#NOTHING.. NOTHING can not be improved by simply setting it in a time and place that is not our own | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

natashashill · 2 months ago

Text

my girl’s a brat

pairing: agnes o’connor x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ filthy smut, use of ‘daddy’, degradation, spanking, face riding (a receiving), pussy eating (r receiving), strap (r receiving and sucking). lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: omg okay! so here we are. nonnie i hope you enjoyed this req it was certainly fun to write

summary: based off this req

Today was just not your day. Maybe you did just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. However, Agnes did not seem to care in the slightest. You had pouted for weeks for her to spend more time with you, and so she finally took the day off of work to be with you.

If there’s one thing Agnes can’t tolerate, it’s your bratty behavior. She’ll have you over her knee pleading in seconds if you misbehave. However, she was feeling rather generous considering today was supposed to be special for the both of you.

It was a near battle to even get you out of bed, which had already tested Agnes’ patience to no end.

Strike one.

You decided to make things worse for yourself by forgoing your panties for the day and slipped on a skirt.

Strike two.

The car ride went smoothly, and your brunch date started off perfectly well. Until your waitress came around, and decided to flirt with your girlfriend. She started twirling her stupid blonde hair while talking to your girlfriend about who-even-knows but you were fuming.

“We’re not ready to order yet so you can leave. My girlfriend and I will call you when we’re ready,” you bit out harshly making eye contact with your waitress who seemed to forget you were even there. She had the decency to look slightly sheepish and scrambled off, while Agnes simply glared at you.

Strike 2 and a half. She let it slide.

You looked at her grumpily before focusing your attention on the menu, suddenly nothing was appealing to you.

“Daddy can we go? Nothing looks good here and I don’t want to stay anymore.”

Agnes gave you a glare before responding.

“Baby, I booked us a reservation a week in advance. This is one of my favorite places. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today but if you’re not going to order, I’ll order for you. Cut it out, I want you on your best behavior.”

That should’ve been your warning. Your sign to just shut up and appreciate what she was doing for you, but you didn’t take it. You merely huffed at her while doing the bare minimum to go through the rest of this brunch.

By the time the bill came along, Agnes had half a mind to drag you into the bathroom and spank your ass red. She settled for letting you enjoy the movie she had gotten tickets for before dealing with you at home.

Her hand rested on your thigh throughout your car ride and you seemingly softened. Your mood improved slightly as you headed into the theater. That was rather short lived when you noticed when you realized she got tickets for some action movie. You let out a small whine, but she shot you a harsh glare that shut you down immediately.

She was kind enough to let you get some snacks and an icee, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to piss her off during the movie. You wouldn’t stop whispering in her ear during the movie, ate her popcorn instead of the snacks she bought you, and kept complaining in her ear about how bored you are.

Strike three.

The car ride home was tense and you knew you had messed up.

You let out a small plea but she wasn’t having it. She brought her hand to your core but when she found your bare pussy instead of your panties, she had lost any control she had over her patience.

“When we go home you will go straight to the bedroom. Take off all your clothes neatly, and place them in the corner of the bed. I want you to go find a pair of panties and set them in front of you and kneel. You will wait silently for me to come up.”

You only nodded, not sure if saying anything would only make things worse. As you both arrived home, you quickly scrambled upstairs to do as she said. However, you didn’t. You didn’t neatly fold your clothes, they were scattered in random corners of the room. You didn’t wait kneeling for her with panties in front of you, you let yourself onto the bed and spread your legs so that she could see your eager pussy the moment she walked in.

Agnes does not take lightly to brats. She prefers obedience and will not hesitate to punish you. When she walks in, her eyes darken at the sight of you bare in bed, but she makes no effort to join you. You can feel her anger radiating off her in waves and you can’t help but smirk at how easily you can get under her skin.

“Y/N you have five seconds to get off the bed before you don’t come for a month.”

You quickly scramble off the bed, not willing to call her bluff. You stay standing by the bed unsure of what to do next.

“Crawl to me slut.”

You let out a small moan at that before tilting your head down and crawling.

“Oh don’t get shy on me now. You were so bold all day slut, don’t tell me suddenly you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore.”

You resume crawling towards her as you look eyes and you can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. You feel the humiliation from the way she watches you fully clothed, a stark contrast to just how naked you are. As you reach her feet, you sit back to kneel, and she lets out an appreciative hum at that.

She went to unzip her pants and you knew immediately what she wanted you to do. The strap sprung out of her pants and you were ready to suck her off but she yanked you back by the hair just before you reached it.

“You think you can just suck me off after what you pulled? You desperate whore. I want you to beg for it. Beg for permission to suck me off. Don’t even think of using your hands either, you don’t get to touch me after what you pulled today.”

“Daddy please.”

“You can do better than that.”

“Daddy please. I need your cock so badly. Daddy I want to suck your cock please. Please, I need you so badly. I’ll be good for you.”

She let out a harsh laugh at that before dragging you back towards her cock. She gave you a solid five seconds to prepare before fucking your mouth. She fucked her cock against your mouth and you could feel her in the back of your throat. Suddenly, she pulled out and just waited. You leaned forward to take her down your throat, but you could barely make it halfway by yourself.

“Pathetic slut. What kind of cockwhore can’t even take my cock down their throat without my help.”

She pushes you off her cock and you fall back on your knees, waiting silently for her next instructions. She orders you to bend over against the bed while she disappears into her closet. When she reappears with a paddle, you know you’ve fucked up.

“How many do you think my slut deserves? I think 30 after all the stunts you’ve pulled.”

Your eyes go wide and you start to plead immediately. “Daddy please. That’s too much, I’m sorry please.”

She looks at you for a second, almost as if she’s considering your words.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Purple.”

“Do not question me again for the evening. You’ve been a disobedient brat all day and this is your punishment. You will take what I give you without any complaints. If you need to stop, say your safe word, otherwise do not speak. You let out a small nod before turning back and preparing for your fate.

“Count while I spank you, and thank me for each one.”

One. Thank you daddy.

Two. Thank you daddy.

Three. Thank you daddy.

Eight. Thank you daddy.

At 15, you started to feel floaty.

At 20, she spanked you so hard you let out a yelp before thanking her.

25,26,27,28,29,30 came down in a rapid succession that made your head swirl.

Agnes put the paddle down before gently caressing your reddening cheeks. She knew you were in subspace now and had to proceed delicately if she wanted to finish what she started. She turned you over gently after placing a gentle kiss to your cheek, but a whine still escaped when your bruised cheeks made contact with the bed. She gently rubbed your thighs making them spread apart.

“How are you feeling baby girl?”

“ ‘M okay daddy. I need you so badly.”

At your gentle words, Agnes takes a lick across your dripping pussy, tongue flattening against your folds. You let out a deep moan, and it only encourages her. She lets you buck your hips up against her, practically riding her face. She licks another stripe up your core before swirling her tongue around your clit. Your fingers curl into the bed’s sheets and Agnes lifts your thighs up to give herself better access to your pussy. She continues her attack on your pussy, messily eating you out as her tongue licks, flattens, and swirls. Right as she worked you up to the edge, she pulled away. A cry escaped you, and she gave you a quick slap against your core for it.

“Hush slut. You’re mine to use for today. You can come tomorrow if you behave. Now be a good toy for daddy and let me fuck your cunt.”

She rubs the tip of her cock against your folds, eliciting moans from you that Agnes needs to hear again. She enters you in one thrust, and gives you a brief second to adjust before thrusting hard into you.

You can feel her cock deep inside you and it only makes you more aroused. You start to clench around her and she knows you’re about to cum. You think she might let you but she pulls out right before you reach your peak, your pussy throbbing at how desperate you are to come. You let out a pitiful whine, but she merely ignores you. Taking off the harness and rather climbing up your body.

“Daddy needs to come baby. You think you can use your slutty mouth to get me off?”

You let out an eager moan as her cunt appears above your face and you quickly latch on to her clit. You know how she likes to be eaten out, spending many afternoons under her desk at the station. She needed stress relief and you were more than willing to let her use you.

You let yourself get carried away in your fantasies, your tongue having a mind of its own as it harshly swirls and presses on her clit. You can feel her pulsing and growing wetter by the second when suddenly her orgasm crashes over you, soaking your chin with her juices. You eagerly lap at her pussy until she can’t take the overstimulation anymore and pulls you away from her core.

She rubs the back of her knuckles against your cheek, smiling at the way you lean into her hand. She places a gentle kiss on your lips and whispers gentle praises. She lets you settle for a few minutes, wrapping you in a delicate hug and letting you rest against her chest. When she notices your eyes starting to drop, she leans away and goes to move off the bed.

“Follow me angel. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”

You reluctantly make your way off the bed and over to her, where she greets you with another hug as she turns on the water for you at just the right temperature. When the water fills at just the right amount, she stands up before turning to you.

“Baby, go rest in the bath for me. I’ll return shortly but I need to go and clean up the mess and I’ll come with some snacks for you until dinner.”

You let out a small pout but let her go, letting the warm water soothe your aching body. She comes back sooner than you anticipated and bringings a fluffy towel for you, signaling the end of your bath. You let her pamper you, not even a single complaint when she insists on rubbing the special lotion on your red cheeks. You enjoy the feeling of warmth surrounding her, and let out a content sigh when you both are tucked safely in bed as she gets you to drink some water.

This time, she doesn’t fight you when you show the tell-tale signs of sleepiness. She lets you rest before dinner and a follow-up reward for how good you were during your punishment. As you softly snore against her, she can’t help but think how lucky she is to have you, even if her baby is brat, occasionally.

notes: two posts yipee!! as always please send reqs and ill get to them asap

#agatha harkness x reader #agnes o'connor #agnes o’conner x reader #talia’s fics ໒꒱.*

605 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 5 days ago

Note

hey so I’m 18 and only just started feeling like. horny at all in the past 6 months and I’ve still never orgasmed so like. is there something I need to fix? should I buy myself a vibrator just to know what’s up? I feel so like behind and removed from the rest of the world, because I genuinely thought I was ace until last year because I simply felt nothing. I blame it a bit on ssris and anxiety but anyways. how do I feel more normal about this?

hi anon,

well first of all there's nothing about you that needs to be fixed, so jot that down. you're a person, not a home improvement project.

listen: being 18 is the worst thing in the entire world. it's the oldest you've ever been and, in many places, it means you're legally an adult now, which is a huge milestone and can really get in your head. but it's also very, very young. you haven't had the time or money or ability to do a lot of things or rack up much life experience. for many people, adulthood comes while they're still in high school asking for permission just to go to the bathroom. it's a weird time.

the point being, you're not behind or missing out on anything. technically nobody is, because there's no correct order or timeline on which people have to do things like feel horny or have an orgasm. (nobody has to do them ever, period.) but you're ESPECIALLY not behind when you're 18. that's the "everyone feels like they're behind on everything" age. it sucks ass and it's the most normal thing in the world.

masturbate if you want to. get a vibrator if you want to, although if you need me to tell you if that's something you should want to do then I suspect you might not actually feel that strongly about it. (pro tip that I've found is almost always true: if you need someone to tell you that you should want something, you don't want it.)

your earliest sexual explorations probably won't be show stopping, and that's also very normal. the way I jack off at 28 is wildly different than the way I jacked off at 18, because I've had much more time to get to know my body and what I like. most people understand that every skill takes time and practice to learn, but many seem to expect sex to come naturally and be immediately perfect anyway, which sets a lot of people up to feel very lacking for no reason.

I hope you can feel more normal by simply realizing that you already are, and giving yourself the grace to explore at your own pace. you deserve your own kindness.

#sex edventures 2025

225 notes · View notes

eddiethebrave · 2 months ago

Text

secret admirer part twenty-six

679 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five

Steve studies Eddie’s sketches with a frown. They’re thumbnails of people in different positions, and Steve can’t help but compare them to his own. Perhaps he simply has to come to terms with the fact that he’ll never be a good artist. He thought he was improving, given all the time and effort he’s putting into the portraits, especially Eddie’s, but no. He still sucks.

The point of the assignment wasn’t to make the drawings good - only to provide a quick recap on anatomy. Still, though, Eddie’s are good. And Steve’s… Well, at least Steve isn’t going to get a poor grade (because that’s frowned upon when the student tries their best).

The figures on his paper are unproportionate and vaguely unsettling, like his art tends to be.

“They can’t be that bad, Steve,” Eddie says, naively.

Steve had unthinkingly shielded his paper from the other teen - a habit he’d picked up from the project, and when Steve had asked, Eddie had handed his own over passively because he’s a fucking art prodigy, apparently.

Steve slumps in his seat and places his paper in front of Eddie. He hadn’t even pushed to see it. Not once. Now, he picks it up and studies the sketches for a solid minute, brows furrowed in concentration.

Steve’s frown deepens considerably. He’s beginning to regret handing it over for judgment. Eventually, though, Eddie sets the paper on the table and looks up to make sure he has Steve’s attention before he issues his verdict. As if Steve’s attention is ever directed elsewhere.

Once assured Steve’s eyes are on him, Eddie picks up his pencil and hovers over the paper with the eraser aimed at it. “May I?” he questions.

Steve huffs. "Sure. ‘S not like they can get any worse," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Eddie erases things here and there. Steve thinks he's about to begin fixing the drawings, but he simply straightens and slides the paper over to Steve. He leans in close and points to one of the places he had erased. "Okay, so...”

He continues to suggest ways Steve could make them look more like the references.

At the end of class, Steve actually feels better footed - ready to finish up his portraits. He's almost done with his own, actually, and he only needs a few more things until he'll be satisfied with Eddie's.

The bell rings and Steve turns to make plans with Eddie only to find the teen already looking at him expectantly. "Uh, my place?" Steve suggests. It's only fair after Eddie had hosted on Monday.

Eddie nods in acknowledgement. "Sounds good, Stevie."

Steve clears his throat, trying not to let it show that he’s aware his face has begun to flame with the arrival of the nickname.

Stevie.

It's not like it's unprecedented, people have called him Stevie here and there for as long as he can remember.

It feels different coming from Eddie, though. Makes him feel special.

"You wanna follow my car, then?" Steve asks, standing from his seat finally.

Eddie levels him with a look that's hard to interpret. "Bold of you to assume the entire school doesn't know where your castle is, Mr. Keg King."

Right, he'd forgotten about the parties.

Steve scratches his check. "Huh, right. Meet you there?”

Eddie agrees and Steve finally takes his leave.

Hours later, when dismissal has rolled around, Steve is trying to remember what state he'd left the house in that morning.

He doesn’t go to his locker even though Eddie’s library book - which he’d picked up yesterday - is in his locker and he’d wanted to grab it for tonight. He's trying to avoid Tommy. He knows his friend will just act like nothing ever happened. And to him, nothing did. He's probably forgotten already, honestly.

Steve doesn't forget - he never does.

He goes straight to his bimmer and unlocks and opens the door, but as he’s about to descend into his seat, a hand claps him on the back and he straightens again.

So, Tommy's found him anyway. Great.

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

#guyssssss #i wanna finish this so bad you have no idea #i can't promise it'll be speedy #but i can promise that i am NOT giving up on this story #i love these idiots too much to leave them (and you guys) hanging #it's just that the writing was already inching along what with school and work and drama #but now that i'm hardly even reading for steddie anymore...#let's just say #yikes #i love hearing how much you guys like this series #it's what motivates me to get more stuff out there #anyways this is what i had written before buddie took over my life and brain #also sorry is this is bad #i'll shut up now #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #tommy hagan

244 notes · View notes

corkinavoid · 2 months ago

Text

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 2]

The second time they meet, Tim actually knows a little more than nothing about him.

He knows Daniel is Vladimir Masters godson, set to inherit the man's title, and he knows that his birth parents are both wizards, albeit eccentric ones. No one would tell him how they are eccentric, not to mention why.

He knows the boy is a second child among the three, and his older sister is going to Hogwarts next year while his younger one had just turned five. And Daniel himself is seven, just like Tim, which means they will be in the same year eventually. He doesn't know whether he likes that or not.

He doesn't know nearly enough about him to form an opinion.

What he does know, though, is that he absolutely doesn't like Samantha Manson.

Mother had met Mr. and Mrs. Manson at that same party that Daniel kind of ruined (Father's words, not his, Tim thinks that elephant trunks were an improvement), and, upon finding out that they have a daughter Tim's age, decided they should be friends. Which is how Tim found himself sitting in an offensively pink room on an uncomfortably soft pink couch that is threatening to swallow him whole, right across a girl in a pink dress and with a pink bow in her hair. Granted, they are all different shades of pink, but Tim still feels very out of place in his black pants and pale blue shirt with a tight collar.

However, the most unsettling part about all this is that Samantha hadn't said a single word in about ten minutes - so, since they were left alone in this horror of a room by their respective mothers - and Tim is fairly certain she hadn't blinked once, and she is glaring something awful at Tim. For all that he knows, she is probably coming up with a detailed plan of burying his dead body in the garden.

Tim honestly tried to start a conversation. Twice. The girl looked like she didn't even notice, so Tim just kind of resigned to his fate and decided to simply wait until this was over.

He really regrets not bringing a book with him.

Another few minutes pass in silence, interrupted only by some cheerful chirping of birds outside. And then, right as Tim starts to actually consider flopping down on the soft pillows behind him and falling asleep, he hears a knock.

Samantha turns her head to the window so quickly that Tim is afraid her neck will snap. But, as he follows her example and looks outside, he can't help but blink in surprise.

Daniel Fenton, wearing some kind of red jacket with a hood - definitely muggle by the looks of it - is hovering just outside the window. On a broom. They are seven, they are not supposed to have brooms yet! Or, at least, not the ones that can go all the way up to the window on the second floor!

"Bloody finally," Samantha rolls her eyes and jumps off her seat, nearly running towards the window, "What took you so long?" She demands an answer in a snappish tone that allows no excuses.

Daniel grins and shrugs, "Jazz almost caught me sneaking out," he explains, but his gaze is not on Samantha. Instead, he is looking over her shoulder, right at Tim, before asking, "Who's that?"

The girl turns around and scowls, "A boy that my Mum wants me to marry."

Tim sputters, feeling his cheeks heat up, but not out of embarrassment; it's mostly just frustration. She most definitely does not, they are seven, and their mothers can't be making plans like that!

Can they?..

Daniel laughs, bringing the broom closer to the window and setting one foot on the widowsill for balance.

"I would have invited you with us, but I only have one broom," he tells Tim, still smiling. Tim bites his lip.

He wants to go with them so badly. They look like whatever they are about to do is going to be way more interesting than Tim's whole life. But Mother will probably be upset, and-

"Don't bother, he is boring," Samantha huffs dismissively as she pulls the skirt of her dress up and climbs out the window, carefully holding on to Daniel's shoulder as she gets on the broom behind him.

For some reason, that makes Tim angry.

He sticks his chin up higher, straightening up in his seat and frowning. "I don't see how your inevitable fall from a broom is interesting anyway," he drawls, far more mean and uncaring than he wanted to.

"See? Boring," Samantha smirks, but Daniel just looks a bit confused and thrown off.

"I'm not gonna fall," he tells Tim with a certainty that makes Tim kind of want to apologize. But the girl behind him is still smiling like she won something, and Tim is not about to back down now.

"Live with that illusion all you want," he huffs and turns away, still keeping his back straight.

"Come on, Danny, let's go," Samantha urges her friend impatiently, and Tim is decidedly not looking in that direction. He doesn't want either of them to see him pouting. Also, maybe he just doesn't want to see them fly away.

But he still hears a quiet "Bye," from the window before the room goes back to silence, interrupted only by the chirping birds and rustling leaves.

When, mere moments later, Tim looks back to the window, both of them are gone without a trace.

—☆—☆—☆—

Visuals!

The offensively pink room and the way to escape:

Tim's opinion on Sam:

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

More notes on the people and the world around:

Mansons are, actually, filthy rich. They are a wizarding family, but they are way less concerned about blood purity than people expect them to be. A part of their business involves muggle products, and while they don't advertise it, they don't try to hide it either. Jeremy never attended Hogwarts, he was a Beuxbatons student, and Pamela was a Slytherin. Both of them don't exactly like Danny for separate reasons, but Pam likes to keep Vlad as a friend, and if that means letting Sam be friends with his godson, then so be it. She still tries to keep their contact to a minimum, but it's not like Danny - or Sam, for that matter - cares.

Janet and Pamela did not, in fact, plan to marry their kids; they just liked each other enough to have tea together and decided to combine it with throwing their children at each other. Although Pam does consider Tim a fitting pair for her daughter. Janet is of a different opinion.

The broom Danny took actually belongs to Jack - or, it belonged to him a few years ago, up until Danny realized the kiddie broom is not fun anymore. Jazz is constantly scared he is going to fall and break his neck, but Maddie thinks her son is good enough of a flyer. Besides, even if they did take the broom from Danny, he would just find a different thing to break his neck with, so Maddie just put a bunch of disillusionment charms on the poor broom so Danny won't be noticed by muggles and called it a day.

This is very much not the first time Danny comes to save Sam like she's a maiden in a tower. Also, Sam is not mean out of nowhere, she just likes Danny and hates sharing, and she is seven.

[<- part 1 | part 3 ->]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #tim drake #sam manson #hp #hogwarts au #cork prompts #i have an idea of how to include danny's ghostliness in this #but be warned #it most likely wont make sense #also how are we feeling about fentons working for ministry?#im torn #also yes dani is here #and maybe dan as well but im not sure yet

212 notes · View notes

torikuna · 4 months ago

Text

with you, every arrow hits the target

tw/genre: drabble, heian era, sukuna x concubine!female reader, grumpy x sunshine, fluff-ish…? if you can call it that

Sukuna always took his concubines along for company, whether it was to negotiate with citizens or servants, or simply to walk around the mansion and discuss how things were going inside the mansion. all his meetings with the other concubines didn't cross the line of business meetings. but with you, his favorite concubine, he especially liked to share his interests. you discussed the best books of the year, the new tea brought from china and which taste seemed more rich and pleasant to you, as well as archery

archery was not only in demand, but was also his hobby, he paid special attention to it.

a light spring wind gently blew through Sukuna's private garden, carrying away pink sakuras leaves. confetti of trees solemnly greeted the king of curses and you. you offered a smile to the bright sun, enjoying the play of timid rays on your face. you slowly reached his small training area in the field

Sukuna stood in the archery stance, confidently pulled the bowstring, holding the sharp arrow in place for some time, and with a studying look aimed at the center of the target. swoosh! the arrow quickly flew with a whistle to the center of the target, hitting the target accurately. Sukuna lowers the weapon and looks at you with a satisfied smirk on his face

“hey, brat, wanna try?” Sukuna said to you in a malicious voice, as if challenging you to a real competition

you smiled softly, nodding in response, and walked closer to Sukuna, who handed you a bow. you had never held a bow in your hands before and therefore you had no experience in shooting either. you casually take the bow, trembling as you pull the elastic bowstring, trying to aim at the center, but the arrow doesn't even fly out of the sight, falling at your feet

“you're so clumsy and slow-witted, you can't even shoot a bow” Sukuna laughed loudly, teasing you

“this is my first time!” you give him a frowning and displeased look, indignant. he snorts at your protest, when you try to defend yourself

“if you want me to teach you archery, you just have to ask me nicely” he said, bending down to your eye level

“i would really like you to teach me how to archery!” you said, looking into his passionate eyes. he straightened up and looked down at you, keeping the smirk on his face. “fine, fine” he muttered under his breath, heading somewhere. a few minutes later, he came back with a small wooden stand

you stood on the wooden stand so you became almost the same height as him, grabbing the bow and pulling the string. the man's hands took yours firmly, carefully setting the right position. he moved closer to your face, aiming the arrow at the center of the target. “hold your breath, it helps stabilize your body and improve your concentration” he explained. his hot breath burned your face, nothing will help you concentrate on shooting when Sukuna so close to you. you exhaled heavily, a pinkish blush appearing on your cheeks and you looked away

Sukuna turned his frowning gaze to you, smirking at your reaction. bam! suddenly the stand disappears from under your feet. an abyss formed under your feet and the time it took to fall into this abyss seemed endless, but strong arms deftly grab you by the waist, pressing you to the chest

“gotcha” sukuna purred into your face. his crimson eyes were glued to you, studying your face, lingering his contented and sly gaze on your lips. he pulled you into a possessive kiss that quickly grew deeper and more insistent. his hands tightened around your waist

“you know..” Sukuna interrupts the kiss, whispering in a husky voice against your lips “i like this kind of archery with you”

#꒰ঌᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ໒꒱tkuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x concubine #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x concubine #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #anime

272 notes · View notes

merakiui · 5 months ago

Note

What are your thoughts on who just can't get over their ex-wife? Who is still crying into their pillow each night? Who is obsessively looking for gossip about them and how they are obviously not doing well (and should come back to him)? Who let them go because it was the right thing to do, and yet, they still leave ex-wife's space in the closet set aside like they'll be home at any moment?

AAAAAA OMG!!!!! This gives me a tremendous amount of thoughts omg omg!!!!!!

I can definitely imagine Azul searching for any and all information on you (mostly bad) because he wants to gather more reasons and evidence as to why you should come back to him. He just won't let you go.

Perhaps Vil operates under the similar notion of searching for you online, but it's only because he wants to ensure you're doing well for yourself and none of his fans (or your fans if you're famous as well or have just gained popularity through Vil due to your relationship) are causing you issues. If an obsessive fan comes after you, that gives Vil all the reason he needs to contact you and offer, at the very least, security to look after you until things calm down. Or, if anything else, why not just come back to him for the time being?

Floyd lets you go. He knows that if he was in your shoes he'd hate having to force something that just isn't working no matter how much he wanted it to work. It would be wrong to be selfish. He still leaves the empty space in the closet untouched for you. He still sets out an extra plate and utensils for you when it's mealtime, cooking portions to feed two instead of just one. He leaves your side of the bed made. Even though he knows you're not there, he still calls out to you when he comes home, hoping you'll one day respond. You never do and you probably never will.

Deuce is crying into his pillow. He's so heartbroken. :( he misses you so much and can't believe you're not here with him. He looks at pictures of you saved on his phone and in photo albums and enjoys the good memories that are photographed, but they always make him emotional. He loved you so much (and still does love you).

Riddle,,,,,,, he has no sense of what a "healthy marriage" is because of the poor example his parents set, so in his mind he thought things will improve if he simply forces it to get better. If he tolerates the growing divide between the two of you. Inevitably, that divide grew cavernous and now you're gone. He's torn between picking up the pieces and trying to move on from there and simply holding onto the misplaced hope that you might return eventually. He doesn't touch any of the things that are yours. Even if you still have some belongings left at his place (though he hates calling it his because it's both of yours), he leaves them be as if expecting you to return for them and (hopefully) stay. He still can't get over you and maybe he never will. Riddle doesn't understand the concept of soulmates, but he's certain that, with what limited comprehension he has on the matter, you were something close to that.

Lilia lets you go and from there he looks forward. It does sting and he is upset, but he's mature enough to know that some things just don't work out and it's best not to dwell on that. People drift apart just as easily as they grow old. That is just a facet of life and what it means to be alive. Instead, he holds onto the memories and when he speaks of you it's always with a smile. Though the look in his eyes is wistful, it's obvious he has nothing but fondness for you even in your absence.

#twisted chit chat #rendy-a

193 notes · View notes

hermetiqa · 6 months ago

Text

What do you need to know right know?

Daily Message: 17.08.24

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK | MASTERLIST

PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

Pile 1

I'm seeing a new relationship coming your way, Pile 1! I'm leaning more into a romantic relationship but it'll be a slow burn one. It might feel like nothing's happening for a while because this person (masculine energy) is taking things slow between you. But I can see that they'll be planning about this connection and they'll have plans about you, and they'll even be generous when it comes to you. They might spoil you and they will be overprotective of you here. But be reminded that whatever it is that hurt you in the past, let this go. Let go of what changed in the past because it was a necessary change. You lost people because they won't be good for you in the future anymore. You should take things slow here with your new person too. Learn to go with the flow and be patient with them, don't rush them into anything because the way they take action towards you and your connection is simply them making sure that it's going well. I'm not getting much for you here, Pile 1, because this is simply what you need to know right now, the moment you're seeing this reading. Everything's going well for you. 2:22 on the clock. You're in the right place at the right time.

Pile 2

I'm getting some energy trying to heal from you here, Pile 2. I feel like you're trying to heal from a connection, specifically a platonic one. I feel like you want them to approach you and apologize and settle things with you, and perhaps start again as friends. This person could have a masculine energy. While the person with feminine energy, this could be you (take it how it resonates), had already set boundaries in the connection. This person already took the risk of losing the connection because of what had happened, which could be a huge argument. I feel like something had to change in this connection, maybe you're already in the adulting stage, and the person with masculine energy doesn't want this change. This person refused to change and accept change in the connection. They were too scared of it and it overwhelms them. I can see that this could've hurt you but you're healing from this. You could still be hopeful that you'll encounter each other again but at the same time, you're focusing on your healing and your own life. And it's just right to do so. I can also see that you're still determined to follow your own path and it's fine with you if following your own path means you'll be isolated from people around you, and you'll be completely on your own. In any case, I'm proud of you for doing so. I hope you'll heal well.

Pile 3

I can see that you're being left out in the cold here, Pile 3. Someone left you behind all of a sudden, this could be caused by some argument between you and one of you was being immature. But let this go because a better connection is coming your way, something more stable and long-term. There's a lot of future with this connection and it'll be passionate and adventurous. This person will show and/or teach you things you didn't know were possible or existed. You might be reminiscing about your past right now, about someone who had left you. I even feel like you're overthinking about what happened and you kept thinking about them and you have these "what if" thoughts running in your head. But it's important to recognize your life without them. The connection ended for a reason. You lose them for a reason. And that reason is for the better of you as individuals. You could even be isolating yourself from people around you because of this connection that you had lost but don't let yourself get stuck in this loop. I have nothing else to say here because I feel like you don't want anyone knowing about this much, like the details, so I'll stop here. But if this resonates and you understand what this is about, you have something or someone in your mind as you read this, then this is definitely for you. Let them go.

195 notes · View notes

violetrainbow412-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Day 24: comfort food

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

TW: This is fluff, but I think it might lean more into a hurt/comfort trope. Also, it's hinted that the reader is dealing with depression, so if you're sensitive to the topic, you might want to skip this day!!

Hugs to all the people who are going through a tough time. I suffer from this disorder myself and I know it's complicated, but things can always get better. It's a great day for you to live and I love you

Spencer was in the kitchen, silent. He couldn’t help but notice that you had been feeling quite down in the past few days. Although he had his suspicions, he hadn’t dared to ask you directly. The clearest sign was your constant desire to stay in your room, only coming out for strictly necessary reasons. It wasn’t that he was the type to notice those things, but he picked up on even the subtlest details. You hadn’t showered, or at least not that he had seen. The accumulation of small signs was what worried him.

What could he do? It would be too intrusive to just knock on your door and ask for an explanation. He had no right to demand something like that from you, and invading your privacy would be a mistake. He knew that forcing a conversation wasn’t the solution, especially with you. However, worry gnawed at him from the inside. He wanted to see you smile again, or at least for you to come out of your shell. He thought and thought about how to approach you without seeming intrusive until an idea struck him: prepare breakfast. It was something that wouldn’t seem intentional or accusatory. Besides, if you didn’t feel like talking, you could simply take the food back to your room.

He knew how much you loved waffles; so much so that after several discussions about how much you spent on boxes of Eggos, you both had decided to invest in a waffle maker. Spencer didn’t consider himself a professional chef, but he could manage the basics. With determination, he got to work.

While he whisked the batter, he didn’t realize you had come into the kitchen until he turned around and saw you sitting at the dining table.

“Hi!” he exclaimed, somewhat surprised to see you there.

“Are you making waffles?” you asked, trying to look over his shoulder. “I could recognize that smell anywhere.”

As he observed you, Spencer noticed the traces of crying on your face. He said nothing; instead, he approached with a plate and gently set it in front of you.

“You’ll have the privilege of eating first. Just because you came over,” he said with a warm smile.

You made a small grimace; it wasn’t quite a full smile, but it expressed gratitude. You knew he wasn’t an idiot and had noticed your absence. Still, you felt at peace that he hadn’t pressured you to talk. On the plate, besides two freshly made waffles, there were blueberries scattered on top. Spencer also offered you jam, hazelnut spread, and honey so you could enjoy your breakfast however you wanted.

“Did you make coffee?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation toward something light.

“Hot oat milk,” he corrected you. With the same care, he placed a cup in front of you. “Did you know that drinking oat milk in the mornings is beneficial? It provides sustained energy, improves digestion thanks to its fiber, helps regulate blood sugar levels, and reduces bad cholesterol, so to speak. Plus, it’s rich in essential nutrients like B vitamins, iron, and magnesium, which support good overall health.”

“But it smells like coffee,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’ll drink coffee; you’ll have hot oat milk”

You sighed, slightly offended by the distinction. When you asked why, he simply said he wanted you to stay healthy. Although he didn’t say it explicitly, his eyes said it all: he was worried about you. Despite that, you didn’t want to talk about what was going on. You knew he would understand everything you were going through, but you were exhausted—too tired to express how you felt.

The first bite of the waffle tasted heavenly; it was the first thing you enjoyed in days. “Do you have something for today?” he asked cautiously, trying to initiate a conversation. You shook your head. “If you’re up for it, maybe we can go out somewhere. Anywhere you want,” he suggested, hoping that would cheer you up.

“You don’t like being around people,” you replied softly, looking at him with a hint of irony.

“We can go to a place where there’s no one. Or we can just go to a park... I don’t know, wherever you feel like.”

“Spencer,” you interrupted him suddenly. From the tone of your voice, he thought he might have done something wrong. “I really appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but honestly, I don’t have the energy to go anywhere. And please, don’t pity me. I know it sounds strange, but I just want you to keep seeing me as your friend, okay? I’m not what I’m going through; it’s just... a setback,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I came here because I want to be with you. Being here distracts me from everything else. So please, I beg you to treat me like you always have. I’m still me.”

“I didn’t imply otherwise,” he said softly. “I just thought we could do something to lift your spirits.”

“This... you making my favorite food and having breakfast with me is what makes me feel better,” you confessed with a sincerity he appreciated.

Spencer was touched by your words and nodded gently.

“Do you want to talk about something?” he offered with the same patience as always.

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

“Do you want more waffles?”

“One, please.”

“Do you need a hug?”

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you leaned slightly toward him, and Spencer understood the message immediately. You knew you could trust him; he would never judge you. So why was it so hard for you to speak? Why did the words get stuck in your throat?

You wanted to cry, but it was as if all your tears had run dry. Instead, you clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body and the thudding of his heart. You just stayed there, leaning against him, letting his comforting scent and closeness soothe you.

“Thank you for being such a good friend. Sometimes I think I don’t deserve you,” you murmured, trying not to sound broken.

“Psh, don’t say that,” he gently scolded you. He still had you in his arms. “Whenever you need me, I’m just a hallway away.”

For the first time in days, you laughed. That’s what you liked about him: the trust he gave you, even though he considered himself insecure. The bond between you had strengthened thanks to sharing so many everyday things.

“The waffles... they’re so good. What did you put in them?” you asked suddenly, pulling away from him and wiping your cheeks out of habit, even though you hadn’t shed a single tear.

“I used the classic recipe, but I added extra banana and nuts to give them a different texture.”

“I hate bananas!” you exclaimed, with a spark of enthusiasm in your voice. “How do they taste so good here?”

“You see, it all comes down to a chemical matter in the properties of food when they combine...” he began to explain, launching into one of his usual dissertations about things you didn’t quite understand.

But you stayed listening attentively because the sound of his voice was more comforting than anything else that crossed your mind. Sometimes, having a roommate like Spencer was all you needed to make those tough moments more bearable.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2024 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #hurt comfort spencer reid

105 notes · View notes

iliketangerines · 8 months ago

Note

Mk11)) Hanzo hizashi and kuai liang x reader?? Like maybe is from the past or is a simple maid that works at the fire garden or Lin kuei temple. Nothing too complicated for this request- just simple stuff.

two hands

a/n: this was gonna be longer, but then i realized how out of hand it would've gotten

pairing: kuai liang x gn!reader x hanzo hasashi

warnings: attempted poisoning

you rush back and forth between the kitchens and the dining room, plating the food gracefully and quickly, and you only give yourself a quick moment to breathe before your back to serving the food

today your grandmaster Kuai Liang had invited over some of the higher ups of the Shirai Ryu to come and dine with the Lin Kuei to improve relations

what that meant for you is that there was a lot of people to serve and a lot more teacups to refill and heat and brew

thankfully, your direct superior had kept your serving relegated to the grandmaster’s room, saying that you were one of their best workers and that the grandmaster needed everything to go perfectly

not so thankfully, that meant you couldn’t afford a single mistake, not a drop spilled, not a single wrong order, not a single empty cup

you grab a bottle of baijiu and head over to the dining hall, composing yourself in the hall and wiping sweat off your forehead

walking in a soft smile, you carefully and pour the alcohol in practiced motions, and the Shirai Ryu grandmaster gives you a smile and a nod of appreciation

your grandmaster thanks you, waving you off, and you leave the bottle with them and go off to collect more food from the kitchens

you pick up their final dishes in your hand, and you traverse the halls quickly, not letting any of the food drop to the floor

opening the door with your foot, you walk in with their meals and set the final dishes down for them, arranging them in the middle so that all the plates can fit

you’re about to leave when you look at one of the dishes, the pork ribs, it looked not quite right, almost discolored, and you see the visiting grandmaster reach for it with his chopsticks

placing a gentle hand on his, you halt his reach for the food and tear off a strip of the pork with your fingers, looking at the color and then eating it

the Lin Kuei grandmaster does not say anything, simply watches, and you can taste that something’s wrong with the meal, perhaps undercooked

you pick up the dish, bowing your head in apology as you say that there’s something wrong with the meal and that you will return with a properly cooked plate

leaving, you ring in another plate of the pork ribs and head back with a fresh pot of tea and nearly bump into one of the servers, strangely enough

you wrinkle your nose and furrow your brows at the near accident but make your way back to the room with no more hiccups

placing down the tea pot, you lean down to pour them new cups of tea, except when you come back up, your head spins and pain pounds at your forehead

looking down at your fingers, they almost look purple and the room starts to distort and move around you, and you realize the pork had poison in it, or some kind of hallucinogen

leaning to the side to avoid smashing your face into the food, you slur out poison to your grandmaster, and then a splitting pain echoes through your body as you fall to the side, unable to control your own limbs

the world sounds like it’s been put through water, and your stomach has started to cramp, feeling it gurgle and bubble inside of you

you can’t move your hands, your arms, your legs, and your vision goes black as your eyelids close against your own free will

you hope that this isn’t too much of a hindrance on the meeting

it seems to be a blur of black and flashing white as your body heaves and gasps and fights to live, struggling against something that makes your body feel like a weight is crushing your bones to dust

the pain suffocates your lungs, burning with every breath you take and yet at the same time fills with water to keep you from breathing

you’re not sure how long it’s been since you fell down to the floor, but you wake up, body aching but alive

there’s something shoved down your nose, but you can make out the harsh lighting above you through blurry vision

you groan, trying to sit up, and your hands fumble uselessly, still feeling rather stiff

someone blurry appears in your vision, pushing you down by your chest gently and telling you to lay back down

mumbling out something about going back to work and the meeting with the Shirai Ryu, you struggle against them with pathetic attempts, body still too weak to really do anything

the voice is deep and grumbly as it tells you to lay back down, and you blink at your eyes, trying to make out who the hell was telling you to not go to work

your vision finally clears, and the struggle dies in your throat as you look face to face with your grandmaster to your left and then the Shirai Ryu grandmaster at the foot of the bed

his hand is on your chest still, pushing you down easily now as you stare at them in shock

he thanks you for saving the both of them and that they have apprehended the suspect, and you croak out that it is your pleasure to save them both

your grandmaster frowns at that, saying that you shouldn’t have to protect them, that you are employed under the Lin Kuei as a server and not as a warrior, he should be the one protecting you

the other grandmaster nods, agreeing with the sentiment, and he says that the food tester should’ve caught the poisoning but you had instead, you have done more than needed

he bows to you, and you nearly shoot up out of the bed to tell him not to, that you’re just a servant to help keep things running smoothly at the Lin Kuei

your grandmaster shakes his head and tells you to sit back down, muttering under his breath about how stubborn you were

he pats your chest and tells you to rest for a few weeks, it had been a few days since you had been poisoned, and you would need to rest to regain full strength

nodding dumbly, the two of them bow to you and leave, and you’re left alone with your thoughts

both of the grandmasters bowing to you, it made your head reel with shock and a little bit of pride in yourself

two powerful men who thanked you for saving your life, your grandmasters, oh this was exhilarating

you never thought they would acknowledge you more than a formality, and your heart thump in your chest at the whole ordeal of them bowing to you

you had always been the one to show grace, to show respect, and yet people high above your station had bowed to you

the heart monitor by your bedside starts to beep, and you realize your heart is going a little too fast as a nurse rushes in to make sure everything was okay

you just stare up with a dopey little smile and mouth whisper that the two grandmasters had bowed to you, and the nurse gives you a concerned look as she checks all your vitals

soon enough, she leaves, and you’re left with your thoughts

two grandmasters, huh

237 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 4 months ago

Text

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 19 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Fluff, a little angst, Alastor thinking too hard about feelings, more damp Alastor

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Alastor pulled the pan out of the icebox as you looked around his kitchen., taking in the sight of warm, worn woods. You ran finger tips over places where stain had been worn away by years of work, refinished by someone who didn’t bother to touch the color up. Everything was older, clearly not updated with the quickly improving technologies and style standards of the time.

It reminded you of home in a way your own home did not. It reminded you of home from your childhood, not as it was now, updated, but how it had been when you were a girl, sneaking into the kitchen to steal a buttery roll before dinner had been served. The room, no- the whole home from what you’d seen, had a warmth to it you doubted your own home would ever have. Alastor’s home was one that could raise happy families.

It felt strange, padding around a home with nothing but your stockings on your feet. You didn’t even go around your own home without your house shoes on your feet. There was a comfort in the action too, much like the rest of Alastor’s home.

Shaking your head, you tried to bring yourself back to the present. There was nothing to be gained thinking about how the home made you feel. To keep you grounded in the present, you tried to make yourself useful.

“What can I do to help?” you asked, fingers twisting together as Alastor set the pot on the stove.

Alastor looked over his shoulder at you as he made his way to the stack of firewood off to the side. He hummed for a moment as he bent, picking up a two hunks of split log and a handful of kindling from the bin along the kitchen wall. The scraping of splintering wood against itself was loud in the quiet room.

“Only relaxing,” he said after a moment of thought. “I doubt you get to do much of that.”

“No,” you said as you settled into the chair at the humble dining table, fingers tracing scratches in the finish, “I suppose I don’t.”

“Is Jambalya alright?” Alastor asked as you watched him grab a match from a hanging tube near the stove and strike it along the surface, lighting it with practiced ease. After shifting the wood around a bit more, he stuck the match inside the body of the stove and watched as it caught dry kindling. He knelt and watched as the flame spread, catching the wood before he closed the door to the stove. “It’s from last night.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, rather more unsure than you wanted to let on. You couldn’t remember a time you’d eaten food prepared by a man that wasn’t a a cook by profession. The idea of your father, brothers, or even Laurence in the kitchen was frankly comical.

“I assure you, it’s more than simply fine.” Alastor teased as he put the pan on the stove, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon after he set the lid aside. As the food warmed, the delicious aroma of spices and cooked meats filled the air.

You sat and waited, listening to the sounds of cooking and Alastor’s humming along with the jazz floating in from the main room. It was a battle, but you forced yourself to remain in place, not taking over tasks that didn’t belong to you as he dished the food up into chipped bowls.

It clinked softly against the worn wooden table as he sat the serving in front of you. It was a generous helping, more than you would have given yourself, more than Laurence would have allowed you to have. The spices smelled divine as you took in a deep breath.

Taking the first bite, you found the food was as good as it smelled, much to your delight. One bite followed the first and soon you fell into the steady rhythm that came with sharing a relaxed meal together.

There was an ease in eating with Alastor. It was comfortable at the well loved dining table, tucked off the side of the kitchen rather than in some cold, formal dining room.

You were not even sure he had one. The home was small but not cramped, leaving little room to hide a dining room. Comfortable. Warm. The heat from the woodstove pushed the damp cold out of the air, but you knew it was far more than that.

“Did you grow up here?” You asked as you traced more scratches on the table. Your father would have lost his mind if he caught you scratching up the table, but you were far from innocent of such childhood acts of destruction like the ones you ran your fingers over.

“In this very house,” Alastor smiled softly. “Mother worked hard to ensure we could keep it. I wouldn’t dream of parting from it now.”

“And your father?” The question brought as close to a frown across Alastor’s face as you could remember ever seeing.

“He left when I was just beginning to grow into a young man.” Alastor said tensely.

“I’m sorry.” You reached out for his hand before you thought twice. “I can’t imagine a father leaving.”

“It was for the better.” Alastor’s smile returned, though soft, as he looked down at your smaller hand covering the back of his.

“Your mother worked hard to provide a home for you. I think that’s admirable.”

Alastor stood, slipping his hand out from under yours as the record ended. He walked quickly into the living room, pausing when he knew he was out of sight of you to run his fingers through his hair, curls catching in his fingers as he raked back his hair.

He forced his breathing to slow and tried to will his heart to do the same. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. There was no reason for the touch of a woman, why your touch should send his heart into a fit. It wasn’t the first time he’d had your hand in his, nor was he some inexperienced young man.

There was no reason you should get to him so much. There was no reason for you to worm your way under his skin like you did. Unless?

No, that was out of the question. Alastor shook his head as he crossed over to the record player and put on a new selection. Mimzy’s constant pestering was getting to him. That was all there was to it. She was getting in his head and left the door open for you to get in too.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Your voice was soft from the doorway. The downside, Alastor realized, of having shoes off to keep the floors cleaner meant it was harder to hear you move through his home. He wasn’t used to having guests in his space.

Alastor looked at you, eyebrow raised as he stood in silence. The gas lamps cast warm firelight into the space, reflecting off the curls in his hair, messy, wild and soft. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how he looked, how it broke your heart and made you long for a life you didn’t even know you were missing out on before now.

He was the picture of domestic bliss, black socks on warm wood floors, firelight. You longed for a life where this was the home you maintained, welcoming the kind man home after his day of work wrapped up and he shook off the illusion of the day.

Holding his hand out to you, he invited you closer. Hesitantly, you slowly made your way to him,

“Not at all, my dear. Just putting on another record.” His hand took its place low on your back as you reached his side. Did he know how you longed for the weight of his hand on your back when you were alone with your thoughts? “Do you have a preference?”

“No, not really.” You shook your head, wishing you did. “Laurence doesn’t-”

“I know,” Alastor’s voice was soft as he dropped his hand from you, switching the record out for another he picked seemingly at random. “He doesn’t let you indulge in the joys of life.”

“No” Why did you feel like crying in that moment? “He dosen’t.”

“Ma cherie, why the frown? This is not a sad song.” He took your hands in his and smiled down at you, eyebrows furrowed in an adorable contrast that had your frown softening.

“Perhaps this song isn’t,” you whispered as Alastor tugged you to him, swaying your bodies together to the music. This wasn’t the classical music Laurence would favor, but that did nothing to hamper Alastor’s ability to lead you through a slow dance that had your heart hammering in your chest. “But isn’t my life just comically so?”

“How do you mean?” Alastor asked, face too close to yours but you didn’t mind. In fact, you leaned into his touch hoping he’d indulge.

You felt so painfully safe with him. it wasn’t fair. He had taken liberties time and time again, discounted social boundaries left and right. Touching you like doing so meant nothing more than touching the spine of a book at the booksellers.

Even now, alone in his home with him, you felt safe. Not once had Alastor pushed more than you would allow him. It left you wishing he would push for more, that he would lean down and kiss you as he spun you around the small living room, leaving you no space for your thoughts.

“I could care for you, Alastor, deeply. You’re so reckless with our friendship. How could I not fall into the trap of caring for you far too deeply?”

“You say that like it’s a problem.” Alastor whispered as he spun you out of his arms, only to tug you back to him, keeping just enough space to barely be proper.

“Isn’t it?” You whisper, hand on his chest as his hands return to their place, taking your other hand up in his. His hand on your hip guided you through the steps. Though you stumbled, tripping and stepping on his feet, he didn’t so much as flinch.

“I should get back home,” you said, though you didn’t want to leave the bubble of his home. “I’ve got to get the cleaning done and start dinner.”

“What if you were home?” Alastor’s hand tightened around your waist, knowing he was pushing you.

“It’s a lovely daydream.” You sighed, torn between looking away from him to hide the way your eyes burned with tears as he spun you around the living room and keeping them locked on him, refusing to leave the shelter of the illusion he offered but surely did not mean.

“One more dance?” Alastor asked as the song ended. “Then I’ll take you back to the life you don’t deserve to live.”

His heart swelled as you agreed with a timid nod. Why he needed the last dance so badly, he couldn’t understand. He didn’t want to take you back. He didn’t want your time together to end.

It would just leave him craving more of your time. Why?

You tripped over his foot again, same mumbled sorry falling from your lips, though you hardly caused him pain. It was clear you were not a practiced dancer, but you followed his lead well enough and he enjoyed catching you when your stumbled steps risked sending you tumbling to the floor.

What if Mimzy was right? He didn’t want her to be, but did it really change anything? He had planned to take you from Laurence, anyway. He had toyed with the idea of making you his anyway, letting you be the cover for his lack of desire. Was it really much of a problem if he were to care for you just a bit more than he had another?

He had wanted to deliver you to the front door. It was only proper to do so, but that would be far too risky. With the wet weather, too many people eager to gossip will be sitting in windows looking out on the streets. Anyone who looked to be out of place would find itself dissected, picked apart in the micro social circles of reading groups and knitting circles.

All they could risk was a pass by the front of the house, rolling by just slowly enough to get a good look inside windows and examining the driveway. The car had to keep rolling down the street, fast enough to not raise eyebrows. They had to ensure that there was no sign of your husband’s car in the driveway or any sign of his presence within the home.

Alastor was far less eager to return you to your home than he had been to pick you up. The rain had tapered off to a light drizzle, weighing heavily in the air and ensuring the feeling of dampness long overstayed the drops of rain themselves. Gloom clung to the both of you as he held the car door open for you, sheltering you from the rain as you stepped outside.

The umbrella was an ever present could over you, held by Alastor as he led you through the trees behind the park. His eyes burned with something you couldn’t understand as he looked ahead, ensuring you steps were sure and safe. He moved branches and brush out of your way, letting you make your way through the forest while remaining fairly dry.

It went against every urge in his body, even those new desires he failed to understand or have words for, to deliver you to the one place he knew without a doubt would see you in pain. His palms itched, fingers twitching in an ever present physical manifestation of his restless mind.

Rain dripped onto his head, running through his curls as he did his best to keep you dry under the umbrella. You wore his long coat over your day dress, far too large for you. Yet another layer of protection for you against the rain that would raise questions for the man who would desire to do nothing more than ruin you.

He watched you as you walked, lost in his own thoughts and you yours. You made such a sight, stepping through the underbrush carefully. Water gathered on the toes of your shoes, reflecting the dim light up at him.

Did you know how uniquely beautiful you were, stepping between branches and dodging greenery heavy with rain?

He didn’t think so.

You seemed to be amusingly unaware of the pictures you made in his mind, the way they lingered like photographs he could never hope to capture. An unassuming beauty, hidden away in the shadows. How cruel that you were married to another before he found you! If he had met you years ago, in a lifetime where you were still unattached, would he have known you for what you were then?

He stopped just in front of the big apple tree in your yard, standing on the edge of the forest holding your hand in his as he looked between the looming house and you. Was your heart beating as fast as his? Were you feeling the same indescribable feeling he was? Would you have a name for it?

Was it was he feared it was?

“What is it?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts and then your soft fingers were slipping under the curls draped across his forehead as you checked him for fever. Such an innocent gesture and yet so forward. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been disappearing.”

“Disappearing?” Alastor laughed. “I wasn’t aware I was performing magic tricks.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his joke, drawing a bright smile to his face. Another vision, another picture he could only hope to capture in his mind. It was madness, what you were doing to his mind. How pictures of you seemed to litter the corners where bloodshed and disgust had only lived before.

“You’re so…” your words died off as your eyes locked with his.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I’ve been thinking.” Was that fear that crossed your face? Alastor reached out, caressing your cheek with the backs of his long fingers. You still flinched when he would reach out for you, he noticed. It was a subtle movement, one that betrayed years of abuse your body and mind were conditioned to accept. You would flinch and then you would lean into him, a timid little cat only beginning to learn that a man could do something other than cause pain.

“About?”

“I enjoy seeing you,” Alastor started, voice soft and shifting as it felt like a struggle to maintain the accent that he usually found came naturally. “A lot.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he only shook his head.

“I can’t keep calling the house,” Alastor said, fingers ghosting down your neck and along your shoulder. “The operator will notice. Word will spread and there’s always the risk that he will answer.”

“He’s been staying out longer,” The idea of Alastor’s calls breaking your day up and whispering temptation to put aside your housework and see him ending when they’d only just begun broke your heart. You didn’t get to listen to his voice while he worked in the evening. You didn’t want to lose the little nuggets of his attention you could snag. “He’s been working so much we’ve hardly been out.”

Alastor’s head cocked, “Do you really still think it’s working he’s doing?”

“I don’t know, it’s… it’s what he says-.”

“He’s not faithful to you.” Alastor wasn’t sure why that mattered to him. He needed to know that you knew your husband held no candle for you in the face of the reality that you may not clearly remember what you had seen or heard at the speakeasy. Returning to his intended conversation with a shake of the head, he continued, “What I wanted to say was that I cannot keep calling, making plans with you when another can so easily listen in. As this… thing between us grows, it’ll only become more obvious to the city if we’re sloppy. Does he come out back?”

“No,” You shook your head. Alastor was treated to the view of your face in the afternoon sun, peeking out from between the breaks in the heavy clouds, from different angles as your hair shifted with the action. Such a strange thing for him to find himself aware of. “He hires a landscaper to maintain the property, but they’ve been coming less and less lately. He’s not fond of the outdoors, in all honesty.”

“This tree,” Alastor reached out, running a hand over the rough bark of the apple tree, looking up for a moment at the branches dotted with the starts of flowers before handing you the umbrella. “There’s an old rabbit den here.”

“There is?” you asked as he knelt, moving long grass aside as he showed you the opening under a root, deep and abandoned.

“I can get back here without him seeing, even if he’s home. If I was careful enough, even if he was outside, I’d be able to get back here and slip notes in. Would you be able to come get them?”

“It’s not uncommon for me to come out back for air,” you said, crouching down next to Alastor to look at the hole. “If he’s home and in a mood, I wouldn’t, but how would I know when I need to find a way out?”

“You’d just have to check.” Alastor shrugged. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was something. “I’ll keep a lighter in the hole so you can burn the notes. When I’m here, I’ll flash it a few times in case you’re looking. He doesn’t seem the type to sit at the window.”

“What if I wanted to leave you notes?” You chewed your lip, wincing at the way your teeth scraped against the healing split in the flesh. It was an injury that was becoming more common. Though the beatings had lessened, Laurence was more likely to slap your face in the last two weeks, something he usually avoided for the need to maintain appearances.

“You could,” Alastor took her hand in his, “If you wanted to. I can swing by and check a few times a week, maybe more.”

“Our own personal mailbox,” you mused as Alastor stood. He held his hand out to you, helping you to stand again as well.

“Indeed, now let me walk you to the door. Can’t have you getting wet, can I?”

You walked arm in arm with Alastor, nestled into his side. He kept the umbrella over you, continuing to sacrifice his comfort to ensure you were dry as you walked across the back lawn and to the back door.

In what felt like just a moment, he was standing on the back stoop with you. It felt normal to deliver you to the door. He liked the feeling, though he’d give anything to be delivering you to your father’s doorstep and not this one, but that was alright. He would make the best of it.

He was brought to you for a reason. You were brought to him for a reason. No one else could free you. No one else was strong enough to kill for you. No one else was deserving of you.

Alastor stepped into your space, wrapping his arm around you before he thought it through. His shirt was damp with rain and for a moment fear clawed at him as you stood stone still. Then your arms moved, wrapping around him and soothing the fear as you held him to your body just as tightly as he was holding you.

Part of him wanted to hate you for the way you had brought fear into his heart. Part of him soared with the thrill of it. When had he last felt fear of anything? Of anyone?

“Can I see you again?” Alastor asked as his fingers ran down your back. “Tomorrow?”

The game changed, Alastor knew that. His heart raced at your soft agreement. He didn’t need to feel the way you sighed into his chest or the way your head tucked ever so easily under his to know he had never understood the game he had set out to play.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that Alastor had always been a quick study, sharp and keen. This may be a new game, one he had never played before, but that didn’t matter.

Alastor would win this game, of that he was sure.

He would win, no matter the cost.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Next?

139 notes · View notes

broncoburro · 2 months ago

Note

does fg have prosthetics?

(This one was largely written by @lsdoiphin.)

Yes, but they’re nothing special for the time period. So, hooks and pegs for the lower class, with more aesthetically appealing, comfortable, and complex prostheses for those who can afford it.

If you were wondering about the prospect of meur-powered mecha arms, that’s something that would probably be feasible… in the far future. The field of prosthetics is slow to improve, and there are a few reasons the Tri-Kingdom isn’t actively pursuing refinement:

1. Vestur has been at (relative) peace for a long time.

In the real world, big leaps in the field of prosthetics tend to coincide with postwar periods. This only accelerated in the post-industrial age, when war became grisly enough to yield tens of thousands of amputees from a single conflict. Before that, amputees were sporadic enough to be considered unlucky individuals rather than a specific demographic to be accommodated.

In the setting, war on home soil is out of living memory; the Vesturian peninsula has enjoyed peace for more than a hundred years. When the Tri-Kingdom goes to war, it goes to war off-peninsula on its own terms. A foreign enemy’s most gruesome weapons couldn’t hope to match a red conductor’s fire or a green conductor’s brambles. Simply put, they aren’t getting injured as frequently or grievously as their opponents.

2. The work of white practitioners decrease the number of amputations that need to be done in the first place.

Another common reason for amputation is to control severe infection: if the limb’s too far gone, it’s better to have it cleanly removed. (And essentially get a fresh re-roll on the chance/severity of infection, in any age before antibiotics...)

But white meur allows practitioners to remove damaged tissue, repair flesh, and close wounds instantly. This drastically decreases the risk of infection, salvaging limbs which otherwise might not have ever healed properly. Granted, the patient still needs to have access to a white practitioner and have their wounds seen to in a timely manner, but the end result is still a kingdom where less amputations are performed.

Less, but not none.

3. The amputees of the peninsula tend to be common laborers.

Barring unfortunate carriage accidents, it's rare for a nobleman or a commoner of wealth to lose a limb. Most amputations in Vestur are happening in rural areas, or to patients who had to travel/wait a long while in order to be seen by a practitioner. The cultural image of an amputee in Vestur is probably one of the following:

a Southern sailor who developed gangrene out at sea

a Northern frontiersman, who lost a limb to exposure or had an amputation following a hare bite

a Midland farmer from the rural eastern coast who endured some livestock or farm equipment accident

Of these groups, few have the kind of guilder to motivate innovation. Some of them are lucky if they can afford something like a peg or the hook in the first place - it's a large expense. Some will scrimp to get a peg if it allows them to keep working, but these must be commissioned and fitted. For the most part, the poorest will use solutions the local craftsman can make (like crutches) or simply adjust to life with one arm.

The upper class can commission prostheses that allow some movement, but they’re solely mechanic in nature and custom-made to the buyer. Think of the IRL jointed peg legs invented by Ambroise Paré, or the metal hands of the 16th-18th centuries.

In short: it would probably take a large scale war to spark Vestur’s interest in prosthetics. (Either that, or it would need to become a personal issue for a very wealthy nobleman willing to fund research as a dedicated obsession. And the resulting designs would need to be cheap and easily reproducible by local craftsmen.)

#sorry for no cool meur-powered prosthetic arms. i wish #there's a lot about meur that hasn't been discovered yet at the time the story starts #i encourage you do your own research if you're actually curious about irl age of enlightenment prosthetics!#our understanding of the IRL history likely has some holes #asks #world: forever gold #worldbuilding

40 notes · View notes

boopshoops · 11 months ago

Text

TWST OC INTRODUCTION - TCOAV

Ezra Goldspire - Teacher Knows Best

Name: Ezra Goldspire

Nicknames: Ezzie, Killifish

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Homosexual

Birthday: May 7 (Taurus)

Age: 362 (In canon and AU)

Height: 5'11 or 179cm

Voice Claim(s): Caleb Hyles

Twisted from: Mother Gothel/Esther Gothel of Tangled, Pascal

Unique Magic: "What Once was Mine" Through the use of magical herbs and alchemy, Ezra is able to capture the likeness of himself and other individuals. He can share and change other's physical features with these concoctions, ranging anywhere from shoe size to facial structure to vocal coords. These changes last as long as he desires as well as under his own set conditions at the cost of requiring outside materials to complete. Typically the magic is contained in what appears to be a type of spice or powder, and the change leaves a mark/tattoo on the individual which the magic is cast to indicate what exactly was changed.

Grade: Primarily teaches Sophomores and Juniors

Class: Teaches art and music, along with being the homeroom teacher of class 3-D.

Hobbies: Alchemy, botany, herbology, singing, painting, playing the harp, improv.

Likes: Broadway, theater, pasta alla gricia, small spaces, spring, jewelry, floral arrangements, experimental learning, any music.

Dislikes: Crickets, wrinkles, scars, wasted talent, mumbling/whispering, tracking time.

Fears: Aging, other Changeling Fae, not being recognized by those he cares for, forgetting people.

Summary: As the most easygoing teacher on the entirety of campus, many of the students and fellow staff members view him as a scatter-brained daydreamer. However, his dreams filled with immense passion, as he desires for nothing more than to watch his student's talent blossom... and keep the bloom contained and protected in a glass case.

Now, don't get him wrong! He has the best intentions, of course. There are many, many scary people and places out there in this Twisted Wonderland. People who would take advantage of such bright minds. He is simply preventing that from happening. The man has been around for a long time and has been through his own share of ordeals, so he would most definitely know.

He has a big heart. While he goes about an odd, constrictive way of showing it, he does truly care. He has a hard time letting things go, and he simply wants the best for those he cares for. Ezra would spoil every single one of his students rotten if he were able. Even as a rather new professor at NRC, he wishes to guide every single one of them on the right path.

Outfit Inspiration

Author's Notes: ARGHHH MY BOY... Ezra is a very new character I made only a few months ago. He was created specifically for TCOAV, but alas I have grown attached. Given we already have quite a few gaslight gatekeep girlboss type characters over here, I decided to focus more on twisting different aspects of Mother Gothel. I particularly focused on her parental tendencies as well as her means of "caring" for Rapunzel. Whereas whether Gothel truly cares for Rapunzel or not is still up in the air, and they truly had a toxic relationship nonetheless, I wanted to make Ezra a more misguided but good individual.

#boopshoopsoc #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #disney twst #oc #twst wonderland #original character #oc art #ezra goldspire #digital drawing #digital doodle #digital art #oc profile #character art #original character art #boopshoopswriting #boopshoopsart

120 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 2 years ago

Text

Sunday

This is an extra for Tuesday

It is all fluff (and maybe like some 18+ topics mentioned but not really described all that much) This anon was just asking about them as I was writing so I feel like it was fate that I posted about them next :) @fairytale07 sent me a beautiful long message about how much they'd like to see what happens next after their little front yard confession. @pumpkinspiceswift also inquired about an update at one point as well. So I hope all of you enjoy!

This is one of my favorites I’ve written, honestly. It's also one of my most popular works. I wanted to add more but I figured I could do another extra later on <3 It's a quick little check in that immediately follows the end of the original part. Just over 1.8K words.

(There's a flashback in the middle in italics.)

He loved her immediately. He loved her wholly. Completely. Harry was entranced. Simply put.

Because it really was love. She loved him. Actively. Maybe she never even stopped loving him. But she loved him with everything in her.

Harry wrapped his arms around her tightly. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that vibrated through him as he gently swayed the sweet girl as she clung to him. “Y’okay, love?” He asked.

She nodded against him silently. Gently, he kissed the side of her head, happy to have her in his arms. “D’you want to go inside?” He started to pull away, but her arms squeezed around him tighter.

“I don’t want to let go,” she admitted.

Harry felt a tug in his heart. God, she was lovely. Even after all this time. He chuckled. “I’ll grab y’right back once we’re inside,” he promised.

“Embarrassed for your neighbors to see me?” She asked.

He rolled his eyes, pinching her sides lightly to tickle her. “No, y’goose,” he muttered. “Jus’ don’t want t’subject them to the hot make out session m’about t’throw myself into,” he brushed his lips against her temple.

She released a nervous giggle. “Oh?”

“Only if y’want of course,” he said rubbing one of his hands up and down her spine while the other cupped the back of her head. As much as he loved holding her like this, he wanted to see her beautiful face and kiss her until his lips went numb. Her whole body had a reaction to his statement. His kind request, his promise of nothing more if she didn’t want it. It made her legs feel like jelly. Her heart reduced to a puddle.

“Oh, I very much want,” she nodded assuredly against him.

Harry propped his head up with one hand while the other slowly brushed her hair behind her ear. “Y’okay?” He asked as she sighed while running her index finger outlining the butterfly on his abdomen.

“I haven’t had good sex in a really long time it seems,” she murmured.

He snorted. As he chuckled, he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks at her assessment. He felt shy even after all this time. “Y’always know jus’ how to improve m’self-esteem, kitten.”

“You deserve it after that,” she sighed, smiling at his ribs. She placed a kiss on his chest, and he thought that maybe he would never leave this bed if she was going to be in it. It was as if the time apart didn’t mean anything. He loved her immediately—the second he set eyes on her in the dark coffee shop prepared to protect her with his body as a shield, if necessary, just under a week ago. He loved her wholly. Completely. Harry was entranced. Simply put. Nothing but love for the sweet girl kissing the butterfly on his stomach.

They were quiet for a few moments, just touching one another in post-love bliss. Because it really was love. She loved him. Actively. Maybe she never even stopped loving him. But she loved him with everything in her.

“Angel?” He asked quietly.

“Hmm...”

“What s’all this mean t’you?”

She paused briefly. “Can we just...wait a few more minutes?” She asked. “I’m nervous to have this conversation and I don’t think I’ve had an orgasm that good since before we broke up and I don’t want to lose that feeling just yet.”

He chuckled again shaking his head at her and leaned forward to kiss the spot of her hair where he was just brushing his fingers against. “I can give y’another one of those in a few minutes, love,” he sounded very seductive. It made her heart flutter, and she felt her cheeks warm at his voice.

“Think our little talk might ruin it,” she muttered.

He frowned. Did that mean this wasn’t...we’re they not...getting back together? The idea saddened him. But Harry had an arrangement with another woman for nearly the last six months. He wouldn’t love it, but he could have an arrangement with her. He would...well it seemed a bit crazy, but Harry would do anything to have her back. Just seeing her at the coffee shop over the last six days had been enough to refire the passion he felt for her. Sharing a bed with her the other night gave him a sense of calm and he didn’t even know upset. Even just being near her right now was a heaven he didn’t know still existed. “Why’s that?” He had to ask.

She sighed—they were doing this now. It made sense; you didn’t have a hot make out session that turned into leg-numbing sex with your ex of two years after not seeing him for another two years only for him to make sure you were okay while you worked for almost a week without having a serious talk. Rolling onto her back, Harry scooted closer to her. “Did anything change?” She wondered.

Harry kept his hand on her face. “Like what?”

“Well...we broke up because we were at two different places in our lives.”

Harry shrugged. “Our two separate lives also brought us back together anyway.”

She smiled and Harry couldn’t believe she was real. “Didn’t think of it like that,” she mumbled and kissed his chest. As worried as Harry felt, it was hard to not appease her. He wanted to have this talk as much as she did.

“Angel.”

“Hmm?”

“I would love t’get back together,” he whispered.

She looked up at him from the butterfly that she had been giving so much attention to. It wasn’t that she felt awkward around Harry. Actually, she felt far from it. But his gentle whisper made her swoon and she felt utterly shy. “Yeah?”

He nodded and gazed at her with the kindest smile she had ever had the pleasure of looking at. “Would y’want t’start over?”

She bit her lip and thought for a moment. Harry didn’t feel this nervous the first time he asked her out. Certainly, didn’t feel nervous while he was producing near pornographic moans just fifteen minutes ago. But the pause she gave right now; well, it made him terrified of her response. Maybe this was just sex. Maybe it was just a really wonderful thank you for his protection over the last week.

“Where were you this morning?” She asked instead.

Still nervous he blinked and tilted his head at her curiously at her question. “Mum’s,” he said. “Gemma and I have brunch with her every Sunday.”

Relief sighed through her, and she nodded. “I want nothing more than to be a couple again,” she promised and wiggled closer to his face and pressed her lips over his. Harry chuckled against her mouth causing tingles to flutter through her mouth and brain. “But,” she mumbled. “Could we pick up where we left off in a few spots?”

“Like what? Or where?” He kissed her again.

“Like,” she blushed, her lips attached to his between words and phrases. “Uh...” she said feeling a bit dizzy by his sweet breath and warm mouth.

She was transported to the fifth month of when they originally dated. Her mouth had been itching to say three words to Harry. Back when they were making cookies from scratch for Niall’s mom’s birthday the middle of university break between semesters. She had knelt to get the measuring spoon she dropped on the floor and bumped into Harry’s hand as she returned from the floor, his hand pressing firmly against the corner of the counter.

He didn’t seem to pay any attention to the motion, his eyes scanning the recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. “Y’okay?” He had asked turning toward her as she stood straight again, looking at Harry and wondering how this wasn’t an earth-shattering moment for him.

“Hmm?” She asked nervously.

“Bumped your head?” He said kissing her forehead as he paused his reading and then rubbed the back of her head. As if she didn’t injure his hand herself from hitting it against the counter. Or from the fact that he didn’t seem to pay any attention to protecting her.

She nodded mutely.

He smiled sweetly, kissing her gently and then cupping her face. She dropped the spoon again because she could see it on his face—he was going to say it. The chocolate chips spilling onto the counter, a few stray ones falling on the floor as well. Her heart nearly stopped. “I love you,” he said simply.

She felt like she might explode in the middle of the kitchen he shared with Niall. “God, I love you too,” she answered, and Harry laughed this gorgeous, perfect laugh that made all her organs mushy. It wasn’t that she wanted to say it before him, it was just that he deserved so much love because he was Harry.

“Like what, kitten?” He asked, his voice getting muffled by her lips. This was her chance. She could say it first for the second time and give Harry all the love he rightfully deserved. However, he was making it difficult by kissing her so much the air was thinning and making her brain foggy.

There was so much to figure out. How did it change their old relationship? How would it change this new one? She was starting a real job soon. Niall still lived with Harry. They've known each other for so long now. How did it change all of it?

But despite all the questions floating in her mind it really didn't matter to her. None of it. All that mattered was Harry and his beautiful dimples and his kind green eyes.

And the kisses he was distracting her with.

“Like...” she sighed and pressed her hands to his face to stop the kisses that were interrupting the neurons in her brain from behaving properly. He smirked at her as if he knew what he was doing to her—he probably did. She gazed at those perfect green eyes. “Like, I still love you, so much and I don’t want to pretend that I don’t, so we have to go through the whole first I love you again...because I love you. So much,” she told him her cheeks warming with blood in nervousness that maybe he didn’t feel the same way yet. She wouldn’t mind or blame him. It was early obviously. But he was there, and he deserved to know this was her and him and she loved him regardless of if he loved her back. "I don't even care if you say it back, I just need you to know...I love you so much." It had been four years since they first said it and it didn’t seem like she ever truly felt anything but love for him since she first said it. “I don’t know if I ever stopped.”

There wasn’t a second of hesitation from him. As if he had also been transported back to the very same moment she had been thinking about. “God, I love you too.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

If you like this story, you can find the rest of my writing here: Masterlist

283 notes · View notes

impishjesters · 1 year ago

Text

Pomni x Reader who doesn't wanna leave

warning(s): implied panic/anxiety attacks, implied Reader's life prior to the Circus might've not been so great A/N: I'm not really good at words of comfort, so hopefully this isn't too bad... request: I have a request for actually pomni instead of jax- a reader x pomni sfw thing where the reader doesnt actually wanna leave the place but understands why pomni wants to leave so they just try to help her with anything and is very comforting to her. (basically a extremely sweet and calm reader with a nervous wreck pomni)

It’s easy to see why one would freak out about being permanently trapped in a digital hellscape in a body that doesn’t require sleep or food.

You feel for Pomni, you really do, but unlike her, you enjoy living here. There’s little to worry about compared to the struggles of living in the real world, the life you had before this was nothing but stress and exhaustion.

Though it’s easy to see why that might be the issue for some people, sure you lose out on all the things the real world can give you, but for every pro, there’s a con. Something you can accept, but not Pomni.

She’s such a sweet girl when she’s not on the verge of a panic attack, even if you don’t want to leave you continue to reassure her that there has to be an exit. “Can’t have an entrance without an exit.”

The best you can do is reassure her verbally and try to bring some sense of normalcy to the place. Just last week the two of you went for a walk outside the tent and did some nature gazing, it’s a little trippy how realistic the ambiance was. Though it seemed to do just the trick to help Pomni, the fake birds flew around and chirped, accompanied by the screams of obnoxious bugs.

Then there was just a few days ago when the two of you sat and listened to music while having a fake little tea date. The tea set was real—or as real as anything in this place could be—similar to a child’s play set it was just decoration as the two of you chatted over empty cups of tea.

It always seemed like talking and acting like everything was normal was a big help to her, you know if you get past the fact that the person across from you doesn’t look remotely normal.

Today, however, Pomni had been a wreck all day—the nature walk and tea time offers weren’t enough to distract her. Instead, you settled down nearby careful not to touch her, and simply took it one step at a time. Pomni disliked physical touch so you made do with talking her through it, through what was currently on her mind all while making sure to steer the mindset from sketchy abstraction territory.

“How are you so okay with this?” She looked over her knees in your general direction, not really looking at you or anything in particular.

“I mean to say I’m okay is an understatement. But it’s an improvement in some departments compared to my life before… I understand not everyone can see it that way though. But for me, I’m pretty okay with the whole situation.”

Nobody had really opened up about their lives prior, whether they could remember or not it just never came up. It felt almost taboo for some reason.

“Like I told you before, every entrance has an exit. And if I find one, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

It’s not an entire lie, you would tell her if you actually found one, but not every entrance had an exit. In some cases, the only “exit” so to speak would be death, but saying that would only make the situation worse.

“H-how do you know that though? Nobody’s seen one except for…well Kaufmo and me..” Pomni bit her lip, squeezing her legs tighter. “And i-it wasn’t even a real exist… Caine said—”

“Sweetie Caine’s about as smart as Jax is nice.” That gets a hesitant little giggle out of her, it’s rude but true. “There’s an exit I know it, that said there’s a chance Caine doesn’t know where it is or how to access it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“I…I guess you are right…”

Pomni relaxes the death grip on her legs, letting them dangle off the couch. She’s still stuck in her head but it’s progress, and you are patient to work with her.

“Wanna go down to the kitchen and make something?”

Her head snaps in your direction so fast you swear she’d get whiplash if she could. “What?”

“You heard me.” You give her a weak shrug and lean on the armrest of your chair. “We can’t eat but that doesn’t mean we can’t cook—it’s not the same but we can still do it, sorta.”

Her expression is pure confusion, did she not know you could still cook or that there was a kitchen? Have those idiots shown her nothing??

“Mhm, maybe we could bake something for everyone. Again, can’t eat it but it’s the thought that counts yeah? I’m sure the others would enjoy that, we can all sit down with a slice and maybe have a nice chat.”

That sounded nice, domestic, and more importantly, normal. She can’t remember the last time she cooked or baked something, and while it would suck to not be able to eat it, enjoying the company of the others would be nice. Well, mostly nice.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The two of you stood and you gave her a warm smile before gesturing her to follow. Before you made it to the door she called your name, giving a weak smile as she approached. “Thank you.”

“Any time Pompom.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #pomni x reader #tadc pomni #pomni

150 notes · View notes