyes, not showered in days—paying for a danish…you hitch a breath, a chuckle squeaking and dying in your throat with a painful lurch.

“Why are you laughing?” He admonishes. You can practically feel the lifted brow and gentle smile on your back. Your skin tingles with the movement of his fingers as he works them through your hair, detangling with rosemary and leave-in conditioner

“Do you buy the three-pack?”

Silence. A pause in your hair before baby hairs flutter from the puff of air he shoots out. You bite your lip to keep the dry smile from forming.

“No,” he lies, playfully.

The heaviness in the air gives way to a light current of brightness from your fleeting smile, from the smell of the tub, and your hair now detangled and loose before shrinkage claims it.

“I’m not sure what’s compelled you to think there’s a proper time to tell me that your thoughts grow dark at random moments in your life. Now, two months from now, it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

The declaration wraps around you, sliding down your ajar mouth and curdling in your lungs with certainty, taking root in the muscle for the foreseeable future.

“And if it is alright,” he continues, carding his fingers through your hair to plait it into a single braid. “I would like to love every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide. The parts that make you think that you’re not good enough—for me, or your friends, or anyone else. If anything, being able to be here, right now, is a privilege I’ll cherish.”

When the fresh tears spill over again, they no longer taint the water you soak in. They cleanse, collecting and filtering away the depression and anxiety that claims so much of your life when you least expect it.

After, when you’re clean and smelling of Shea butter that Nanami slathered you in, you sink into your now clutter-free sofa. The exhaustion settles on your bones in a different way. Well earned after a long battle instead of invasive and unasked for.

Your eyes rest on the lovely bouquet of Asian lilies on your coffee table, fresh with stems cut, curling toward you with open petals so you can see the beauty inside. The gesture fills you with more of that feeling, of love that you never imagined to come so soon with a man like him.

Nanami walks around the sofa, a tray that he sets in front of you carrying his own rendition of your tomato soup, toasted sourdough grilled cheese, and a tall glass of water.

“Extra basil?” You ask, lips wobbly around a smile as you take in another form of his adoration that you’ll have forever if he allows it.

“Extra basil.”

When he returns with his own tray, his hair falling over his eyes in a heap of hard work, he offers you a look. A measured look that’s filled with everything he wants to give, an excitement in his warm brown eyes that you can’t wait to see more of. But it’s shrouded in a gentle reservation with gaps only visible to you. Soft smiles for you. Loving touches for you. A beacon in storms that brew seemingly out of nowhere just for you.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, a safe place where he can take some part of you while you heal. But you’d like more. So you tilt your head for him, soaking the warmth from his lips that press against yours softly.

Suddenly, your worries, your dark thoughts, your misery that you let keep you beneath your blankets for days all smoothed over from his touch. Satiated until those maggots in your mind wiggle to life again when they’re hungry.

“Marcus didn’t give a rose to Janine.” He says casually as he draws back to his side and turns on the TV, nonchalant as if he didn’t just spend the evening putting you back together with gentle hands and quiet love.

You relax into his side, looking at his arm with teary eyes as he rests it on the couch behind you, offering a blanket of comfort and safety that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Gojo spoiled it,” Nanami continues, grumbling and annoyed at the two syllables of Gojo’s name touching his tongue. He blows at his spoon of soup, eyes locked on the screen, his sharp features colored with flickering blues and reds.

He notices your stillness—of course, he notices—and offers you another kiss on your cheek before turning back to the show.

“I’ll steal his kikufuku as punishment,” you offer, arm shaking with the gentle chuckle he gives in response.

The soup steams in your hands, your hair soft and braided, your body worshiped and clean, Nanami’s heartbeat permeable beneath his clothes as you sink into him and sip your delicious soup.

For the first time in years, you know when the world feels heavy, he’ll be able to lift that weight off of you before it buries you away.

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months ago

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✮ tags ; top + gn!reader (no desc of parts but reader is fucking him), unabashed daddy kink, implied verse, small age gap, bottom megumi, petnames (boy, baby) thorough discussion of megumis daddy issues in exactly the direction you think, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.3k

✮ a/n ; i haven't slept . im not responsible for anything. will not be taking questions at this time. 🫡

He's the prettiest thing you've ever seen in your life.

You tell him as much. He pretends to hate hearing it. Soft features bend at hard angles to convincingly drive in the fact that he detests it. Megumi is always like that. For the years you've known him - anything he's at risk of playing his hand too quickly, he retracts. You think that's why you're so addicted to getting him to let go.

He scowls, has the signature Zenin mean mug that almost makes the whole schtick convincing. You know better though. Maybe because you've known him since highschool, or maybe because you simply find him easy to read.

You've never met someone so touchstarved or so delicate all while being so, so mean. There's a lot Megumi can do but he's shit at hiding when something bothers him. When he's irritated, he's petulant and when he's pleased - you'd almost describe him as docile. In his own way. In the way a dog who used to cage fight could be.

You have an interesting relationship to Megumi. You're a stray just like him - with your family being a Zenin lapdog and you being their black sheep. You have a lot to relate on, but Megumi finds your attitude grating. Finds the harshness of your personality difficult, and finds the finesse you have for slaughter and violence to be nauseating.

It's probably why he makes wide, wet eyes at you whenever you're alone. Closest thing he has to someone he can depend on with more experience. You're quick to appraise his work when you go on trips together. Despite your acting smug and Megumis frustration about your attitude, he soaks up the praise like a pretty little sponge. He's only a few years younger than you though, despite how he acts.

(Sometimes you think he wants the gap to be a little wider. )

A cute kid, only two years younger than you. Soft, striking green eyes. Soft lips. A mean little glare and spiky mop of black hair to compliment pale, cream colored skin. Megumi blushes easy, bruises even easier. His knees and elbows are a pretty cherry-blossom pink like something out of a movie scene.

The first time you fuck Megumi, its mostly because you're drunk and interested. It'd be stupid to not be interested in a face so pretty and desperate for approval.

All times after that are false happenstance. You make a routine of it - a silent game that makes it look like you're coercing him so he doesn't have to accept his own wants with any seriousness. You're cool with the ambiguity cause you're a little sick in the head. It's enough to fuck him, and sometimes when you're generous - to have him fuck you.

Megumi is pretty when he's being fucked. He changes his tune fast when his dick is a little hard and his guard is down - never thought that bratty little fucker could whine like he's in heat until you pulled the sounds out of his mouth yourself.

You always reaffirm how much he loves attention and praise and pampering when you fuck Megumi. He likes when you appraise him like that too. Soft compliments about his pretty little hole and the tightness of his waist. You manage it with relative ease. Makes your whole core throb just to see how much he twitches over something so slight and so easy. Such a mean fucking kid - such a brat, all welled up anger and abandonment issue.

Sometimes you wanna make him cry from him pain.

But most times, like now - you offer Megumi sweet pleasure. Give him that gentle, doting authority that he seems to fiend for. Desperate for reprieve in a way that stains his face, despite his attempts to brush it off.

Megumi takes dick like he was born for it. Slender fingers grip at your waist and claw at your back like he wants to rip you in half - tear you limb from limb but his legs wrap around your waist like he'd die if you left him for one fucking second. Megumi likes being full, you think. And he likes more when you praise him for taking your cock with such ease.

It's not rocket science to figure out he has some issues with authority. That distant relationship with his sensei and absent father make it obvious that he never wants to let anyone get too close. He could never really entertain certain relationships, he could never actually ask for approval. It's too little, too late.

Still, it surprises you a little when you first hear him say daddy. Not a lot, but enough that you pause in mid-thrust to stare at him a bit. He's mortified at the realization.

But you're not much less of a scumbag you figure, than all the figures in his life. You nod instead, feel arousal spark up in your stomach and claw it's way into your throat as you fuck him even harder.

("Daddy, huh?" You laugh because it's funny and you think the feeling of being so turned on you pass out is inappropriate. "Sure, baby. I'll be your daddy if you want." )

He doesn't say shit to you about it afterwards. Can barely look you in the during your post-sex aftercare and chat - though that conversation is never particularly romantic. You think the whole thing makes him want to die, so you don't really bring it up outside of a knowing look.

But it happens more often than that. Like a dam breaking, something slips and now Megumi can't close it despite how desperately he seems to want too. It's not even that you're particularly into it at the start.

But well, he's pretty. Prettiest little thing you've ever seen in your life, even though he's tall and strong. He's got this grace that overwhelms you into fucking him dumb whenever you can. Try as you might, you will is not strong enough to not lust over someone like him calling you daddy. That level of unprecedented whining, the affection, the need in such an embarrassing word makes your feel so horny you can barely think.

So, it doesn't particularly surprise you when Megumi calls you daddy. Not anymore.

He's weepy in the face, somewhere in the distance - and he's still wearing his pajamas when you come see him. The scene is uncomfortably domestic between two people who aren't dating, but you don't really care either way. Megumi is pretty everywhere, but he's especially needy getting fucked on his kitchen counter sitting up to cling to you.

His arms around your shoulders, face drawn together with shameless embrassed. His cock is twitchy, leaking against the flat plane of his stomach with unbridled enthusiasm. He says it in a whisper today which you can't help but find cute.

It's raw in the back of his throat, mildly gravelly as his nails dig into your shoulders with an enthusiastic whine. "Daddy. Fuck, please, can't."

"What's daddy's boy want huh?" You say, obviously mocking - a hand wrapped around shaft with a thumb over his slit. Megumi shivers. Lets out a shameful moan at the word boy that makes you laugh hard, makes your head spin dizzy with lust.

"Wanna cum," He says, but doesn't beg. Doesn't know how and couldn't figure it out if you paid him. You've spoiled him rotten after all. Filthy, really but he's prettier when he's acting precious. At least to you. "Make me cum, daddy please."

"Really milking it today, huh boy?" You chuckle and all he does is whimper. "Okay, okay. So fucking needy. Go on and cum, baby. Cum for daddy."

Megumi lets out a whine. A sound you barely knew he had in him as you say it that time and you laugh again and again as you bottom out. You watch him squirm as he finally finishes, back arching off the counter as the pleasure runs through him.

His face is still hazy when he comes down. Still beautiful in that way that makes you want to fuck him stupid and indulge for the rest of your life.

"Feel good, baby?"

He blushes faint and doesn't bother pushing you away. "Mm."

#megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi smut #jjk smut #writing tag #daddy kink cw #do . do not say anything #ITS NOT EVEN 11AM IM SORRRYYYHDFJHFDJH #this is such . dfkjdhfkjs #im not even gonna say anything . read at your own risk

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babyleostuff · 6 months ago

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. . . praising the pu for the “spell” MV

[ 🧚🏼 ] wen junhui

wants to run and hide. the way you practically melted while watching the MV, the way your eyes stayed glued to the screen, how you seemed to light up whenever he came on - IT’S JUST A MUSIC VIDEO WHY ARE YOU BEING LIKE THAT. jun knows he’s good at what he’s doing, he hears that from random people all of the time, but watching you, the person he cares the most about, freak out over something as simple as a MV… it truly makes him feel so appreciated. you don’t even have to say anything, jun knows exactly how proud of him you are just by looking at your face.

[ 🧚🏼 ] kwon soonyoung

one would think hoshi would get all cocky after hearing you fawn over him, the makeup, the outfits, EVERYTHING. but no. like, for some reason whenever people praise him for his work he gets this rush of confidence, because he knows he’s hot, and looks good, but when it’s your turn to praise him, soonyoung’s reaction is all but that. he gets low key shy, and doesn’t really know what to say or do, because did you really enjoy it that much? did he really look that good in that outfit? you’re not making fun of him, right? being praised by the person you love the most just hits different.

[ 🧚🏼 ] xu minghao

„yeah, i knew you’d love it.” man is cocky, and his ego skyrockets, as if you don’t freak out over the smallest things he does on a daily basis. and he loves that - he loves how your jaw is on the floor after watching the MV like it’s the biggest masterpiece known to mankind. how you’re not able to form a coherent sentence because all you can say is „what the fuck.” how you’re looking back and forth between your computer screen and him. but he’s also a certified softy, so when you go on a rant about how beautiful, and talented he is, hao just quietly sits there, and soaks up every word like a sponge.

[ 🧚🏼 ] lee chan

okay so - chan knew he looked fucking amazing, that the makeup was perfect, and outfits cunty, and he knew you’d go crazy over the MV, like you always did, but it didn’t change the fact that throughout the whole time that you were watching the video he was nervously looking at you to see your reaction. he wants to make you proud, and he wants to show you the best side of him, thus seeing your reaction really mattered to him. and yes, he anticipated the yells, and a bunch of incoherent words (chan always found it so endearing how excited you got over the MVs), but he didn’t anticipate how it’d make him feel. the way you looked at him, the way your face screamed “i’m so proud of you” - nothing could ever beat that.

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otdiaftg · 10 months ago

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The King's Men - Chapter Eight

Day: Friday, January 19th Time: 6:40 PM EST

Neil pushed the brothers from mind and followed the men into the changing room. He twisted his combination into the lock on his gear locker and pulled the door open. There was a split second of unexpected resistance, then a sharp pop of something breaking. And then—blood. It exploded in his locker, triggered by the door opening, and Neil recoiled as it cascaded over everything inside. The smell of it was so thick it clogged his throat and choked him. Neil's shock only lasted for a white-hot second before panic took over. He dove at his locker, grabbing for his uniform and gear. It was too late and he knew it, but he had to try. His jersey squelched in his hands like a swollen sponge, spurting blood all over his fingers. He dropped it and scrabbled for his helmet. His fingertips grazed hard plastic but couldn't latch on before Matt grabbed him. "No," Neil said, but Matt hauled him away from his locker. "Wait!" He dug his feet in, but the tread of his shoes were soaked and slid across the ground. The blood had hit the bottom of his locker and was now spilling onto the floor in a swiftly-spreading puddle. Hanging from the top of his locker was an empty plastic bag, rigged to tear open when the door pulled too wide. It looked big enough to hold at least two gallons; it was more than big enough to destroy every single piece of gear Neil owned. "Nicky," Andrew said, "get Coach." Nicky bolted. Neil elbowed Matt as hard as he could. Matt cursed as he lost his grip on Neil. Neil ran back to his locker, skidding a little as he got closer. He had to catch himself on the neighboring locker to keep from falling. As soon as he had his balance he frantically unloaded everything piece by piece. He couldn't tell his Home and Away jerseys apart anymore. Even the padding on his armor was wrecked. Neil picked his helmet up and turned it to watch blood slide off the hard plastic face guard. "Neil?" Matt asked. Neil dropped the helmet to the pile at his feet and punched the back of his locker. His fist hit plastic instead of metal, and Neil wrenched the broken bag off its hook. When he turned to throw it Andrew caught his wrist. Neil hadn't even heard Andrew cross the room toward him. Neil stared at him and through him, heart pounding in his temples. "It's ruined," Neil said, voice ragged with an awful rage. "It's all ruined." Wymack burst into the room with Nicky on his heels. The sight of so much blood stopped him short for a moment before he strode for Neil. "Is that yours?" "Coach, my gear," Neil said. "It's—" "It's not his." Andrew let go of Neil and went back to his own locker. "He's fine." "Peroxide," Neil said. "Does Abby have any in her office?" When Wymack just looked at him, Neil started for the door to find some himself. Wymack put an arm in his way to stop him. "I need to clean my clothes before the blood sets or I won't have anything to wear tonight." "And I need you to derail that one-track fucking mind of yours for two seconds and focus on the fact that you are covered in someone or something's blood. Are you okay?" "Andrew already said I'm fine," Neil bit out. "I'm not asking Andrew," Wymack said. "I'm asking you."

Art used with permission by Sam. Thank you @02511213942!

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lokiprompts · 2 years ago

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Burning Words - Loki X Reader

Summary: Loki is terrified to tell you that he loves you, but a whispered confession in the dark throws him for a loop.

Warnings: Pining. Some self deprecating thoughts. Otherwise pure fluff.

Words: 3.2k Exactly!

Joining in on the 14 Days of Valentines Event hosted by @muddyorbsblr!! This was supposed to be more crack, but after a rough week, we got ourselves a comforting Loki fic <3

Those three precious and meaningful words burned in Loki’s throat. Every day for months they threatened to bubble up from his chest and burst forth like a tidal wave he was happy to drown in. To scream his undying and relentless affection for you from the highest rooftops; to openly profess that you laid claim to his heart as much as he had yours.

I love you

Every little thing you did threatened to have the god bursting out declarations and weaving endless sonnets of adoration. From the way your hands were always dwarfed by his yet fit so perfectly together. How you always knew to give him that reassuring squeeze when his insecurities started to creep into his chest. And how you looked at him like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars as if he didn’t commit gross atrocities to your home planet. But it was your endless patience, unconditional understanding, and constant reassurance that he was worthy that made his heart tumble from like to love.

Yet, as each day passed, those three words died on his tongue as soon as he gathered a fraction of nerve to confess. As soon as you looked at him with your wide eyes, filled with a reverence for him he could never begin to truly understand, all his resolve would falter. Every insecurity that ever flitted through his mind would instantly dissolve his confidence like salt in water, leaving him parched for your acceptance and praise. And each time you would quench his need like the oasis you were. Endlessly filling his cup and building up a king who would never receive a crown.

It tormented him every night.

And this night was no different. You laid nestled in his arms, holding him as if he was the one true anchor of your life. It was a fact that you always insisted on, one of many that Loki would playfully debate with you. But there was always an underlying subtext of self-doubt in his banter that would make you hold him that much tighter. Like your embrace could scare away his insecurities and doubts and each time, Loki would soak up your affection like a dry sponge.

Loki’s arms held you close, the steadiness of his heart beating in your ear easily lulling you to sleep. This part of the night was always the god’s favorite. Due to his…biology, he didn’t need as much sleep as you, his precious mortal. It was the perfect time to greedily bask in your warmth and press lingering kisses into your hair, whispering promises that tomorrow would be the day he finally tells you his heart’s secret. And every once and awhile, Loki would find himself in the peaceful place of almost slumber. A semi restful place devoid of nightmares and only the feeling of you.

I love you…

The words were spoken so softly, so quietly that at first, he thought that he might have dreamed it, but it was enough for Loki to shoot his eyes open. He looked down at you, and you seemed to still be sleeping. Is it possible? Loki wondered, Could you have said…?

“Darling…?” Loki carefully whispered, testing your wakefulness, “Did you say something?”

A shudder traveled through your body as his velvety voice caressed your ear, a reminder of the effect he had on you that had Loki smirking. Yet, your eyes remained closed.

The idea of fishing through your mind to see if it was a dream of you confessing your love to him or to your beloved cheesecake – or worse to a romantic interest that wasn’t him- was the god of mischief’s second approach. You had given him carte blanche to access your mind; a gift that still astonishes him to this day.

I trust you, Loki. I know you will only use it if you absolutely must. Sweet girl, you trusted him so much. More than what he deserved. And for a fleeting moment, there was a twinge of guilt as his hand glowing emerald with dancing seidr hovered above the crown of your head. But the need to know ultimately placed his hand on your skull. Years of magic threaded through the fibers of your brain and pulled at your recent memories. Loki stifled a groan when he did not find anything there. No dreams that remained and no clues about those sweet words that escaped your lips.

Perhaps I dreamed it, Loki thought to himself, but just as that thought passed through his mind, he steeled his resolved. Curiosity burned through him and drove him to give your shoulders a little shake.

“Darling?” He not so carefully whispered this time. The endearment coming out more like a hushed yell. Your jostling made you shuffle a bit, but you only snuggled in closer and let out a content sigh as your nose brushed against the pale skin of his chiseled chest. The little gesture made Loki’s heart swell, and he almost reconsidered his next move. Almost.

He shook you more forcefully this time, jolting you awake.

“Huh? What’s going on?” You looked around the still dark bedroom, bleary eyes finally focusing on Loki, “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”

Guilt instantly washed over him. “No, sweet girl, I am perfectly fine…” Heat flooded his face, praying to the Norns that you couldn’t see the blush you constantly teased him about, “You, uh, had said something. I was wondering….”

Loki chewed his lip as he looked down at you; the perfect being who patiently waited to hear the reason why you were woken from your sweet slumber without a hint of anger or resentment.

“I was wondering if you – if you – if you would care to repeat it?” Loki hated how small he sounded, but he needed to know.

You scrunched your nose in confusion, and Loki resisted the urge to bend down and kiss it, “Huh? I am sorry, Loki, but I don’t remember saying anything. Was I talking in my sleep?”

The sight of you sleepily letting out a little yawn and apologizing to him, even though he was the one that woke you, had those three words laying heavy on his tongue. Every bit of his heart screamed to simply speak the words to you, and he yearned even more for you to echo those words back to him.

“No,” Loki sighed, stroking your hair, “I must have been mistaken. Go back to sleep, Darling.” You smiled at him and leaned up, kissing the corner of his mouth as if you knew what he longed to say. Like you could simply survive off the taste of the words on his lips until he felt ready to utter them.

Soon enough, you fell back asleep, and Loki was left alone to stew in his regret and confusion. If only he could hear you say those words again, he would know if they were truly for him…

The smell of fresh breakfast wafting into your shared bedroom had your nose twitching in anticipation, enough to draw you out of a restful sleep. Stretching out on the large bed, you only felt the softness of your sheets and not the firmness of your god. Your prince. Your love. A gleeful smile easily grew on your face as you realized he must have made you breakfast. The best meal of the day.

As if on cue, Loki burst into the bedroom with a beaming smile that mirrored your own, holding a tray with all your favorite breakfast goodies. When you saw the food, you immediately perked up, sitting up in bed, and your enthusiasm made Loki’s chest puff with pride. You always appreciated all the things he did for you, no matter how big or small, and he lived for the thrill of your joy.

“What have you brought me, my prince?” You chirped. The way you always called him ‘yours’ made his heart flutter endlessly.

“Breakfast in bed for, my princess.” Loki grinned back, placing the tray in your awaiting lap, “I recall that it is your favorite. I tried to include all of the things you enjoy….pancakes, eggs, fruit… a little bit of everything for you, Darling.”

“Oh!” Your cheeks flushed an adorable rosy color, making those three words ignite in his throat yet again, “This is wonderful, Loki! These are all my favorites! Thank you!”

Excitedly, you started to gobble down the delicious meal in front of you. Loki looked on with equal parts happiness and hesitance on his face.

“Do you like it?” He started, trying to choose his words carefully. You nodded your head eagerly, wiping a bit of syrup from the corner of your mouth making the god laugh.

“Yes, I like it! It’s amazing!” You quickly speared a piece of cantaloupe on your fork and popped it into your mouth as if to prove your point.

Loki looked down at his lap where his fingers played with a piece of lint that was on his loose hanging sweatpants, “But you don’t love it?” The crystal blue orbs that you adored so much did everything to avoid your eyes, but even without seeing you knew insecurity swam in them. A gentle hand covered his, the softness of your skin against his warrior calluses always serving as a stark reminder of how innocent you were and how monstrous.

“Oh, Loki, I love it.” As soon as the word left your honeyed lips, Loki’s eyes shot to yours. All he saw reflected at him was warmth and tenderness, a sense of home that he felt every time he looked at you. The way you spoke the word sounded familiar, like it could have been what you spoke in the night, yet it still wasn’t quite right. There was something….missing that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He leaned forward and kissed your lips, delighting how you immediately wrapped an arm around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair. With a playful tug of his tresses, you deepened the kiss. He groaned as he tasted the syrup that remained on your tongue- your taste, your essence, making it that much sweeter. Slowly, he pulled away, make sure to savor every drop of you.

“The sweetest treat there is.” He grinned.

The rest of the morning and afternoon was restoring. A perfect, lazy day entangled in each other’s arms. Your back was pressed against Loki’s chest and each of you held your individual books. The words flowed easily off the page as your eyes darted back and forth, but Loki found himself simply turning his pages for show while he quietly observed you. The little movements of your mouth as you silently spoke choice phrases, the gasps as you read something shocking, and the blood that rushed to your ears when you came upon a particularly erotic scene – all made Loki more entranced by you and more hopelessly in love.

“Darling?” He started carefully, much like this morning and the night before. You only hummed in response, still caught up in the story of your book.

“How long as it been since you spoke to your friend? The one you grew up with?”

That made you drop your book and look up at Loki in confusion, “It’s been a while. Why do you ask?”

You felt him shrug behind you before pretending to peek back at his book, “I just recall you enjoy speaking with them. Perhaps you should catch up sometime.” The comment was innocent, but it was enough to plant a seed in your mind. Sure enough, later in the day, you had picked up the phone to call your dear friend.

Loki stayed perched on the sofa, still pretending to read while you paced the room with your phone in hand and pressed to your ear. Fervently, you spoke to your longtime friend. The joy spilling from your lips making Loki’s mouth twitch at the corners. Every detail of your lives was shared, and laughter echoed all around the room. Loki would never tire of the sound of your laugh. Eventually, you said your goodbyes and turned to your lover with a content smile.

“I am so glad you reminded me to call them, Loki! It was great catching up.” But your smile faded as soon as you saw your prince’s frown. Quickly, you sat next to him on the couch and cupped his face with your hand.

“What’s wrong, Loki?”

Loki swallowed thickly, the sweet smell perfume bringing a fresh wave of butterflies to his stomach, “It is quite silly, really.”

You smiled so sweetly at him, it made his heart clench, “Try me.”

He avoided your eyes for the second time today, “You didn’t say you loved them when you said goodbye on your communication device. You always have before when you spoke to them. Is that…do you not care for your friend, anymore?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat, but you pulled Loki in close for a reassuring hug, “Oh, of course I love them! It must have slipped my mind.” You pulled away just enough, so you could press your forehead against his. The comfort from the closeness of your body and your mere presence brought him was already threatening to rip those three words straight from his chest once more.

“I’ll call them right now to tell them…” You tilted your head and left a lingering kiss on his forehead. The new agonizing ache in his heart lingering along with it.

Just as you said, you picked up your cell phone and called back your friend who immediately answered, as evident by your wide smile.

“Hey, I just forgot to tell you that I love you!” You smiled a bit wider as Loki guessed your friend repeated the sentiment back to you. The god tried to ignore the burning jealousy that started to well up within him when he heard you say those three words he so desperately wanted to say, so easily and to another no less. The only thing that gave him solace was the fact that much like this morning, this ‘I love you’ wasn’t the same he supposedly heard last night. Something was off about it. A missing puzzle piece he couldn’t quite solve.

The jealousy that coursed through his body and took a violent hold of his heart and his mind told him that you must have been dreaming of someone else. A person you pined for in secret when you were alone in your shared bed, awaiting Loki to join you in the late-night hours. Someone you desperately desired. Someone who was worthy of that desire.

“Loki, you have to tell me what’s wrong.” Loki hadn’t noticed that you hung up with your friend, only to join him back on the couch. The look of sincere concern almost had him cracking, but being stubborn as ever, he held fast.

“I am quite alright, Darling, I assure you.” He flashed you a tight-lipped smile that definitely didn’t reach his eyes. You gripped his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, reminding him of how you always knew when to comfort him. The ache in his heart grew tenfold, and he kept his eyes trained on his lap. Anything to avoid looking you in the eyes and facing the fact that you didn’t love him back.

“Loki…” The brokenness of your voice was the only reason why he lifted his head. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes and still, you gripped his hand like it was your lifeline, “You have been avoiding looking at me all afternoon. I know something is wrong. You tell me everything, Loki.”

You cupped Loki’s cheek with your free hand, and he leaned into the comfort of your palm, “Why won’t you tell me?”

Loki desperately wanted to tell you why he was acting so strangely. That he may have heard you whisper the words ‘I love you’ in the dark, and now it plagued his mind, and it was all he could think about. How he regretted not being able to confess his love for you every day for months on end due to his own cowardice and his own insecurities.

The tears in your eyes threatened to spill over when Loki didn’t answer you. The silence between you two was deafening and so different from the affectionate god you grew to love. Loki saw the wetness of your eyelashes, evidence of sorrow that should never be there, let alone placed there by him. Every day he vowed to be a source of happiness and comfort for you. A place of peace within the chaos like, you were to him. To be your home.

As soon as your first tear fell, the words tumbled from Loki’s mouth before he could stop them.

“I love you.”

Even though they were rushed from his mouth, each syllable conveyed endless promises of devotion and reverence. The promise that you were the treasure of his heart and something so precious that he would burn worlds to ensure your happiness.

A flurry of emotions swept across your face. At first, there was a look of confusion, then disbelief, and then pure joy.

“You, uh, what?”

Loki had imagined this moment for months, and the one thing he did not expect was to feel instant regret. The need to run away was overwhelming, and his heart hammered in his chest. He swallowed hard, looking away from you yet again.

“Please, don’t make me say it again.” The god that towered over many, the god who made the world kneel was only the frail fragment of an unsure boy.

Your hand never left his cheek, and your thumb rubbed the sharp edges of his cheekbones with soothing strokes. Tenderly, you coaxed his head to turn and for him to look at you once again.

“Please, Loki.” You leaned closer until your breath caressed his face with your pleading whispers, “Say it again.”

Tears began to brim his eyes as his ripped out his tortured heart and presented it to you. An offering to his goddess.

“I love you, Y/N.” The words were surer this time, but still breathless with the anxiety of your reply. A happy watery laugh bubbled up from your chest and your other hand was quick to now cup both sides of his face, ensuring that he wouldn’t turn away from you and hide.

“I love you too, Loki.”

It instantly was familiar. The tone. Each syllable. It was exactly like the sweet words that he thought were spoken last night. Loki quickly mirrored your happiness and was just as quick to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. Every movement of his mouth, every caress carried all the confessions of love that died on his lips and haunted him. The words flowed just as freely from you, as they did from him, and it was in that moment he realized why all of your other ‘I love you’s’ were not the same. Why the one spoken in the middle of the night, in his sweet embrace was so different.

That one was just for him.

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