#me... with my allergy to grinding
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
kobbers · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
As my brain's been back in the GW2 zone, Azurah appeared in Procreate when I was hanging out with family the other evening. Unreferenced, so her staff and armor details are mushy, but it's my girl nonetheless :3
340 notes · View notes
13uswntimagines · 3 days ago
Text
All In My Head (Alessia Russo X Singer!r)
Tumblr media
Part III of the Safe Harbor Universe. Find other parts here
Summary: Being Sick on tour sucks, but that doesn't mean that you want your team to inform your girlfriend. She has her own career to think about. The problem is that honesty is rule number 1 in your relationship.
Warnings: there is mention of a D/s dynamic, but nothing is super explicit. Alessia is referred to as daddy.
Authors note: Yes the ending is a cliffhanger. But this has honestly been in my drafts since like August, so i wanted to put it out. I'm considering a Pt. 2, but it will depend on if people want it. I really hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think.
You sighed heavily, leaning against the stadium's cool stone wall and twisting the bracelet around your wrist. 
Which stadium, you couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, really. They all looked the same after a while anyway, blurring together in the never-ending cycle of rehearsals, performances, interviews, and meet and greets. 
All your life seemed to be was performing and promoting music you weren’t even excited about anymore. It was a nonstop grind filled with late nights and early mornings, with almost no time for your well-being. 
You almost wished your girlfriend had implemented a rule that placed a limit on how much you could do. At least that would give you the power to say no. 
You did your best. 
You squeezed in as many phone calls with your girlfriend, Alessia as you could, but she had her own commitments with the Lionesses as they prepared to defend their European championship.
Most of the time you ended up passing out over FaceTime, and waking up to texts telling you she loved you. 
You understood. You both had careers and obligations. You both had to make sacrifices to get to do the things you loved. 
It was… intense, but for the most part, you enjoyed it. You loved playing for the fans. You would deal with all the promotional bs just so you could interact with the people who loved your music as much as possible. 
They deserved that. 
And this tour had been going far better than the ones you had been on before it. You were holding it all together far better than you had in the past. 
Or it had been. 
It all started with a slight tickle in your throat in the city before last. A whisper of huskiness that went away with a nice steam session and some tea. 
It was easy to ignore in the beginning. 
Then you played 4 shows back to back last weekend. 
By the end of the 3rd show, you knew you were screwed, you could barely muster a horse whisper. Alessia had commented that you sounded like a chain smoker, your first sign that she was seeing through you, but you assured her you would be fine. You even joked that you had enough throat coat and grether's pastilles to turn her off for a year. She let you soothe her worries. 
You pushed on, powered my menthol lozenges and Honey, and you made it through the 4th show. 
It would have been fine. It shouldn’t have mattered that your ability to make any sound at all was hanging on by a thread. The 5 days off you had should have been enough to set everything right.
Except you didn’t have 5 days off. 
It was filled with promotional performances for a new album and interviews about how well it would accompany the movie it was attached to. If someone else asked you about how it felt about the possibility of an Oscar nod, you were going to scream. Or rip all of your hair out or both.
The tickle had turned to hot nails, and nothing - not the steam machine or tea and honey - had the power to soothe it. 
You sounded like you were talking through gravel, and your team had been hesitant to even let you go on tonight. 
Alessia definitely would not have, if she knew how bad it really was. You started avoiding her two days ago after you couldn’t make it through a sentence without a crack, and you couldn’t continue to blame the low whistle that accompanied every one of your breaths on allergies. 
You knew going in that performing tonight wasn’t a great idea, but you refused to let the fans down. There were only 4 shows left. Surely you could make it. 
The entire show felt like a battle. 
You had to fight for every note. For every breath. 
Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your throat was raw before you even got to the piano set. 
It took everything in you to hide the thinness in your voice. To prevent every sound from cracking as you forced each lyric out. 
It was…rough to say the least. 
But you made it- even if it was only by the skin of your teeth. 
You were shot by the time you did your final bow and disappeared backstage. You ignored the cold Gatorade being pressed into your palms, knowing it would only aggravate the glass shards in your throat, and shrugged off Steven and Clint. 
You didn’t need their concern, you needed to escape the roaring in your ears. The pounding in your chest. 
So you took turn after turn until you were in an abandoned section of hallways. 
You sighed, grasping at your throat as you slid down the cool wall, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead into the rough material of your costume to drown out the pounding in your head. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of your head and you groaned. 
The sound felt like hot coals in your throat, and it made your chest ache. 
You feared that no amount of steam, or tea, or pastilles would stop it this time. 
The cold bricks of the stadium felt nice against your skin, leaching the heat from your body, though it did nothing to help the fire in your chest. 
A fire that was quickly moving past the gray areas in your agreement with Alessia, and into a place that your daddy would definitely have something to say about. 
You were treating your limits with her like a tightrope, carefully toeing the edge. Except with the way you felt, you knew you were about to topple one way or the other. 
You ignored the sounds of clicking shoes coming closer, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t see you. That they would leave you be to pull the cracked pieces of yourself back together. 
But your team knew better than to leave you to your own devices.
“Y/n?”
You tensed at the soft hand on your shoulders, and the sound of shifting clothing as someone settled on the ground beside you. 
“You ok, kid?” Natasha asked softly, running soothing circles on the top of your shoulders. 
You let out another breath before you pulled your face from its hiding spot, resting your chin on your knees. “I’m ok. Just wanted some quiet,”
You frowned at the horse whisper that left your lips, and the flair of pain that accompanied it. 
Natasha hummed. 
She had been part of your team from the beginning, back when you were a dumb 16-year-old, long before Pepper, Tony, Steve and the rest of the crew had joined, and she knew you nearly as well as Alessia did. 
She raised an eyebrow at you. “Just some quiet?” 
You knew that wasn’t what she was actually asking. 
The question went much deeper. 
She knew about your… dynamic with Alessia, and she had seen the striker take care of you in various ways. She was asking you what you needed. 
You nodded, looking away from her, afraid that she would see through you. 
“I needed a minute,” You said, your voice barely a squeak. “It was all too much, and I wanted to be alone before I got pulled into something else,”
She made a low sound at the familiar explanation. “And this has nothing to do with how you sound like you’re gargling rocks?”
You grimaced. “Nothing at all,”
She hummed. “So you’re not in any pain at all?”
“Nope,” You breathed out, the p the only clear part of the word. 
“Y/n,” She sighed. “I know you have an… aversion to admitting when you’re not… at the top of your game, but pushing yourself isn’t going to help anything. You don’t have anything to prove here,”
You ran a hand through your hair and rolled your eyes dramatically at her. She chuckled at the action. 
“There are only 3 more shows,” You said. “I can make it 3 more shows,”
“And how would Alessia feel if she knew you were going to put your comfort aside for 3 more shows?” Natasha asked softly. “And not just your comfort, your health. You sound like shit,”
You huffed at the mention of your girlfriend, your fingers instinctively finding the braided bracelet that never left your wrist. 
You knew how she would feel. You could practically hear what she would say. I expect you to take care of the things that belong to me. I expect you to treat them with respect and give them the love and care they deserve. 
“I’ve got it all under control,” You rasped, wincing at the action. 
It was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes. “Sure you do. Since you have it all under control, you’ll stop ignoring your girlfriend,” She pulled the device out of her back pocket and balanced it on top of your knees. “She’s been blowing up your phone all day. I think she’s worried,” 
You stared at the phone, and as if on cue, it buzzed again with a new message. 
Alessia was going to be furious with you, and your daddy would be on another level entirely. 
She was usually the one to take the reigns when you were set on driving yourself into oblivion for the benefit of everyone else. But she wasn’t here. 
You sighed heavily. 
You knew that if you told her, she would drop everything. She would move heaven and earth if that was what you needed. 
You didn’t want that. 
She needed to focus on her game, and that meant that you couldn’t be a distraction. You would not disappoint her. Not when you were so close to finishing. 
“She needs to focus,” You mumbled, your voice straining. “She’s gotta impress Sarina to make the team. It’s important,”
“I think you forget that you are also important,” Natasha argued back softly, patting your back before carefully pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to have Pepper cancel the meet and greet. You’re in no shape to meet fans. I should also have her call a doctor, but I already know you’ll fight me on it,” 
You frowned. You never sold meet and greet tickets, choosing to instead have your team select fans at each show. 
“But-“ 
She held up her hand before you could argue. “That isn’t up for debate. Get rest tonight, and we’ll assess tomorrow in the morning.”
Your jaw clenched, but you nodded, knowing there was no arguing with her. 
“I know the world thinks you’re superhuman, but it’s ok not to be indestructible,” She said, softly. “You need to remember to be Clarke Kent sometimes too. There’s a reason Lois fell in love with him first,”
With that, she walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 
The silence of the empty hallway wasn’t as welcoming as it had been. It didn’t quiet your thoughts like it had. 
Instead, it felt suffocating. Like the walls were closing in on you, trapping you in your misery. 
You sighed another painful breath, before you grabbed your phone, reading the top notification, longing not to feel so…alone. 
Hey babe, caught the end of your show on a random livestream. Are we still on for our FaceTime tonight?
You let your head fall back, thumping the wall. 
Everything in you longed to say yes.
But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 
It was still nice to fantasize about seeing her. About hearing her say ‘Hello my little one,’ with a soft smile that brought out her dimples. If you closed your eyes you could almost feel the pressure of her fingers on the back of your neck, running through the baby hairs that lived there. ‘I’m here, and I’ve got you,’
You let your mind linger there for a long second before you forced your eyes back open. 
It took you three tries to type out your reply: sorry darling, I’m super tired. Rain check?
And you paused, your trembling finger over the send button, knowing you shouldn’t send it, but hitting the little blue arrow anyway. 
It was awful but necessary. 
You let out another long, ragged breath before you forced yourself to your feet and shoved your phone into your pocket, so you didn’t have to see her reply. You leaned heavily on the wall, no longer enjoying how it sucked the warmth from your skin, but using it to stay upright as the entire hallway tilted to the side. 
You should go back to your dressing room before Steve sent out a search party. Dealing with Nat was one thing, dealing with the overprotective instincts of Steve, Clint, and Thor was another. 
You didn’t have the mental capacity for that, and maybe your dressing room couldn’t make you feel like there was a rope on your lungs, dragging out your soul.
*****
You were not particular about a lot of things when you were on tour. You didn’t care about the size of your hotel room or the cars you were shuttled around in. You didn’t request overly expensive foods or special bubbly waters. 
The only thing on your rider that you were very specific about was your dressing room. 
It was your sanctuary away from the noise. A place you would spend more time in than your hotel room. 
It was important to you that it was always the same. Lit with twinkling fairy lights, the comfy gray couch that followed you on every tour stop standing near the table with your kettle and vocal steamer, and a diffuser already filling the room with the soft scent of lavender and honey. 
It filled your lungs the second you stepped through the door, wiping away the burning ache that accompanied every breath for just a second. Reminding you for one fleeting moment of the honeysuckle of Alessia’s favorite shampoo (the reason she picked the essential oil blend to begin with), before the knives returned to your chest. 
You rubbed your knuckles over your sternum to quell the feeling, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing into it. 
You pressed your nose into the soft gray material, wishing that you had grabbed the bright red sweatshirt you stole from your girlfriend when you last saw her. The smell of her perfume was beginning to fade, but it wasn’t gone yet, and there was a distinct longing in your stomach to be close to her. Even if you were the reason there was any space to begin with. 
You could hear your kettle bubbling next to you, and you knew you should make yourself some tea to soothe the sharp edges in your windpipe, but the thought of moving felt like too much. 
Instead, you sunk into the couch, your arm dangling off the cushion, your fingers brushing the ugly red carpet. 
You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and you didn’t have to look to know who was texting you. Still, the urge to see what she would say was too great for you to ignore it. 
It took all of your strength to move your heavy arm to your pocket and pull out your phone. Your fingers fumbled over the screen as you squinted at the device with the eye not pressed into the couch. 
The light made the throbbing in your head worse, and the words written on the screen made your lungs constrict.
Ok, my love. Are you sure everything is alright? This is the 3rd time this week.
You could almost hear the worry in her voice. See the suspicion in her blue eyes. 
They never failed to see through you. To strip away your exterior and leave you vulnerable and raw beneath them. It never made you feel exposed, even in the beginning when the two of you decided to extend your dynamic beyond your bedroom. Instead, you felt seen and safe. 
Sometimes she liked to have to work for your submission. She liked to peel away each layer of you one by one until you were a trembling mess beneath her. Open and vulnerable in a way no one else ever got to see you. 
Other times, you gave your submission willingly, stripping off your public persona like a dirty shirt and allowing her to envelop you in her warm comfort. 
How much you wanted that. How much you needed it. 
It was a desperation that filled your entire being. 
Before you could process what you were doing, you had already pressed her contact photo and brought the now-ringing phone to your ear. 
You laid the device on the side of your head and let your arm go back to dangling. It was too heavy to hold. 
It only rang twice before her voice filled your ears. 
“Hey my love,” She said, worry and relief mingling strangely in her tone. “I’m so happy you called me. How are you?”
Her voice washed over you like a soothing wave, like a balm on the sharp edges of your nerves, though it did little to help the fire in your lungs and throat. 
You pressed your nose into the couch, pretending that it was her shoulder for just a second. That the honey and lavender surrounding you was her perfume. That she was here. 
“Y/n, are you there?” She asked, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 
You couldn’t force any sound, beyond a low whistle past your inflamed throat. Your lungs crackled with each breath. 
Your inability to make sound didn’t bother you as much as it should have. 
“Y/n? Did you butt-dial me?” Alessia asked again, and you could almost feel her running her nails through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “I’m worried,”
The words were said with too much force, not at all the soft murmur your brain had been waiting to hear. 
It shook you out of your haze just enough for you to reach up and grab your phone, clicking the decline button too fast. 
You let the phone drop to the floor with a low thump as it immediately began to ring again. 
Your fingers twitched above the screen, but you didn’t have the strength to reach for it, even as it lit up again with your girlfriend's contact photo. 
Well, it was a photo of the two of you. You were curled up in her lap, in one of her blue UNC sweatshirts that were too big, and she was kissing the side of your head. 
It had been taken after a particularly grueling day in the studio. It was Alessia’s turn to host team bonding night. You didn’t remember exactly who took the picture, Leah or Lotte, maybe, but it was one of your favorites.
What the camera didn’t catch was that your arms were not in the sleeves. Instead, they were tied with intricate knots behind your back, hidden by the sweatshirt. 
It was something the two of you often did, and it was one of her go-to's when you were starting to spiral out of control. 
A part of you longed for the feeling of the knots now, and her fingers twisting the soft rope against your skin. 
Sure, the weight of your bracelet was nice, but it wasn’t enough. 
You let out a wheezing breath that crackled and hurt. 
If you asked, she would be here. She would wrap you up and pull you from your free fall. 
It took you a long second to remember why you couldn’t have that. 
Alessia had a job to do, and you wouldn’t stand in the way of that. 
The phone buzzed again against the ugly carpet, the little voicemail icon flashing. You doubted you would be able to resist calling her back if you listened to it.  
Still, you had to do something. 
So you flicked the screen with one finger, going to your messages, and typing out words that felt fake, even to you. 
Sorry, I’m ok. Just tired. I’ll call you tomorrow after the game. Love you.
You clicked send before you could overthink it though, or your trembling fingers could betray you and type out the truth. You laid your head back down on the couch, curling into yourself as a painful cough forced its way past your lips. 
You weren’t sure how long you laid there, shivering before there was a soft knock at the door, and then the little click as it opened. 
A part of your brain hoped that it would be Alessia. That she had read your mind and somehow teleported to whatever city you were in. 
But the feeling of gentle fingers on the top of your shoulders told you that it wasn’t. 
“Y/n?” Natasha asked, very close to your ear, and you blinked up at her. 
You didn’t remember closing your eyes. 
“Hm?” You hummed, the sound raw and painful. 
“Let’s get you changed, and then we can go back to the hotel and you can sleep,” She said, placing a hand under your armpit and guiding you to a sitting position. 
The tiny movement had coughs ripping past your lips. 
She held you steady with one hand and grabbed you a change of clothes with the other. 
“Easy,” She breathed out, carefully unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it from your sweaty skin. 
She left you shirtless for a long second as she disappeared into your bathroom, and the cool air of the dressing room felt nice on your overheated skin. 
It didn’t bother you. Natasha had seen you in far less clothing than your sports bra and underwear. 
She returned only a moment later with a towel, using it to dry you off before she slipped a light blue t-shirt with a foot on the back over your head. 
The pants took a little more wiggling, but eventually, she was able to get you out of your costume and into a pair of sweats that were far too big for you.
She slid a pair of Converse onto your feet, scooping up your phone and tucking it into her pocket. 
“Let’s get you to the car,” She guided you to stand, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around you. 
“People?” You asked, leaning more of your weight onto her as she pulled you towards the door. 
You missed her eye roll. 
Of course, all you were worried about right now was who would see you, and what they would think. 
“Not here,” Natasha reassured you gently, opening the door. “Only when we get back to the hotel,”
You made a low, painful sound as she half-carried you into the hallway. 
You still had time before you had to pull yourself together. 
******
The city lights blurred into a distorted kaleidoscope of colors during the short ride back to the hotel. 
The cool glass felt nice against your temple, though it did little to ease the throb in your head or the lava in your throat. 
The feeling of eyes watching you for any wavering in your resolve also wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t be sure if it was worry (that you would puke all over the car or pass out), or concern about what the fans would think when you pulled up to the hotel. 
The whirring of the engine wasn’t loud enough to block out your racing thoughts, but any music was too much for you to handle. 
You were drowning. 
Every breath hurt, but you didn’t know if it was because of the physical pain or the anxiety gnawing at you. 
You didn’t like to upset people. You didn’t like to disappoint them. 
You were a people pleaser to a fault, and this wasn’t the first time you had self-destructed to meet everyone’s expectations. 
But at the end of the day, the person you wanted to please most. The person you wanted to not disappoint the most was Alessia. Was your Daddy. 
You knew you were failing, but you didn’t know how to stop.
The car came to a stop in front of the hotel far too quickly, and not for the first time, you were thankful that the dark tint kept you hidden from public view. 
“Ready, kid?” Steve asked, turning around in the driver's seat to look at you. 
You nodded once, reaching forward and grabbing the sunglasses facing the wrong way on his head, and pulled them over your own eyes. 
You took a deep breath before Clint opened your door, painting your signature smile across your features. 
You didn’t wave when you got out, too focused on keeping yourself upright, as Steve’sarm wrapped around you on one side and Natasha’s did the same on the other. 
You felt safe tucked between them, though they did nothing to shield you from shrill screams and cheers that met you as soon as your feet touched the ground. They amplified the pounding behind your eyes, and the way the crowd pressed around you made it even harder to breathe (not that you thought that was possible). 
You did try to flash the crowd smiles as Natasha and Steve guided you through, Clint protecting your back, and you were thankful your eyes were hidden, despite it being nighttime. 
You never wanted the fans to see the… fakeness. The lie.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the hotel doors slid closed behind you, placing more of your weight on Steve as Natash called the elevator. 
“You’re burning up kid,” Steve murmured, shifting to get a better grip around your waist. 
You made a low sound, that turned into a full body caught that nearly had you doubling over. “Is that your way of calling me hot Stevie? What would Tony think?”
The words came out garbled, cracking with every syllable as you tried to talk through the coughs. 
Steve’s arm tightened around you to keep you upright. 
“I think he would say that you are sick,” Steve sighed at the mention of his husband, your publicist, taking more of your weight as another round of coughs wracked you. 
You pushed off of him as soon as you could breathe again, even if it felt like sucking air through a straw filled with needles, and swayed your way toward the elevator. 
It binged open as soon as you reached it, and you stumbled inside, gripping the metal bar on the back wall for support, and resting your forehead on the cool wall. 
You could feel the heat of your skin leaching into the surface, but it did little to quell the pounding in your ears or the feeling like everything was tipping on its head. 
Your fingers instinctively found the braided bracelet, running over the soft leather strands. 
However, this time, it didn’t ease the bubbling anxiety and fire in your chest. 
“We’re almost there, and then you can rest,” Natasha said softly, and you felt both her and Steve’s eyes on you as you leaned further into the wall. 
The movement of the elevator was starting to make you nauseous, but you didn’t think you could voice that even if you wanted to. Not with how raw your throat was. 
It took you a second to realize the elevator had stopped, and it wasn’t until Natasha gently touched your shoulder that you began to move again. 
You let Steve guide you out of the elevator and into the hallway. 
Natasha had the door to your suite open before you even got there, and Steve half-carried you to the bed, settling you on the fluffy white comforter. 
Your fingers tangled in the expensive sheets as you fought to keep yourself upright. 
“Do you want to take a shower?” Natasha asked you softly, kneeling in front of you and carefully undoing your sneakers. 
You shook your head slowly, smothering another cough. “Sweatshirt,”
The croaky word hurt as it left your lips, barely audible and surrounded by more lung-crunching coughs. 
But they understood, Steve, passing you a bright red sweatshirt from your bag. 
You brought it to your face and collapsed back onto the bed, breathing in the perfume that clung to the material. 
It burned as it filled your senses, but you could pretend that it soothed the edges of glass in your throat and lungs. You could pretend that it was her taking off your shoes and tucking you in. 
You could pretend that it was all ok and that she wasn’t going to be livid when she found out. Not that you were sick, but that you hadn’t told her immediately. 
You knew you would take whatever punishment she decided you deserved with no questions. She could be rather creative when she was annoyed with you. 
“Let’s get you settled properly,” Natasha said, shifting you on the bed so your head was on the pillows, as Steve moved the covers and tucked them around you. “Rest now, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning,” 
You groaned, sending more flames down your airway, rolling over and pressing your face more firmly into the sweatshirt. 
You heard the distinctive sound of your phone being plugged in, and the click of the door. 
And then you were alone. 
More alone than you had been in a very long time. 
Even if it was all your own doing, you hadn’t been this disconnected since the beginning of Alessia’s college career, and your first tour with Taylor. The infamous break in your relationship. Even though neither of you had actually experimented with anyone else, and you had texted and called nonstop, you had been hesitant to push too far, to ask for too much. 
You blew out a long breath into her sweatshirt, ignoring the little needles that followed the air, eyes fixed on the phone on your bedside. 
It buzzed again as if it knew you were thinking about it. 
You reached your hand out, pulling it close so you could look at it, but it was still plugged in. 
The movement had the screen lighting up with a string of messages. The one at the top made your heart hurt.
Please don’t ignore me, my Little One. I’m worried.
It said, and you could almost hear the inflection in her tone. You could almost see her eyes softening, and feel her fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. 
You closed your eyes, pressing more deeply into the sweatshirt under your head. 
Your fantasy world was far nicer than the reality you were in, and the universe wouldn’t end if you stayed in it until morning. 
********
Your night was… hazy, filled with half-dreams that were increasingly difficult to distinguish from real life. As the morning light crept its way further and further across the ceiling, you leaned into the sweatshirt slowly losing its smell, one eye peeking out to track its progress. 
It felt like a timer. A countdown clock on the imagined feelings of soothing hands on your back and whispered reassurance that everything would be okay. 
Soon enough the door would open and you would have to be you again. You would have to pretend like each breath you took didn’t feel like a bear was mauling your lungs, and your brain wasn’t a freight train threatening to escape from your skull. 
You would have to deal with the incessant buzzing of your phone that had kept you on the edge of real sleep all night. 
You would have to face your girlfriend. Your daddy. 
You were not looking forward to it. Any of it. 
The only thing that you were semi-excited about was watching your girlfriend play, even through a screen. That had been your only saving grace back when she was in college before the two of you got back together, and you knew it would be your only saving grace now. 
You sighed, rolling over, the sweatshirt falling from its bunched-up place against your cheek, and reaching for the phone still on the corner of the bed next to you. 
It buzzed again as your fingers caught it, and brought it closer so you could see the screen. It was filled with notifications. 
Some were from the group thread you shared with your manager, assistant, and publicist. Some were emails from people you were collaborating with. 
But the majority were from Alessia. 
You couldn’t help but click on the thread. 
You knew it was a mistake immediately. 
Good morning little one. I’ll have some time if you want to FaceTime before the game. I miss you, and I’m worried. You don’t usually ignore me.
It was like an arrow straight through your heart. 
A direct hit to your will. 
You swallowed hard, ignoring how badly it burned, and typed out a message. 
I miss you too. Good luck today. You’re going to do amazing
You dropped your phone after you hit send, deciding that finding the starting 11 wasn’t important anymore, and stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, pulling the comforter more tightly around you despite the sweat breaking out across your chest. 
You thought it would help the hollow feeling slowly taking over your insides, or the dull throb that accompanied each breath. 
It did not. 
You let your eyes slide back closed, deciding that the light hadn’t transversed far enough across the ceiling for you to need to be awake yet. Not when the pull of sleep was so strong, and the comfort of your half dreams was too difficult to resist. 
“You know I don't like it when you hide from me,” Alessia’s voice said sternly, as though it was right next to your ear, and you felt fingertips graze your lips. 
You didn’t open your eyes. Even amongst the haze that was filling every crack in your brain, you knew she wasn't here. She couldn’t be here. Not when she was back in London about to play some team you couldn’t remember. 
“I know,” You rasped out.  
The fingers gently pulled at your bottom lip before they circled back towards your cheek, and a thumb brushed across your closed eyelid. 
“And you’re still doing it?” She asked, and you felt the air of each word on your ear. 
You shook your head, turning it slightly, hoping to feel her nose bump hers. “You need to focus on the important things,” 
You didn’t come into contact with her, though you knew you should have with the way you shifted. 
“And you are not important to me?” She asked her voice hardening in the way it only did when you were about to receive a punishment. 
An involuntary shiver ran down your spine, and your eyes opened automatically. 
You sucked in a painful breath, blinking blearily at the face above you.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Natasha said quietly, even as your eyes darted around, searching for your girlfriend. “It’s 1, so you need to wake up so we can make a decision about tonight,” 
“Less?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper when you saw that Natasha was the only other person in the room with you. 
Natasha frowned, brushing your hair away from your forehead. “She’s in London, remember? The game against Luxembourg starts soon,” 
Your eyebrows pulled tightly together. You hadn’t remembered that they were playing Luxembourg. 
“She’s starting?” 
“No,” Natasha shook her head. “It’s mostly the young ones starting since the over-under is plus 20 for England,”
Your nose scrunched, and you forced yourself to sit up. “She has to play,”
None of this would be worth it if she never touched the field. 
“I think Serina is using this as more of an identification camp,” Natasha countered, stepping in to help you sit up. “The girls need rest after doing both the Champions League and regular play these last couple of weeks,”
You grunted though it sounded more like a pained wheeze than a grunt. 
Alessia’s schedule had been nearly as insane as your own for the past few months. It was part of the reason you were so… reluctant to bother her with something as trivial as a tickle in your throat. 
“Maybe you should take a page out of her book,” Natasha added. 
Your nostrils flared immediately at the implication. 
Your job was so much less physical than Alessia’s. You didn’t do anything to deserve rest like she did. 
The pressure you both face to perform was inherently different.
She didn’t let down millions of people every time she rode the bench. She wouldn’t crush the dreams of thousands of people if she didn’t take the pitch. 
But still, you could already hear her argument ringing in your head. 
I expect you to care for the things that belong to me as deeply and completely as I do. That includes yourself. Your needs matter, and I will not allow you to disregard them.
“No.” You rasped, none of the bite you meant appearing in the word. 
“Yes,” Natasha countered, shifting the pillows behind you before you leaned back. “There is no way you can perform tonight,”
You huffed, and crossed your arms, glaring at the city beyond the large window to the right of the bed. “People paid-“
“To hear you sing. Not hack your way through a set,” Natasha cut you off. “They’ll be more disappointed if you give them a show that’s not your best. Reschedule the last 3, so they’re worth what they paid,”
Your glare only deepened, and your eyebrows pulled very tightly together as you processed what she was saying (taking a few extra minutes to cut through the thick fog in your brain). 
You knew she was playing on your sensibility. You thought ticket prices were disgusting, and had fought to lower them as much as you could. You had made your show longer in retaliation, so the fans got what they paid for. 
You wouldn’t give them a sub-par show. 
You didn’t look at her but nodded once. 
“I’ll have Tony write a statement. Do you want to approve it before it goes out?” She asked, her voice gentle. 
You shook your head, your lips pursing. 
“We’ll release it then, and I’ll call a doctor so we can get you some real medication,” The redhead continued, ignoring the deep frown pulling at your features. 
It wasn’t that you were trying to be difficult. You just knew what would happen the second the people staked outside of your hotel caught sight of a doctor. 
But now you felt like you didn’t have a choice, and not in the fun way.
“Fine,” You muttered, a hacking cough following it. 
Natasha patted your back until the coughing stopped, and you relaxed back against the pillows. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll have food sent up, you just watch the game and try to get more sleep before the doctor gets here,”
You huffed but didn’t protest as she tucked the blanket tighter around your torso. 
“I know you’re unhappy with all of this, but it is what it is, and we need to look after your health too,” She sighed, turning and bustling around the room, flipping on the television to the game and grabbing a mug you hadn't noticed from the dresser by the door. “Drink that, and I’ll be back in a bit,”
You didn’t respond as she placed the mug on the table beside you, and disappeared through the hotel room door with a soft click. 
You wanted to groan. To yell. To throw the mug across the room, but you knew it wouldn’t help. 
The other part of you wanted your guitar, not that you were sure your fingers were strong enough right now to actually play.  
You closed your eyes, tilting your head back on the pillows. 
It wasn’t long before you felt fingers in your hair, though you hadn’t heard the door open again. 
You instantly knew who it was, though her perfume was suspiciously missing. 
“You look like you got hit by a bus,” She murmured, her breath brushing across your nose. 
Your eyes fluttered open, meeting her blue, except it was two shades darker than you remembered, the same shade as the old UNC jersey she was wearing. 
“I’m fine,” You croaked, the sound pulling a hacking cough from your lungs that burned as it left you. 
“Ah yes, because you sound just fine,” She huffed, her nails scratching lazily at your scalp. “You don’t need to hide from me,”
You blinked slowly, and her form shimmered slightly beside you. “‘M not. ‘M right here,”
“Rule one is honesty for a reason,” She countered, her hand pausing. “You’ve not abided by that.”
You swallowed around the glass in your throat at the confirmation of what you already knew, and your eyes closed again as the heavy weight of it settled on your mind. 
You had broken the most sacred rule and you were in trouble. It wouldn’t just be a punishment you would have to take. It would be regaining her trust that would take the longest time. 
It was a fragile thing, and you had shattered it. 
You forced your eyes open again, determined to say something- anything- that would make it better, except when you did, she was gone. 
You blinked heavily at the empty bed beside you. The space she had been seconds ago. 
You wanted to shake your head, but with the freight train pounding in your skull, you knew that was a terrible idea. 
“This is a very different starting eleven for England, but it’s what we expected. The only change of note is that Alessia Russo is unavailable for this game.” 
Your eyebrows furrowed at the television, flashing the starting lineup for the game. 
Natasha said Alessia wasn’t starting, but you expected her to at least be on the bench. 
You closed your eyes and let your head fall back. 
What was the point of suffering alone if Alessia wasn’t even going to play?
You weren’t sure anymore.
******
“I’ve got her,” 
You stirred at the familiar voice, and the feeling of gentle fingers running through your hair and the bed shifting next to you. The scent of lavender and honey wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, pulling you closer to consciousness. 
Your eyebrows pulled tightly together before your eyes flickered open, meeting the familiar blue of your girlfriend. 
“Hey there,” She said softly, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”
You opened your mouth, but nothing but a low hacking cough came out. 
“Easy, little one,” Alessia shushed you softly. “Just relax. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you now, ok?”
It was painful how real she felt. Painful how much you wanted to believe she was here with you. 
“Trouble,” You mumbled, coughing violently afterward, unable to stop yourself from leaning into her hand. 
“I think we should make it your middle name since you seem to find it so often,” She murmured, running her hand again through your hair. “But no. You’re not in trouble. Not right now,”
You made a low, wheezing sound, shaking your head, despite the waves of nausea it sent to your stomach. “Real daddy disagrees,” 
She frowned. “Real daddy?”
You swallowed hard, forcing words past your stolen vocal cords. “Not here. In Luxembourg. Won’t fool me again,” 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She said, her nails dragging against your scalp in the way she knew you loved. “Natasha called me last night, and I got on the flight as soon as I could,”
It took a few extra seconds for her words to filter through the unpleasant haze in your brain. Even then, they didn’t make sense. 
Hell, her entire demeanor, including the softness in her features as she looked at you, didn’t make sense. 
You explicitly told Natasha not to call her, and you couldn’t process her going against that request. Not when Alessia had a game to play. 
“My brain is making you up,” You wheezed after another long second. 
She breathed out a half chuckle. “While your brain is brilliant, I wasn’t conjured by it,” 
You made a low, husky sound that could only be incredulity. 
Her thumb again smoothed the space between your eyebrows. “What will it take for you to believe you’re awake?”
You blinked heavily at her, your shoulders lifting and falling. 
She shook her head. “You’re too much,”
“No,” You mumbled, the crease between your eyebrows pushing against her finger. “‘M a good girl,”
“Yes. You are always my good girl, even when you’re being a stubborn pain in the ass,” She agreed fondly, leaning down to press a kiss to your too-warm forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be here where you wake up, and maybe you’ll actually believe you’re not dreaming,”
“Promise?” you asked. Sounding small, as exhaustion pulled at you. 
She hummed. “I promise,”
Her fingers kept their soft rhythm in your hair as your eyes fluttered closed, and you shifted to press your nose into her shoulder, breathing in her perfume with each rattling intake from your lungs. It surrounded you, soothing the burning in your chest, and soothing the sharp edges in your throat. 
For the first time since the lingering tickle started, you actually felt at peace. You felt calm enough to let yourself truly relax. 
It would suck when you woke up and Alessia was gone, but doing anything other than allowing your mind to linger in this delusion felt unbearable. 
Instead, you allowed yourself to sink into the overwhelming pull of exhaustion. 
And you swore you heard an “always,” before sleep pulled you under. 
Even if this alessia didn’t turn out to be real, you trusted her. And as angry as you wanted to be at Natasha and Steve for calling her, you knew she was exactly what you needed. 
She always would be, even if she was just made up in your mind. 
307 notes · View notes
changetyre · 4 months ago
Text
Ouch II Charles Leclerc x Reader
Tumblr media
SUMMARY: One of the things Charles had to learn about you when you started dating was your ability to get hurt with just about anything and anyone who crosses your path.
WARNINGS: short, minor injuries, dizziness, allergies.
A/N: Inspired by me and my proneness to injury which has been on an all-time high this month 🥲
"Tss-" Charles's head popped up immediately at the sound of you hissing, a million scenarios running through his head about how you'd injured yourself this time.
"What happened mon amour?" He rushed over to you watching as you clutched your finger tightly, your face contorted in pain.
"I closed the cupboard on my finger somehow." You showed Charles the small blood blister forming on your finger where you'd pinched a piece of skin.
"Cherie what am I gonna do with you." Charles held your injured finger placing a small kiss on it before bringing you into a hug.
_____
"Oh my god Charlie look!" You spotted at a big dandelion field on one of your walks with your boyfriend.
"Amour wait-" Charles wasn't fast enough to stop you as you happily ran to it. "Just be careful please." he didn't have the heart to stop you as you ran through it.
"Charlie take a picture of me!" You happily giggled as you watched the white fuzz rise around you.
Charles laughed gladly capturing the moment in his phone. It all seemed too perfect.
As you walked the rest of the way home Charles noticed you kept scratching at your hands and arms. "What's wrong my love?" he asked.
"Nothing." He knew you always tried to play your discomfort and pain down.
"Let me see." He grabbed your hand gently bringing your arms into view which were growing rashes. Charles gasped at the sight. "Amour!"
"I think I might be allergic to dandelions." You looked so defeated it tugged at Charles's heart. He was glad you were wearing jeans impeding your legs from rashing too.
"Aww mon bebe." Charles kissed your temple. "C, mon let's get you to the doctor." He held your hand as you left the house once more.
_______
"He's good, and has a lot of potential." You and Charles chatted casually as he washed the dishes while you dried them and put them away.
"He's young though, I'd hate for the same thing to-" You gasped as a plate slipped from your hand, you tried to catch it but it had already broken by the time you tried to save it.
"Cherie you okay?" Charles quickly dried his hands rushing to you.
"I'm fine just ugh, a broken plate." you sighed frustrated as you leaned down to start cleaning up.
"It's just a plate darling you sure you're alright?" Charles crouched down with you.
"Yes I- Oww." you pulled your hand away quickly after trying to grab a large piece of the broken plate. "Oh my god, why?!" You were frustrated with yourself for not being more careful.
"Let me see." Charles pulled your hand towards him seeing the small but deep cut on your palm starting to bleed a lot. "Okay come here." Despite his worry, Charles wasn't fazed with your injuries anymore always quick to jump into action. He grabbed a paper towel wrapping it around your hand.
"It doesn't even hurt just stings a little-" Charles hated the way you always got so disappointed with yourself after getting hurt.
"It's okay amour, just hold it and keep your hand up while I fetch the first aid kit." He kissed your cheek before rushing off.
_______
"and then the next thing I know Steph is on one of the tables grinding on some random dude-" You paced around the living room telling Charles about last night through tears of laughter.
"No way!" Charles laughed with you picturing the scene, hoping he could've been there with you.
"Yes and so Freya was trying to get her down and somehow ends up getting lifted onto the table herself-" you could barely catch your breath between laughter. "You should've seen her face, she was mortified when the dude and Steph started dancing on her-" you wiped the tears from under your eyes.
"What did you do?" Charles laughed more so from your laughter than the story itself.
"Well Freya was looking at me with like this plea for help so I-" a loud thud silenced you. "Fuck-" You cursed as you'd managed to hit your funny bone in the corner of the wall hard.
"You okay baby?" Charles immediately sat up.
He watched you rub at your elbow. "Yeah I-" You stumbled a little making him rush to stable you. "Ooh, I'm a little light-headed."
"You must've hit your funny bone pretty hard." He carried you to the couch with him and your vision went blurry for a few seconds.
"That was weird." you opened and closed your hand as pins and needles filled your arm.
"It's okay baby I've got you." Charles pulled you into his side.
You sighed, waiting for the feeling and lightheadedness to pass.
"I'm sorry." you apologized to Charles as you nustled into his chest.
"What are you sorry for amour?!" Charles cupped your cheek making you face him.
"For always making you worry and not being careful enough, I obviously don't do it on purpose but maybe if I was more careful and-" You started.
"Hey shh-" Charles shushed you with a sweet kiss. "Don't be silly." He hugged you tighter. "I love you just the way you are, injuries and all even if I prefer you never got injured again. It's just the way you are and to me it's perfect."
You couldn't help but giggle. "I love you Charlie." You looked up at him, cupping his cheek this time so you could kiss him.
"I love you more, my injury-prone girlfriend." He kissed you again.
253 notes · View notes
omega-e123 · 4 months ago
Text
Hey! Welcome in.
Keep good vibes around here, yeah? If the content isn't your cup of tea, kindly walk towards the exit, please. There are other pockets of space that will be to your liking! Venturing further, you may come across NSFW.
If you are a minor, please do not interact with my NSFW or be inappropriate.
Feel free to talk to me in my inbox! Whether it be sending in headcanons, gushing about Shadow, or or even saying “hello”, I'm all ears. ⁂ Do note I'm not one to take "requests". (they will most likely be deleted) ⁂ Answered ask tags: #➺ inbox , #➺ anon , #➺ [user] , ➺ inbox imagines (Imagines from you guys!)
Unrelated posts tag: #• the void speaks
─── ・ 。゚☆: *. ☽ .* :☆゚. ・ ───
✧.* Reader is usually written as a Mobian in mind, but can be read as human. Gender neutral.
✨: New 🐾: Explicitly Mobian
Masterlist:
Updated: 12/12/2024
𓆩⟡𓆪 Fics
✦ ... And He Chaos Controlled Away Not the best way to reveal your affection. A Week Before || The Incident || Conclusion
✦ Just One More Craving a proper kiss from him
✦ Joyride How is he picking you up for your date?
✦ Hesitation !! NSFW !! Suggestive. You've never gone past kissing, why? Suggestive
✦ Kabedon Exactly as stated. He pins you.
✦ Head Over Heals CW: Blood Mention You injure yourself trying on air shoes.
✦ In a Rut !! NSFW !! Smut. Being part hedgehog has its.. complications. Annual complications. Odd Behavior || Restraint || Indulgence || Adoration
✦ Aftercare When it becomes to much, “Chaos” is the safe word
✦ Comforting You had a rough day and he has the remedy to make it better
✦ Medicine Cabinet Shadow has his own little pharmacy at home
✦ Aboard the Ark You got sick and Shadow decides to bring you up to his previous home.
✦ One Too Many CW: Alcohol, Drunk You partied a little too hard and now it's time to go home.
✦ The Shadow Bakery 🐾 Sometimes the basic instincts of a cat can't be beat.
𓆩⟡𓆪 Headcanons
✫ Physical Contact
✫ Jealousy
✫ Royal Forbidden Love Lancelot!Shadow
✫ When You’re Sick
✫ The Winter Season
✫ Vampire!Shadow w/ @aelondrias
✫ Allergies
✫ Chronic headaches
✫ Trypanophobia (Fear of Needles)
✫ Shark Week
✫ Nightmare
✫ Birth Control During Rut !! NSFW !! Suggestive
✫ Perfect Present For You
✫ Misc. Anon
𓆩⟡𓆪 Minis
𓇻 Play Wresting
𓇻 Protecting you
𓇻 Chew Toy
𓇻 Softness of Your Hands
𓇻 His Tail
𓇻 First Time Affection
𓇻 Losing you
𓇻 Blood Transfusion
𓇻 The Ultimate…
𓇻 From behind !! NSFW !! Smut 🐾
𓇻 Grinding !! NSFW !! Smut
𓇻 Anxiety Attack
𓇻 Blood test
𓇻 Love Sick
𓇻 Grooming his Chest 🐾
𓆩⟡𓆪 Misc.
⋆ Who is Shadow? Mini personality analysis ig
⋆ Scenario Submission Black Doom / Mephiles threatening Shadow they'll hurt you by @aelondrias
⋆ Reincarnation (Not ship) What if Shadow found Maria again?
163 notes · View notes
ruggiesbiologicalfather · 25 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
NRC Boys When They're Sick
it's illness season baybee! so here you go!
Tumblr media
Heartslabyul:
Riddle - it's a rare occurrence for him to fall ill but on the off chance that it happens, my boy is ready. he has a strict regimen of remedies on hand including face masks in heartslabyul red which he wears religiously. sadly, he sees illness as a moral failing and spends his time wondering how this could've possibly happened. he did everything right! curse this common cold! he makes trey take expert notes in class and deliver his homework to him so he can complete it immediately. no rest for true scholars!
Ace - massive baby. constantly whining. lord help his roommate. he's not NEEDY per se; he doesn't ask anyone for anything, he's just constantly reminding the world that he doesn't feel good. pity him or he gets grumpy
Deuce - tries to fight through it and convince everyone that he's not sick. the boy could be literally swaying on his feet and congested past the point of coherency and still say, "honor students don't get sick." slip him a few benadryl in his tea and he'll recover
Trey - two words: comfort snacks. he's pretty brave about being sick but he takes time off from classes and extracurriculars to make himself (or scavenge) some snacks. also hydration is key! he's a hot water with lemon kinda guy. god forbid he has the stomach flu and can't eat. he gets MAD
Cater - he never stays sick for very long. his recovery time is pretty impressive. however, while he's down he gets BORED. he starts out just playing on his phone in bed but without actual interaction he gets a little stir crazy. expect to receive a million messages while you are in class, several thousand of which are nonsensical videos that he finds hilarious due to copious amounts of benadryl
Savanaclaw:
Leona - barricades himself in his room with an "enter at your own risk" sign on the door (courtesy of ruggie). he spends his entire time trying to sleep but he's usually coughing so bad he keeps waking himself up. he's even more irritable than usual. ruggie manages to sneak in every few hours to deliver meds and snacks before fleeing the scene. once the sickness has passed, no one is allowed to mention it. business as usual
Ruggie - seasonal allergies warrior (sorry son, you get that from me :/). every time the seasons change, he gets a terrible case of the Yuck. luckily, he can always feel it coming so he pops four zyrtec a day (instead of the recommended One) until he obliterates the allergens. the grind never stops. godspeed my boy
Jack - the grind never stops but at what cost? he's so tired... so so tired. he tries to power through like a champ though. he spends his time off either studying or doing lighter versions of his regular workouts. and if you try to tell him to take it easy, he'll hit you with: "actually it's fine to do moderate workouts if your symptoms are all above the neck." alright big dawg.
Octavinelle:
Azul - disappears. just straight up hides. people joke that it's because if the twins see any sign of physical weakness, they'll eat him. you laugh... but it might... nevermind. he doesn't want anyone to see him sick. but if you manage to get a glimpse, you'll see he looks absolutely AWFUL. like moments from death. just let him hole up in the dark for a while. after all, that's the octopus instinct
A Note About The Twins - they always fall one right after the other: jade goes down first, floyd goes down harder. and it's always in the most inconvenient way. jade will be down for a few days and just when you think he's over it, floyd goes down in the exact same way
jade - he's fucking MEAN. he drops the snide, tongue-in-cheek, gentleman act and is a nightmare to interact with. if azul tells him to do literally anything at all, instead of giving his usual mischievous compliance, he will straight up tell him, "i hope someone deep fries you." it's terrifying. while he's in the throes of illness, azul makes himself scarce. and you do too especially after last time when you found out that moray eels actually have two sets of teeth. yeah... never again
floyd - immediately turns into a ragdoll filled with concrete. he's always found face-down in the middle of his bedroom floor and cannot be convinced to move. if you want him to rest in bed, you best prepare a team to haul him up there because he will not do it on his own. and he always spikes a fever of over a hundred no matter what kind of illness it is. it's kind of scary and you think he's gonna die. but then he just pops back up like it's normal. no easing back into health. just boom, bang, back to work
Scarabia:
Kalim - Must! Be! Babied! because he's so well taken care of all of the time, he doesn't get sick with minor things. it's always a huge event. he gets whiny and clingy and doesn't want to be by himself. jamil, of course, is constantly hovering through his recovery. however, as he's being babied, he's really in remarkably high spirits. just get him some soup and play a game with him and he'll be fine
Jamil - you'd have no idea he was sick if it wasn't for the dark circles under his eyes. as you know, he's very dedicated to his job so he doesn't take time off if he can help it. sometimes he can't help it, especially when it comes to stomach viruses. he is EXTREMELY emetophobic. he would rather lay completely still, barely breathing, than throw up. kalim tries to reciprocate the babying he enjoys but jamil is not receptive. just leave him alone
Pomfiore:
Vil - very self-sufficient. he insists that rest and hydration is the key and has a million little holistic remedies for any ailment. he is GLUED to his humidifier. he also takes this time to have a little self-care day. extra-long bath, face mask, mediation, the works. it's really quite peaceful. but NO ONE under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES is allowed to see him. the only person allowed in his room is rook (to deliver supplies) and even then the lights are off and vil is hiding. he declares loudly that he's HIDEOUS but you doubt that's true
Rook - never gets sick. like... to a suspicious degree. he could tongue-kiss patient zero and skip away merrily like nothing happened. there has been one time in your entire time knowing him that you've seen him almost sick and it was barely a sore throat. according to him, it's due to a combination of a naturally strong immune system and pomfiore's dedication to wellness. whatever it is, you can't help but wonder if he's lying
Epel - comatose due to horrific amounts of cough syrup. he doesn't have time for illness; it's harvest season and country boys make do
Ignihyde:
Idia - gets sick ALL THE TIME. styx was such a sterile environment that he never built immunity to common viruses. any time he needs to be out and about for whatever reason, there's a 50/50 shot he's going to come down with something. and you'd think he'd be a whiny baby about it but ortho always discovers him lying in his bed in a mostly dissociative state. because he never got sick as a kid in styx, he never learned to take care of himself so it's up to ortho to get him back on his feet
Ortho - with all due respect, this is a robot. you'll be involved in the next post buddy. hang in there
Diasomnia:
Sebek - his ears get clogged every. single. time. so imagine sebek's voice right... now imagine he can't hear. the entire dorm is aware when he's feeling stuffed up. of course, he insists on staying up malleus' ass as usual but he does so with kn95 masks, surgical gloves up to his elbows, and an honestly insane amount of hand sanitizer
Silver - i feel like it's obvious that his way of dealing with sickness is to just sleep it off. his body is already so prone to exhaustion that any fatigue just makes it ten times worse. but he doesn't like to fight through it alone. any time he gets sick, he makes his way into his father's bed and curls up there instead of in his own. lilia knows all the ways to make him feel better. he teases him a little, saying he's far too old to be coddled and soothed to sleep. but in reality, he doesn't mind. it's nice to have his little boy back for a while
Lilia - being sick doesn't really bother him much. it's a part of life and he's been around long enough to know how to deal with it. the biggest problem comes from his back. the physical exhaustion from illness means that the pain he feels is intensified. sometimes, he's bed-bound for a day or more. in those times, it's silver's turn to take care of him for a change. he likes to make little jokes about it, saying things like "ah yes, this is why you have children. good job taking care of your old man." he doesn't want anyone else to know what's going on and silver would never tell
Malleus - you always know malleus is ill by the wailing cry that emanates from sebek. he has failed his lord! how could he possibly forgive himself!? sebek tries to help but lilia has to shoo him away. in times like these, his reptile instincts kick in. he squeezes himself under his bed and barely moves at all. every few hours, lilia wiggles under there and asks if he needs to moisten him with a spray bottle to which malleus responds with spitting a few sparks directly in his face as a warning. he doesn't like to be bothered. he'll crawl out when he's ready
Tumblr media
118 notes · View notes
hitomisuzuya · 1 year ago
Note
HIII SUZUUU first time requesting kind nervous lol. For once finally ur requests are open when I'm up 😭 I've been thinking abt scummy scara way too much lately like literally basically imagine just going on a cute date with him only for him to fuck you dumb the second u guys arent in public 🤭🤭🤭
Scaramouche x fem!reader. Scummy Scaramouche. Smut. Edging. Teasing. Degradation. Some date fluff. Reader is hinted in having a metal allergy cause I am allergic to gold jewelry.
Have I said how much I love when requests are worded like this 😳😌 No one should feel nervous requesting from me. 🥺
It was no secret that Scaramouche was a trust fund baby. And the one thing he liked to do with that money is spend it on you. He has to spoil his precious girl, after all.
If there was a cute stuffed animal you looked at for even a second in passing, it was yours. You wanted a book, he bought the whole series for you. You commented on how pretty a piece of expensive jewelry was, he bought it without hesitation. Especially if it was silver. Your skin was finicky about certain metals.
Scaramouche thought silver was prettier, anyways. Not prettier than you. How dare a metal even consider coming close to you.
He always touching you in some way as you walked. An arm around your waist, holding your hand, even sitting down somewhere he had his hand on your thigh. You were taken, damn it, and he needed to make the perfectly clear to anyone who looked.
"Scara, you've spent enough money on me already," You fretted, making him chuckle as he stopped in front of a lingerie boutique in town.
"Nonsense, I insist," Scaramouche replied. Oh yeah, he always insisted. Especially if it meant picking out lingerie for him to rip off later.
God, just picturing how you would look in the lacy black, blue, and purple lingerie to picked out for you was starting to make his cock twitch. "If you need any help, I can come in with you," He said, wishing the changing room door had some kind of keyhole.
"No, Scara, it's okay. I can manage," You said, blushing from how enthusiastic he sounded about helping you put everything on.
That wasn't the point. He needed to see how you looked in them. His imagination was starting to drive him a little crazy. His fingers were shaking with need, and the anticipation of getting his hands on you.
Even the lady behind the counter was starting to give him a stern look. He probably looked something like a dog frothing at the mouth.
With many bags in hand, back you headed with Scaramouche to his dorm. No sooner were you a few steps from it, he was making you drop bags right in the hallway, pushing you against the wall. His hands roamed greedily over your body, biting at your lips as he kissed you.
"Mmmm~," He purred, hooking his fingers through your panties, "you wore the one I hoped you would out of the store." He could hardly wait when you had given him only a price tag to take up to the counter with everything else.
Throwing open his dorm room door, Scaramouche stumbled inside with you, his lips never leaving yours. His hands pawed at your clothes, standing behind you in front of his mirror so he could watch himself remove the lacy purple lingerie. "Purple always looks so pretty on your skin," He kissed and bit at your shoulder as he unhooked your bra, groping your breasts before tugging it off.
Guiding you over to his bed, he pushed you down on it, spreading your legs as he licked a long the inside of your thighs. You squirmed, his spit rolling down the inside of your thighs to soak against the fabric.
"Ha, getting wound already. What a needy slut you are," He purred excitedly, hastily tugging your panties off. His eyes drank in your form spread out before him, just as hastily taking off his clothes. "Can't wait for me to fuck you dumb on my cock, hm?"
You whimpered, grinding needily against him as he pressed the tip of his aching cock on your clit. It sounded so fucking sweet to him that he had to hear it over and over again.
Scaramouche groaned every time he heard you whimper, relentlessly teasing the tip of his cock against your entrance. The way you squirmed on desperation, your walls fluttering and clenching around it was a drool worthy sight to him. His mouth said as much, drool dripping down onto your chest.
"Scara, please, put your cock all the way in me. I can't take much more," You pleaded, reaching down to grasp his cock to try and urge it inside of you. "Cum inside of me."
That sent him feral. Folding your body, and throwing your legs over his shoulder, his slid his cock slowly inside of you. Groaning, he cursed when his cock rested against your sweet spot. Pulling out to the tip, he slowly pushed himself back inside so he could feel your walls clench tight around his cock as he bottomed out again.
Every thrust made you see stars, your eyes rolling closed. Wrapping your arms around him, you clung to him. Scaramouche was determined for the entire campus to hear how good he was fucking you.
"Fuck, look at me when you cum, slut," Scaramouche hissed, pounding himself inside of you, his entire body quivering, his cock throbbing with his approaching orgasm.
Your eyes snapped open, tears welling in them as his lips captured yours to swallow your moans. He bit at your lips, pulling away when your legs started to tremble in pleasure.
"Scream it, whore. Who's fucking you this good, hm?" Scaramouche pushed your legs farther up towards your head, his husky moans only rose in octave as he drove he cock deeper inside of you.
"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Scaramouche!" The way you chanted his name like mantra, your release flooding around his cock made him cum suddenly inside of you. He left his cock resting deep into your sweet spot, his warm cum ribboning inside of you. You felt every throb of his cock.
Panting, Scaramouche pulled out of you after a few long minutes of feverishly fucking his cum back inside of you. Rolling off of you, he latched one of his lips around your nipple, sucking on it as he scooped some of his cum onto his fingers.
Your back arched off the bed, gasping when he rubbed and hooked his fingers over your sweet spot. You still hadn't entirely come down from your orgasm.
Scaramouche only wanted to continue to make his precious girl feel as good you made him feel. By cumming again all over his fingers.
609 notes · View notes
tsunami-of-tears · 9 months ago
Text
Healing Hands
Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 2 (Comfort)
Cazriel x Healer Reader
Summary: When Azriel and Cassian require healing, they can always rely on their friend, Y/N, to help them out.
Pairing Masterlist
Wordcount: 1.6K
Warnings: injury/illness; slight angst; mostly fluff.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *
Reader
When you first saw Azriel, cloaked in shadows, you thought death had finally come for you. 
Instead, he offered you a new chance at life. 
You couldn't help but develop a little crush. Gods, he was so handsome. Attractive and kind - you were done for. 
And then there was Cassian. He was so easy to get along with, the two of you were fast friends, especially with the amount of injuries the male received. 
You wondered if he was doing it on purpose, as a way to spend more time with you. You shake your head, trying to rid the thought from your mind. ‘Don’t be silly, why would he do that when his job requires him to be in peak physical condition?’ 
You managed to stay professional, for the most part. Cassian made it very hard with all of his flirting. You quickly realised it helped to take his mind off the pain while you were healing him. So, taking a holistic approach, you joined in on his games to help him through it. 
Azriel, on the other hand, was always on his best behaviour. You got to see a side of him that’s usually kept hidden behind his shadows. A soft side. The two of you would talk and talk while you patched him up. You’d chat about everything, new books, music, that new bakery by the Sidra that made the most divine cakes…
Getting on with Cassian and Azriel was easy. What wasn’t easy was battling your growing feelings for both of them. 
————
You’re working on restocking your salves and tonics, humming a song from your village as you grind magical herbs together. You’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. “Come in,” you say cheerily, stepping away from the work to greet your visitor. 
The door opens and Cassian enters your small clinic with a bright pink nose and red, puffy eyes. “Y/N, I think I’m dying,” he sniffles. 
You move closer and press your hand against Cassian’s forehead, letting your powers diagnose him.
“I’ve seen you with far worse ailments than allergies, Cassian.”
“You try not being able to breathe and see how you like it,” he responds.
“Take a seat, I was just finishing up a tonic that will help.” You gesture towards the stool on the other side of your workstation and you go back to mixing the tonic. Cassian watches you working in unusual silence. The only sounds in the room are the grinding of your mortar and pestle and the occasional sneeze. 
“Remind me to stock up on this if we ever visit Spring,” you smile, handing Cassian the glass vial. He downs the amber liquid in one big gulp. Within minutes his symptoms start to wane. Cassian stands and lifts you into a big hug, spinning you around. 
“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver, Y/N.” Cassian beams, planting a loud kiss on the top of your head as he sets you on your feet. 
You laugh in response to his affection. “It’s nothing,” you say.
You both turn at the sound of a male cough. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Azriel drawls. 
“Just saving Cassian’s life. Again,” you wink.
“Thanks again Y//N.” Cassian kisses you on the cheek on his way out of the clinic, leaving you alone with the shadow singer.
You scan Azriel’s face. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and a haunted look on his face.
“What can I help you with, Az?” you ask.
“Just some scrapes, I’ve become such a baby since you’ve been around,” he smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 
“It’s always my pleasure to help.” You turn to look through your jars of salves, grabbing one with numbing properties. 
You turn towards Azriel, motioning for him to take a seat. You grab his hand, your powers doing a quick scan - you can sense he has some minor scraps on his knuckles, but he’s also got something wrong in his chest - your powers can't quite determine what it is. 
You do your best to keep the concern from your face as you start to work the salve into his knuckles. Azriel shuts his eyes as you massage his hands. 
“Az,” you say softly, approaching the topic hesitantly, “is there anything else I should know about?”
He opens his eyes, looking into yours, “like what? I’m fine,” he says.
“You haven't had any pain elsewhere?” You push.
“No, why would I?”
“Well, I don't want to alarm you but my magic has never been wrong before. It’s detected something other than these scrapes…” You point towards his chest, right over his heart, “There’s something wrong here.”
Azriel exhales through his nose, “Oh, that. It’s nothing I can’t handle.’”
You frown at the male, sighing. Illyrians were a stubborn breed, you decided. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Azriel nods and leaves your clinic, leaving you wondering what worries plague him and what you can do to help. 
————
Azriel continues to mope around for a few days, the dark circles never leaving his face. Not even Mor can get him to smile.
With your worries only increasing, you turn to Rhys and Feyre for some answers. 
You explain what you felt to Rhys, that you knew something was wrong but you couldn’t tell what.
Rhys props his chin on his hand pensively, “Azriel has always had his demons, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Just keep monitoring him and try to get him to talk. I know he feels fondly for you, it may just take him time to open up.” 
You nod, taking in the High Lord’s words. 
Feyre gives you a reassuring shoulder squeeze, “He’ll be alright. He’s got you.”
You give her a meek smile and exit the office, on your way to try and cheer up your friend.
————
“Az!” you call out in the House of Wind, “Where are you?”
He appears down the hall, a flurry of shadows swirling around him and towards you. “Yes, Y/N?” 
“Can you please give me a lift to the city? I’ve got a few things to pick up, and I’m craving something from that bakery.”
Azriel nods, “Sure, are you ready to go now?”
“Sure am, lead the way.”
He scoops you up into his arms like he did the day he rescued you and launches into the sky. The wind rushes past your face and you scream out in joy, loving the exhilarating feeling of soaring through the air. You wrap your arms tighters around Azriel’s neck as he starts to descend.
You land and he places you down gently. ‘Thank you, kind sir,” you say, curtsying. Azriel rolls his eyes but can’t fight the smile creeping onto his face.
You grab his hand and break into a skip down the street, triumphant over your small win - getting a grin out of the spymaster. 
Azriel follows after you, listening intently as you chatter away animatedly. 
As you exit a shop selling different apothecary ingredients you spy a busker on the street playing the fiddle. 
“Oh Az, will you dance with me?” 
Azriel pauses, observing the crowd before taking your extended hand in his. The two of you dance clumsily in the street, letting the music flow through your body. 
As the musician hits the crescendo, Azriel lifts you into the air and spins with you while you laugh loudly and unabashed. When he places you on your feet you notice a small crowd has gathered, they break into applause for both you and the fiddler as the song ends. 
You take Azriel’s hand and make him bow with you. He smiles and shakes his head but humours you. You tip the busker generously and give him a small wave as you continue down the street, still holding onto Azriel’s hand. 
As you approach your favourite bakery - Azriel’s mood has lightened. You can still feel the pain but it has lessened significantly. 
————
With your treats in hand, you make your way to the Sidra and lean against the wrought iron banister edging the river. 
Azriel said he’d get whatever you did - so you opted for two huge brownies with a generous dusting of icing sugar on top.
“These look so good,” you gush, grinning madly at Azriel. 
The slice of cake is so thick that your nose brushes it as you take a bite. You cover your mouth as you chew and swallow. 
“That is amazing,” you moan, turning to Azriel. “How is yours?”
Azriel takes one look at you - with sugar on your nose and chocolate in your teeth and bursts into a deep laugh.
“It’s brilliant, but how have you already made such a mess?” 
“What do you mean?” You ask, “Is there something on my face?” 
“Here let me.” He reaches up and brushes your nose softly, wiping away the sugar. “It’s still all in your teeth though.”
“I’m saving that for later,” you say with a wink and the two of you burst out laughing again. 
Standing so close to Azriel, you can’t help but admire his gorgeous face. And his eyes - there are less shadows in them. 
“Thank you for today,” Azriel says quietly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “You’re good at that.”
“Good at what?”
“Knowing what I need.” He smiles, “Come on,” he beckons with his head, “Let's get back home before you make more of a mess of yourself.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *
Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael @lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe
221 notes · View notes
celestialprincesse · 9 months ago
Note
Hi Angie!
I was wondering - if you have the time and will - would you write some more poly stuff?
Could be whatever you want.
Thank you!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
One Xtra large helping of poly fluff coming right up 🤭🎀
Tumblr media
Weekends are your favourite. When all the boys are home and you've got the time to just be. It's the little things, like how you go padding downstairs barefoot long after the sun has risen, stomach rumbling impatiently at the smell of freshly fried bacon and hot coffee, the kind from the expensive machine Kyle had bought you this Christmas just gone.
You can't help but grin when you feel Johnny's hands looping loosely around your waist, your head rolling back onto his shoulder with a contented sigh as he noses your jawline affectionately, murmuring about how lovely you look in the morning, how pleased he is to have a weekend with no plans. You, however? Oh, you've got plans. Having your four, massive military boyfriends home can only mean one thing.
Furniture shopping.
More specifically? Antique furniture shopping. Trawling the local thrift stores for anything that piques your interest, and might find its perfect place in your home. Seeing as the boys are back with the truck, and the the weather is just on the cooler side of summer, today is the perfect opportunity. Simon, John, Kyle and Johnny are also perfectly happy to indulge you in all of your roosting ways, just as house proud as the day they'd all met you.
Fortunately, it takes all of fifteen minutes to find the boys and be on your way, the perks of military men, you suppose. Punctuality is engrained into their very person. It's unnerving sometimes.
They're happy if you're happy, even if Kyle does have to hold in his sneezes until Johnny can subtly slip him an antihistamine, all whilst you're fawning over old paintings with an unenthused Simon (he's trying) and a pensive John, who thinks he's getting old and needs to learn how to enjoy a melange of meaningless paint splotches on a canvas. You just like the colours.
Admittedly, you've also been watching all sorts of antiques programmes on the TV during their last deployment, hyper fixating on the promise of buying some cool, vintage piece for the house only to find out that it just so happens to be a lost furniture piece from Versailles, or maybe a Picasso drawing gone missing from a collection. The dopamine is also nice. Almost as nice as spending time bobbing around with the boys, laughing at the way John reaches for his wallet the moment you so much as look at something for too ling, or how Kyle keeps staring at your ass, getting distracted and almost knocking stuff over.
It's not so much the shopping, you realise, upon going home empty handed, it's the getting out with your favourite people, and getting to spend the with not a worry in the world (except for Kyle's obvious dust allergy)
Tumblr media
Short! But! I'm back on my grind! Now that visitors are gone (hallelujah)
I've been literally scrolling endlessly through Josh & Matt's tiktok as some weird form of self soothing and it's made me miss thrifting so pls enjoy this until I can get my little secondhand purchase fix 🎀
227 notes · View notes
monstersdownthepath · 2 months ago
Text
A Collection of Fiendish Demigods
Tumblr media
(pic source)
A Duke of Hell and two Daemon Harbingers for fun. As always, there's more lore than what I put in their little blurbs; the Duke of Hell especially is one I came up with years ago but never had the opportunity to put into any practice. I actually considered it for the position of Demon Lord for the longest time, but its focus on back-breaking labor and law--plus my dearth of Lawful Evil fiends in general--made me reconsider.
The Harbingers are also two niches I've noticed have yet to be filled. In a world full of unfair deaths, I can think of few miserable ends more unfair than death through allergies, an affliction which the people of Golarion understand but not have the means to treat. With it, I'm also introducing the concept of the Phylaxidaemons, plant-insect creatures who shed thick layers of choking pollen and whose poisonous touch causes horrific swelling in its victims which can lead to them choking to death as their throat closes up. The Phylaxidaemons themselves will be another post.
The second is a much more recent creation, representing death through medical malpractice and through trusting care providers who don't have your interests at heart. And with him, the introduction of the placebodaemon and iatrodaemon. CR 4 and 12, representing death by false cures and harmful "cures," respective.
Reminder that Infernal Dukes grant a spell-like of levels 3, 7, and 9 as Boons which are usable 1/day, and Daemon Harbingers grant spell-likes of levels 2, 4, and 6 usable 2/day.
Father Dermosi, Duke of the Endless Rows Lawful Evil Infernal Duke of Labor, Sacrifice, and Farming
One would not expect a devil to be a holy man, but in his life before his infernal transformation, the figure that would become Father Dermosi was a follower of Erastil. A passionate preacher, hard worker, skilled farmer, and firm believer in the cleansing power of difficult labor, Dermosi is a textbook showing of what too much fervor can do to one's mind, as he believed (and preached) a corrupt form of Old Deadeye's teachings in which backbreaking labor and sacrifice of one's own health for the good of the community were the only true sacrifices which Erastil would appreciate.
In his own words, he believed that a soul had to be "beaten into a shape that could fit through Heaven's gates," and the only way to achieve this 'shape' was to grind away at every edge and angle of one's personality until all that was left was a desire to work. Physical abuse to drive people further became more and more common, and when people began to die from him constantly pushing them to do more, many snapped to their senses and realized that he had strayed from Erastil's guidance, that this could not possibly be what the god wanted... but any who spoke up were harshly punished, exiled, or even executed by the rest of the flock, out of either fear or fervor. It was only when Erastil himself sent a few of his chosen to the town to try and fix what happening that many of Dermosi's naysayers found the bravery to stand up alongside one another, and the corrupt Father found himself facing execution or exile. He chose execution, believing he would be judged worthy of Heaven.
As one can likely tell, he didn't even see the gates before he was thrown into the fires of Hell.
Rather than turn inwards and reflect on his own wicked beliefs, Father Dermosi concluded that Heaven denying him was an error on their part, that Erastil had betrayed him rather than the other way around. As his soul became corrupted by hellfire, he concluded that Erastil's teachings were far too 'light-handed' and that Heaven didn't deserve someone with his strength of will and desire to improve himself and others, at which point he embraced his transformation into a devil and rose swiftly through Hell's hierarchy.
Father Dermosi now lays claim to the Sinner's Till, an area of Avernus where endless fields of strange and unearthly crops are nourished by and tended to by hapless petitioners and enslaved Outsiders, each one subject to the sermons and sadism of the Duke of the Endless Rows as they ceaselessly work until their souls begin to break down, allowing him to--literally and figuratively--beat them into entirely new shapes in service to the Archdevils.
Domains: Community, Evil, Law, Plant Subdomains: Devil, Sovereignty, Growth, Toil* Favored Weapon: Scythe Symbol: A bundle of corn wrapped in white or gold thread. Sacred Animals: Farm animals, particularly chickens Sacred Colors: Gold, green *Followers of Dermosi may alter any of his Domains with the Toil Subdomain, replacing the second power of each Domain and the spells granted at the appropriate levels. They may only alter one Domain in this way, and cannot alter a Domain that has already been altered by a Subdomain.
Obedience: Perform one hour of strenuous manual labor, or force another to do so with threats of pain if they do not comply. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to saves against any effect which would fatigue or exhaust you.
Boon 1: Spike Growth Boon 2: Waves of Exhaustion Boon 3: Dominate Monster
-----
Tazhimea, the Baleful Bouquet Neutral Evil Daemon Harbinger of Allergens, Stinging Insects, and Weeds
Somewhere in the dismal plane of Abaddon, there is a land where a false sun shines over a gorgeous landscape filled with a veritable rainbow of strange plants bearing an equally alien yet delicious bounty. As one may expect, this is not a place of mercy or respite, as even a single breath of its sickly sweet air can spell a miserable, choking end for most mortals. Even other daemons tend to steer clear of this place lest they, too, fall victim to the machinations of the Phylaxidaemons and their beautiful progenitor, Tazhimea.
Tazhimea appears to be some anthropomorphic butterfly or moth woven of beautiful and otherworldly plants, their wings shimmering with a myriad of colors rarely seen in nature, but standing anywhere close enough to examine the details is almost certain death; the moment one is able to smell the daemon's powerfully cloying perfume is the moment one has breathed their last, their nose overrunning with thick mucus as their throat begins to close up, all to keep out the scent. Tazhimea is Harbinger of Allergens, and thus has a unique approach to the problem of how to bring death to the masses, namely by twisting the body's own immune response against itself with puffs of spores and pollen, powerful perfumes, or the stings and bites of insects that hide within the body of the Harbinger and of its servitors. The Harbinger's garden is their laboratory as they breed together flora and fauna from all over the Great Beyond to birth creations whose effluvium triggers violent reactions in any creature that inhales or touches them, with the fiend's ultimate goal to form an allergen that can affect even them, at which point they know their work has become perfect.
Because Tazhimea's creations turn the victims' own immune system against it, there is little one can do to protect themselves from it. Living creatures that are immune to disease or poison are ironically more vulnerable to the Harbinger's foul magic as their powerful immunity goes berserk in response to a sniff of a foul but ultimately harmless perfume or a painful and debilitating but nonfatal sting, turning an attack that could have been survived into a life-threatening affliction for which there is no cure. For all the terror they bring to the living, though, they have a distinct disadvantage when combating creatures such as Elementals, Constructs, and Undead, a disadvantage which prevents them from truly seeking the throne of the Horseman of Plague.
Domains: Animal, Evil, Death, Plant Subdomains: Insect, Daemon, Growth, Venom* Favored Weapon: Rapier Symbol: A beautiful flower with a bee sitting in the center Sacred Animals: Bees and ants Sacred Colors: Green and red *followers of Tazhimea may modify the Animal Domain with the Venom Subdomain.
Obedience: Sow the seeds of plants which provoke allergic reactions. If you cannot, invoke an allergic reaction in yourself, then suffer through it for at least 1 hour before attempting to cure or alleviate it. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to saving throws against disease and poison effects.
Boon 1: Garden of Peril Boon 2: Cape of Wasps Boon 3: Greater Insect Spies
-----
Qaiqol, the Honest Doctor Neutral Evil Daemon Harbinger of Placebos, False Cures, and Malpractice
A foul and recent fiend, Qaiqol was once a snake-oil salesman whose silver tongue and seemingly miraculous mixtures ended numerous lives. Whether it was a balm that soothed pain but prompted hemorrhagic bleeding or some 'incredible' surgery to replace a failing organ which went tragically awry, Qaiqol was at the forefront of inventing countless ways to harm others with fabricated cures and poisonous medicines, and was always a change of name and facial hair away from doing it again in the next settlement he preyed upon.
Far beyond any rational or explainable motive, Qaiqol would dissect or even vivisect others to better understand the border between panacea and poison upon the body's various systems, and how the two could be blended together to provoke the most destructive reactions. Were he benevolent he could have been an incredible doctor, but as it was, he was a serial killer with a particularly sadistic modus operandi, one that involved giving another hope for a cure only to have their symptoms become worse, then terminal. His actions were not even for the purpose of becoming rich--though he did make a tidy profit off stealing and selling the belongings and even the bodies of the deceased--but from outright sadism and a wicked desire to sow public distrust towards actual, well-meaning practitioners.
Such a foul soul could only ever be condemned to Abaddon, but Qaiqol's vicious drive persisted even after death. For all his power in life, though, he spent many years as a plaything in the courts of Apollyon before finally gaining the strength needed to betray and slay a pair of Harbingers--one which held dominion over surgeries, and one which delighted in spreading sickness in places of healing--and take their power for himself. He now commands squadrons of Placebodaemons and Iatrodaemons (representing, respectively, those who die from false cures and those who die from medical complications) as the greatest of their numbers, and works to hock his poisonous snake oil to every corner of the Great Beyond and erode the bonds between communities and the apothecaries and doctors striving to help them.
Domains: Artifice, Evil, Healing, Trickery Subdomains: Alchemy, Daemon, Medicine, Espionage Favored Weapon: Estoc Symbol: A medicine bottle of unknown liquid with a fanciful label Sacred Animals: Snake Sacred Colors: Blue, brown
Obedience: Work to cure injuries and ailments in other creatures for one hour in whatever fashion you can. Alternately, create and/or sell false medicines. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Bluff and Heal checks.
Boon 1: Fester Boon 2: Poisonous Balm Boon 3: Phantasmal Putrefaction
65 notes · View notes
barbinaj-blog · 1 year ago
Text
After Hours - Hasan Piker Fanfic
Tumblr media
tags: Lawyer AU, Coworkers to Lovers, Public place, SoftDom Hasan, Slight Degradation, Dirty Talk, Fingering
(((Minors DNI, 18+)))
“Pass me that stapler?” Hasan asked, not looking up from his stack of endless papers. His nose was pointed at his heavy workload, brow stuck to a deep line that bisected his forehead.
I didn’t respond verbally, just grabbed the rectangular office item and held it suspended in front of him for a few seconds.
His face lifted to look me in the eye, a single inky curl bouncing in front of his glasses. His forearm, now exposed because of his rolled up sleeves, slowly raised up his hand to push his glasses back up from the tip of his nose to properly see my blank expression. Or rather, an expression I had forced myself to put on since I’ve been put on this case with him.
Something about Hasan just jerked my ovaries slightly to the left. It only really gets obvious when we’re alone, which doesn’t happen often; but over the past week, this case that both our supervisors put us on duty to comb through made it so we had to put in even more overtime since starting at Grandor & Belfort.
He let out a sigh. “Please?”
“You’d think you were raised by wolves.” I placed it near his computer on the shared desk we were on in the library. He scoffed and swiped it as quickly as I left it, his finger brushing mine ever so slightly.
“Wolves would have been a cooler origin story for me, for sure.” He quipped flatly. I tried to stifle my snicker but half of it slipped out of me.
“Yeah? So you and the boys can bond over being true alphas?” I shot back.
“Only on the weekends, we don’t wanna do too much. Alphas don’t have to.” He grunted as he stood up and went to the bookcase, seemingly searching for another tome to rifle through.
I shook my head in wry amusement at how he can be such a levelheaded brat. It was impressive honestly. Which, if you ever saw Hasan from across the street, that would be the last thing you’d think he would be like.
Standing at an impressive 6’4, he was like an industrial container. Big and thick, a bit hairy and generally to himself. His hands were almost always balled up, and I’d notice his thumb would always be picking at his palm. Probably at the calluses he’d formed from constantly grinding weights into his fists everyday, without fail. Except for tonight.
“Did you find the terms set by the first trial?”
I didn’t realize i had been staring at him till he asked. I jolted back to work, fishing in my own mountain of copies. I stood up to try and find the file, biting the insides my cheek.
“You did find it, didn’t you?” I craned my head around to see his face a little bit too close. I felt the whispers of his breath on the back of my neck—typically, I’d be incredibly uncomfortable with someone, particularly a man, being right behind me, but this time my entire body was caught in the vice grip of adrenaline.
He smelled really good too.
“Y-yeah I swear I did…” I whipped my head back to my side of the desk, but I couldn’t focus in the sea of white sheets and black ink surrounding. All I could hear is a my heart thumping against my rib cage, practically trying to claw its way out of me.
“It’s right here…” His voice softened like soft serve melting on a hot day, dripping down slowly like his arm over my shoulder to the file that was on my right. He was tall enough to reach it, but I didn’t have the sense to duck so his chest wouldn’t brush up against my back like it did.
He pulled back and took a beat. “Could you pass it to me?”
My face was hot, and I quickly grabbed the paper and flung it at him without another word.
“Sorry, did I do something?”
“No, it’s allergies.” I squeaked.
He paused. He took the item from my hand and i felt his presence leave from behind me. I just stood there frozen and tried my best to not disintegrate into dust. My eyes fluttered and began to unblur, so I finally sat back down, my legs giving out much quicker than I had thought.
I felt something cold on my head and jumped at the sudden sensation.
“A peace offering.” Hasan plopped a can of fanta in front of me on my desk. I rubbed my shaved head and watched him also sit in front of me, opening his own can of the fizzy drink.
“And a sign that we should take a break.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, his wide frame hiding the chair out of sight. He took a sip, and kept his eye on my for a second while drinking. I cleared my throat and took that as a sign to quench my thirst.
“Thanks.” I popped the can open and took a light sip, still trying to compose the waves of somersaults that my gut was experiencing. “Fanta is my favorite.”
“I prefer diet coke, but fanta is up there with the greats.”
“Diet coke is literally car cleaner.” I heard myself say.
He shrugged. “Need to keep my engine clean. All this horsepower needs maintenance.”
A giggle nearly made me choke on my drink. “And that’s why, as a society, men are left behind. You just compared yourself to an object like it was nothing!”
“I’m calling myself an object! It’s acceptable if a man does it.”
“What, so if I did it then it would be different?”
“Oh 100%.”
“How?”
“Because.”
My brows pushed up, and I leaned in a little waiting for his response.
“Because you’re you.”
“And that means?”
He let out a short puff of air, and shifted in his seat a little. “That means that if you did it, it would mean something.”
I blinked at his answer. He continued “It would mean that your thoughts are impure.”
“And yours aren’t?” A dry chuckled escaped me.
He flashed a smile that I could only call mischievous. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“I’m asking.”
“And I plead the 5th.”
My back slumped back against my chair, arms crossed, my mind fizzling at what he meant by my specific objectification of him being different.
“Then what if I said you were a wet blanket of a person.”
He scoffed, looking away for a beat and swinging his heavy gaze back at me. “Yeah? You into that sorta thing?”
“No—” I stopped midway through my sentence because he was smiling at me. His lips were curled mischievously, his mouth slightly ajar. I could see his the underside his tongue as it pressed against his palette, as his eyes stayed deadlocked between my nose and chin. I swore his eyes slid over my lips too.
“You shouldn’t chew on your lip like that.” His voice was low and breathy, and quiet. But I heard him. “You do that a quite a bit.”
My face bloomed a heated blush, and I released my bottom lip. “Bad habit.” Shit. My poker face might be worse than I thought. I felt myself squirm in place.
“It’s cute.”
My eyes shot back at him. He was even more relaxed, his two forefingers holding his temple with his elbow on his arm rest.
“You got a booger though.” He scrunched up his nose at me. My hand snapped to cover my nose, and swivelled my back to him as my insides melted in embarrassment. I wiped my top lip beneath my nose, trying to capture the little thing that cost me my dignity in front of him.
“D’you get it?” He laughed.
“Hasan, I appreciate the concern but I’d love if you didn’t make more fun of me right now.” My voice trembled at the end.
“I’m not” He chuckled. I felt the chair turn back around, my sight line at his crotch for a split second. He crouched down to my level, his lashes low on his face and lips slightly parted. I saw the shimmer of his tongue swipe over his bottom lip.
“Move your hand,” his voice vibrated low and my lower stomach caught the frequency like a tuning fork. Buzzing with want and excitement. My hand wilted away from my lip.
“You’re so gullible.” He reached out, in what seemed like slow motion, and traced a feather light line over my cheek, trailing to my lips. His thumb pressed into the seam of my mouth, slipping in easily.
“Shit…” He hissed. I could barely keep my eyes open as the wave of pleasure washed over me. I had forgotten to breathe it seemed, my vision getting spottier and my head felt like it was floating off my body.
“Hey hey, breathe, baby.” My eyes popped open at the pet name and I gulped some air back into my lungs.
“There you go baby, there you go…” He eclipsed the space between us, tugging his finger out my mouth, despite my whines of protest. I could barely hear my own voice from the rush of blood going to my head.
As quickly as his finger left my lips, the tip of his nose pecked mine and I laid my forehead against his just to take a moment of rest.
“You’re squeezing your legs.” He said quietly. I hadn’t noticed it till I felt his hand on my knee. He slid his hand down my thigh, my breath growing more irregular by the moment.
“Hasan, please, I—” He reached my centre, using the friction of my dress pants against my growing need, palm out. I pressed my hips forward, searching for that feeling. A piece of lighting struck my core and he silenced my moans with his mouth. His lips were like sweet relief, quenching my desperation with his taste.
Kissing Hasan was something I thought about, but in practice I couldn’t believe how good it felt. It couldn’t have felt better, and the more he pushed into me the more I let him in. Rival to his tongue was only his hand, large and quick, already in my pants and past my underwear.
“Fuck…you’re so wet for me…” His voice sounded strained from something, but I wasn’t ready to detach from his lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he took that as an opportunity to lift me from my chair to the desk.
My fly had been unzipped and he sunk deeper into my folds, so slow and cruel. Everytime he left my sweet pressure I ran back to it, bucking against his movements to guide him where to go. The back and forth was agonizing, but so perfect. The inconsistent pleasure was addictive.
“You’re so cute, trying to tell me where to go…” He said in a mocking tone. “You like when I touch you here?”
I nodded into his shoulder, clamping my lips together.
“Yeah? You like this don’t you? In a public place? Getting all wet for me?”
I could barely respond with anything more than moanful breaths—he was making me lose my mind. My mind was fogged up by his smell and his voice, his breath, his taste. I wanted to taste him again.
“I’m not talking to myself, am I?” I looked up at him, and pushed my chin up to his face to kiss.
“Nuh-uh. I asked you a question, baby. Answer.”
“I do, I love it, please Hasan,” He drove his hips forward and that spread me open even more. My knees were higher up near his torso, causing me to use one of my arms to steady myself behind me. He used his free hand to tug my pants down from my ass, and I lifted myself to get them off in one fell swoop. He captured my lips again, and I sang my praises into his mouth at the return of his tongue.
He kept pressing into me, slowly and gently laying me down on the table. He cradled my head and pushed the laptop and books out the way, still digging at my shivering insides with his thick fingers.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re not gonna cum are you? Just from me fingering you like this?” He started to pull my pant legs off, making me more exposed but freer than ever. He kept my thighs pressed together, crossed at the ankles, laying across his left shoulder.
A mangled groan at the back of my throat seeped out of me as he started fingering me faster and faster, his thumb now bullying my clit. “Hasan, please don’t sto—”
“You’re not listening babe, I asked if you’re gonna cum from me just playing with your pussy in the library. Are you?” He was panting too now, pushing my straight legs closer to my chest, his face looking down on me with nothing but lust and something a shade darker than sex.
“Yes, please, it feels so good, I can’t take it any longer…!”
“Then cum.” He kissed me and I was whisked away. He kept nudging inside me, and I succumbed to the fall of my orgasm. His tongue and fingers were acting as one, and I felt my core flex and bit on his lip, riding the choppy waves of my release.
A minute or ten passed by, I couldn’t tell, as he slowly ended his reign of pleasure over me, leaving trails of kisses on my cheek and my neck, to my unbuttoned blouse near my collarbone.
“You made such a mess on me, babe.” He licked at my jaw, while slowly emptying my entrance and rubbing my sensitive button.
“You’re gonna have to pay for that, sweetheart.” He smiled against my neck as it all faded to black.
—————
If you made it this far, leave a like or a comment. Let me know if this needs a part two!
223 notes · View notes
belokhvostikova · 1 year ago
Text
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, vaginal sex, and use of safe word (playful nature, not graphic).
𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.
Tumblr media
Fucking flowers.
If not for the reason of being gifted to you as a sign of unconditional love, what good are they for?
By the coming month of April, humid warmth had suffocated Hawkins, Indiana to no avail, compelling a moody metalhead to become a sweaty, moody metalhead; the universe’s disastrous attempt of combining homeostasis with leather and chains.
On the bright side, the muggy atmosphere had a beautiful tendency of trapping hot girls, like yourself, into obtaining skimpy outfits of tank tops and short shorts that were surely in no complaints to the wandering eyes of boyfriends, Eddie Munson alike.
Although, the blissfulness could only be something of a short-lived experience, when suddenly his eyes would water, vision too blurry by the fault of a fucking flower to see you prancing around in practically nothing. It was times like these he hated his eyes for being so big; wider diameter meaning bigger target- or whatever the hell made sense in his Eddie Munson Doctrine under the section of allergies.
And look, Eddie wasn’t one to necessarily care of bullshit schtick of traditional masculinity, but it sure as hell bruised his ego facing the reality that a speckle of yellow dust on a Marigold could wipe him out. That’s like having a peanut allergy, the fuck?!
The trailer was supposed to be his safe haven—where buzzing bees, blistering heat, growing plants, and an environment swallowed by nefarious pollen couldn’t get to him—but when the air conditioner hit its celebratory age of becoming geriatric, windows were forced open for the hopefully possibility that the night could bring a small zephyr cool enough to dry sweaty skin.
Especially when nightly activities brought on more sweat than usual…
“Oh- fuck!” Eddie knew it was simply uncomfortable perspiration, but the way your skin glowed like you were glazed with glimmers made his cock spur, particularly more when cheeks were exposed by cutoff denim, and tits were bouncy free without the support of a constricting bra.
Eddie Munson had prowled onto you like a predator catching its prey. “So fucking tight- mm, shit, baby!” Positioned onto your side, Eddie took the liberty of raising your thigh open, your foot playing its part to secure itself behind his leg to hold in place.
“H-Harder, please, Eds!” Not one to disobey, Eddie’s pelvis had slammed against your backside, letting the bush of curls tickle your ass as your grinded back in seek of release.
His movements were enough to drool out your arousal, letting his tightening balls of heavy cum become coated in your juices, as he drilled into your pussy. A snaked arm under your neck had led to his grabby hands squeezing down to your boob, your perked nipple rubbing against a callous on his palm that had your mewling with new sensations.
“Fuck, yes! Back that ass into me, sweetheart! Fucking do it- so fucking delicious!” Eddie was becoming delirious from the grip of your cunt, letting his mouth fall open with gasps of ecstasy, so vulnerable to the yellow devil that awaited him outside.
And it struck with an onslaught of no mercy, riding the warm breeze as a means to weak sinuses, ready to cock block a desperate metalhead, who four hours ago was wishing death to all pollen and pollen-things alike.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop, ugh, keep going!” Having your pussy pulsate with tightening clenches was enough to bring your boyfriend to brink of stuffing you full. But a tickle in his nose had suddenly snapped some coherency to the reality of his sensitive nasal cavity, and Eddie knew it was a losing game.
“Princess! Mm, oh my god, oh my-” Ever the gentleman, Eddie head quickly maneuvered his head away to save you from the sprays of snot. A guttural sneeze of ear-splitting volume had startled you in the midst of sex, constraining you to look back at your giggling boy toy.
Movements of thrusts surely halted, you laughed. “Bless you.” A groan of embarrassment, yet amusement, was all you were met with, as Eddie pulled out against both your wishes to lay back in defeat.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Stuffed to oblivion, his voice and chuckles had been tainted with mucus. You’d turn to face him, ready to soothe his aggravated nose bridge, but stubborn as ever, he refused. “No, don’t look at me, I’m all gross!” Eddie whined, shoving your face away with no real force.
You beamed. “No, it’s okay, let’s keep going.”
“Nuh-uh! Ozzy, I’m calling my safe word, can’t do nothing about it now. No, no!” He incoherently laughed, as though he got the last one. The notion of another man being your safe word was a conversation for another day.
“Eddie!”
“I ruined it, ugh, I ruined everything!” He dramatically wailed. “I sneezed, got the sniffles, now my ears are- fuck,” a big yawn ripped from him, “I’m yawning now, fuck! I’m humiliated.”
Refusing to accept his pity party, you turned his chin to meet his lips with a savoring kiss that had him groaning with want. “No-” *kiss* “No, baby-” *kiss* “I just sneezed-” *kiss* “I probably have snot all over-”
“You don’t.” You swallowed his lips, leaving him to whine.
“Okay, good.” He chuckled against you mouth. You hoisted your leg over his hips to straddle him, and line his cock to the clenching entrance of your pussy to finish what he started.
“Uh- fuck!”
Pollen: 23,738
Eddie: 1 *ding ding ding* (a very lucky one)
Tumblr media
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Inspired by this audio! Had to Eddie-fy it, of course. Sounded too much like an Eddie Munson situation, lol.
317 notes · View notes
vv-julian · 1 year ago
Text
SOC HEADCANONS RAAHHHH
kaz brekker: -grinds his teeth nonstop day in and out -good at logistical math like statistics, inequalities, stuff like exponential expressions etc. so fucking bad at geometry. give him a triangle he is like kys. prove this is a triangle? you want proof? i have proof that your wife is cheating on you -inej makes him do puzzles a lot. sudoku type stuff -drinks black coffee for show but hes not a caffeine-keeps-me-awake guy. hes a sugar-keeps-me-awake guy. sometimes its candies but usually it is sugar cane that he chews (did not originally know you weren't supposed to eat the fibers and would just swallow all of it)
inej ghafa: -made herself a self care routine, then ignored it and still completes all the tasks but not the way she organized it -is not one to yell at the other crows but they have many behaviors that are her pet peeves -when practicing climbing trees she tried to climb a weeping willow and got stuck on some of the leaves. inej vs weeping willow and she lost. now willows are her least favorite type of tree. plant in general -thought counting sheep was literal. learned it wasnt but it still helps her sleep
jesper fahey: -has an infrequent tendency to accidentally buy doubles of something. when he does he goes 2 wylan and is like SUPRISE!! i got us matching (insert thing) here -can do the worm, cannot do the macarena -went through a phase where he tried to impress kaz with puns. ended with violence -tried ballet. Tried
wylan hendriks: -gets regular migranes -buys huge sticker packs and puts the stickers on random people he sees. sometimes the crows but mostly just random unsuspecting people on the street. -dry ass skin. hates lotion texture though so its permanent. -likes to wear bracelets underneath his shirts/jackets and wears a LOT of them on the daily but theyre all really tight so they dont make noise or anything. and nobody can see them
nina zenik: -owns a stuffed animal but its for beating the shit out of when she gets mad. big ass stuffie that she just goes cobra kai on. -prefers hard candies over soft ones. hard candies like rock candy or those grandma caramel things that hurt if you bite them -neutral on classical books and poetry but actually despises old philosophy things written by dead guys. -has some joints that she can bend further than normal. like a double jointed elbow or smth and likes to scare matthais and be like OH MY GOD I SNAPPED MY ARM BACKWARDS and then laugh at him (lovingly though)
matthais helvar: -isnt dead L+Ratio -went to a rave once on accident. has never forgotten the experience and regularly thinks about it when he spaces out. little disco lights behind his eyes when hes staring at a wall. (he also would not go back to one) -only wears low-cut socks. gets into arguments with people about his dislike of high-cut socks -has stupid rare non-lethal allergies. nina tries to get him to eat food that is foreign to him and sometimes he just like. starts hacking it up and gets hives or somethn
181 notes · View notes
rosesloveletters · 1 year ago
Text
The Flowers You Gave Me.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader
Word Count: 3,080
Warnings: no major content warnings apply.
Summary: Reader has a food allergy/intolerance and has to carefully monitor everything that they consume. They are unable to eat anything inside of Wonka's original Chocolate Room and, therefore, he takes it upon himself to create an entirely separate Chocolate Room for their enjoyment and pleasure with foods which are completely safe for them to eat and free from any cross-contamination.
Author's Note: this fic is incredibly special to me, as Wonka's Chocolate Room is my absolute FAVORITE room inside his factory, but I would likely be able to eat almost nothing in there. At least, the chocolate would be off limits to me. I like to think Wonka would want everyone to be able to enjoy his chocolate and sweets, regardless of allergies and/or intolerances and, as we all know quite well, he goes above and beyond with extravagance.
Edited.
divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.
Tumblr media
The chocolate factory was a symphony of sights, sounds and smells.
The aroma of melted chocolate that filled the air was impossible to resist. Its rich, saccharine scent was intoxicating and sensual, making your mouth water in anticipation of the delicious treats that lied ahead. The sound of machines grinding and churning echoed in hypnotic rhythm throughout the halls while the incandescent lights shone down in poor, artificial substitution for real sunlight. 
Anyone else might have run off to taste-test as much product as they could get their hands on, but you had to be vigilant of everything you put into your mouth, scrutinize every ingredient to make absolute certain that there was nothing used in the production of what you were about to eat that could potentially make you sick. 
You were a bit resentful that you could not simply indulge in whatever you pleased, but this was your reality and you chose to make the best of it rather than let it control you. 
“I still don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what new product you’ve made, Willy,” your voice was terse, strained as if it pained you to remain cordial when he unwittingly teased you with treats you would not be able to sample, “why do I have to see it?”
It was not his fault, you reminded yourself. He knew your system could not tolerate certain foods, yet it was still understandable that time to time he might forget, although it was unlikely, considering his high intelligence, attention to detail and information retention. 
It was not that you were disinterested in his work; you wanted to share his excitement, but you could only do so much. 
You couldn’t taste anything inside of the chocolate factory until he gave you the ‘all clear’. You had to have confirmation and extensive reassurance that you were not ingesting anything toxic to your system and that nothing you put into your body was contaminated in any way. It was of the utmost importance that Wonka took the necessary steps and food safety precautions before offering you anything to eat. 
“Because to believe is to see, my dear, and you believe in me, do you not?” the smart curve of his lips as he smirked at you and the twinkle in his eyes betrayed little, but you felt like he was tempting you despite his words not making much sense, “I can see the worry lines forming, but please don’t be alarmed. You have tried so many of my creations and I haven’t poisoned you yet.” 
His words were meant to be comforting, but the added ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence filled you with apprehension. You knew that Willy would never intentionally give you something that would make you sick. He was not that cruel or uncaring. His words were playful and innocent and meant only to calm you down.  
Your cheeks were warm with embarrassment as you followed along beside him, however he stayed a pace or two ahead, traveling at a rather brisk clip. 
“I know. You’re right and I didn’t mean to imply that you would do something like that,” you tried to explain yourself, but Willy did not want to hear it. 
He held his hand up to silence you long enough for him to interject, “no need to explain anything away. I understand your concern, my dear, and am very sympathetic to your condition. Nevertheless, I simply must show you this.”
There was no getting around it. Whatever it was that Willy Wonka had to share, he was going to show it to you. At this point, your curiosity was starting to get the best of you and you increased your pace to keep up with him as he led you down a long hallway that you had never been on before.  
You were in the wing of the factory which housed Wonka’s beloved Chocolate Room. 
The sweet fragrance of melted chocolate wafted into your nostrils and you could practically taste it on your tongue. 
There was a lot which was unsafe for you to eat inside that room and it piqued your curiosity of why he would bring you to this part of the factory, but you remained silent as he led you on down the hall. 
Willy stopped in front of a door not unlike the one which led to the Chocolate Room. The wood itself was the same rich brown, carved to resemble a chocolate bar, except this one had an intricate gold inlay to set it apart from the others and indicate a very clear distinction between this room and the Chocolate Room. 
You would have noticed this door if you had chosen not to avoid this part of the factory and now as you stood outside the wonders held within the room beyond, you could not help yourself from asking, “what are we doing here?”  
He did not answer your question, but there was a knowing look in his eyes and that was one which you were highly familiar with. 
Willy Wonka was always up to something, but whether you wanted to know what it was were you uncertain. He had a penchant for hijinks and was known for being a bit of a trickster; you never quite knew if you could trust what he was saying or doing. He had created an aura of mystery and crafted the illusion that things happened inside the factory that were beyond his control, but you knew better. You had wised up to his antics and knew that nothing that happened here was without his approval, knowledge or doing. He was very much in control of what went on inside of his chocolate factory, regardless of what he might have let others believe.
His laissez-faire attitude added to the magic, but it was all a façade; this was his chocolate factory and he was the mastermind. 
“This is my most recent masterpiece,” he informed you, “the latest and greatest in chocolate confectionery that was as much of a challenge as it was a labor of love and artistry.”
He was proud of what he had created here, that was for certain. He was often humble about his work, even though you would have sung his praises to the moon and beyond. 
You did not know what to expect and so you eagerly awaited the unveiling with bated breath and hoped that whatever lied behind that door was edible and safe for you to consume. 
Wonka practically read your thoughts, “don’t get over-excited, my dear. Take it all in stride and appreciate what considerable effort went into it.”
His overreaching statements were as wild in sentiment as his hair was in texture and volume. 
You watched with wonder as one of the panels on the door flipped down to reveal a small piano lock, just like the one he had installed to keep the Chocolate Room off limits and protected. He played a few notes, which had a lower cadence and was played at a considerably slower pace than that of the overture of Mozart’s Marriage of figaro. 
Wonka deftly tapped the keys in smooth succession and you recognized the opening notes of Claude Debussy’s Clair de lune as the door unlocked itself. 
A wave of conscious relaxation washed over you like the calm, undulating ripples of the sun-warmed sea. 
He had wanted to surprise you, but this came as a shock. Clair de lune was your favorite piece and you vaguely recalled telling him this long ago; somehow, he had remembered. 
Willy Wonka didn’t acknowledge your surprise but was grinning from ear to ear as he pushed the door open. 
You remained where you stood, rooted to the spot. 
He had…remembered?
Why did he choose to use such a specific piece for this lock?
What was going on?
You felt like there was some giant secret that everyone was in on except for you, which was often the case with him, even if it would have been merely your perception with anyone else. 
You decided better than to ask him about it, knowing he did not like to be questioned and would therefore make up a silly excuse not to answer. Perhaps it was better that way, to simply enjoy these little surprises for what they were and to not look a gift horse in the mouth. 
A little smile lit up your expression and Wonka glanced over his shoulder to admire the look on your face. 
The soft light in his cornflower eyes made him seem almost ethereal. 
His gaze shifted skyward and his smirk grew.
He refrained from divulging that he had learned Clair de lune in its entirety; perhaps he would share this with you after dinner, when he might idly choose to sit at the piano and play, giving you yet another little surprise like tiny morsels spread throughout the day so that you could have a taste of sweetness each time you had a craving. 
What use was it to devour it all at once, rather than savor everything he had to offer?
Willy Wonka had so many secrets to share, but he wanted to take his time. 
Luckily, you would have willingly spent a lifetime just to learn his name, not to mention everything else in his head, which was an even more beautiful place than any one of the seven wonders of the world. 
Wonka gestured for you to enter, holding the door open for you. 
After you had recovered, your legs felt like jelly, but were steady enough to carry you over the threshold and onto the landing inside the room.
The sight that greeted you was so overwhelming that you did not notice Wonka enter and close the door behind you. 
He was still smiling, his eyes raking over you as he assessed your reaction to determine whether you were pleased. 
You covered your gaping mouth as your eyes were drawn to an array of vibrant colors and abstract shapes, candy-coated woodland scenery inside of a sugar-inducing wonderland.
It was all too reminiscent of his original Chocolate Room, except for the lack of a chocolate waterfall, but you were not about to complain. 
He had brought this vision to life straight out of his storybook mind and everything that your eyes gazed upon was something Wonka had envisioned and created with his own two hands. It was miraculous and beautiful, swirling and twisting delicacies that grew on trees and from the ground like real living plants and flowers. 
Your mouth watered and your stomach rumbled with hunger. You were literally a kid in a candy store; even your actual age couldn’t call you otherwise. 
However, as quickly as your excitement had built, it soon faded twice as fast. 
You could not eat any of it. 
“Oh, Willy…” your voice came out in a soft, halting whine, desperate to fill your mouth and stomach with sweets you knew you could not have, “it’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“It’s for you.”
His words did not resonate with you at first; you did not even acknowledge them.
How could all of this be for you?
You did not understand and Willy did not clarify. 
He took your hand and tucked it under his arm as he led you down the steps and along one of the little paths. The small pathway curved into a small clearing filled with chocolate flowers and giant mushrooms with red licorice caps and frosting-filled spots. Your eyes did not deceive you when you thought you saw the very same edible flower teacups that grew in his original Chocolate Room. They were even the same color!
You bent down to admire them as they blossomed in buttery yellow splendor, a pleasant smile blooming across your features. 
These ones were somewhat different, shimmering as if they had been sprinkled with pixie dust; Wonka’s factory was nothing short of a fairy tale and you wondered what they were made of. 
“Give one a try,” Willy urged you, “I know you’ve always wanted to.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but the glint in Wonka’s eye made you pause. 
What was he not telling you?
You were beginning to put the pieces together and suddenly it clicked in your mind.
“You did all this…for me?”
Wonka nodded humbly, “of course. I can’t have you missing out on any of my confections, now, can I? Everything in this room is safe for you to eat and the only ones who have access to it are a select few Oompa-Loompas I have chosen specifically for their expertise in cross-contamination prevention who have been made aware of your dietary restrictions, you and myself.”
You did not know what to say. No amount of thanks would ever be enough compensation for all the work he had done to provide you with the safety and comfort that everything that you consumed inside this room was perfectly safe for you to eat. You would never have been able to repay such a grand gesture, but Willy did not ask you to. He simply wanted you to be able to enjoy these delicacies despite your restrictions and since he was the most masterful chocolatier in the world, he was more than capable of giving you that. 
“I don’t know what to say…,” but soon, you blurted out, “thank you, Willy!”
Tears pricked your eyes like sharp glass droplets and Willy’s expression softened. He extended his arms, offering you a hug which you gladly accepted. 
His arms enveloped you in a tight embrace and you burrowed in against his chest. He smelled of cocoa and understated tones of autumn earth and candied maple drizzle with brown sugar nectar. 
You inhaled, your head swimming with the intoxicating smell of him as he held you. 
“Are you alright?” he asked softly, craning his neck to look down at you. 
His eyes chased yours as you seemed somewhat afraid to make eye contact with him now; he wanted you to see the gentle look on his face and know that you were always safe here with him.
“Y-Yes,” you stammered, “it’s just…no one has ever gone to so much trouble for me before.”
“What trouble?” he asked with a slight frown on his face, “putting this together for you was a delight.”
“You know what I meant.”
Of course, he did. 
This was a massive undertaking for him alongside his usual work and to keep such a secret right under your nose would have been impossible if he hadn’t been Willy Wonka.
He heard everything that you were trying to say and it warmed his heart that you had such difficulty communicating it to him verbally. It meant more to him to see that satisfaction on your face rather than coming out of your mouth. 
Actions were stronger than words and this you and Wonka agreed upon. 
You gave him another little nuzzle and he patted your back in a comforting gesture. 
“Now, you can have whatever you like with no worry that it might be contaminated,” he assured you, his gentle voice like a sweetly sung melody, “but I don’t want you in here filling your belly unattended. A little bit of sugar goes a long way, so…I suggest we enjoy such things in moderation.”
You nodded, but then a thought came to you, “I think I’m far more at risk for sugar sickness from all your sweet words and kindnesses than from a little chocolate.”
“This isn’t your way of telling me to be unkind to you, is it?”
His teasing lilt made you laugh. 
“Absolutely not!” you replied, chuckling as he let go of you, “and all jokes aside, I really, really appreciate this, Willy. You have no idea…”
“Oh, I do,” he laughed with you.
He bent down and plucked one of the flower teacups and passed it to you, which you gratefully took from him. 
It was true; you had been longing to take a bite out of one of these since you had laid eyes on them, but thought it was never meant to be. Now, holding one in your hands, you were faced with the very real idea that you were as much a part of Wonka’s world as he was. 
You were as important to him as the cocoa bean was to the creation of chocolate. 
Everything that he did was now done with you in mind. 
It had taken some time to get to this point with him, but every step you took was another one which kept you by his side and you were ready and willing to carry on like this with him for the rest of your life. You wanted to coexist with him, to enjoy this wonderful world of candy that only he could create and now your fears seemed so far away.
Fear that had once convinced you that your limitations might cause resentment. 
Willy Wonka wanted you to know that no matter whether you could eat all his chocolate or none of it, that it did not determine how he felt about you. 
You were what was special and important to him and your impediments were not a disincentive. 
He would find a way around those because you deserved as much consideration and care as anyone else and he was determined to show you that. 
Willy knew how much it bothered you that you couldn’t just eat without worry and therefore he also knew just how much this meant to you that he cared enough for you that he would spend his free time putting together a Chocolate Room specifically designed to cater to your dietary needs and restrictions. 
He knew all this, and more, as he watched you take your first bite of the yellow flower teacup that had caught your fancy so much time ago. 
Your face twisted in delight and you hummed appreciatively as the taste of sweet crystal cream coated your taste buds. 
Knowing that he had finally been able to give you a gift that allowed you to enjoy his sweets uninhibited filled him with joy and even though he also knew you would be thanking him until the end of time, you didn’t need to. 
He had done this for no other reason than for your own enjoyment and pleasure and he knew how much you appreciated him. 
He knew more than you ever would have thought.  
Willy Wonka even knew that you loved him. 
104 notes · View notes
hot-puppuccino · 2 months ago
Text
I’m so weak right now, i feel all dazed and pathetic. I can’t tell if I’m sick or if it’s allergies, but god i want to wake up in the middle of my hibernation to slowly kiss. A lazy make out, my arms trying to grip and hold on, but my hands are just too weak. You periodically feel me slowly grinding against you, im mixed up between reality and dream falling in and out light sleeps. You’ve heard me whine and groan over my ailment all night, you feel so sorry for me. You just want to take care of your sick puppy. I want to feel soft kisses on the back of my head all over the nape of my neck. I want your soft hands rubbing the side of my sore body.
I stir, eyes open at least, still not very awake but now conscious my groans smooth into soft moans. Your obsessed with how hot my skin feels, how heat just radiates off of my body. Your hand follows this warmth to my stomach, you follow the heat slowly noticing how much warmer i feel the further your hand goes down. My eyes roll back a bit when i feel your hand graze over my bush. You take some slightly twisted pleasure is seeing me this vulnerable, and you take even more satisfaction in taking care of my needs.
You glide lightly across my tiny tdick, i shudder and moan, i never had any control to start with not in this state, i try grinding myself on your elusive fingers gently teasing me. It’s just too much work, i cant keep going. My whines get more pleading as my distress grows my body is comparative still to my regular health. You pity me so sweetly, your arm hold me tighter and your merciful hand strokes me gently. My heavy breathing fills the room. My lazy grinding against your soft bulge and your gentle working hand build me up slowly. This is truly bliss.
I can’t think about anything but your touch and your voice.
As you whisper sweet nothings into my ear between butterflied kisses.
The thorough pleasure and love you give to me at my weakest. I feel so cared for so safe as i work my way up to an overly intense orgasm on your hand. You slowly stroke my tdick harder and harder coaxing me to cum, telling me how much of a good job im doing how well i handle your touch, praising your good boy. Holding me tight against your warm soft body as i finish. You slowly work your way down bringing me to a soft finish. I turn to hold onto you and kiss you falling asleep with my face pressed perfectly into yours.
14 notes · View notes
goldenempyrean · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Nature Takes It's Toll
〚 Prompt - "You're like a human heating pad. I love it."  〛
〚 Pairing - Natasha x Reader 〛
〚 Wordcount - 690 〛
〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙
╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝
Both Natasha and yourself had eagerly anticipated your upcoming camping trip for weeks. As both of you were leading hectic lives, you were yearning for some much-needed respite from the daily grind. You were excited to escape into the great outdoors, to immerse yourself in the tranquillity of nature, and to reconnect with each other. 
The trip got off to a fantastic start, with invigorating hikes and rejuvenating walks amidst the breath taking scenery. You both marvelled at the majestic mountains, the crystal-clear streams, and the vibrant flora and fauna. You savoured the simple pleasures of roasting marshmallows over the campfire, savouring hearty meals, and gazing up at the twinkling constellations above. 
However, on the third day of the trip, things took an unexpected turn. Nat woke up with a surprisingly sore throat and the beginnings of a headache settling behind her eyes. At first, Nat tried to brush it off, thinking it was just allergies. 
But as the day progressed, she started to feel increasingly worse. Her throat was on fire, and her body ached all over. She had to take breaks during the hikes, which frustrated her as she prided herself on her stamina. 
By the evening, Nat's temperature had spiked, and she was shivering despite the layers of blankets wrapped around her. She couldn't even keep down the soup you had made for her. You were worried sick, but tried to remain calm and composed for Nat's sake and so you wrapped her up in her sleeping bag and nestled down beside her. 
"Hh’itshhiew!" Nat sneezed into her elbow, and you reached over to offer her a tissue from your bag. Her nose was red and raw, and her eyes were puffy and watery. She really did look miserable. 
"Sorry," she croaked, her voice hoarse. "I think I'm getting sick.” 
“Sorry baby, I think we both know you’re past the ‘getting sick’ phase. You sound awful.” You murmured sympathetically, “Do you think we should cut this trip short? You sound like you need to be in a warm bed, not shivering in your sleeping bag.” 
“I don’t want your trip to be ruined just because I’m a little sick, and I-“ She paused, scrunching up her nose as it itched sharply before sending her bobbing forward, "Ha'tschiii! Ugh, s’cuse me." Nat sniffled and asked for another tissue as you blessed you softly. 
You decision to cut your trip short was only further cemented when Nat couldn’t stop shivering, she’d even cuddles into your own sleeping bag, feverishly mumbling, “You’re like a human pad, I love it.” 
So, with a heavy heart, you decided that she needed to go home. She definitely wasn’t getting any better just laying here.  
You quickly packed up your campsite, trying to be as efficient as possible while still taking care of Nat. You could see the disappointment in her eyes, but she didn't protest. She knew she was in no condition to continue the trip. 
You helped Nat into the car, wrapping her up in blankets and turning up the heat. She was shivering so badly, and her forehead was burning up. You knew you needed to get her home and into bed as soon as possible. 
The drive back was quiet, except for the occasional cough or sneeze from Nat. You kept a close eye on her, and as you drove, you could feel your own throat starting to tickle. 
Once you finally made it back home, you immediately helped Nat inside and settled her into bed. You made her some tea with honey, which seemed to soothe her sore throat a bit but she didn’t manage to drink much before the soft scents and soothing taste lulled her tired body back to sleep. You smiled hearing her gentle snores and tucked her up, kissing her forehead lightly as you settled in beside her.  
The two of you had planned to spend the rest of the week out in the woods and while you were a little disappointed about your trip being cut so short, at least you had plenty of time to look after her. 
〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl 
258 notes · View notes
merlinandarthuryup · 4 months ago
Note
Tumblr media
write Matthew Patel x trandsmascxg reakfder who is allerfigc to peanuts NOW STUPID
Sigh..... okay....................
I don't know how it happened this way... How did everything go so wrong? Oh, that's right, I met Matthew Patel at this stupid cafe...
I was on my lunch break, temporarily freed from my job at Subway. I was exhausted from making stupid footlongs all day, nobody ordered anything else. It was all footlongs. I couldn't stand it. I decided to get a coffee. I headed down to my favorite coffee shop, they were always conscientious about my allergies there, making sure to use all peanut free ingredients in their food and drinks. But, when I walked up to the cafe, they were closed. Shit. I had to get coffee somewhere else. I thought for a while before deciding on a little place on the corner of the street across from my work. Second Cup. I always heard good things about this place, so I decided it was worth giving it a try.
I stepped in the door, an overwhelming scent of coffee filled my nose. It was a lot to take in. The sound of the coffee makers, the music (Not Allowed by TV girl), the people chattering, the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee, the door chiming as I entered... it was so... overwhelming! I was turning to leave to find a more calm place right as someone caught my eye. He was arguing with the barista, something about wanting his coffee beans partially grinded so he could feel them as he drank his coffee. She was telling him that they "don't do that here" and to "F**K OFF" She was kind of rude to him. I thought that maybe I should check up on the guy, he seemed pretty bummed out about the whole ordeal.
"Hey... guy" I nervously started, "she was pretty rude, want me to order something for you?"
He looked at me for a second, grumbled a bit, and collected himself.
"Hello! I am Matthew Patel!" He said just a bit too loud, unaware of the volume of his voice, "You are..?" He looked curiously at me, didn't seem like people showed him kindness that often...
"I'm Y/N" I tugged at my shirt nervously, "it's nice to meet you!"
Matthew looked around a bit anxiously before asking,
"Could you uhm order me a caramel frappuccino?"
"Yeah totally!" I replied, glad he took me up on my offer.
I stepped up to the counter, scanned the menu, and ordered,
"Hey could I get a vanilla mocha cold brew, and a caramel frappuccino?"
"Yeah whatever, what's the name of the order?" The annoyed barista asked.
"Y/N" You responded patiently.
She wrote your name on the cups and hurriedly made your drinks. As she was making them you decided to strike up conversation with this Patel fellow.
"So... Why were you trying to order coffee with the coffee beans like... not totally grinded?"
"Well," He thought for a minute and smiled, "when I was a kid my mom would grind her own coffee beans, it would leave a lot of extra unfiltered coffee beans floating around her coffee. I guess it reminds me of her."
Astonished at his motivations you stare, unable to form the words you want to say. He looks at you, getting more annoyed by each second you hesitate to answer him.
"What?" He asked annoyed
"Oh uh nothing, sorry! I just think it's really sweet." I smiled at him.
He looked away nervously, it didn't seem like he got complimented often. He was about to say something before the barista called out my name for the coffees. I walked over, grabbed our drinks, and handed Matthew his. Regardless of my anxiety, I asked him
"Would you like to have our coffees, like, together?"
He seemed nervous too, but put up a confident front, proudly stating, "That'd be great!"
We walked out of the coffee shop. As we walked we talked about our pasts, our motivations, dreams and goals, aspirations in life... it was like something out of a movie. Eventually it started to get dark, so we exchanged numbers and went our separate ways.
Soon after we texted all the time. It started out simple with occasionally asking each other about how our day was going, what we were up to, e.t.c., but it soon became about anything and everything we could think of. We would talk about the little thing , you know, like our day to day activities. While he seemed over confident and a bit egotistical, I soon got to see the real him. As I learned more about his personality I found that he really wasn't that confident in himself, but he was very caring and it showed.
We soon started to frequently meet up in person.
We would start by meeting at the park. Our first time hanging out at the park we just walked and talked for as long as we could, and by the time we ran out of daylight we were planning our next hang out. We would also get coffee together and go out to eat somewhere. One day when we were at the park Matthew turned to me, and looked like he had something he wanted to admit to me.
"Hey so," He wouldn't look into my eyes, "I have something I need to tell you about..."
Hesitantly I responded, "What is it?"
I mean what could he possibly tell me? God, so many friendships have ended because people hid away the worst parts of themselves from me. Or maybe they changed over time. Maybe there was something I was missing from the start. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding.
"I..." He paused, unsure if he should say what he desperately needed to, "I have... Demon Hipster Chicks who are like, close friends of mine who are at my beck and call..."
What. I simply froze in confusion. I felt like I couldn't reply. I just stood... and stared... and wondered... I tilted my head visibly confused.
"Yeah, uhh let me show you..." Suddenly he started to sing?!?!????
"These are my Demon Hipster Chicks" Four girls appeared out of nowhere?!?!?!??!?!!!!????????
"I shouldn't have kept them secret for so long!" He kept...singing....
"You're my close friend and keeping them secret was wroooonnngggg"
He was about to sing another verse but I simply put my hand up to stop him. I burst out laughing while he stood confused.
"Why are you laughing?" He stood confused and kind of embarrassed, his girls looked at each other not knowing what was going on.
"It's nothing it's just-" I kept laughing, failing to pull myself together, "I just thought you were keeping some horrible secret from me, trust me this is, like, nothing. And kind of awesome actually."
He looked relieved, "Did the song help?"
I laughed a bit, "Oh yeah for sure."
We continued to walk around the park talking for a bit. He introduced me to all of the girls and showed me some more of his powers. God he's so cool. I figured there was no time like the present to tell him.
"Hey Matthew, while we're telling each other secrets, there's something I need to tell you..."
He seemed a bit surprised and anxious, "W-what is it?"
I gathered all the courage I could and told him how I truly felt about him, "I... I really like you, do you... want to go out with me?"
He got very flustered, his demon chicks *poofed* away, he seemed to be struggling to find the right words, but he managed to get out a "Y-yes, you're really cool and that'd be cool and... yeah..." He looked away flustered and a bit embarrassed. He held his hand out, offering it to me. I gladly accepted and we walked around the park, unable to think of much to say, both of us were clearly very nervous. Then I remembered something else I wanted to tell him,
"Oh yeah also I'm trans, like a trans man."
He seemed relatively unphased, "Huh okay," he shrugged, "Me too."
I was shocked, then smiled, glad to know he was understanding and completely okay with me being who I am. And he was trans too!!???!!?!? So awesome.
As time went on we began spending more time at his apartment. It was always kept clean and pretty organized since he had the girls around to help him. Most of the house looked pretty normal, fully furnished. But his room is where his personality really shined through. He had some band posters on his wall, MCR, Pierce the Veil, and a couple other bands. They were always his favorites. He also kept his favorite games on a shelf. Those being Double Dragon: Neon, Street Fighter, Silent Hill, and a lot of other ones. He just pointed those out to me specifically because they were his favorites. We spent over a year together before the incident. Throughout that year we had so many good times together.
One time he called me mid cry because I couldn't afford my testosterone. I had been taking it for a couple months at this point and needed my next dose. About a half hour after the call he was at my door with the Demon Hipster Chicks. They brought me flowers, my favorite candy, and another bottle of T!! I nearly tackled him as I leapt to give him a hug.
Amazed, I asked him "How did you get this?"
"Oh you know, I have my ways, I know a guy who knows a guy and so on." He shrugged and hugged me tightly. Then he gently lifted my head, looked deeply into my eyes, and we kissed.
That reminds me of our first kiss... We were at his place watching one of his favorite movies, Donnie Darko. I was on the couch fully focused on the movie while Matthew cooked a meal for us. He had seen the movie countless times, so he didn't mind multitasking. He was making us some lasagna. He was following some recipe he found online, I told him again and again that he didn't have to make anything for us since he didn't have experience cooking, but he was adamant. About halfway through the movie it was done! He brought over our servings on a plate, and he sat next to me. I was a bit hesitant to take a bite, and he noticed,
"It's okay" He said, "I made sure nothing I cooked with had peanuts or peanut oil, or anything even adjacent to them."
Somehow he knew exactly what I was anxious about. He looked at me reassuringly and gestured for me to take a bite. I slowly raised the fork to my mouth. salivating over the delicious scent. I bit down and... It was the best lasagna I'd ever had!!!!!! I quickly scarfed down my whole plate, and he did the same. After we were done he took our plates to the kitchen, and sat down to watch the rest of the movie with me. I moved closer to him, leaning against his arm. He happily glanced over at me, and put his arm over my shoulder. He suddenly said,
"Hey you've got something on your face"
I sat up a bit to face him, "Where?"
"It's just a bit of sauce right here..." He leaned in close to my face, I slowly turned red as he cleaned the bit of sauce from my cheek.
"T-thanks" I stuttered, very flustered
"Mhm" He replied, both of us looking deeply into the others eyes. After a moment he placed his hand on my cheek and and he asked,
"Can I kiss you?"
I nodded and we both slowly leaned in, and passionately kissed. We missed the ending of the movie.
Things were nice for a while. They were more than nice they were... perfect... But, as they say, all good things must come to an end...
It was a chilly March morning. I woke up in Matthew's bed, something I had become accustomed to over our year of dating. I was practically moved in at this point. As I opened my eyes I noticed he wasn't laying next to me, rather hunched over his desk reading a letter. I slowly got up and walked over to see what it was about.
"What's that?" I asked through a yawn. He quickly hid the paper and shrugged it off,
"It's nothing, just the phone bill. Speaking of I need to make a call..." He seemed lost in thought. I tried to talk to him again but he hastily walked into the living room, pacing and thinking. I decided to give him some time while I got ready for the day. After about an hour I went back out into the living room to see him still vigorously pacing.
"Hey, are you doing okay my love?" I asked him, as I gently held his shoulder. He didn't respond. He seemed stressed. He kept thinking for a minute before he suddenly looked me in the eyes and said
"You know I love you right?" He looked really distraught.
"Yeah of course, and I love you too Matthew" I said, worried about him, "what's going on? Is everything okay?"
"There's... look I just have something I need to do for an old friend. It... it might change everything..." He then broke away from my hand and kept pacing.
"What does that mean? Are you okay, a-are you safe?" I was growing increasingly concerned for him. He just kept pacing.
"Matthew please talk to me!" He wouldn't say anything. He just kept thinking and pacing. I had to go to work, but I didn't want to leave him alone like this. I used the magic Matthew taught me to summon the Demon Chicks while I went to work.
When I came back home from my shift at Subway he seemed to be doing better. He was hanging out with the girls watching Psych.
"Hey babe how are you doing?" I asked cautiously.
He got up and gave me a kiss, "I'm doing much better, it's all been cleared up now." he smiled and sat back down on the couch.
"Oh yeah? What uh, what was going on earlier?"
"Hm? Oh that was nothing, just an old friend trying to dig up the past is all. It's all sorted now though."
"Ah, alright, well if you ever want to talk about it I'm always here to listen, okay?"
"Okay" he gestured for me to sit next to him, one of the girls moving to the floor to make room for me. I sat down, and we watched our show for a while before it was time for dinner.
"I better start on dinner before it's too late." I started to get up but he stopped me, saying
"No no, it's alright, I'll make dinner tonight. I know you had a long shift today and you had to learn how to make a bunch of new recipes at work so I'll handle it." He stood and walked to the kitchen.
"Thank you, I really appreciate that."
"Of course! It's no problem at all."
I continued to watch the show with the girls as he cooked. Tonight he was making spaghetti. Nothing was out of the ordinary. It was all going fine until I felt a little *prick* in my arm. I quickly turned and saw Matthew had stuck a needle in my arm that was connected to a vile of...oil???? I quickly jumped up taking the needle out of my arm and shouted
"What are you doing!? Are you insane?!?!" I was panicking. I hated needles, and what was in that vile??? What was he trying to do? I thought he loved me?
"I'm doing what I have to do!" He shouted, clearly very distraught, "I...I got a letter about one of my exes, and I have to leave. I was going to leave silently, but Gideon said that I couldn't leave any trace of my past and... well, you're about to be a part of it. So... I..."
He looked at the needle that had fallen to the ground. I looked as well, putting two and two together
"You tried to kill me! Using... using...." my stomach dropped
"Peanut oil..." He looked away, ashamed.
"Fucking wow..." We both stood for a minute. Soon one of his demon hipster chicks grabbed a suitcase from the room and handed it to him. He snapped his fingers and all the girls disappeared.
"W-where are you going?" I asked, tears filling my eyes.
"Toronto. It's where she is. It's were Gideon will be. I... I'm sorry it has to be this way!" He disappeared as well. I just stood, sobbing. I sat on the couch trying to make sense of it all. How things could just fall apart so quickly. So many thoughts rushing through my mind as I comprehend what just happened. Who was he even talking about? What ex? Who's Gideon? Why did he never tell me about his past? Why wouldn't he? What was he hiding? Why would he have to... have to.... I broke down crying again.
To this day I still don't know what happened to him. Last I heard he got his ass kicked by some random guy whose name I don't remember. All I know is he was my first and last true love, and I will never experience anyone like him again.
Goodbye, Matthew Patel, may our paths never cross again.
15 notes · View notes