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jeannineee · 3 months

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nsfw alphabet: suguru geto

warnings: uhh there's a lot lol. it's smut. minors don't interact.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

the actual opposite of how he was only moments before. very attentive and doting. will massage your sore muscles, kiss any marks he left. usually runs you a bath unless you're too tired.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on himself, probably his hands. finds it cute when you mindlessly fidget with them. also likes how they look wrapped around your neck.

for you he loves your ass. i feel like this is something we have all agreed on collectively lmao. geto is an ass man.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

prefers to cum inside you. he's a simple man.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

honestly, geto is very open about what he's into, and what he would like to get out of your sex life. i don't see him hiding anything from you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's canonically the man w the most experience. above gojo, anyway. he knows exactly what he's doing. you won't have to guide him very much, if at all.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

remember how i said he is an ass man?

any position that gives him a good view of your ass is preferred. reverse cowgirl, prone bone, doggy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it really just depends. lazy morning sex? he's cracking jokes.

rough sex post-argument? he's v serious. it simply depends.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he just keeps a small patch of hair at the base. yes, it matches the hair on his head.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can be very intimate. like, the type of intimacy that is almost overwhelming, if that makes sense? something w his presence idk if y'all are gonna follow me on this one but yeah.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he does it whenever the need arises. but usually, you're around.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

first off, he has a daddy kink don't fight me on this. also into orgasm control, bondage--esp. shibari. bdsm in general tbh. likes mixing praise and degradation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he actually prefers the bedroom, so he can take his time with you. but if the two of you really need on another, he's down for anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you, just you. it doesn't take much for him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he doesn't have very many limits lol do with that what you will.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers giving!! but he's very teasing abt it. he very much enjoys edging you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

usually on the rougher side.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn't prefer them. he would rather take his time with you.

see L= location.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

very happy to experiment. he regularly comes to you with new things to try, and encourages you to do the same.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can last for hours on end. good luck.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he owns a plethora of toys, majority for you. lots of rope, vibrators, plugs, etc.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he is very, very unfair when it comes to teasing. he loves hearing you beg, so don't expect him to give in very quickly.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

somewhere in the middle. talks a lot when he's teasing you. also talks you through it. hismoaning isn't super loud until he's close to finishing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

wants to try subbing for you at least once, but isn't sure if he'd really enjoy it or not.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's hung. don't play with me. about 8 inches and very girthy.

(god i am gross LMFAOOOO)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

moderate. enough time for you to be able to recover in between. you're gonna need it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it usually takes him awhile. (overthinkers club!!!) you're always the first one to fall asleep.

#suguru geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #geto headcanons #suguru geto headcanons

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

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Solomon isn't just immortal. He's a vampire and we find out by accident. The moment MC sees the fangs and it's like the monster fucker light switch flips on. Wanting to see if it's true we feel pleasure as he feeds and feeling him take us til hes empty and full.

If you knows what I mean 😏😉

➤ temptations | solomon x afab!reader

solomon knows all the secrets you try to keep from him. it's only a matter of time before you learn his secret too.

content: nsfw (18+). afab!Reader (gn!pronouns). vampire au. canon-typical vampire behaviour including biting/blood drinking and possessiveness/jealousy, past killing/murder, minor angst, pining, pet names, teasing, thigh riding, overstimulation. 2.5k+ words.

Vampire!Solomon who hides his true identity from you because you’re overwhelmed adjusting to life in the Devildom. He wants to be your human exchange student friend, someone you can trust and turn to. He swears to the others that he’s no danger to you, and they agree to keep his secret in return.

Vampire!Solomon who offers to cook for you sometimes, and you’re absolutely stunned by how terrible his food is. (It’s too bitter, or too salty, and the meat he serves you is so raw it's inedible.) You accept the food with a grimace because he’s so enthusiastic and sweet when you visit him and the angels at Purgatory Hall. You notice quickly that he doesn’t eat when you do—he sits across the table from you with a soft smile and tells you that he already ate or, "Don’t worry, darling, I’ll eat later."

(You don’t remember when he first started calling you “darling” but you realize that you like it, and he knows you do, too.)

Vampire!Solomon who notices the collection of vampire-themed books and movies in your room. He pretends to be curious about what you’re reading, even though he knows the book in your hand is an explicit romance novel about a human and vampire having a steamy love affair. You squirm in your seat and tell him it’s just a silly vampire book, and he doesn’t bring it up again when you awkwardly change the topic.

Later in the privacy of his dorm, he wonders what it is about vampires specifically that you find so appealing. Is it the danger of being approached in the darkness by a handsome stranger? Do you want to be claimed by someone who will protect and worship you in exchange for your blood? There’s so many different versions of vampires in human pop culture, it’s impossible to guess without more subtle investigation.

(He tries not to think too hard about why he cares so much.)

Vampire!Solomon who doesn’t realize that his feelings for you have grown into something beyond friendship until its too late. He follows a delectable scent to the RAD library where he finds you studying by yourself. He tries to convince himself it’s just a new fragrance you’re wearing, or perhaps Asmo has given you some bath products to try.

(He’s been so sensitive to smells lately, and it’s only now that he realizes it’s because of you.)

Vampire!Solomon whose nose nearly brushes against your neck when he approaches you silently from behind. His eyes flutter shut in wanton bliss at the mere scent of your blood, thick like honey and just as sweet, pumping through your veins. He salivates at the thought of sinking his fangs into your skin, and he swallows thickly around the lump in his throat. His fists clench at his sides as he resists the urge to touch you and he steps back quickly, just in time for you to turn around and finally notice his presence. He stumbles through an awkward greeting before he makes his excuses and flees to the safety of his dorm, far away from you.

(He feels betrayed by his own desires. He swore to himself that he would be your friend—but that’s not enough. Not anymore.)

Vampire!Solomon who tries to ignore his feelings for you, stomping them deep down into the black chasm where his soul used to be. It’s a futile effort—he’s enraptured and tormented by you, the one person in the three realms he shouldn't want but he craves so much. He tries to find relief for his bloodlust in the human world, but there’s none to be found.

When he arrives in the human world to try to satiate his thirst, he tells himself he’s just hungry. Maybe a proper meal instead of bagged blood will alleviate the bitter hunger swirling inside him.

Before he met you, he liked to play with his food. It used to be such a rush, fucking them or choking them on his cock before feeding from them. He doesn’t seduce his prey tonight, even though they try to entice him—the human’s sultry smile and wandering hands across his chest do nothing but make him shudder in revulsion.

The clouds part and moonlight peeks through. He realizes the human he chose looks like a poor imitation of you, and he didn’t even realize it. He’s tempted to bite them anyway, to rip out their throat and bleed them dry in his frustration—but you wouldn’t approve if you ever found out, would you?

(He stopped killing for fun a long time ago, and he refuses to let this break him.)

He mutters a spell to jumble the human’s memory and lets them wander away from the alley unharmed. He returns to the Devildom hungry and frustrated, and he's determined to fix this problem once and for all.

Purgatory Hall is dark and quiet when you let yourself inside. Solomon called you earlier and claimed he didn’t have anything in particular he wanted to talk about, but he sounded strange. His voice was rough and bitter, so unlike the friendly sorcerer you’ve grown fond of.

“Sol, are you okay? You sound upset about something.”

“Oh, darling,” he sighs heavily into the receiver, “you have no idea.”

“I can come over if you want company, unless you’d rather be alone.”

“You’re so sweet, aren’t you? Very well—the others are out at the moment and I'd rather speak to you privately. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

There’s a flicker of candlelight coming from underneath his bedroom door, and you knock softly before entering. There’s only a single candle lit on the mantle and most of the room is shrouded in darkness. You can’t even see Solomon at first, but you hear a noise near his desk and realize he's watching you from his wingback chair. He crooks his finger for you to come closer when you hesitate just inside the doorway.

He grabs something off his lap and tosses it on the desk haphazardly. The book slides across the smooth surface towards you, and your cheeks flush when you recognize the cover of one of the erotic vampire novels you’ve read.

“It wasn’t as bad as I expected,” he admits, tone far too casual to be sincere, “but like most books, this one isn’t very accurate when it comes to vampire lore.”

You laugh nervously to try and cover your bashfulness. “I suppose you know more about vampires than most humans do?”

He rises from his chair and walks around the desk so that he's in front of you. He leans back against it as he picks up something that reflects the moonlight—a wine glass, one you didn’t notice before in the dark room.

“You could say that,” he murmurs as he swirls the liquid in the glass before lifting it to his lips.

It would be easier to pretend the red liquid he drinks is wine, if it weren’t for its viscous texture and the metallic scent filling the air. You stare at him as he licks away a smear of blood from his lip; his eyes glow unnaturally bright in the dark room as he stares back.

“You’re…you’re a—“ you're stunned into silence, barely able to utter the word as you try to process what's happening.

He sighs and sets the nearly empty glass on the desk. “A vampire, yes.” He scrutinizes your expression. “You don’t seem afraid, darling—but maybe you should be.”

It suddenly makes sense now, how the others always warned you to stay away from him. He treated you so kindly, you didn’t believe he was dangerous. Somewhere along the way, your feelings for him changed into something more. You’ve thought about what it might be like to go on a proper date with him, to kiss him and invite him to your bed and feel him move inside you.

You should be terrified, but you’re not.

You think about his sweet gestures and gentle touches, and the way he says your name with so much fondness. You don’t want to doubt him, but you have to be certain you’re not mistaken about his intentions for you. “You're not going to hurt me.” It's not a question because you already know the answer.

"No, I would never hurt you. Quite the opposite, really." His gaze softens, but he still seems uncertain about something. "I’m not sure you can truly understand what it's like to be with someone like me."

You walk towards him before you lose your nerve, and you place a shaking hand on his chest, over the empty place where his heart should be. “Then help me understand, please? Because I like you, as more than just a friend—and learning about this hasn’t changed that.”

He says nothing while his eyes search your expression, and it feels like he’s picking apart your soul until he unburies the truth behind your words. He must be satisfied by what he sees in your eyes because he takes your hands in his and leads you around the desk to his chair. He sits down and tugs you down onto his lap.

You straddle his thighs nervously, trying hard not to put too much weight on his lap while you grasp his shoulders for balance.

“There must be a lot of things you’re curious about,” he says softly as he strokes the side of your face. He brushes your warm cheek with his thumb. “Let’s start with the basics, shall we? At least your book got something right.” He opens his mouth wide enough for you to see the fangs he normally conceals from view.

You lean closer to inspect them in the dim lighting of his room. They don’t look that sharp and you reach out curiously to touch one. The tip of a fang pricks your finger and you pull back with a hiss. He grabs your hand before you can wipe away the little bloom of crimson where his fang cut you.

“There’s something else you should know before we go any further, darling.” His tongue laps at the droplet of blood pooling on your fingertip, and his chest rumbles with a purr at your taste.

“I don’t like to share.” He watches another drop of blood slowly ooze from the cut. He pops your finger into his mouth with a quiet hum, twirling his tongue and sucking gently before pulling your hand away again. “I won't share your blood.”

His hand on your cheek slides down your neck and pauses over your pulse before smoothing over your cotton shirt. His hand stops on your breast where he feels your heartbeat thrum rapidly beneath his palm. “And I won’t share this.”

His hand glides over the curve of your belly before he dips into the space between your legs. “Or this,” he breathes, spreading his fingers as he rubs you through your pants. He exhales sharply through his nose, surprised at how damp you are already. He teases you a little more with his fingers, mesmerized by the heat of your arousal against his cool fingers. The scent of your slick permeates the air when he pulls his hand away.

“You’ll be mine alone, and no one else’s.” He holds you in place as his fingers clench possessively into the soft swell of your hips. "Can you accept that?"

You don’t know the words to express how overwhelmed and captivated you are by him. He might be a monster, but you’ve never wanted someone more in your entire life. You lean forward and kiss him, and you hope he understands all the feelings you can’t say.

He groans into the kiss as he tilts his head to slot your lips together. His kiss is hard and demanding and passionate. His tongue flicks at the seam of your lips and you open your mouth to him. You taste blood when his tongue curls with yours, but for some reason it makes you want him even more. You break the kiss with a gasp when you start to feel lightheaded.

He wraps an arm around your back and pulls you to his chest in a tight embrace. “Did you know that I could smell how wet you were when you read those naughty books of yours?” he whispers against your ear.

His lips graze along your jaw as he starts leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. “Did you ever fantasize that I was one of the monsters from your stories?" A gentle flick of his tongue against your pulse point. "Did it make you come, thinking about me biting you as I fucked you?”

He huffs in amusement against your throat when you squirm in his lap. "Oh, you did, didn't you?" He licks up your neck and tugs on your earlobe with his teeth. "Don't worry, darling—I thought about it too."

“Solomon, please,” you whine in his ear as you wind your fingers through his hair and to try pull him closer.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he asks as he nips lightly at your neck. “Fucking you senseless, tasting your pretty little cunt, feeding from you after. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

You whimper when his hand grasps the back of your neck and tilts your head to allow him better access. “Will it hurt?”

His eyes flick up and meet your hesitant gaze; you look so lovely with lust-darkened eyes, brightened with a hint of fear. “Oh, you’re going to love this,” he murmurs darkly, voice thick and full of promise, just before he bites you.

You cry out in surprise when the sharp pinch of his fangs break your skin. The slight pain dissipates and leaves behind a warming sensation that builds where his greedy lips drink from you. Waves of molten pleasure spread down your neck and courses through your veins, and you moan loudly and unashamed as desire pools in your belly.

Your thighs are warm and sticky from the slick soaking your underwear and your clit throbs with need. You grind down against his thigh in search of friction, and he moans appreciatively as he continues to slurp noisily at your neck.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you chase your pleasure, riding up and down his thigh as slick seeps through your pants and eases the glide. The wet fabric of your underwear pulls taut against your folds and adds a hint of friction to your clit every time you rub yourself against him.

He grunts and pushes your hips down, encouraging you to move even faster as he rocks against you. He relaxes his jaw and pulls his fangs from your neck, but the sensation of his tongue licking over the small bite marks is enough to send you over the edge. You hide your face against his shoulder when you cry out his name when you come, another surge of slick coating your folds and seeping through your clothes onto his.

He grabs at your ass and encourages you to keep moving against him, riding out your orgasm and wringing every drop of pleasure from your body. You fall limp against his chest and tremble from sensitivity, exhausted but so satisfied.

“You did so well for me. You’re perfect, darling.” He rubs your back and waits for you to catch your breath before he tilts your head up for a kiss. It's softer and sweeter than the kisses before, but it still stains your lips crimson.

You groan uncomfortably when you shift in his lap, and you realize just how wet and sticky your underwear and pants are now. There are dark streaks of your slick on his thigh and the pant leg underneath your dribbling cunt is soaked.

He looks delighted when he glances down and admires the mess you made of him. “You smell so delicious, I might never wash these again,” he teases, “but for now, perhaps we should move this to the bedroom? There’s so much more I want to show you, and I’m still hungry.”

read more: the vampire event masterlist | obey me masterlist

#obey me vampire au #obey me #omswd #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #solomon smut #x reader #afab!reader

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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imagine being loved by me

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 6 — The night we said goodbye. [“This is harder than I thought it’d be.”] [2.5k]

— joel miller x f!reader — a/n: this is mostly fluff and angst, hence the lack of warnings. i hope you guys enjoy this even though there's no smut. there are a lot of feelings to make up for that? anyway, i just wanted to imagine being loved by Joel (in the given canon circumstances) and this is what I came up with. enjoy <3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | part two →

"Eternal tourists of ourselves, there is no landscape but what we are. We possess nothing, for we don't even possess ourselves. We have nothing because we are nothing. What hand will I reach out, and to what universe? The universe isn't mine: it's me," you stop there, uncertain and nervous for more than one reason. "You want me to go on?"

Joel only grunts beneath you, and the palm he has wrapped around your calf starts rubbing there. He's a man of very few words — always has been — but you recognize his cues. Go on, the circles on your skin say. And — "I like it a lot when you read," he speaks, startling you for a second. "'s nice."

Three years since you've been doing this — years, and this is the night Joel chooses to speak his mind.

You grit your teeth and put on a smile, no matter how much it aches to do so. "Look at you, borrowing Pessoa's ability to use words 'n all," you tease.

Joel pinches your inner thigh — a warning.

You take one of your hands out of the book to poke his side — I'm not scared of you. Never was. Never could be.

Even if he's about to break your heart.

You continue reading.

He keeps on drinking it in, and you wonder not for the first time if Joel hears a word that comes out of his mouth or if this is just white noise for him.

I like it a lot when you read.

Inside your chest there's a special place saved only for the things Joel gives you as a gift.

There's no space for material things in the world you live in now. Being a man of very few words, you learned how to read Joel Miller from the moment you met him — a useful skill, one that came in handy over the past few years. People misread him a lot. Mostly because he allowed them to; sometimes because he wanted it that way.

They thought Joel was gruff. Callused.

You knew better.

Joel's body language never lied.

He gifted you things that way — a shrug of his shoulders that hid the fathom of a smile creeping up his face. His furrowed brows pierced together whenever someone spoke in louder tones in your presence. The ghost of his hand hovering over your back in between meetings, or the way he never looked you in the eye before kissing you.

All of them signs. All of them a way for him to communicate.

That was funny. I don't like their tone. I've got your six.

I can't let you see within me.

Joel might as well be an open book.

When Tess introduced the both of you, she said, "Just don't gain expectations. He's like us — lost everything. But he's a decent man, which is more than we can say about half of the people that made it."

A decent man was an understatement.

He was everything and then some in between.

Joel kept it simple when telling you that he and Tess had to leave.

Neither one of them owed you explanations, but they gave you one either way. The three of you ran something together — an illegal, dangerous, and fragile something, but it was yours. Built it from your hands.

They claimed you were the brains.

"You gotta stay," Joel stated. Not a request, and nothing in his eyes that said this is open for conversation. "Marlene gave us very little info. We'll try to make it back as soon as we can."

The implicate we don't know if we'll make it back was there.

You never missed the unspoken words.

"Okay," you agreed, because there was nothing else for you to do.

Tess had left with the kid. She hugged you, giving you the full list of contacts that would be seeing you for things, and said, "Take care of yourself" in the way she always did.

Joel stayed behind to collect what he needed, and because he said a day wouldn't make a difference.

Was it over-confident on your part to allow the fluttering in your chest to take full form after seeing him drop his things on your hardwood floor and ask you to go for a walk? Was it wishful thinking to know he was stealing moments?

The familiar sight of his back gives you comfort as you follow him.

That's the way it's always been — you always knew that one day, you'd see this for the last time.

Maybe it's a small mercy that they're leaving.

It's been years—much longer than you initially thought you'd have, much longer than you prayed for after the first night Joel knocked on your bedroom door seeking the comfort he saw in your eyes you were dying to give him, much longer than you dreamed you would have amidst all the chaos.

He walks through the broken gate and keeps the wire lifted for you to pass.

Those things — the little things no one pays attention to.

"Thanks," you smile at him.

He hums as an answer and keeps walking by your side until you're both on the open field. After checking the area, Joel lays down with a grunt, patting the grass next to him.

That's when you started reading.

He just pulls out the book from his backpack and hands it to you.

Read for me, please.

"From where we left off, or you want me to go back a few?" Sometimes, Joel fell asleep mid-chapter. He liked when you went back a few so he never missed a thing.

He shakes his head. "I was listenin'," he lets you adjust yourself on the tree, and lays with his head on his backpack, pulling your legs over his body. Cradling your calf in his palms. "Go on."

So you do.

The sky is losing its light by the time Joel takes his arm out of his eyes, and puts a hand in front of the pages.

You bookmark it, even if he'll never hear the end of it.

For some reason, you stay quiet with him.

Usually, the silence is filled with you — your ramblings, questions about the world from before, silly musings that he indulges in listening to.

There's something tragic about being alive nowadays.

It's not really living — it's this. Reading between the lines, and claiming your stomach is satisfied because of the crumbs.

Joel's hand caressing your skin was a whole meal.

His eyes on you, above everything else, were like water.

When he speaks, it's gruff. "You gonna take care of yourself while I'm gone, right?"

If one day you held back, today is not it. "I will. Can't undo all your hard work."

He frowns, "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, c'mon, Joel. It's just us. You and I both know I'd never be alive if it weren't for you and Tess."

"Bullshit. You're the—"

"Brains, I know," you interrupt. "But without the brawn, the brains can't make it that far."

He scoffs at that, and you realize your mistake only when the words are out. "Think we both know nature said that ain't the case anymore."

"Stupid nature," you curse without any heat, and it works. Joel's lip twitches, itching for a smile. "All it's good for is being gorgeous."

"Hm. That'd be you."

Well. They aren't the first nice words Joel's ever said to you, but they make up an even bigger space than everything else. The little box in your chest engraved with J.M. is blanketed in those three little words, and judging by the way he ducks his chin and looks down, Joel noticed his slip up a heartbeat too late.

"Are you gonna take care of yourself?" you ask, nudging his side.

Joel sits up before he answers, taking the place next to you. Then, he spreads his legs and pats the ground between them, and you take the invitation.

Sitting with your back to his chest and his arms around you is your favorite place to be, and something clutches at your throat at the realization this might be the last time.

"I always do," he finally answers.

Your throat is tight, so you place both hands over his arms and pull them tighter around you. "Good," your voice drops to a whisper. "Can't let stupid nature have you."

"She gets us all in the end."

"I know that. I meant before your due time," you insist.

Joel's only half-listening. When he starts rubbing his nose on your hair, tracing the outline of your ears, that means his attention is divided. "How d'you know when's one's due time?"

"Hell if I know. But I know it's not now."

"Yes, ma'am," he plants a kiss on your neck, and you forget words for a while.

Joel always knew how to do that.

He kissed you awake, and sometimes, he kissed you to sleep.

It was common for the two of you to just sit and exist in silence. In a world where there wasn't much space for anything — not for words, or feelings, or relationships, or growth — having this was out of the curve. Having comfort.

He never tensed around you.

When it's just the two of you, Joel's body is the most relaxed; whether it's due to your hands squeezing his muscles or the way you run your palms through his skin to bring him back to himself—he's at ease.

Laid back, shoulders slack. He keeps on leaving kisses across your neck and nape, and you keep your eyes closed, enjoying the proximity. Your nails run through his forearms, and eventually, Joel just stops there in the crook of your neck, breathing slowly.

He asks, "D'you mind if I take your bandana? The purple one?"

Your favorite bandana. His 'lucky charm', as he'd called it once. "No, you can have it."

"You ain't gonna miss it?"

I'll miss you, Joel. A piece of cloth makes no difference in my life. "You need the good luck charm more than me."

"Is that so?"

You scoff, "I'm not the one walking head-first into danger." Craning your neck to look at his face, you lean your head on his shoulder. Joel's face is impassive as always, aside from the little pinch between his brows. "It's your good luck charm, isn't it?"

"It is," he replies, faster than you're used to. A smile grows back on your face. "What?"

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Just — didn't think you'd ever say that again."

He shrugs his shoulders. "'s the truth."

"What made it lucky?"

Joel takes a second with that one. His hand around your upper body finds the collar of your shirt, and he plays with it. He's nervous, and you have no idea why. He shrugs as he says, "Dunno."

Bullshit. "Hmm — something tells me you do."

"Yeah?" he's smiling now.

"Yup," you press, popping the 'p'. Joel stops fighting his smile, and you want to kiss him, so you do. Most of the time, you use restraints around him. Now is not the time for restraint. "Tell me," you plea.

He sighs, the smile still on his face. "That first time I was trying to find alternative routes in and out of the QZ, remember?"

"Yeah."

"So — I'd lost my way. Some Clickers found me and I had to run. Lost my shit—dropped some of the stuff in my bag. I only found my way back 'cause two days later I tried the bridge over the place I got lost at initially and — there it was." Joel's fingertips are tracing your collarbones, and you realize now his body around you is the only thing keeping you from a collapse. "I saw that ugly thing from far, far away."

It makes you laugh — of course he's going to play it cool, make it less of what it is.

You get it. If you had to talk about the things that brought you a sense of home, the only thing that came to mind was the smell of Joel's deodorant mixed with the innate smell of him.

You hide your laugh in his chest, and Joel's hands come up to your nape and the back of your head.

The hurt bubbles up with his touch — you want to drown in your own tears, but he's still here and that would be going before your due time.

"Please be safe." It's rare for you to use the space between the lines, but sometimes you have to.

Please be safe because I need you. Because you've grown inside me. Because the smell of you are vines covering every inch of my ribcages, because every time I wake up and you're lying next to me I remember why we're humans, because Fernando Pessoa might have been right that we possess nothing, but what I am is someone who still knows love.

"I will." Joel heard it all. He pulls your head back to look into your eyes and you see it in his — through the guarded walls of his soul, you get a peak at the man who worries. Who always brings you coffee, who never allowed you to go on dangerous runs, who trusts you to keep his radio codes in case his brother calls for him. You're the lighthouse, he once said. Joel's hand keeps making a mess of your hair, and he looks like he wants to say something, but ultimately, he huffs. "This is harder than I thought it'd be."

"Of course it is," you laugh. "I'm the only one that knows how to make a decent cup of coffee. Or at least, one that you like."

That's when he kisses you.

Because it's true. Not the cup of coffee — Tess can do that as well, even if she never does, but the reality that you're the only one that can and wants to.

The only one who's allowed it.

Living in a world that has no space for living is difficult, but Joel manages to fit the whole human experience in the span of a kiss and some touches.

He's kept you safe, and guarded, and gave you blinks and pieces of the man he once was in return for all that you've given him.

He loves quietly, and kisses hard, and protects with every cell in his body — Joel still loves, even if the word's been burned out of his tongue when he held the most precious life known to him in his arms.

He loves, and you feel it, and you'll miss it.

Joel pulls back with a promise in his eyes that he will be back.

If he isn't, you'll be a moving lighthouse. You'll find him.

☆ join my writing challenge ☆

#usernexusnyx #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou imagine #nightskychallenge #joel miller au

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izvmimi · 1 month

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cw: canon deviation. time-skip (post demon slaying). babies. fem!reader.

“And what are you looking at?”

Genya is known for how intimidating he can be, but the round-cheeked, giggling child held at eye level between his hands right now will never see anything other than a loving father no matter how intensely he pretends to glare at him. The giggly ball of dough, practically hairless still despite nearly three months and a half in the world, kicks its feet and Genya smiles, helplessly charmed, before blowing a raspberry into his cheek and lowering him into his lap.

“Those Shinaguzawa family genes are no joke,” your friend jokes. She’s been watching the baby carefully for the past few minutes since she and Tanjiro entered the home, bearing gifts of cloth diapers and handmade quilt blankets, among other soft things. Genya is quickly defensive, reminding her for the nth time that your son has your nose, but you laugh to dispel the tension. After all, she’s right. The baby’s eyes are practically the same as his father's and his uncle's, although when he smiles ear to ear, his eyes close like yours do.

“He looks just like his daddy,” you agree. You’re still setting your dining table for six and your friends have gotten up to help you pour tea for six, and collect plates of dorayaki, senbei and edamame to set at the table.

Sanemi chuckles, adjusting his sitting position on the tatami.

“I mean, I think we deserve that much,” he says, gruffly, as he supports himself. You know what he means, and nod solemnly without additional comment while his wife squeezes his shoulder before disappearing to follow you. Your friends have congratulated you after the birth of your first child multiple times, having taken turns assisting you right after delivery, but you haven’t seen them in a month or so, and adjusting to your new life has been rewarding but difficult. One of them fills your pantry with dried goods while the other scans the premises for anywhere that she can clean or reinforce. You thank them, a smile on your face.

“We’re doing great. Genya takes good care of me, don’t worry,” you remind them, and they have no problems believing it.

Your baby thankfully isn’t fussy, and Genya is a surprisingly adept father, quick to learn the basics of bottle feeding and diapering, and making sure your house is clean and comfortable to live in. Living in relative poverty as a child made him work hard and be frugal, experiencing tragedy made him thoughtful and protective, and he does his absolute best to take care of you.

He’d always promised to take care of you as long as you both lived.

When you return to the entertainment room, your friends and you settling next to the men you’ve chosen, you lay your head on Genya’s shoulder, thankful that he’s the one that you chose, and he chose you just the same.

…

Sanemi and his wife stay the night, and once everyone has turned in from the night and your son is sleeping peacefully in his bassinet, you lay in bed, wrapped warm in Genya’s arms.

“We need a nephew or niece of our own, don’t you think?” you muse. “Gotta get them in the sack faster before they can’t catch up to us.”

Genya snorts, pressing his chin on the soft of your shoulder as he holds you closer.

“That’s their business,” he murmurs, gruffly. “By the way, tell your friend to stop calling our kid ‘tofu’.”

You giggle. “Has it been bothering you?”

“Yes or I wouldn’t be bringing it up right now.”

“I think it’s cute,” you tease, turning in his hold. He’s surprised by the sudden movement, you can tell, by the red in your cheeks. “What?”

Genya blinks, then kisses your forehead. “Nothing.”

“Is something on my face?” you ask.

“No. You’re beautiful.” You beam at this, then pull the covers tighter around your body.

“You’re a good dad, Genya,” you remind him. You’re not sure that he needs to hear it, but you want to reassure him. He’s heard tip after tip from his older brother today and you overheard Sanemi telling him his mother would be proud of him. You hope it sinks in because she would, and you wonder if he’s still mulling over the thought.

The sweet child nicknamed ‘tofu’ to his father’s chagrin sleeps through the night with parents that love him more than anything on earth, because they love each other more than life itself.

#genya shinazugawa x reader #genya x reader #genya x reader fluff #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #daydreams: kny #mimi's notes

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howdoesagrapewrites · 11 months

Note

Could you do both yandere hobie and pavitr x reader? Platonic or romantic, doesn’t matter really

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙞 / 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙣

Cw: lovesick!Hobie Brown x reader, lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x reader, murder, obsessive behavior

Notes: I didn't dive as deep in any of the scenarios because I didn't knew what you wanted, but you can always ask me to expand on a particular dynamic

>It's hard for me to see Hobie Brown as a yandere, he's a person that's against any form of control or unconsensual actions against someone, but it's not impossible

>We don't know what Hobie's canon event is, but his yandere nature could stem from it, being vulnerable and lost

>However, even as a yandere, he's extremely self aware and would prefer you never knew, he feels shameful about it, because even though his morals are a little fucked up in the eyes of the average citizen, he hates people who want to control others, who think they have some sort of authority over the people they love

>This goes harder if you're fem identifying because he feels the added layer of misogyny

>He has literally no problems killing people who wronged you, but he won't tell you. He won't deny it if you ask, but he doesn't go around bragging

>Most yanderes want to posses, protect or fuse with their darling, but Hobie just wants to have you close? He has all the characteristics of the previously mentioned, but his ultimate goal is uncertain, even to him, he's good having you around for now

>He's manipulative and certainly charming

>He's as equally as likely to become yandere for a platonic or a romantic bond, if you're close enough with him, it doesn't matter what kind of relationship you have

>I already touched on yandere Pavitr here, so I'll focus on how he'd work with Hobie

>In a poly relationship case, it's very confusing to you. On one hand you have cool, collected Hobie who seems to be always analyzing you, teasing you and wanting to see your flustered face

>And then there's clingy, desperate, sweet and openly whipped Pavitr, who who's always glued to you and whispering sweet nothings, also wanting to see your flustered face

>Pavitr is overly enthusiastic about both of you, but tends to go to you, since Hobie returns his affections lazily and prefers making out over cuddling

>Pavitr doesn't exactly agree with what Hobie does to people that mistreat you, but he loves him and accepts the violence as part of him, and if he's honest, sometimes he wants to do the same

>Hobie knows Pavitr can be a lot and sometimes you want personal space, but he's a sadistic little shit, so he encourages you to either voice what you want, or encourages Pavitr to keep doing it

>Your relationship with these two would be a roller coaster

>If they're both yandere in a platonic way, Pavitr wouldn't be as intense, but he'd still be pretty overbearing with protecting you, he may not be attached at your hip 25/8 but he's not letting you out of sight, why do you want that? You want to get hurt?

>He's like a worried mother hen

>If you get a partner or become close with someone, he's stalking them for some time before he can trust them

>Hobie is a like a cool older brother who's secretly a psycho

>It looks like he's just being nice and looking out for you, but you have no idea how many bodies he has left rotting in dark alleys the past few months

>If you get a partner or become close to someone, he never trusts them, but he doesn't interfere unless is serious, his signature style is making you think you actually have agency

> What you don't know, is that in a romantic setting, Pavitr is far more scary than Hobie at his worst

#atsv x reader #hobie brown atsv #hobie brown x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere pavitr #yandere hobie brown #spiderpunk x reader #yandere spiderpunk #yandere Pavitr Prabhakar

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estro-gem · 6 months

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Jax x Ragatha: The snake and the water spring

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis.

Author's note: I found this show by chance and I took a great liking to it! So now I did a thing, instead of studying for upcoming exams, because I love making things difficult for myself, apparently.

I have no idea what the fandom is like, but I'm playing it safe just to be... well... safe. I just loved the concept of this show so much that I couldn't help but be inspired by it! It got me thinking and I let it all out in this... thing.

I want to write more one-shot fics about the other characters and how they fit into this au too, but I don't know when I'll be able to.

WARNING! None of these characters are mine and everything mentioned and described is purely made-up fiction; inspired by works that are not my own. Nothing should be considered canon or taken seriously - we are all here to have some harmless fun! No age restrictions. I think this might be appropriate for all ages...?

Please show some love and support for Gooseworx; the creator of The Amazing Digital Circus!

I definitely butchered Gooseworx's characters by adding unnecessary 'relationship dynamics' and deviating from their original personalities. I promise that the actual show and characters are so much better than they are in my false portrayal of them.

SUMMARY:

A fanmade take on the events following Pomni's arrival and after the crew had dinner together. This is focused on Jax's point of view, but still written in the third person.

Jax confronts Ragatha after the pilot episode's 'dinner' and does his best to comfort her in a way that works for them. That's it.

Please enjoy!

THE SNAKE AND THE WATER SPRING

Jax was a desert snake.

Nothing but a cold-blooded pest that lived to find his next meal.

When one is left to die under the scorching sun, you can’t stomp on the sun for creating a desert, but you could stomp on the desert snake if it added to the pain of surviving in said desert. The Digital Realm was nothing but a desert sun – a cage with no exit and an evil with no target.

It was no secret why so many had lost their minds here.

Jax took on the role of being the snake. It was never announced or planned, but it was deemed necessary by all who came to know the realm. The inhabitants of The Amazing Digital Circus craved any sense of control; something they could hold accountable for their torment – something they could punish. A menace, parasite.

Evil with a target: Jax.

It was fun to act out while everybody went about their lives. He could unapologetically be the worst being known to man and thrive on the rage and hatred of all he had affected. If they hated him, he was fulfilling his role perfectly… and that meant they could stay sane and do their parts as he did his. Less people would be lost to insanity… and the group would grow stronger.

Everyone had a role in their system – an oasis was established, with Ragatha as the heart of the oasis; their very own water spring.

But when a new invading creature bursts into the oasis with no knowledge of this system, their system would be doomed. Pomni happened to be that invader. Everyone could collectively, yet silently agree that she was acting by her own careless devices since she arrived a few hours ago. She greedily soaked up their water source and left it barren, dry, and suffering.

Granted, Pomni didn’t know how their oasis worked, but it didn’t change the fact that she disrupted everything by showing up. She would have to catch on quickly and prove herself useful, before anyone else loses their minds.

They lost one of their own already… and they almost lost their beloved Ragatha; Jax’s equal and opposite.

Their precious water source.

Snakes offered venom, while water springs offered hope of life. They all desperately needed Ragatha to survive. While most would assume her to be fine after being fixed by Caine, Jax knew better than that. He saw her reluctantly stand aside Pomni to support her – beautifully acting within her role as she always would, but it was clear that Pomni still didn’t understand how scarce the water was by then. Rags was spread thin enough by handling the extra stress and enduring the continuous pain of being corrupted by the abstraction, but that didn’t stop Pomni from practically having a mental breakdown at the dinner table.

Jax saw that coming from a mile away. Thank goodness he silently took the open seat next to Pomni, silent in his insistence that the ragdoll should keep her distance for the time being. He’d give anything to destroy the little jester for abusing his doll. Ragatha was acting perfectly normal at the time – her masked smile perfectly set on her face – until it was time for them all to retire to their respective bedrooms.

Jax wished that he would’ve just dragged her after him when he booked it from the abstraction earlier today. Pomni would have been the perfect distraction for them to escape and get Caine.

He stood at Ragatha’s door after dinner.

Jax made a point to ring the doorbell this time. Usually, he’d just pluck out a key and saunter in like he owns the place, but with what happened today, he’d make an exception. Everyone has their limit – and someone has already reached their limit today. They couldn’t risk losing another one. Especially not Raggs. They all really needed her.

When she didn’t open, he tried the bell again. Nothing.

Well, time for the key, then.

He shoved his hand down his front pocket and fished out the doll’s room key. The bunny didn’t waste time opening the door. He wanted to see what state the girl was in, despite dreading the possibility of finding an abstracted amalgamation on the other side.

Silence.

Not even a creak was heard from the hallway. The room was lit up as it usually was, so that was a good sign, at least. Jax couldn’t see an obvious black body of eyes – another win. But where was Ragatha? He did see her walk into her room, so she had to be here.

He walked around, keeping his cool, casual composure fixed, despite no one being around. It was effortless at this point. It became a way for him to focus on what he could control in this crazy digital prison; himself.

He couldn’t, however, control his ability to spot a blasted ragdoll, it would seem. He scanned the room again, until his eyes fell on her ¾ bed. Could she-?

The bunny rolled his eyes at himself as he lowered himself onto his knees – maybe he could convince himself that he was not phased by the situation. Bending down, he peered beneath the bed frame.

Jax sighed in exasperation. Or was it relief? Both?

Ragatha was in the state she was in before retiring to her room. No gliching, no extra eyes.

Just Raggs.

She didn’t look good, though. The doll was curled up beneath her bed and blindly staring ahead of her. It didn’t look like she was breathing – not that they needed to anyway, but it was uncanny to see Rags like this. She was their voice of reason. She was a water spring in this desert.

If she dried up, their desert would be doomed.

Jax silently stood up and walked back to the open door again. No need to make a fuss over this. He took hold of the door handle and shut it from the inside. Key in hand, he locked the door and nodded to himself. Ragatha needed a raincloud… and he’d have to fill that role now. It’s the least he could do after leaving her to fend for herself when they found the abstraction today.

Why didn’t she run with him? Why did think she could fix someone whose mind was broken beyond repair? Why didn’t she just leave the rookie as bait?

Because that just wasn’t her role, was it?

If it weren’t for her nature – her role – none of them would have made it this far. It dawned on Jax, once again, how close they were to losing their beloved doll. How close they were to being stuck with an invader who knew nothing about what it took to survive in this hell hole.

Enough.

Back to the bed, crouched down and silent Jax positioned himself to lay down and simply look over the red head from a relative distance. There was enough space for the doll to crawl out of hiding without having to touch him. The bunny still hadn’t said a word. It’d be stupid to talk, and he didn’t feel like making the effort. He just wanted things back to normal again – well… as normal as it could have been.

Now Kaufmo is gone, a new creature was invading their home, tearing it up from the roots and tipping the delicate scales of the balance they worked very hard on creating. All because of a lunatic ringmaster having the bright idea of creating a fake exit-door. Someone better get that jester on a tight leash to get her to fall in line, like the rest of them were forced to.

He knew he, for one, wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit. It was his specialty – his role. The parasite. The menace. The instigator.

Evil with an actual target.

The sound of shifting and movement had Jax blink out of his own head. Ragatha was slowly and dumbly making her way out from under her bed. Her eyes were still fogged over and her face still eerily blank, but at least she came out of hiding out of her own will. In a matter of seconds, the doll was out from her hiding place and settled on the floor beside Jax. She was staring him in the eyes now, waiting for the bunny, silently pleading.

Jax hadn’t had his aloof-douchebag persona engaged since he locked Ragatha’s door. She didn’t need a menace now – she needed to be grounded; revitalized. She needed a dark raincloud to fill up the water spring they all needed.

He didn’t look forward to what needed to be done, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.

He moved to stand up and held out a hand to help her up. He took note of the way her hand was shaking when she took his and gently guided her to the bed. The red head was the first to sit, then moved to lay down on her back and numbly stare at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Jax gathered himself mentally and cautiously crept onto the bed and positioned himself to briefly hover over her, before lowering his full weight onto Ragatha.

He had his head in the crook of her neck, on the left shoulder with his ears folding back to floppily droop to his upper back… with his left hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His body, although slim, enveloped hers and caused her to sink slightly into the mattress. His legs just loosely laid over and aside the ragdoll’s. It was more important to have his weight resting on her torso anyway.

For a long moment, they just motionlessly laid on the bed like this. To an outsider, it would look like they fell asleep atop each other or simply cuddled together very closely.

An outsider wouldn’t see that Jax was focused on the slow process of Ragatha’s body relaxing under his weight and her breathing slowing to a regular rhythm. An outsider wouldn’t have known that this was hardly the first time they’d done this – how long it took Jax to learn that this make-shift deep-pressure therapy was the most effective grounding technique for Ragatha to collect herself again.

They wouldn’t understand that Jax didn’t do this out of wanting to, but rather out of necessity.

Jax didn’t like to be touched. If anything, he was very capable of merely tolerating it. Everyone in the circus knew that he was touch-averse; some even used that as leverage to mess with him if the situation called for it. It was a necessity that he endured to keep his doll sane – to keep anyone of importance here in the circus, sane. Their whole lives revolved around mental strength. It was all just a matter of staying sane.

The laid there for what felt like a lifetime.

Slight shifting beside Jax alerted him that the doll was moving her arms – previously stiffly pinned to her sides. This was good, she felt comfortable enough to move around now!

Her left hand gently snaked up to the bunny’s head and slowly, softly petted his ears in a longitude motion. Her right hand wrapped loosely around his middle-to-lower back – motionless. This was bad, Jax did not like being touched like that!

While he was fine with the rhythmic touches of Ragatha’s left hand, he despised the idle position of the right hand resting on his back. He couldn’t prevent himself from tensing up in discomfort.

Bad touch, bad touch, bad-

This caused the ragdoll to tense up and rip her hands off him as if he burned her.

Oh no you don’t! We are not starting all over again.

He slowly pulls away and propped up unto his elbows, hearing Ragatha’s breathing pick up as she presumably spirals into her own thoughts on how he was going to leave her like this. Jax cast down a disapproving look. He broke his gaze to unceremoniously take her right hand – now clutched close to her chest – and intertwined their fingers, before resting his head on her left shoulder once again. He close eyes as he use his free hand to put her left hand on his head again, waiting for her to resume her petting.

Good touch; this was a good touch. Please understand.

Thankfully, Ragatha relaxed… and continued her previous slow, rhythmic motions. Slowly, Jax felt her relax once again and he indulged into her need for touch by stroking his thumb over hers occasionally.

Soon they fell into a rhythm; Ragatha would pet Jax’s ears 3 times, then it was his turn to stroke his thumb over hers. Then they would repeat the routine. This also helped Jax cope with the touching; the routine. The rhythm.

It felt like hours ticked by as the two just practiced their little unspoken routine. Jax grew used to it after a while, almost forgetting that his new mattress was now a sentient ragdoll and completely tuned into their rhythm of touches.

Pet… pet… pet… thumb. Pet… pet… pet… thumb.

Jax didn’t like touch, but he loved routine.

The doll and the bunny’s time together, once nothing but grounding techniques, grew to become an intimate exchange of touches and caresses – all wrapped in a routine, like a dance. Jax felt warm and fuzzy inside; for once he basked in the moment of enjoying his dolly. He lazily wondered if Ragatha felt the same. He shifted his head to look at her.

The doll looked down to meet his eyes when she felt him move. He could swear that she looked at peace, basking in the bliss of their closeness. For some reason, she looked like an angel. They all saw her as their angel. Had he successfully pinned a heavenly body beneath him?

Her gentle, longing gaze made a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt from his core.

This wasn’t the first time this feeling invaded his being when they did this – as rare as these moments were. He wasn’t sure when he started experiencing such feelings during these rare encounters, but as months crawled by, he felt drawn to his dolly more and more. Based on how she looked at him, he could only assume that she felt it too.

Something so foreign, yet so familiar.

He didn’t fail to spot the warmth rushing to her cheeks when their eyes met. She looked so ethereal beneath him, especially when her breathing picked up under his firm gaze. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were lidded. This time, it wasn’t fear or overstimulation. It was anticipation. It was desire.

Jax internally flinched at the tingly sensation when he smoothly burrowed his face into Ragatha’s neck. She shivered at the breath he let out against her skin. He could tolerate the touching a little longer, as long as he could see her crumble again. He wanted to see her walls crumble again.

“Jax- ”

Oh… he had to hear her again. More clearly, next time. This was torture, but she made him into her own personal masochist. His skin crawled at the sensation of her skin shivering against him, but he needed more. He could take it. Just a little longer – he just had to stand these sensations a little longer. He looked at her again.

Ragatha was reverting to a helpless puddle. The doll’s arms were gripping at the covers beneath her, successfully eliminating the bother of excessive contact that he despised. Jax didn’t know if she did it with that intension or without thinking, but either way, he was thankful. He really wanted more.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

He lifted onto his elbows again and – dare one say – lovingly looked at her face. She could only peek back at him, breathing slightly faster than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaky hand rise from the covers and hover next to his cheek, while her eyes pleaded for his mercy. He hesitated but bit the bullet to comply; leaning into her touch while desperately trying to ignore the odd tingles. Jax convinced himself to kiss her wrist and drowned himself in the pleasure of hearing her softly call his name.

He only heard it because he was listening so closely for it.

Yes.

DING DONG

In a flash, Jax braced himself up into a crouch and slammed his foot down with a mighty THUMP upon hearing Ragatha startle into a fit when the doorbell chimed. His hair on his back stood on end and his claws ripped through his gloves, leaving gouges in the covers beside the doll’s head.

His precious doll was disturbed again!

He heard her soft cry of fear and his blood boiled with a thirst for vengeance. Only he can make her cry out. He’ll skin the soul that dared to-

“Ragatha…? Can we talk?”

That DAMN jester!

“Jax?” a quiet voice trembled in his ear from beneath him. Jax stopped glaring at the door to softly glance down and see what his little doll wanted.

“Don’t…” Raggs sounded like she was begging while being held at gunpoint, whispering despite their rooms being enchanted to not hear anything from the outside when the door is shut.

Jax wouldn’t dare let that thing inside. Raggs was upset enough as it is.

“Look, I know it probably wouldn’t make a difference…” Pomni’s voice came from the other side door again, “…but I’m so sorry for running off… Again… I saw that exit and I had to see if it was real. No one else believed me and I started to think that I was losing my mind. You understand that, right?”

Jax placed both his hands down on the mattress, blocking the doll’s view of the door as if it could block the sound of the voice from reaching the Raggs’s ears, still hovering over her. He knew that his dolly didn’t want to hear anything the harlequin had to say now – he had half the mind to get up and bash the newbie’s head in.

“I hope we can talk about this some time. You are probably tired after such a long, crazy day.” Pomni’s voice died down near the end, “It feels like you’re the only good person here.”

She really is, but she’s too good for you. Selfish leech.

Jax looks down to the girl, still stiff as a board beneath him. Her eye was shiny with the swell of tears. He melted at the sight – anger simmering down. She was just a sweet little rag dolly, she didn’t deserve any of this, but oh, he was so happy to see Ragatha finally emote something again. She was OK again. Their water source was filled once again, now threatening to spill over. He’d happily welcome the flood.

He needed her.

The sound of fading footsteps causes Jax to rip his eyes to the direction of the door. His hearing was better than the dolls, probably thanks to being a rabbit.

Good riddance.

Ragatha seemed to relax at the sight of Jax deflating his stance, reading that Pomni probably left her door. She hesitantly reached up to cup Jax’s cheek. Jax followed her hand’s motion and scoffed, cringing at the invasion. He’s had enough touching for a week. It sucked to leave his doll so soon after being distressed again, but he couldn’t bring himself stand any more of this. He quickly got up and smoothed out his clothes, but not without missing the flash of hurt in the doll’s eyes. He felt bad, but he had to be strong with the new girl around, so straining himself now would only make matters worse and mess up the whole system.

Still, seemingly bored, Jax stood in his spot while rocking on his heels and looking off to the side, only sparing her a glance. Raggs sat up by then. She looked a little worse for wear, but it’s an improvement from hiding under her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. The hurt in her eyes was long gone, but she looked tired. Poor thing, Jax shared the sentiment.

He felt her eye bore into the side of his face and the bunny couldn’t stop himself before he rolled his eyes and looked to her again. He could’ve choked on air when he saw her face, but the years of steeling his demeanor left no trace of his inner turmoil.

Raggs sported that longing look in her eyes again.

They were so close this time – closer than they’ve ever been before. Each time they spent together on nights like this, although few and far between, they grew closer… and hungrier. Neither understood what it was, but they never had the chance to just collapse into it, tonight being the closest to that.

But there was always something, right?

Jax allowed gaze to soften. His doll offered a small smile that almost ripped his heart out if his chest. It was drenched with melancholy of something she knew they could never have.

Because their roles in their little ecosystem didn’t allow for it to ever be theirs. It would never work.

This was survival.

The rabbit steeled his demeanor once again, but this time, his doll’s face didn’t fall.

Good, as it should be.

Jax walked to the door and fished out the key from his front pocket. He didn’t bother looking back. If he did, he wouldn’t have the will to leave anymore. When he opened the door, though, he couldn’t help but mumble out teasingly.

“See yah later, Doll~!”

He wished that he could shout his affections for her out into the void instead.

“I’m not your doll.” Ragatha responded, voice still wobbly and tired, but perky regardless. She knew just how to indulge him.

Yes, she is… she always will be.

Fanart: Evil with a target

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

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If you feel comfortable can you do ateez being OBSESSED with reader's boobs

ateez being obsessed with their s/o's boobs

genre: fluff, suggestive ig?

warnings: not proofread, suggestive but not really - all boob talk in these headcanons are strictly fluffy and non-sexual. just some cute lil boob appreciation :D

a/n: yk what i don't usually do stuff like this but i WILL do this one because boobs need to be appreciated and loved :3

hongjoong

god, he loves them...

so he mainly uses them as pillows

will complain about the ache in his neck a lot because he's been tiring away and hunched over in the studio for hours bless 🤧🤧🤧

and he gives you shiny eyes

"you know what would really help me?"

you already know the answer

so you sigh in defeat as he happily snuggles his head on your chest and just lays there

and its endearing because he has never drifted off to sleep so fast before...

seonghwa

this is so funny because i have seen most to leasts of who is most likely to be a boob guy in ateez and seonghwa is ALWAYS< WITHOUT FAIL on top

like... is this canon??? where you guys getting this info from to collectively agree with each other??

anyways, the rumours are true. he loves 'em

just likes a soft they are

and how they look

and how they feel when he hugs you...

idk he just adores them, you get the idea

yunho

openly adores your boobs

he's a man who knows what he wants, yk?

"life's too short to not love boobs"

a new motto of his. charming.

likes it when you wear clothing that accentuates or complements your boobs

he admires them <33333

also he's tall so you gotta watch out for when he's trying to take a peak which is always

yeosang

will absolutely stare at them mindlessly or when he is bored

you know when some people just zone out

he tends to do that a lot. but why does he have to look at that specific area?? idk you tell me

he just thinks they're nice :)

gets a bit shy when you wear an outfit that shows cleavage

he's constantly trying to reprimand himself like "don't look it's not polite"

all i'm gonna say is that you can totally use his obsession to your advantage hehe

san

he's a very clingy boy

and yk what, idk about you but, i'm here for it

he is a cuddle bug and wants to cuddle into you 25/8

claims your boobs are simply the most comfortable things on the planet

and simply has to be in contact with them in some way whilst you guys snuggle up

he does like being on top of you and having his head on your chest. that's less of a boob-obsession thing and more of a comfort thing. he jsut likes being held and being close to you like that ;-;

idk he's a softie

mingi

i classify this guy as being the number 1 boob appreciator in ateez

there's just something about him

i can just TELL he lovesssss them

more than he should, probably

but we can cut him some slack cos he's cute :]

he tries to be subtle with his admiration for your boobs but he literally isn't fooling anyone

another tall guy to look out for because he can and will stare at your boobs

he can be so obvious sometimes it's actually embarrassing

wooyoung

every time he goes in for a hug, his head ends up on your chest as he hugs you

i have a friend who does that all the time like it's a real thing

it's kinda cute actually

and it's less to piss you off and more because he thinks they are comfy

will also use them as pillows

but likes it when he's the small spoon and he can feel them behind him

idk he's not picky when it comes to this so 🤷

jongho

he thinks he's so slick and prim and proper but the moment he catches a glimpse of your boobs it's over for him

he's surprisingly shy about his love for your boobs

he doesn't know what to do with himself

wants to touch them non-sexually but second guesses himself

'would you find it weird? am i going crazy?'

those are the types of things going through his mind

but he just stays a blushing mess while you're blissfully unaware of the effect you have on him

#ateez #atz #kpop #ateez headcanons #atz headcanons #kpop headcanons #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #atz reactions #atz scenarios #atz imagines #atz fluff #ateez fluff #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #ateez x reader

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noahsbsf · 1 month

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Ok, so I’m going to finally post this but here’s alenoah the COMPLETE essay: I’m just gonna be talking abt why these two should’ve been canon and showing you my evidence lol. (This is gonna be long so if you’re willing to read this ily)

First of All:

The aleheather plot did not make sense. This is a good ship, I’m not saying it’s bad. But, the volcano scene kinda made it weird. Imagine your confessing to the “love of your life” but then they make you infertile, kick you down a volcano, and are the reason you’re in a robot suit/ traumatized. (Oh but Heather did what she had to do!) LOOK, I’m not saying she didn’t serve in that scene, I’m saying that the fact he was able to brush it off like it was nothing? It just isn’t realistic. Even if he is MADLY in love with her. But then they sacrifice Noah and don’t do anything with him and his unfinished rivalry with Alejandro??

Also I just want to mention the fact that these two would NOT work out after total drama. According to Marco Grazzini (Alejandro’s voice actor, TDWT):

Which I do agree with 😭 I do think that a relationship with 1 narcissist can work (let’s face it, one person in a relationship is more narcissistic than the other. Or not idk.) But if two people are the narcissists in the relationship, it can eventually lead to a break up. Now, you might be wondering why I’m talking about aleheather (understandable). I just wanted to make it clear that I don’t want the aleheather shippers attacking me and how they just don’t really make sense to me as well. And also I don’t want people saying “BUT ALEHEATHER IS SUP-“ stop. (But wait! Shouldn’t you talk about Nemma then?) I’ll get there dw.

Second of All:

Alejandro and Noah had SO MANY weird interactions. No joke. I know a lot of people like to say they didn’t, but trust me, they did. And here’s some proof:

THIS IS NOT A NORMAL LOOK PEOPLE. Honestly, that look on Noah’s face kind of reminds me of som..oh right that’s the exact way he looks at Emma (AKA HIS CANON GIRLFRIEND) this entire interaction was out of nowhere. (Oh but what about the fact that this scene is probably showing how shady Alejandro is) well, every single time a scene like this happens with any other character, we usually get a confessional of Alejandro trash talking them. But did we get that confessional for this scene? In fact, did Alejandro ever directly talk about Noah? NO. NOT EVEN ONCE. Even during London, Alejandro never said one single thing bad about him.

OK SHORT ONE:

The fact that Alejandro mocked Lindsay with NOAH. Alejandro throughout this show has had a fake persona, but then this little comment kind of proved that Alejandro can be himself around Noah. They’re kind of like the same person after all. (I mean that in a “judgy” sense.)

I also want to point out that every challenge (except for London) and every occasion, these two are always next to each other. ALWAYS. They’re always close, they’re always giving each other looks, and tbh it makes so much sense. These two are really the only “sane” ones on team Chris. (Sami, are you SURE they’re always giving each other weird looks?Like-) Child here’s the lil collection:

London 🇬🇧 ☕️:

London was probably the most scripted episode EVER. The entire plot for Alejandro and Noah was so bad, it came out of nowhere. (But Sami, Noah didn’t trust Alejandro in ep 7! Don’t you remember?) ofc I remember Susie. It’s just, after ep 7, nothing was done. Like Noah hates Alejandro. That’s it. Then he bad mouths him in ep 13, Noah’s voted out. A lot more could’ve been done but the writers kill off Noah so more drama can start. After all, Noah’s just a side character, right?

THIS. LOOK.

This exact look is hurt. Pain. And any other dramatic thing I can think of. This entire scene just shows how much he trusted him. It’s like, when someone you truly care about, who you trust, backstabs you. They TRULY had something. (But Sami-) Before you even say “he was probably acting” lemme just show you something:

Right when Noah was abt to jump out the plane, he had a shocked look on his face, then realizes the cameras are on him, and quickly changes into a smirk. HE. WAS. NOT. ACTING. He was HURT. And the wasted potential for the rivalry they could’ve had also hurts. But of course, since this was 2010, there wasn’t any lgbtq couples allowed on CN at all ☹️.

FINALLY:

As much as I do love this ship I think that these two will never see the light of day. (Scratch that, they’re def never seeing the light of day.) These two are both in canon relationships, one of which I actually love! #multishipper. Nemma honestly doesn’t have any flaws and there’s really no reason to destroy a pretty sweet relationship. However, during TDWT I’d like to argue the fact that if CN wasn’t homophobic at the time and neither was fresh tv, then these two would’ve definitely been something. It was like fresh tv was trying to give us clues lol. And if the TD writers would’ve let Alejandro and Noah have a rivalry, then there would’ve been a lot more evidence of why these two should be canon.

Welp, there you go. There’s my entire essay. If you disagree with something or have anything to add you can comment down below! But keep in mind this took 2.5 hours soo…

#total drama #fypシ゚viral #td alejandro #idk how to tag this #alenoah #td noah #personal essay #im not okay #tdwt #please help #lol #love these two #make them canon #fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp #tumblr fyp #fypage #this took way too long

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likeabxrdinflight · 3 months

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Naturally I have a lot of thoughts about Azula's role in the live action adaptation. I'd say about 95% of them are positive thoughts.

First of all, I love that she is this baby-faced, squishy-cheeked kid (I know her actress is a little older than the character but that's okay.) At Elizabeth Yu's age, I also easily passed for 14-15, she just has a young-looking face and clearly hasn't lost all her baby fat. And that is perfect, actually. I've criticized the sharpness and angularity of the animated Azula many times over, she has always looked far too old for her canonical age. I've said it before and I'll say it again- it's a problem that so many people watched the original cartoon and thought Azula was older than Zuko. I can't even blame them for it, she's drawn to look 20 or older. So it is wonderful to see a version of Azula who looks closer to her canonical age. I think it really drives home the point.

That said, this Azula is definitely different than her animated counterpart in other ways. The animated Azula was (almost) always perfectly in control. She could become angry and snap at people- but it was fairly rare, Azula always seemed the image of perfect calm, control, and precision. She was deadly precisely because she was so cool and collected and did not get easily rankled. This was also part of what made her breakdown so shocking.

The thing is, the breakdown is not especially foreshadowed prior to season three. There are a few moments that show the chinks in Azula's armor, but most of them don't come until "The Beach," and then after Mai and Ty Lee's betrayal. I've always believed that betrayal was the real inciting incident for her eventual psychotic break- I've argued before that it sent Azula into what's called a prodromal state, which is like a sort of "pre-psychosis."

More on the animated version's mental state here

Point being, there's really only one instance in season two that suggests any flaws to Azula's cool exterior, and it's one of her very first scenes. You know the one: "almost isn't good enough." It makes for a very subtle build-up to the breakdown and her eventual fall. But it comes at the cost of depicting her predominantly as a capital-V Villain prior to it. You're not really supposed to sympathize with Azula until "The Beach," arguably not until "Into the Inferno." For most of the animated show's run, you're supposed to find her scary and threatening.

And this is done effectively- almost too effectively. She's an obvious foil to Zuko, and serves as such a good primary antagonist that they had to neutralize her in the finale by giving her the breakdown. It's like they knew there was no way a healthy Azula was going to be beatable during Sozin's Comet. She appeared to be an effortlessly talented fire bender, a brilliant strategist, and a more dangerous opponent than even Ozai.

Live action Azula does not have this same feeling to her. There is still something "scary" about her- we see her watching people being burned alive with little to no reaction, and her face is quite blank at Zuko's Agni Kai. She's still cunning and still willing to manipulate things to her advantage- we see this in how she plays Zhao. So if this version gets a season two I have no doubt that this Azula will still serve as a dangerous antagonist to the Gaang and I don't doubt this is still an Azula capable of bringing down Ba Sing Se.

But she's not quite the calm, collected character she first seemed in the animated version. This Azula is a little less hinged. She has more moments of snapping and losing some of that perfect control. She's more frustrated and feels more at the mercy of her father. She reads far more like the Azula we saw in "The Phoenix King," the one who talked back and protested that her father couldn't treat her like Zuko. That Azula, however, was about one bad night's sleep away from a psychotic break. This Azula, presumably, isn't there yet.

I can agree that something of her original character gets lost when you essentially start foreshadowing the breakdown from the jump. It's not gonna be a surprise to any new audiences. She's not gonna be quite the same. But it does humanize her much sooner than the original show did, and it asks the audience to consider her circumstances from the jump- is this a sympathetic character or not? I obviously think she is in the original, and I do think in the end she was meant to be. But it's much more of a debate. The live action show unequivocally says "yes" and does not make it a debate at all.

I'd be tempted to say it's not trusting the audience to read between the lines, but given all the Azula discourse...they might be right to take this more direct approach.

Anyways. Live action Azula also feels more like a real teenager. She's petty, she's irritable, she's desperate to remain in her father's favor and beat her brother in the artificial competition her father has set up between them and will go to any lengths to do so- lengths she probably wouldn't have in the cartoon. She has a strong drive to prove herself and to protect the image she constructs about herself as the "perfect daughter." But that image also feels far more fragile than it did in the animated version.

This Azula doesn't say that "almost [perfect] isn't good enough." She says that "it [perfect] isn't good enough." It's a subtle but meaningful difference.

(Side note- I think the reason this Azula is fine shooting lightning in the direction of her father, seemingly in defiance of his orders, is a direct result of the change to the Agni Kai- she watched as Ozai berated and burned Zuko for not giving him his all, versus in the original where Zuko's sin was in not fighting back period. So here she's showing Ozai her "all", she's giving him everything she has to prove she's capable of doing more than Zuko running drills and smoking out resistance rings.)

I like this change. I like this more desperate, more grounded take on Azula. She feels like a real girl in a horrendous home environment. This Azula was raised in a family where it's expected you be cool with setting people on fire in the throne room and where there's a tangible symbol of Daddy's love sitting beneath him at all times. This Azula was forged in the fires of competition and manipulation that's more subtle than the animated Ozai ever seemed capable of. (More on Ozai later, but he's a much more subtle character than his animated counterpart despite still being...pretty blatantly Evil). So I think it makes sense that she's not quite as calm and controlled and perfect as the animated version.

I don't know yet which version I'll prefer when all is said and done- she was ultimately a minor role in this season. Animated Azula is iconic and always will be, but there's a lot I've always been critical of about how she was depicted in the original show. I think a lot of us that love and empathize with Azula do so despite the way she was written, not because of it. This version might change things a little.

But it also might make it seem infinitely more cruel if she isn't given some kind of redemptive ending (or at least one that implies some hope for her.) The bleak ending of the original show might feel really bad for this more sympathetic version of Azula. So if they stick with that...I dunno. It could hit or miss.

For now, I like what I'm seeing. And Elizabeth Yu understood the assignment.

#natla spoilers #natla #azula #hopefully mai and ty lee get more development in season two #they were kinda just...there in season one #also I strongly suspect this adaptation will cut azula's recruitment of them in season two and just have them with her from the jump

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

Text

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: In honour and love. 2562 words.

Author’s Note: We pick up where we left off.

1986

“You’re welcome…”

Your feet were planted so solidly on the ground it was as though you’d grown roots. He took the few steps needed to almost close the space between you.

“Why… why are you helping?”

Oh.

Your body had an almost visceral reaction to his voice. It was more than a familiar sound; it felt like home. You wanted to cry. “I... I… Uh- That’s hard… to explain…”

He looked you up and down, then accepted your answer with a nod.

“I need to… need to bury him,”

“Let me,” the man moved faster than you, scooping the dog’s body up and holding it against his chest.

“Oh… No… He can’t be dumped somewhere. I need to bury him. He deserves to be honoured.” You could feel embarrassment bubble up, something you weren’t used to. It was easy to talk about the craft around witches. It was easy to hide it from humans with clever language. It was entirely illogical, but you needed him to understand what you were saying. You were afraid he’d laugh or deny you this rite.

The man looked from you to the dog. “I know where to go. If you’ll take us,”

“How… Do… Do you remember? Being a bat?”

He nodded. “I am… starting to.”

As the vampire dressed in borrowed clothes, ones that fit more poorly than the last, you picked the best apple in your fruit bowl and a piece of Apache Tear obsidian from your crystal collection, stashing them in your bag.

You checked outside the trailer for nosy neighbours. The coast was clear and you walked to your car. The man had never been in a car. He’d seen them. Knew, in theory, that he just had to sit in it. Still, it presented a challenge.

When you unlocked the passenger side door and opened it for him, he stood awkwardly for a second. “Unless it's close enough to walk?” you asked him. He shook his head and got into the car, holding the dog’s body like a security blanket.

As you drove out of Forest Hills, you stopped at the main entrance. “Which way?”

The man nodded north.

You turned the radio on to fill the silence, assuming there was no conversation to be had.

“You do not belong in this place,”

“No. I don’t,” you agreed. “I used to be. Before the town, before… this lifetime… I lived here with my sisters,”

“They are not here now,”

“No. I’m the only witch here,”

“A witch,” he repeated, nodding to himself.

“Do you know what that is?” you asked.

He looked at you, his eyesight unaffected by the night. “I… may,”

“Oh… Okay. Well. Are you remembering anything else? About what you are?”

“I need blood.”

Of course, he’d know blood. “You will die without it. Well… A kind of death. Eventually. That would be very painful for you though,”

“Yes,” he said, like he knew that. Perhaps the thirst for blood was so innate that the knowledge he’d die without it was too. “Vampire.”

The word startled you. It was still surreal. It was as if a Tasmanian tiger or woolly mammoth were to walk out in front of your car.

He was a vampire. A vampire you had helped. A vampire you had taken a living thing to, to kill. It hadn’t occurred to you until then that you could have simply healed the ridgeback. You could have healed all the animals in Hawkins Kennels, instead you took one to its early death and devoted time to a vampire.

You focused on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“Do you know your name?” you asked, needing the conversation as a distraction. Once telling him yours, you waited, but he shook his head. “We might need to give you one. Or, at least, a nickname.”

Between your limited knowledge of the roads of Hawkins and the fact he’d only ever seen it from the sky, it took a while to locate the place he intended to bury the dog. It wasn’t unpleasant driving empty streets with him though. You wondered if it should have been.

A partially overgrown road, unpaved and a threat to your car tires, was where he lead you. As natural landmarks began to come into focus, the moon’s rays the only light for miles, you felt the growing sense that you’d been to this place before.

When your car came to a dead end, you cut the engine. “Is it far?” you asked.

The man shook his head and waited for you to open his door.

He walked in front of you, flattening a path. Over the tall grass you could see you were coming to a wooded area. You smelt the oak before hitting the edge of the trees.

“Was this a witch?” the man asked, stepping out of your way.

Before you, constructed between two tall sycamore trees was a doorway of sorts. Hundreds of branches and sticks had been used to create a near-perfect circle. They were woven and stuck together to build an arch over and under. A gateway to the woods, not one that defied science, but still an oddity seemingly supernatural in origin.

“How… how do you know this place?”

He had no answer, so he stayed silent. It was just one of many parts of the flatlands, of Hawkins, that as a bat he watched over. He liked the forest doorway though, as much as he’d ever been able to like anything.

“I think… I think I’ve been here. I think I made this,” you said, voice dropping low.

“You cannot remember?”

It made no sense. You should have been able to remember. An unsettling feeling washed over you. Someone had been tinkering in the vampire’s mind, dislodging memories and letting them freefall. Surely, you didn’t have that in common.

When you didn’t answer his question, he asked another. “Is this a place… to honour?”

The dog.

“Yes. Yeah, it is.”

You took the lead, walking through the forest gate and looking back to see what would become of a vampire crossing a witch’s threshold. Nothing. Whatever magic had been there was long gone.

Not far from the gate, you stopped. The vampire understood, carefully placing the dog on the woodland floor. He stayed knelt on the ground and began to move sticks and brush out of the way. His movements gained momentum and soon he was moving faster than your eye could read. He was a blur, then he was standing next to a deep grave, the soil of which was dark under his fingernails.

You nodded when he looked to you for approval, then he laid the dog in the ground. While the vampire buried his victim, you gathered tokens from the nature that surrounded you.

Upon the grave, you laid butterfly weed and echinacea flowers, the apple, and obsidian.

“Hel, comforter in grief,

We ask you to receive this soul.

They lived pure, good, and true.

Hel, watcher of the dead,

We ask you to receive this soul.

Go peacefully now, no lament, no sorrow, nor rue.”

Standing side-by-side with a hexed vampire, you committed the dog to the earth not with a spell but a blessing, and grieved for the oath you’d broken.

“Go now,” he spoke. “I will come soon.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the vampire had gone from your side into the night. You waited in the car for fifteen minutes, the heater blasting stuffy air onto you. When he didn’t return, you drove home alone, only to find him perched on the roof of the trailer.

“That seems very dramatic,” you told him as he followed you inside. He was silent and all but invisible out there, still it seemed even an amnesic vampire couldn’t forget to have an operatic flair.

The trailer was warm and the artificial lighting soft. When you turned to him, you could see it on his face. The colour high on his cheekbones. The red on his lips. He’d found his way back to you, by way of more death.

…

1836

He watched you while you built the gate. Although he wouldn’t reveal himself, you could feel his curious gaze. It sent electricity buzzing through you, though you would burn at the stake before admitting that to yourself.

When he felt sure no townsfolk or coven members were joining you, he sauntered through the field, parting the long grass at will.

“Little witch. Why are you playing with sticks?”

You paid him no mind, which you knew would drive him crazy. He walked through the gate and around it, poking at the branches and making noises of discontent.

“If you aren’t going to help, you can go be a nuisance to your own kind,” you warned him, a stick pointed in his direction.

He swiftly grabbed the stick, tugging it hard, pulling you into him. It was the first physical content you’d made. The stick was forgotten as his cold hands wrapped around your upper arms, your chest pressed to his. He looked down at you, bared his sharp teeth in a smile.

“You don’t want me to go. Do you?” Your blown pupils were answer enough. He grinned again. “How can I help?” he asked, voice softening as he let you go and stepped away.

“I need… more…”

“More…? Sticks?”

You nodded dumbly.

He stayed close, within your sight, and moved at the speed of a human. You steadied yourself, regained your composure, and continued with your task.

The circular doorway would allow humans and witches to pass safely through the woods. It worked like a protection spell, once through it the individual would exist within a bubble, the bubble would take them through the dense and dark forest untouchable to vampires and foes.

On the other side of the woods, your mother had created one just like it, though she preferred to work in the daylight. Your penchant for twilight walks and midnight magic had, so far, gone unnoticed by the coven. Moonlight was a strong conductor, after all.

When the doorway was complete, holding strong against push and pull, you considered sending the vampire away. Somehow though, your magic felt stronger when he stood next to you. So, he stayed.

“Bloodline magic, far and wide,

Enchant this doorway so friends may hide.

Leaf and petal, wood and stone,

Protect our friends, return them home.”

You painted a circle of salt, sage, ground black cat bone, and mud around the doorway while reciting the spell. Then stood on the opposite side to the vampire.

“I dare you to cross through,” you said to him, a coy smile warning him of your witchy mischief.

“You wouldn’t be trying to kill me, would you, little witch?”

“If I were, it would not be with sticks and stones.”

He laughed, then considered you, his head cocking to the side. “If you want me to cross through, it will not be for free.” It was obvious he wouldn’t be able to walk through the circle, but the damage he would sustain was a mystery. What price would he put on shame or pain?

You huffed and crossed your arms. “What do you want? More stolen apples that you can’t eat?”

“A kiss,” he replied.

Your expression stayed playful; you held your nerve. He didn’t miss the way your breathing hitched though.

“For that, I want more,”

“Of course, you do,” he laughed, motioning for you to continue with a wave of the hand.

“Your name. A kiss will buy me your name.”

The vampire was quite pleased with himself for having held back that detail. He had predicted it would become useful. Witches and their silly little words and silly little names. It was all so important to them.

“You have yourself a deal.”

You clapped with joy, then bowed at the gate. “Please cross this witch’s threshold,”

“Oh, I do love it when you speak so filthy,” he quipped.

Tentatively, he approached the gate, waiting to feel his skin burn or something mystical and unholy. You watched amused at his sudden caution.

“Nothing will happen until you cross through,” you told him, trying to hurry him along.

He shot you a dark look that ought to have frightened you. Instead, you giggled.

The vampire took a useless breath in and jumped off the ground. He hit the circle like it was a brick wall, then was sent on a harsh rebound from the trees and into the tall grass.

You covered your face to conceal the laughter, waiting for him to reappear, ego bruised.

The wind whistled through the air and you thought perhaps you had pushed the vampire too far. Carefully, you followed his path from the gate out the woods and to where the grass began.

“Oh, vampire!” you called sweetly.

His voice came from all around you. All-encompassing whispers of, “Little witch, little witch, little witch!”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

The whispering stopped. You walked into the tall grass and found him lying on his back, casually lounging.

“Have you come to shower me in kisses?” he asked, fluttering his long eyelashes as you.

You knelt next to him, leaning over so your arms were either side of his head. “Give me your name,” you demanded, eye to eye with him.

“When I was born into this world, my mother named me Edward,” he said so casually, like it had never been a secret.

“Edward,” you repeated, a tone in your voice that made him smile.

“Are you disappointed? Would Molech suit better? Abaddon? Paimon? Or perhaps Lucifer Morningstar is what you expected?”

You looked down at him and saw through the shallow humour. “There’s a boy in the village. His name is Robert. It means bright star. His mother calls him Bobby and he answers when she calls,”

“Are you trying to distract me with a lesson?”

“Edward is of Old English origin. It means both fortune and guardianship. Which, in your case, does not fit quite right.” You didn’t reveal that his name was relatively new in human history, leading you to conclude he was not an Ancient vampire.

“Do your arms tire, Amabel? May I take this weight from you?” With vampire speed, he sat up, pulling you over him, your legs straddling his lap.

The game was fun. You held your arms out straight, letting them lean on his shoulders. “My assertion is that like Bobby, you will answer to a different name. I think I will call you… Eddie.”

You half expected him to argue. Instead, he smiled tenderly and snaked his arms around you. “You can call me whatever you want, little witch.”

Eddie listened to your heart, how it began to beat faster as you leaned down and ran the tip of your nose against his. His lips touched yours, his cool to your earthy warmth. You had kissed witches and humans and a few fae folk too. Nothing… absolutely nothing compared.

You rolled your hips against him, begging to be held tighter, instead he maintained the space between you, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, in a moment of honest vulnerability.

Willing yourself not to cry, you left his sorrow unanswered and instead, leaned in to kiss him again.

End Note: Not me agonising over US English versus Australian. The Grimoire and timeline have been updated (links at top of post). Reblogs encourage me to keep writing! And, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Witch!Reader

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cricket-reader · 11 months

Text

Safe and Sound

Summary: Bucky finds you. Everything goes wrong so quickly (yet again). Can Bucky forgive himself for something he blames himself for?

Warnings: language, canon level violence, death, kidnapping, captive, torture, injuries, Bucky’s self-hatred/negative thoughts, fluff

Word Count: 1830

Prompt: "At least it can't get any worse." | Stairs | Concussion | Hammer

A/N: Day 16 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

Part One

Bucky swears up and down that he’s losing his mind.

When he went to find you in the rubble and ruin of the small restaurant, you weren’t there. He practically tore the place apart looking for you before remembering the necklace he gave you. Anyone else would have deemed it controlling. And in any other circumstances, Bucky would have to agree. Giving your significant other a tracking necklace is a shitty and controlling thing to do. That is unless you were a POW for an extremist group hell bent on making your life suck.

And that is exactly what he is, unfortunately. So instead of ripping him a new one like most people would if the person they had only been dating for a few months decided to get them a fucking tracker, you were willing to hear him out. Right now, he thanks every god above you were willing to listen.

He doesn’t even want to know the lengths that Hydra will go to make you suffer for making the mistake of loving him. If he can just get you home safe, everything will be fine.

He hops on his motorcycle and drives to the spot your tracker is. Worries claw at his brain. What if they discarded the necklace? What if this is a set up? What if he doesn’t make it in time? He forces himself to push those thoughts to the back of his mind.

Worrying won’t save you. Worrying won’t bring you back. He can’t let his emotions get the better of him.

The man that had been delivering punches to your gut and slapping you around froze upon hearing a rumbling sound. Knife in hand, he frowns. “I guess this means we don’t get to finish what we’ve started. Bummer.”

He actually has the nerve to sound disappointed. He sets the knife down along with the other torture devices he had one of his goons bring—which to your horror includes a pair of pliers, a hammer, and many different types of sharp objects. You hear him yell at the men watching to prepare for the Winter Soldier.

You would have corrected him had it been any other circumstance. He is not the Winter Soldier. He is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. A man worthy of much more respect than it seems they’re willing to give him.

You see your boyfriend stomp down the creaking stairs. He’s pissed. You definitely don’t envy the men surrounding you.

“Let them go, Warrenson.” Bucky’s voice calm and collected, not betraying any emotion. He hasn’t looked at you which you figure is probably a good thing. You don’t want him to lose his cool just because you’ve gotten a good beating.

“We will. As long as you come peacefully in return. Hydra wants their Soldier back.”

Bucky clenches his jaw. He knew that someday you’d be used as leverage. This is why he should never have agreed to go on a date with you. This is why he doesn’t deserve happiness or love. This is why you are better off without him ruining your life. He destroys everything he touches with his dark, infected soul. Nothing good comes from knowing Bucky Barnes.

“I’ll do it,” he mutters. The heart wrenching protest from you begs him to look your way. You sound destroyed and distraught. No, he can’t look at you. It will demolish any and all of his resolve—what’s left of it anyway.

“Bucky, no! Don’t do this, please! No! I’m not worth it, okay?”

His heart shatters like the most fragile glass or porcelain, his soul crushed with the weight of a thousand suns. How could you say that you aren’t worth it. He’d burn the world for you.

“Shut that bitch up!” a man orders. A sharp throbbing pain erupts at the back of your head. You cry out, and Bucky loses all of his resolve. No one fucking hurts his babydoll and gets away with it. No one.

Bodies dropped like flies in the blink of an eye. Now you have always known that Bucky is skilled, but… well, let’s just say you are surprised.

He rushes over to you and releases you from your restraints. He looks over your body, relief nearly palpable to see that you had no major visible injuries. He had seen the hammer and pliers along with a plethora of knives. He’s just glad he got here in time because if he didn’t… he doesn’t want to even think of what they could’ve done to you.

You saw the far off look in Bucky’s eyes. You knew he is probably coming up with some way to blame himself for all of this. Your hands reach to grab his face. His eyes refocus on you, feeling your gentle hands with their delicate touch. You smile at him, not paying any mind to the throbbing of your skull.

“I’m okay, Buck, it’s fine.”

He frowns. His brows furrow deeply. Nothing about this is fine. He’s sure that your ribs are coloured purple and he can hear a sight slurring in your voice.

“Baby? I need you to tell me if anything is hurting real bad. Did they hit your head real bad?”

“Hmm?” You think for a bit. Maybe they did, you’re not really sure anymore. “I think so?”

“How does your head feel?”

“Mmm… kinda like someone is takin’ a hammer to it. It hurts, Buck… I wanna go t’sleep.”

“No, no, no, stay awake for me, c’mon. Let’s get you outta here.”

He hauls you up onto unsteady feet. You kinda just wanna stay there, maybe take a quick little nap. That should be fine, right? But Bucky told you not to. You frown. This is a dilema.

You stumble your way up the stairs and say, “At least it can’t get any worse.”

He smiles, or at least tries to… it’s more like a grimace, at your attempt to brighten the situation.

Turns out you spoke too soon, however.

The stairs groan under you before both you and Bucky are plunging through the wood. You hear a high pitched scream. Then you realise it’s you making that god awful noise.

Bucky curses under his breath as the wood gives way to both your weight. He wraps his body around yours, taking the brunt of the fall. He can’t let you get hurt more.

The wind is knocked out of him as his back collided with the ground. A piece of wood stabs through his torso, and he grits his teeth as you come down on top of him.

“Baby?” His voice is breathy. You whimper, terrified out of your wits. “I’m so sorry, doll. Can… can you reach in my pocket? Grab my phone and dial… dial Sam.”

You reach down and accidentally hit the wood post that’s sticking out of him. His groan is so guttural, even in your haze, your brain panics. You try to look down, but Bucky can’t let that happen. You’re only going to panic more. “Keep your eyes on me, m’kay?”

You nod, instantly regretting it. “Babe?” Bucky questions, seeing you wince.

“’m fine,” you insist, lowering your hand, being more careful this time around.

You make contact with the brick that he calls his phone and pull up Sam’s number. You make a joke about not knowing how to work the old thing, but Bucky thinks you’re serious. He goes to grab the phone, but you indignantly pull it away from his grasp. “Was a joke, Barnes. I’m perfectly capable…”

You were gonna say more, but it is so much work to talk. Maybe you should have convinced Bucky to let you nap. Then you wouldn’t be on top of him in a hole under some stupid stairs.

“Bucky? What’s up? I thought you were on a date.”

“I’s me Sammy,” you giggle. Why are you giggling? Nothing makes sense anymore.

The man on the other end of the phone groans. “Please tell me he didn’t get you plastered. Did you try to out drink him? Cause I tried that once… that was not a fun morning.”

“No… we’re under the stairs, Sammy.”

“Under the stairs? What stairs? Why—“

“You ask too many questions,” you mumble, half of the sentence jumbling together. Black starts to creep into the corners of your vision. “Think I gonna take nap now.”

Sam furrows his brows, hearing Bucky yell at you to stay awake. “Sam! Listen to me, you need to come help we’re both injured—“

You gasp, “Bucky hurt?”

He can’t stop you from looking down. Your gasp is so loud he can barely hear Sam muttering to him over the phone.

“Doll, hand the phone to me,” he demands. Tears form in your pretty eyes, seeing the wood sticking out of your boyfriend.

“But.. you hurt.”

He sighs, “Yes, but I need the phone so someone can save us.”

You nod, tears dripping down your face. Your heart is beating like a hummingbird is in your chest. You press your hand against it, crying out in pain. Your head hurts so bad. So does your stomach and ribs. You just want to go to sleep.

You don’t remember exactly when Sam showed up. But he is here now with a full team of firefighters and medics. The firefighters extract you both, though it takes more work to get Bucky out.

The next thing you know, you’re waking up in a hospital. Sam somehow convinced the medical staff to let you and Bucky share a room, knowing that you both need each other.

When Bucky wakes up, he is panicking. His panic settles when he sees you safe and sound in bed. His gut twists seeing the ugly purple bruises on your face. This is all his fault. He should have never got himself involved with you. Your life was better without him in it. He ruined you like he ruins everything.

“Bucky?”

He focuses on your voice. Tears blurring your figure. “Yeah?” He doesn’t deserve to call you any pet names. He doesn’t deserve to call you his. He doesn’t deserve you.

“You can stop that negative self-thinking right now.” You glare at him.

“But—“

“No buts!” you interrupt. “I’m too selfish to let you leave me cause you’re scared you’re gonna hurt me. To be honest, I’ll be more hurt if you leave me than if someone were to kidnap me again. My abandonment issues can’t take much more, so if you–”

“You deserve better–“

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I want you god dammit! Why can’t you understand that I love you?”

His eyes grow wide at your outburst. And your words. That was the first time you said you loved him. He thinks he could get addicted.

“You… you love me?”

“Yes! I didn’t think you were that oblivious! I’m in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Tears form in his eyes. “I… I love you too…”

You smirk at him. “You better.”

Bucky Taglist: @harleycao

Story Taglist: @cjand10 @marvel-stories33 @casa-boiardi @drunkbirdbug

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disruptivevoib · 6 months

Text

I am eternally thinking about how Whole is a concept of the fandom and not canonical at all.

Arguably, maybe someone would say the inclusion of Whole diminishes the original message of the album, to which I do not disagree but I do not agree either.

He changes the context of it, I suppose?

Because the original album, Whole is a concept to be strived for. He is not real, it is always just Heart, Mind, and Soul beneath the surface. They are manifested facilities of the way a person is, how they talk to themselves, the internal conversation. That "psychosocial envy" is the idea of the album. The effect that social standards have on someone who views themself as flawed beyond recognition without any idea how to fit into what the world wants of them.

Soul longs to be Whole because he longs to become what society deems is a person. All of what they are and what they want to be comes in many different forms. It could be any number of internalized ideals of what a man should be, or who you should love, or what you should strive for in life.

Two Wuv as a song is that realization that even after Mind and Heart are better, after they've been able to communicate and function "properly", there is no Whole coming. This is who they are, and that is fine. He is not perfect, he is not what society wants, but he IS a person, and to him, he is Whole.

It is a concept of self forgiveness and grace. The ability to have nuance that what society seeks of you is not so important as truth of the self, owning your flaws and seeming imperfections.

Ultimately, everyone's brain runs differently. Everyone talks to themselves differently, refers to and conceptualizes their inner-world in many ways, and none of it is definable. We have no capable way of putting the way somebody speaks to themself, refers to, and functions within themselves entirely into a box. We are a collection of lived experiences turning itself into informed reactions and responses. If that makes any sense at all.

Of course, the things we have put labels to are definable and are all a part of how we interact with ourself, and there are always commonalities and similarities. There is so much variety in it, being human is fluid...

Anyways.

Without Whole, the "end" of the album means they are in acceptance of one another, that there is a positive relationship with your inner dialogue for some time before something happens and causes a harsh reflection to shatter it all. With him, it is essentially the same, just that there is a more literal or tangible figure to represent that cohesive self-acceptance.

Whole being a tangible character doesn't change Soul, but as I said, informs him more. Whole and Soul are mirror images, they are had to separate and Soul is what Whole is without the interwoven Emotion and Thought.. I suppose. Soul strives for him, and without him, comes to accept this is how it is and who he is. With him, Soul may miss that aspect, or more so, get it only to discover Whole is real, and everything he did worked, but now he sacrifices himself for that.

The dynamic is interesting but incredibly devastating in that regard, especially because it is unlikely Whole's intention to ever split. Nobody wants to have a mental breakdown, y'know?

I could go on about this forever. Whole not being a real character (at least not in the way we often think of him) in the album but something very real and even achievable within the fandom space is.. I dunno, so unique? Its not often fans get to create something that while entirely uncanon to the project, is very important to it.

Side note, what I mean by not how we see him is that Whole is real because they have always been Whole. In album there is no separation. If anything, Concord is like leaving CJ's inner dialogue and witnessing just all of them in tandem being him.

Okay okay. I'm done.

#chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #voidthoughts #cj heart #cj mind #cj soul #cccc #I could really really keep going forever #I think I find the album itself more satisfying #but in concepting and writing whole being tangible is SO so much more capable of intriguing narrative #long post

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emry-stars-art · 10 months

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I’m wondering (and not sure if this has been talked about yet in a post I simply missed) about how Abram copes with Andrew’s physical affections (or lack thereof) in your lovely royal AU. With the history behind ‘pretty’ that you described for Abram in that last post, I feel like there is so much potential of him expecting to be touched, even before they are courting (but especially during/after), and wondering why Andrew doesn’t—especially once it’s established that he thinks of Abram as ‘pretty’. They are of different station so it would be so easy for Andrew to act entitled to Abram’s body like so many before, especially with Abram in a position where he’s basically serving him in some way. I wonder if it makes him relieved (due to professionalism/personal comfort at the very beginning) or anxious (due to having no ability to tell what is coming for him/later due to doubting if he is really wanted that way if Andrew doesn’t act the same as his point of reference) or a little bit of both for different reasons.

I imagine Andrew to be both a very tactile person and not necessarily so because he is so very aware of boundaries and only crosses them with invitation or purpose. I wonder how that translates here and how his touch plays into how Abram perceives him (and honestly there’s the whole part too where it’s something they have in common, trampled boundaries and bad associations and bone-deep understanding of such) or if they would ever have a conversation about that where Abram wonders about the curtesy of distance and space he is being given.

I’m like two seconds from passing out bc it’s pretty late here so idk how much sense this ask really makes but I’m having thoughts. I love your AU and your work and hope you have a wonderful day <3

YOU GUYS ALWAYS FIND THE MOST INTRIGUING THINGS TO EXPLORE I LOVE YOU (and your comments/etc, apostrophe-philosophy, are always a joy to read hehe)

(First: find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

I’ve been working on/thinking about this ask long enough that I’ve straight up forgotten if this was a thought I had when writing that first post (here) or if you brought it fully to my attention but we can safely assume it’s the latter so thank youuuuu for that truly. I love exploring Abram’s slow inch (and Andrew’s, but he’s had more time to get adjusted) towards finding a healthy relationship with touch 🥲 and oh my GOD don’t let me forget to tell all of you about Abram and gloves

I wrote a scene/lil collection of scenes about Andrew clearing things up here too because I’ve been wanting to explore Abram’s POV for a while 👀 there are references to canon abuse, so take care. As always, sparknotes version and additions below

I LOVE your points about Andrew, I totally agree that once it’s established and he’s allowed, he’s very much a tactile person, he just needs to get there first 💕

We all know for obvious reasons that it never once crosses the prince’s mind for Abram to be anything more than a professional bodyguard, even if he does find him attractive. He’s very good at courtesy and polite distance. How I imagine this goes down in the timeline is this:

1) Nathaniel shows up at Palmetto and he’s never allowed close to important people. Certainly never allowed close enough to touch. Totally safe there. It doesn’t take him long to understand Day really won’t take advantage of him since he never did in Evermore either, so that’s safe. There’s not much else to worry about for that long stretch of time.

2) Nathaniel/Abram becomes the prince’s guard. There’s probably a little anxiety just because there’s plenty of opportunities for the prince to try something, but as time goes on and Andrew keeps the previously mentioned distance, even acting apathetic (as he does), Abram starts to assume that the prince is straight/doesn’t care. It wasn’t as if every single person in Evermore was trying to get at him. Just the ones that wanted to. Obviously, the prince doesn’t want to. It gets to the point that Abram feels comfortable and doesn’t try to constantly watch his own back when he’s on duty.

Then the prince, perhaps feeling a little bold or hopeful or just wanting to say something so he doesn’t keep feeling like he’ll explode, makes a single comment on Abram’s “pretty face”. Even something that could be brushed off as friendly jest, if he really wanted. But Abram completely freezes up. Andrew, of course, notices. He doesn’t try to ask about it then, but he definitely notices. But he assumes that Abram took it as the genuine compliment it was, and that Abram is entirely uninterested or even wary of those advances. So he makes no more comments, he leaves the entire concept as far away as he can get it.

Now that Abram knows the prince finds him pretty, he’s just waiting for Andrew to be the same as everyone else. He didn’t even directly answer to the nobles in Evermore and they were still so bold - but he’s Andrew’s servant in the most direct way, and Andrew is a prince. Surely the prince is even more entitled to him than they were. (When he realizes this is what’s happening, Andrew tells Abram in no unclear terms exactly what is and isn’t expected of him. It takes longer than that for Abram to shake the anxiety he grew up with, but at least after that he can start repeating the prince’s words to himself when he needs to.)

3) that’s cleared up well enough, but then (much, much later) the prince wants to court him. At first Abram can’t think much beyond “there’s no way this is real” but then the more he thinks about it, the more nervous he gets again. He doesn’t know Palmetto courting traditions, what if he’s expected to do something he isn’t ready for. What if now that he’s accepted the courtship he can’t tell Andrew no anymore. It wouldn’t be fair of him to, he thinks, he shouldn’t have agreed so quickly.

But there’s a time they’re out doing whatever courtship things (maybe another horse ride for funsies idk), Abram’s getting nervous about it again, and when Andrew asks for a kiss or to hold his hand, Abram doesn’t answer. He’s also a little confused when Andrew doesn’t just do it anyway, because he hadn’t said no, but Andrew is watching him in the way that usually means Abram is acting too much like he’s at Evermore again. He tells Abram, “Nothing’s changed. You can say no.” And Abram does immediately - not because he doesn’t want whatever he was offered but because he scared himself. Andrew’s still watching him. “Don’t forget that again,” he says. Abram takes a shaky breath. “Yes, prince.”

But as soon as Abram’s past that anxiety for the second and probably final time? Andrew is still as tactile a person as before and gods know Abram is touch starved to hell and back, he’ll take any kind words or touches he can possibly get and he craves them. Specifically from the prince. Who loves to give them.

I’d love to come back and make a fluff post specifically about that point in the timeline if we can collectively come up with enough ideas for said fluff 🥰 for now thanks again for the ask, swear to GOD we’re gonna get these idiots a happy ending, but I’m having way too much fun in the meantime 😂

#hand studies doubling as relevant art to post 🙏#this was such a good point #your half delirious tired thoughts were INCREDIBLE #i didn’t get to the point about Abram thinking Andrew doesn’t actually like him because he won’t touch after they’re courting #but that can definitely be part of it #I just also think that past a certain point Andrew is asking every few days or frequently enough #that Abram realizes both that Andrew *does* want him like that #and that he really is allowed to refuse if he feels like it #based on the few times he does and Andrew moving on without further comment #very casual I feel like #idk I’m not making very much sense either in here #I wrote the post earlier than I’m adding tags #tag-writing emry has a headache 🥲#ohhhh but if Andrew is asking and Abram never does….#Andrew doesn’t wanna be pushy #that’ll be fluff that’s later #I need to be done here #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #royal au #my writing #asks

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