#perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 11 months

Note

hi! i’m not quite sure if you’re comfortable with this but could you do toji taking care of his bratty gf that’s on their period? no pressure especially if you’re not comfortable! thank you so much! <33

Oh, dw anon, I'm totally comfortable writing this kind of stuff, but thanks for checking with me tho c: Didn't know what approach to go with this, but felt like fluff would be the best fit (since ik not everyone's into period sex; perhaps an idea I can go back on later *shrugs*). Please enjoy, and I hope you like this! ♡ Also, this is 3 for 3 on the request streak, holy shit haha! Cw: Toji x fem!reader - fluff - Toji trying to be a good bf and lowkey domestic - the reader is a lil whiny, but Toji still loves you - tummy massages!! - some light-hearted comedy; reader trying to annoy Toji lol - pet names (baby, sweetie, princess) - just you and Toji being a couple :3 Wc: 1.1k

"Toji?"

The man hums but doesn't turn to you, watching the television from the floor while you lay on the couch.

You try again. "Tojiiiiii~"

He rolls his eyes at your sing-song attitude, finally turning to your face. "Yeah, baby?"

"Would you please add more water to the kettle for me? My water bottle's getting cold, and my feet hurt."

With a huff, he gets up and walks to the kitchen. "Sure thing, sweetie." You hum into your couch pillow while wiggling on the water bag you're lying on, taking in whatever's left of the lukewarm storage bottle.

Today has been quite a busy day on your end. Amid two midterms, a group project, and a paper due at 11:45 p.m. tomorrow, you still have work to do today. And to top it all off, your period started two days ago, meaning you're suffering as of now. Not only is stress from college drowning you, but your body makes the pressure tenfold more painful to the point of wanting to shut down.

This is why you've spent your Friday afternoon cooped in your apartment and avoided talking with or seeing anyone, trying to focus on your work while dealing with your personal predicament. Especially texting your boyfriend, Toji, that you won't be able to see him for dinner at his favorite ramen place.

Nevertheless, the older man comes knocking on your door with a bag full of your favorites from the restaurant, saying he'll just spend the night with you at your place and help with whatever you need. Though you tried to decline his offer, his company has been very comforting.

However, since he came here with sincere intentions, you want to test his patience. With a cheeky smile pulling your lips, you start your act.

You hear Toji press the button to heat the water up, his heavy steps prominent of his return to you in the living space. He plops back down on his place on the floor, leaning against the couch you're lying on and putting his attention back on the TV.

Well, he tries to.

"Tojiiii~," You see the rise and fall of his shoulder sync with the heavy exhale escaping through his nose. Giggles are stifled, but your smile is wide when he looks back at you with one brow scrunched down.

A stern "What?" is thrown in your direction.

A tiny giggle slips out. "Can you please massage my tummy?"

He looks dead at your face before he scoffs. "Do I look like your personal maid or somethin'?"

"No, you're my wonderful, handsome, and caring boyfriend," You bring a foot up to tap his shoulder, to which Toji grumbles. To his dismay, you continue to tease him with your poking. "As a caring boyfriend, you should attend to your lady when she is in insufferable pain."

"Poke me with your toes again, and I'll chew 'em off." Okay, that's when you stop pestering the older man, holding in your laughter as he scowls with a devilish smirk. Another huff of air exits his lungs before he gets up from his spot once again, and you reposition yourself for him to sit on the couch facing you. He places the water bottle on the floor. "You got your own hands, doncha?"

"Of course, but I asked for your hands." He glares at you though you pay it no mind, lifting your shirt to pat your stomach. "Now, massage me!"

Toji shakes his head yet lifts his hands and places them on your exposed abdomen, calloused and scarred fingers squeezing your plush skin. "So annoyin', ya fuckin' brat." You blow a raspberry. "I shoulda stayed at the ramen joint."

"Pfft, please, you know you don't go there alone anymore. Might've gotten bored and brought yourself here regardless." You close your eyes and sink into the feeling of the man's fingers rubbing your stomach.

He only replies with a small 'hmph' and continues with the task thrown onto him.

This continues for a few moments, and you enjoy the man's hands roaming your belly. His palms and fingers' rough yet gentle manner makes you feel like the cramps are no longer a problem. It feels so pleasant. Curious, you open an eye to stare at the man before you.

The look on Toji's face displays nothing but pure focus, looking at his work as he massages you. Raven bangs cast shade from the ceiling lights. The man had soft emerald eyes, yet keen as they zero in on your physique as he skilfully kneads your abdomen with his digits. His lips are kept in a neutral line, and you can't help but look at his scar when he licks his teeth.

The more you examine him, the more you realize just how lucky you are to see this side of him. And maybe how lucky you are to have such a man deal with you even during times like this.

"Whatcha lookin' at me for, princess?"

Toji's gruff voice snaps you back, realizing he caught you surveying him. A grin dashed on his face. You decide to toy with him one more time. "Oh, Tojiiiii."

The smirk immediately disappears, replaced with a look that screams mild annoyance. You let out a burst of laughter, rocking your head back and forth and laughing harder every time you peer back at his face. "Fucking what now, ya damn brat?" He doesn't try to hide the irritation in his voice, and you can feel him glare holes into you while you laugh into your hands.

You calm yourself down, speaking in chuckles. "You know I love you, right?

"Shut the hell up." Not a single change to his face.

"No, I—pfffthaha," giggles escape your lips as you try to center yourself to speak appropriately, placing your hands on his big ones that rest atop your tummy. "I mean it, I really do! I appreciate you coming here and dealing with me and my whiny ass. If you hadn't been here, I'd probably be rotting in my bed right about now. I love you, so thank you for watching out for me."

Toji's face slowly molds away from his peeved expression, now relaxed and exhibitng a look of slight astonishment. You can make out a tiny shade of pink under his eyes and earlobes, yet you choose not to point it out to showcase your seriousness with a loving smile. He scoffs, shakes his head, and leans close to your face.

"You're somethin' else, ya know that, kid?" He flicks your forehead, resulting in you groaning from the diminutive mistreatment. But he quickly places a kiss when you're done squirming from the pain. "I love ya too, baby. Always."

You beam at him. "Even when I'm whiny?"

Finally, he laughs. "Yeah, even when yr' whiny. My whiny, annoyin', cute-ass princess."

"I said whiny, not annoying."

"Whatever." The two of you exchange laughs and kisses on the couch, completely disregarding your assignments and the kettle ready with hot water. It doesn't matter nor compare with the adoration you experience from him right now, so you indulge yourself for as long as you can.

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momojedi · 3 months

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now idk if youve been requested smth like this before but tbb finds reader (whos another clone child like omega)?? thatd be cool, id think!! gn reader btw 🫶🫶 ALSO LOVE YOUR WRITING SM TY FOR WRITING THIS IF YOU DO

— FAMILY FOUND pairing. omega/clone force 99 x clone child! gn! reader

type. oneshot note. hi anon! thank you for your request, i'm incredibly happy to hear you like my writing! regarding your request, i hadn't thought of anything like that so far, but i love the idea - this is set during season one! the reader could technically be seen as disabled but i'll really leave that up to your interpretation. enjoy! warnings. needles, human experimentation, dehumanisation, sisterly omega fluff, big brother/dad batch, slight injury, potential reference to the blackwing virus, references to clone wars events word count. 2k

star wars masterlist || pinned post

Four hours.

That's how long you'd been running from the Empire and the claws of the Kaminoans, swiftly escaping the planet with the help of AZ-3. After a tearful farewell, the droid had tightly sealed the escape pod's hatch as well as your fate, leaving you to hold off the Kaminoans from tracking you as you fled Tipoca City, the place you once called your home.

When you landed on Ord Mantell, the sudden impact of the crash had swept you off your feet, chucking you to the floor with a loud bang. The intense pain that abruptly shot through your arm as well as the burning sensation that spread in your right cheek quickly lead you to realise that you needed to get a hold on some medical supplies as soon as possible.

"Where is it, where is it - kriff!"

Despite years of being reprimanded by Commander Colt not to curse and avoid the usage of bad words, you couldn't help but ignore your late brother's teachings when you sat back up on your knees after crawling out from under the pod's control panel. There wasn't a medkit in sight. You huffed, gripping your throbbing head with your healthy arm. "I must've hit my head," you whispered to yourself, squinting your eyes in pain. Slowly but surely some medical attention was starting to become really necessary, especially when you felt warm liquid dripping down your cheek.

You sat up. Perhaps you'd find some help in the inner city?

Ord Mantell was huge; bigger and much more crowded than Tipoca City you found yourself realising. Though, that view might've been influenced by the fact that, like most clone children, you'd never seen anything but Kamino throughout your entire life.

Time and time again had you sat among your brothers, listening intently to their adventurous tales fighting in the war and visiting various places throughout the galaxy. And although you felt bad for the loss and pain they went through day by day, you couldn't help but envy the wonderful worlds and systems they also had the chance to experience.

Unlike most clones, you hadn't been made to be a soldier but rather a subject to be tested on. Your entire purpose since you'd been born was to be a lab-rat, to endure tests and examinations in order to help the Kaminoans determine the breeding conditions of their next clones. You thought little of the Kaminoans, as most clones did. Their constant pricking of needles and blood letting made you feel sick and although you'd grown up on Kamino and were used to being dehumanised and seen as an object, a tool rather than a living being, you still hated the longnecks with a burning passion, silently enduring the torture they'd been putting you through. Naturally that also meant that you were made to suffer from various side effects of the experiments, such as age acceleration - or in your case, deceleration.

Unlike the usual clone, you aged slower, almost at the pace of a nat-born. You couldn't see very well due to visual tests they'd made for a special clone unit when you were very young and your hair was trimmed unevenly from being shaved off time and time again.

Naturally with that also came the judgement. Many of your brothers considered you a freak, curiously eyeing you and some times even mocking you. But even though there were many bad apples, you were proud to say that most of them had gladly taken you under their wing, partially having even grown up around you, and you couldn't be prouder of their accomplishments.

When the Empire took over and Admiral Tarkin arrived on Kamino, you swiftly developed a strong disdain for the imperial official and his scornful treatment of the clones. He frightened you with his skeletal appearance and judgemental expressions, scoffing at you when he'd first crossed you following a kaminoan scientist down the corridors of the city.

This disdain solidified when, from behind a window, you observed Tarkin handing obscure plans to Prime Minister Lama Su, signaling a clandestine exchange that left you feeling uneasy. Pressing your face against the glass to glean any insight, you overheard a conversation that sent shivers down your spine.

"I can assure you, CE-0003 will make a wonderful asset to project Blackwing—a low cost for such a risky intrusion; the potential loss won't be of any importance," Prime Minister Lama Su coldly stated, not bothering to acknowledge your presence. The mere mention of your designation number, CE-0003, served as a chilling reminder of the dehumanization endured by clones, but Tarkin's emphasis on "low cost" and "loss" struck an ominous chord, setting off alarm bells within your conscience.

Feeling the weight of an impending threat, you knew that the time had come to make a fateful decision. Unwilling to succumb to a potential death sentence or exploitation in the Empire's mysterious project, you resolved to escape Tipoca City. In the brightly lit corridors, your internal struggle reached a tipping point as you confronted the severity of your situation.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "Kamino is in the past," you mumbled to yourself, avoiding looking straight at the faces that passed by. After all, who knew whether someone had been sent after you or not? The Kaminoans were a very ambitious species and although Ord Mantell was filled with dubious figures, you could not let your guard down just yet.

Your head was starting grow dizzier by the minute and your world was starting to spin. you quickly managed to get a grip on some metal structure to keep you steady - or at least as steady as possible - when a voice caught your attention nearby.

"Oh ... can assist you in any way?"

Only now did you realise that the metal you'd gotten a strong hold on was, in fact, plastoid armour. Immediately you pulled your hand away, apologising profusely, though halfway slurring your words. You weren't even able to make out the stranger's face as the world spun around you and before you knew it, you passed out, barely hearing the stranger calling out another name.

"Echo, come here!"

"A - a clone?"

Hunter and Echo's eyes were settled on Tech, whose own goggled pair were glued to his datapad, as usual. "Precisely," he responded matter-of-factly, "It appears that they apart of a specialised cloning program founded specifically for scientific and medical experimentation."

"You're meaning to tell me the longnecks tortured this child for some bioweapons and drugs?" Echo's voice was angry, his face twisted into a furious grimace as he turned away from your unconscious form whilst holding the bacta-soaked cloth he'd previously been dabbing the gaping burn on your cheek with. Tech huffed, eyeing his brother over the edge of his datapad. "Yes Echo, that is exactly what I'm telling you."

"Unbelievable," Echo scoffed, fist tightening around the cloth, "and to think we once fought alongside those monsters." With a deep sigh, Hunter pushed past his bickering brothers to look over your sleeping form. By now, they had made sure to patch up your broken arm and clean any leftover bruises, settling you down on one of the parlour’s benches. It didn't look necessarily comfortable but seeing as Cid had business to attend to, it was all they could come up with so far - Tech had even dug out Wrecker's civil poncho in the Marauder which you now were cozily wrapped in.

Hunter gingerly brushed the loose hair strands out of your face, watching you with softening eyes as he took over cleaning your bruising face. A small smile tugged on his lips at the sight of your peaceful expression. How would Omega react to you?

As if on cue, the loud chitter-chatter of Wrecker and their little sister erupted in the stairway of Cid's bar, turning the heads of the rest of the batch. Omega squealed excitedly when the giant clone set her down, running toward Hunter with a box of Mantell Mix in her hands.

"Hunter, look!" She chirped, holding out the sugary treat for the sergeant to see, "The nice lady added new toppings and - [name]?"

Her eyes fell upon you and suddenly, she forgot the world around her. Hunter raised a brow before exchanging a questioning look with Echo, who had quietly observed the interaction. Was that your name? How did she know you? Taking the box out of her hands and setting it on the table, the clone sergeant took Omega aside, kneeling to be at her eye level.

"Omega, do you know this child?"

With a worried expression at the sight of your wounds, she hesitated before nodding slowly. "Their name is [name]," her voice was hoarse as she kept an eye on you, "we both assisted the scientists in the medbay, back on Kamino ... they'd often do those weird tests on them, to the point they wouldn't show up for days afterwards." Hunter's blood boiled at the thought of the painful abuse you must've had to endure but he stayed composed. He had to focus on the task at hand after all.

"Are - are they okay?" Omega's eyes were wide as she glanced back at him. "They're alright so far," he slowly stood up, crossing his arms over his chest, "We took good care of their injuries. Tech and Echo found them earlier - they suspect they may have crashed nearby. Should that be the case, they can consider themselves lucky."

The light sound of a confused groan caught Hunter off-guard as he turned to look at you. "Well, look who's up."

You had squinted as your world had grown clearer with every passing second after you woke up, still trying to make out what was going on around you - until you had noticed the five figures standing in front of you. And then the panic set in. Had the Kaminoans already sent out people after you?

"Please don't bring me back," you had sniffled, hot tears already rolling down your cheeks, "I don't want to go back!" It had only been when a familiar girl had approached you with raised hands that you slowly but surely had started to calm down. "Omega?"

As it turns out, the men you had feared to be mercenaries were in fact the infamous Clone Force 99 that had gone rogue and deserted the Empire a few weeks before you escaped. Although you'd heard talk of them plenty of times from your brothers and the scientists, you had never met nor seen them in person as they were usually out on missions and only ever briefly stayed on Kamino. When Omega had left with them, you were heartbroken to see your sister go - most of your time was spent alongside her, after all.

By now, Cid, the Trandoshan woman the bar belonged to, had returned and to the Batch's apparent surprise, quickly took a liking to you; that or she at least pitied you enough to slide in a hot meal and grant you some company as she sat down with you and grunted every now and then while looking over her datapad. Either way, you weren't going to question it and simply enjoyed having the chance to fill your stomach after what felt like forever.

"So, how's AZ?" Omega had managed to squeeze in between you and Cid, eyes fixed on you. "He's okay," you mumbled between bites, "He helped me out a lot when I ... well ..." You frowned as you remembered your escape, setting down the spoon. Although you had fled with good reasons, you couldn't help but miss the place you had once called your home. Fortunately, Omega quickly caught on as she settled a hand on your shoulder with a warm smile.

"I know what it's like," her voice was firm and encouraging when she looked over her shoulder the other side of the bar, where the tall clone you'd earlier found out to be called Wrecker roared in frustration at one of the arcade games set up in the bar while the other, Tech, tried his best at explaining it to him. Echo, the one with the scomp arm, watched and shook his head with a sigh and the leader, Hunter, chuckled while playing with the vibroblade in his hand.

"Our brothers ... they know what they're doing. We keep each other safe," Omega then grabbed your hand tightly and grinned, "And as long as we're here, we'll keep you safe, too."

if you're interested in being tagged for my future works, let me know in my comments or by sending me an ask!

@patapouille @flyiingsly

#star wars #bad batch #the bad batch x reader #my writing #clone force 99 #clone trooper omega #other tags:#the bad batch #clone wars #the clone wars #star wars clone wars #star wars the clone wars #tbb #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x you #bad batch x you #bad batch x reader

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lalunight · 2 years

Text

Oh Nosy | Steven Grant x Reader

Worth an Oscar | Masterlist

Part 2

Context: After work, you were supposed to visit a friend's house, but instead, you ended up helping Steven with his sex drive problem.

Warnings: Sexual Content, Descriptive Sex, Needy Steven, Vulgar Words, Mentions of Drugs

"Steven, love, we're going to be late," you called from the living room, slipping your small purse strap over your right shoulder and tucking excess hair behind your ears. You squinted your eyes at yourself, turning sideways to see if you were presentable enough.

You smiled as you ran your hands down your defined curves, satisfied with how you looked. You were wearing the dress Steven had secretly purchased for you; he figured you'd look good in a raven corset bodycon dress, so he bought you one.

You adored how it fit you and that he knew your size. You twirled around again, a little giddy, to see yourself in the full length mirror. But when you remembered that time was running out, you looked towards the bedroom, where Steven should have already emerged.

"Steven!" you yelled, but there was no response. What could possibly be taking him so long to prepare? It wasn't as if he was applying makeup or layering clothing; you remembered that he was simply wearing a suit that he felt comfortable in. You called him again, irritated that he was ignoring you. After a few seconds, you marched towards the slightly open bedroom door and pushed it open.

"Steven."

Your anger was replaced with worry as you were about to scold him for not responding when you noticed him leaning on his desk, head low and visibly panting. He was already dressed and all he needed was his coat, but something seemed off about him, so you quickly set your bag down and approached him. "Love, are you okay?" When you were about to touch him, he flinched and slightly backed away. Your brows knitted together in concern as you noticed how sweaty he was and how his previously combed hair had become disheveled and was hanging on his brow.

"Steven, what's wrong, baby?" you asked softly, alarmed by how he looked right now. Now that you mention it, you recall him acting strangely since he got home from work. When you tried to grab his shoulder, he avoided and shook his head rapidly, his breathing became even more ragged. "I-I can't." You raised your eyebrows slightly in surprise when you heard him suddenly whimper, not just any whimper, but a very needy one.

Steven's big puppy dog eyes were drawn to what you were wearing, and his breathing became visibly labored. He turned around, gripping his hair in frustration, and lowered his head, his heavy breathing becoming more audible. "You can leave without me...I'm not feeling well," he muttered. You were perplexed as to what was happening to him, until you noticed how his body shuddered in response to you softly calling his name. That's when you realized you might know what's wrong with him.

You'd known Steven for years and had memorized his body language, which is now telling—screaming for you. Your eyes scrutinized his body from head to toe, and with his back to you, you began to approach him quietly. "Steven, baby," you said, wanting to know if what you were thinking was correct, so you wrapped your arms around his waist, tenderly caressing his stomach with your hands, eliciting a small moan from him.

As you were right in your thoughts, a small smile crept up your face. Steven is desperate right now, perhaps too desperate to moan to such a single caress. When you pressed harder against him, he leaned back and rested his head on yours, his mouth slightly parted, causing his breathing to reverberate throughout the room. "There's something...wrong with me, love," he whined, softly holding both of your hands and resisting the urge to ask you to touch him.

You placed a small wet kiss on his neck, causing his grip to tighten and his lip to bite roughly. There's been a change of plans because there's no way in hell you're going to let Steven suffer through this. But you wanted to know why he's so desperate right now, and why he didn't ask for help hours ago. "What happened?" you whispered in his ear, smoothly dragging your hands from his chest to unbuckle his belt.

"I...uh...there was this..." He struggled to speak every time his belt moved, and you could see his bulge begging for attention. You hummed, requesting Steven to continue. "My coworkers, they were doing something...and I asked to know what it was," he said, his voice husky and strained, and just looking at him like this aroused you.

"Then what?" you wondered, tilting your head to see Steven's reaction when you finally slipped your hand into his boxers. He gasped when he felt your hand delicately massage and stroke him, and he couldn't answer your question because his mind was fogged up. His one hand darted to your touching wrist, begging for more. "Oh bloody hell, that feels so good," he groaned, closing his eyes and leaning back. You took advantage of the situation by biting and nibbling on his neck. "Then what, Steven?" you asked between bites.

If Steven became this way as a result of his coworkers, you'd want to know how, because they didn't have the authority to do so.

"Oh—God, your hand feels so..." Steven's breath became shaky, and his grip on your hand tightened, causing you to harshly bite your lip.

"Steven."

"Then there was this powder, and they forced me...God...they forced me to inhale it," Steven explained, moaning in between words. You could feel yourself becoming more enraged by what he said; if he hadn't been begging for you right now, you would've gone to the museum and made them pay for what they did to your helpless Steven. Your other free hand was now caressing his body beneath his slightly unbuttoned polo. "Please, love...I need you—so badly," he whimpered, closing his eyes tight before beginning to squirm, indicating that he was nearing his release.

"It's okay, I'm here," you cooed, slightly gasping as his slowly rocking hips began to move faster. Steven made a noise with every pump of your hand that you could never get used to. You've both done it countless times before, but it always feels like the first time. Steven's body was becoming increasingly hot, with perspiration streaming down his face and onto his neck. His hair is now tousled and dangling from his head, and his eyes are filled with nothing but desire.

You decided to ignore the aching and pooling entrance between your legs and focus on Steven and getting him the pleasure he requires so he won't suffer any longer. You asked him if he wanted you to stop because he isn't himself, but all he responded with was a loud moan, telling you that he needs this, he needs you.

"Go on, come on my hand, darling," you breathed into his ear, steadying your pace just enough to make his knees buckle. Steven pressed his back against you even more, and you ground on him in response. That was all he needed until he threw his head back, closing his eyes in bliss and letting out a guttural groan that lingered in your ear. "That's a good boy, my Steven," your hand that was inside his shirt, yanked his pants and boxers down completely, while the other continued to stroke him even though he had already came.

"Shit, love....I wanna be inside you—if that's okay..." His hand let go of your wrist and gently held your head on his shoulder. Even though he was under the influence of a drug, Steven wanted to make sure you were doing this willingly. You placed a soft kiss on a mark you had made on him and whispered, "Sure love, go sit on the bed..." He shuddered in response as you grinned against his neck.

Steven let out a small whine when you finally let go of his still hard cock; obeying your command, he stepped out of his pants and struggled to unbutton his polo. His breathing was still labored, and it felt as if his heart was about to escape from his chest. You stood there silently watching him unfasten the last button on his shirt before tossing it elsewhere. Although he may feel like the messiest bloke on the planet, in your opinion, he is the most perfect human being to ever exist, and it saddens you that he had to go through this because of his shitty coworkers.

After failing to notice that you were staring too long at Steven, who is now sitting on the mattress, he became anxious and attempted to cover up, but was stopped when you approached and slammed your lips against his. Steven's kisses were desperate, therapeutic, and feral. It was a little sloppy at first, but once you could straddle him, it was perfect. You moaned as you felt his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your still-clothed flesh.

You gasped as you began grinding on him, feeling him already hard beneath you. Steven took advantage of the situation by slipping his tongue inside you, competing with yours as he made sure to go through every part of your mouth. "Shit, love, this dress—you look beautiful in it—but please—I don't think I can last another second with you still clothed," he groaned in your mouth, causing your fingers to harshly tug at his hair.

You drew away, causing him to whine, but it was to undress. When Steven noticed your struggle, he assisted you in pulling it over your head, and once it was above your chest, he wasted no time and buried his face between your breasts. "Oh Steven," you moaned loudly, interlocking your fingers with his wild curly hair once more before rolling your hips on him again.

Steven's hungry mouth brushed up against one of your nipples while massaging the other with one hand. Your hips sped up as his tongue swirled, fiddled, and nibbled on it. You know you should be concentrating on Steven first, but when his other hand began rubbing small circles on your still-clothed clit, you knew your brain was melting. The sensation of him beneath you, his mouth on one of your breasts, his hands on the other and your clit, caused heat to build up on your lower belly.

Steven returned to your open mouth and his hands to your waist, making you wine at the loss of contact. Even just grinding on him, you could feel your release approaching, but you didn't want to finish yet; you wanted to be filled up by him. Steven trailed kisses from your swollen lips to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking on them until your hot skin gets bruised.

"Steven shit...," you exclaimed, feeling him thrust upwards even more faster.

"Fuck, can you please get rid of this?" he groaned, harshly sinking his teeth into your neck and hooking his hands around your waistband. You nodded at him, briefly closing your eyes before lifting yourself up to remove the only piece of clothing that stood between you and Steven. But just as you were about to pull it down, yours and Steven's heads whipped towards the ground, where your purse was laying, there was an incoming call.

You returned your gaze to Steven, who whimpered, shaking his head at you with pleading eyes, begging you to just ignore it, but you were curious as to who it was. You smiled at him and softly kissed his frowning, swollen lips before getting off him and walking towards your purse. Steven gripped your waist tightly, protesting, but you eventually got away, causing him to groan and collapse on the mattress.

The loss of contact dampened your pleasure, but it only aggravated your aching entrance. You dashed towards your purse and took out your phone, slightly gasping when you saw who it was. You returned your attention to Steven, who was desperately waiting for you to hurry up, and answered the phone. "L-Layla!" you greeted, trying to keep your panting under control and from laughing when you saw Steven's shocked expression. Layla's dinner party slipped your mind, and she seemed to call to see where you both were.

[Hey! Where are you guys?]

You tightly closed your eyes before mouthing "shit." You couldn't possibly leave now because Steven is still in heat. You started chewing on your nails, trying to come up with an excuse. "Uh, sorry I forgot to inform you, but there was a problem and I had to assist Steven with it." You let out a nervous chuckle before turning to Steven, who appeared to be struggling to keep from touching himself. You smirked and started walking back to him, phone still in your hand. Steven pleaded with you to hurry up with his big doe eyes. You just bit your lower lip at him before returning your attention to Layla.

[Oh is that so? That's unfortunate, but it's okay! I hope you can resolve your problem soon.]

"Thank you, Layla. We'll make amends soon," you chuckled, relieved that Layla understood your predicament. You returned your gaze to Steven, who was lying, and began to hover over him. Before saying goodbye to Layla, you raise your brows teasingly. When Steven heard the end call button, he instantly grabbed it and threw it away, exhaling, "That was too long," before pulling you in for a deep kiss. You smiled at how desperate he was, but your smile faded as you felt him throb against you. "So needy, my Steven" You moaned, licking his bottom lip before dragging your tongue down his neck to his collarbones.

You began to align yourself with his throbbing cock without wasting any more time and with Steven's small but desperate pleases. Taking a deep breath before finally settling down on him. Your eyes widened as you felt him enter you so forcefully that tears welled up in your eyes. Steven helped you by gently holding your waist and panting against your heaving chest. You rested your head on his shoulder for a few moments to gather your thoughts. Despite your inaction, Steven moaned, "So tight, my love." You prepared by gripping his shoulders, your heart racing so fast that it hurt your chest.

Steven arched his brow in concern and gently cupped your flushed cheek, lifting it up so you could see him. "I'm sorry, love, but you know you don't have to—"

"Shut up, Steven, I want this...Godyou'resofuckinghard." You flutter your eyes open, blinking to get the tears out. Steven chuckled before planting a sloppy kiss on your parted lips. You were telling the truth, and you also want this for reasons other than pleasing Steven, so you have no reason to stop.

After hearing Steven moan in your mouth, begging you to move, you began to rock your hips, slowly at first, before riding Steven into oblivion. "Oh fuck—" Steven's hand darted around your waist, his mouth biting into your flesh as you closed your eyes and yelled his name in pleasure. The sensation of Steven throbbing inside you caused you to clench even tighter around him, eliciting a lewd cry from him.

You hissed as you felt every roll of your hips and Steven's relentless thrusts numb your legs, but it was quickly replaced by overwhelming pleasure. Pleasure that you're certain you can feel in every vein, muscle, and bone in your body, it's a sensation you'll never forget.

The heat that formed in your lower belly was a sign that you were getting close. You moaned as you felt yourself tighten and that faint heat that was now being exacerbated by your and Steven's arousal.

"Steven!" you cried out, repeating his name as if it were the only word you knew, and it echoed loudly throughout the whole house. Steven harshly sucked on your jaw, groaning and his breath catching as he felt him approaching his second orgasm.

Steven brought you closer to your release by thrusting deeper and hitting the areas that needed attention. You shivered as he made certain he hit every single sweet and spongy spot, not missing one. Your grip on his shoulders tightened until you finally let go with a mind-shattering orgasm that left you seeing thousands of stars. "Steven, please—" Everything was becoming overwhelming, and your muscle begged for a break, but Steven persisted and prolonged your pleasure.

"Oh God—" Steven threw back his head in bliss, your come dripping down on him being the thing that had pushed him over the edge. You two let out a loud, breathless moan as Steven released inside of you, allowing his seed to freely flow through and leak out of you.

The sweet aroma of sex and the sound of both of your labored breathing filled the room. You collapsed against Steven, and he cupped the back of your head gently, securing you against him as he slowly lied back down. It was a good thing he finished sooner rather than later because you thought you'd pass out if he didn't.

Steven lovingly stroked your back, tracing his index finger between your shoulder blades before kissing you on the crown of your head. "Thank you, my love," he mumbled in husky, croaky tones. You couldn't form words because he literally fucked them out of you, so you just hummed and nodded.

You nuzzled Steven's neck, still steadying your breathing, when what he said next made you open your eyes in disbelief. "Those coworkers I've mentioned, I overheard them challenging themselves that they can sleep with everyone in the museum, and I must've been their next target," Steven felt how you became still, and he almost regretted telling you that because he knew you wouldn't let any of it go.

You raised your head slowly and gave him an expression that only confirmed his thoughts. "Who are they?" you asked softly, reaching up to gently wipe Steven's stray hairs from his brow. He swallowed nervously, touched that you'd come to avenge him but also terrified of what you'd do, given that you were an avatar of a powerful deity.

Steven pursed his lips, hesitant to name the culprits before nervously chuckling and averting his gaze from time to time. "Don't worry, love, it'll just be a friendly talk," you teased, hoping Steven would reveal the names. He wanted to because they intended to take advantage of him despite knowing he was already in a relationship, but a part of him felt sorry for them.

You smirked at Steven as he turned away slightly. Your dear Steven, still thinking about the other despite the fact that they've done something horrible to him. You cocked your head and smeared soft, passionate kisses on his already bruised neck. "It's okay...I'll figure it out myself," you whispered between kisses, making Steven moan softly.

When you heard Steven say the names, your mouth shut and hatred welled up inside of you, but you remained calm so as not to alert Steven too much. You locked your gaze on him, searching his face and marveling at how stunning he was. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?" you declared solemnly.

"I'd do the same for you, love," Steven followed as you leaned in and made your longing lips connect once more. When it comes to Steven Grant, you always keep your words and act on them with pure intentions.

That's why, after this, you're going to pay those coworkers of his a visit.

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac imagine #moonknight #moon knight #moon knight smut #moonknight smut #steven grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #smut #oscar isaac smut #fanfiction

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solitudeismyeuphoria · 6 months

Text

You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.

Franz Kafka

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leighsartworks216 · 2 months

Text

A Decent Man

Wyll x AFAB!Tav/Reader (can be read as platonic)

Wyll deserves a longer fic but my brain is mush rn

No body descriptions so it can be read by anybody who suffers from periods, but I have pulled from my own experiences and made it Very Heavy. I also think this could be read as platonic. There's nothing really pointing toward romance, and the kiss on the cheek can totally be platonic (as well as cuddling) so yeah take it as you will

Warnings: blood, menstruation, anxiety, embarrassment

Word Count: 937

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The night had been so perfect. Wyll had accepted you into his tent when the weather turned sour. He opened up his bedroll to you when you were shivering. All night you slept wrapped in his arms, safe, protected and warm. The Absolute was far from your mind. Tadpoles did not seem to exist in the temporary bliss that encapsulated you both.

And then you woke up, and you just knew it was too damn good to be true.

The first thing you were aware of was the strong pair of arms holding you close. One draped over your side, the other cradling your head in the crook of his elbow. Next, the scent of campfire smoke and the oil he used on his braids. And then, the discomfort between your legs. Warm and slick and terrible.

Panic rushed your heart, adrenaline stealing the sleepy haze from your mind. When in the night had your period began? Early enough to have you bleeding through Wyll’s bedroll? Or late enough you would be lucky if it didn’t stain your pants? There was no way of telling, but the awful guilt flooded your chest all the same.

You risk a glance at Wyll’s face. It’s the most relaxed you think he’s ever been in all the time you’ve known him. Always he carried his burdens in the lines of his face, the furrow of his brow, behind sweet smiles and his dashing Blade persona. Your heart hurt at the thought of waking him and stealing that peace.

As slow and careful as you could, you slipped his arm from around your waist. He shifted slightly, and you waited. But after a moment he still did not wake. You continue your escape. Cold air hits your body like an arctic wind as you pull back the corner of the thin blanket. You lift yourself from his arm that acted as your pillow, sitting up. You cringe as a tightness clutches at your belly, and the wet feeling of blood spilling out. There is no doubt in your mind now: you’ve bled all the way through.

Tears of frustration prick at your eyes. Wyll was kind enough to provide you shelter and comfort, and your body decided now would be the most perfect time for a practical joke against you. If you had the wherewithal to remember to track your cycle with everything else horrid going on, perhaps you could have avoided this. Or maybe your body would have brought on your period sooner, just to catch you off guard.

The quiet sound of your name, drowsy and confused, seals the deal on this being one of the worst days of the entire quest so far, everything else be damned. You wanted to drown in your embarrassment, suffocate on your misfortune. Anything to ignore the shift of the blanket as Wyll sits up beside you, frowning as he tries to meet your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, as though one wrong misstep and you’d shatter. His own mind races with thoughts of nightmares, or even the mysterious Dream Guardian that often came to visit.

The last of your dignity shrivels and dies as you adamantly avoid looking at him, glaring instead at the floor by your shoes. It is harder to tell him what’s happened than it is to drown yourself in the Chionthar river, and far less pleasant. The words grit at you. They feel like jagged steel as they come up your throat to be voiced aloud.

“I… I started my cycle last night.” You sigh, fighting the flurry of hormone-driven emotions as you bury your face in your hands. “I think I’ve bled through your bedroll, Wyll, I’m so so sorry.”

If it was Shadowheart or Karlach, you’d be far less embarrassed and far less upset. Hells, even Lae’zel, and you weren’t even sure she had a blood cycle like this.

You start to assure him you’ll wash it out, that he can have yours if he feels uncomfortable sleeping on his own again - anything to make this right. But before you can even get the words out, he’s rubbing your back.

“Hey, it’s alright. Why don’t you go wash and get changed. I can deal with this.”

You pull your face from your hands to blink at him. He smiles when he finally meets your eyes, sweet and reassuring. “Are you sure?” you ask. “I’m sorry, but you just have a tendency to do things people ask even when it makes you uncomfortable.”

He laughs. “As much as I hate to admit how true that is, a little bit of blood won’t be pushing me out of my comfort zone.”

You’re almost certain you really will start crying as you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tight. He’s careful to avoid knocking you with his horns, but wraps his arm around your upper back to hold you close. You kiss his cheek and thank him.

“For doing what any decent man worth his salt should do?” he asks, though despite the teasing in his voice, he can hear the utter relief in yours. He truly never considered before that something so small would mean so much, something he truly considered the absolute bare minimum. It only encouraged him to do more, if only to ease the burden of years of suffering through this alone put on you.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, Wyll Ravengard, but there is a great lack of decent men.”

“Then I pride myself on being one of the last of this dying breed.”

---

Tag List:

@anonymously-ominous

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baki-tiene-un-simp · 11 months

Note

Characters Hanayama, Yujiro (medically? He can see people's health), Baki + maybe Kureha? Hedkanon on how the reader was fine at first, but then their stomach got sick and they didn't know from what. The guys take them to Kurekha for a checkup, who was more or less free and they find out that the doctors left one of the medical instruments in the reader after the last surgery (Yujiro examines them with his eyesight, he's probably surprised? He takes the reader to Kureha).

Situation: Your S/O suffers complications after surgery / Su S/O sufre complicaciones tras una cirugía.

Characters: Baki Hanma, Kaoru Hanayama, Kureha Shinogi and Yujiro Hanma.

Baki Hanma.

He's in anguish when you start to slow down, I swear you look paler with each passing day, is it really just a tummy ache?

He can't stay calm despite your insistence that he pay you no attention, you can't even stand up on your own without doubling over in pain.

He drags you to the hospital, he had been so stubborn not to be treated in the past, but now it's different. Now it is Baki who is in the opposite place, now he is the one who suffers seeing his partner suffer, he must do something.

Kureha is quick to help them and asks for an abdominal X-ray to see what the problem is, Baki is nervous, why can't he come with you and why does he have to stay in the waiting room?

Baki is so alarmed when Kureha says that you have a surgical instrument lodged in your abdomen, apparently it's a blunt object, but being in a complex place it can't stay there any longer.

The Hanma clenches his fists when you remember even while doped on strong painkillers, mention that your doctors performed surgery on you by accident, something about your instructions getting mixed up with another patient who needed a gallbladder removal.

Baki is anxious after you enter the operating room, he is starting to get delirious, his brain has absurd thoughts that are supported by worry.

He can only breathe easy when you get out of danger, he wants to hold you close, but he holds on to let you heal properly. He is holding your hand and won't let go.

Kaoru Hanayama.

Perhaps the second fastest acting, as soon as you start having pain is when Hanayama rushes you to the hospital.

His men patrolling the entire corridor where you are taking a consultation to avoid any inconvenience, you explain to Kureha that you have had persistent pain in your lower abdomen that is increasing every day.

Since you admit that the pain is still tolerable, Kureha will simply check on you. He palpates the area, but superficially he can't say anything out of place. He indicates an X-ray to clear up doubts.

He speaks with concern when the results come back and questions if you've had any previous surgery. You say yes, it was a minor surgery that was done very quickly, in the words of your regular doctor.

Kureha explains that your doctors left a surgical tool inside your abdomen when they closed after the operation was finished and that was what was causing the pain. Before you or Kaoru can react, he reassures them, he says how it can be fixed and that it's an advantage that you came to get help as quickly as possible.

Kaoru wants the procedure done as soon as possible, he will pay whatever it takes, he might even refuse you to try to use your health insurance; he doesn't mind paying any amount of money as long as you're okay.

Your doctors will be visited by Kaoru's men, I just want to add.

Almost like Kaoru is waiting right by the door of the operating room, he wants to see you as soon as the surgery is over, he wants to make sure you're okay and out of danger.

Kureha Shinogi.

He is talking about the deterioration of the professionalism of doctors, how little interest must you have in your work and in your patient for things like that to happen? It's just ridiculous, are medical schools giving away degrees? I could be in a bad mood all day because of it.

He's complaining loudly, but he's seriously worried. He is just looking for a viable way out, but intrusive thoughts and negative scenarios assail him.

Is it really safe to open a wound that hasn't healed yet? What if it gets infected when they remove the stitches from the previous operation? It would be troublesome, but leaving the instrument there is more troublesome.

He is only hot-headed, but returns to his rational self after calming down. You'll be fine, you're in his hands and he wouldn't let anything bad happen.

The grudge he feels for his colleague, who performed the surgery on you, doesn't go away as quickly as one would hope. Kureha is professional, very professional, but he won't forget this.

He wants to be the one to handle the extraction, he just wants to make sure it's okay, and besides, he needs to get rid of that nagging little voice that tells him that others won't be able to deal with this like he can. It may seem like it's his pride talking about him, but no, it's anxiety.

He does not back down despite the refusals, and since he is the splendid doctor Kureha Shinogi, there is no other way than to allow him to assist during the operation. It's not what he wants, but he reluctantly agrees, at least he'll be around in case something happens.

In the end everything worked out, you're fine, he's fine and that little voice is gone.

Yujiro Hanma.

He may notice how lethargic you have become, slower, and more sensitive to pain in your lower belly. He doesn't mention it because he always complains to you about how "insensitive" it becomes when he tells you that you are weak for not taking pain.

Honestly, he is annoyed that a simple pain can take away your strength and mobility, he believes that you make a fuss over nothing.

He can see that something is wrong, a jagged anomaly that's in the wrong place, something that simply shouldn't be there. But he's an idiot and he's convinced that you're just a crybaby.

He complains all the way about how wasteful it is to go to the doctor, yet he is the one who is dragging you to the hospital to be treated.

"It's either this or lock you out of the house so I don't have to listen to you complain," he shrugs and replies with a frown.

He is capable of throwing you on top of the first stretcher he sees when entering the hospital, walk a few steps behind him to avoid this, he is a man of his word.

He'll probably disappear for as long as you're in the OR, though the doctors insist they felt like they were being watched all the time, like someone was pointing at their foreheads to pull the trigger at the slightest mistake.

He picks you up from the hospital, he hopes you get well soon, not good wishes.

Versión en español.

Baki Hanma.

Está angustiado cuando empiezas a ser más lento, juraría que te ves más pálido con cada día que pasa, ¿realmente es solo un dolor de vientre?

No puede estar tranquilo a pesar de tus insistencias de que no te preste atención, ni siquiera puedes pararte por tú cuenta sin doblarte sobre ti mismo a causa del dolor.

Te arrastra al hospital, él había sido tan obstinado a no ser tratado en el pasado, pero ahora es diferente. Ahora es Baki quien está en el lugar contrario, ahora es él quien sufre al ver a su pareja sufrir, debe hacer algo.

Kureha es rápido en ayudarles y pide que te hagan una radiografía abdominal para ver cuál es el problema, Baki está nervioso, ¿por qué no puede acompañarte y por qué debe quedarse en la sala de espera?

Baki se alarma tanto cuando Kureha dice que tienes un instrumento quirúrgico alojado en el abdomen, al parecer es un objeto sin filo, pero al encontrarse en un lugar complejo no puede quedarse allí por más tiempo.

El Hanma aprieta los puños cuando haces memoria aun al estar dopado por fuertes calmantes, mencionas que tus médicos te hicieron una cirugía por accidente, algo sobre que tus indicaciones se mezclaron con el de otro paciente que necesitaba una extracción de vesícula biliar.

Baki está ansioso después de que entras al quirófano, está empezando a delirar, su cerebro tiene pensamientos absurdos que son apoyados por la preocupación.

Solo puede respirar tranquilo cuando sales de peligro, quiere sostenerte cerca, pero se aguanta para dejar que te recuperes debidamente. Está sosteniendo tu mano y no la soltará.

Kaoru Hanayama.

Quizá el segundo que actúa más rápido, tan pronto como empiezas a tener dolor es cuando Hanayama se apresura a llevarte al hospital.

Sus hombres patrullando todo el pasillo en donde estás tomando consulta para evitar cualquier inconveniente, le explicas a Kureha que has tenido un insistente dolor en el abdomen bajo que cada día va en aumento.

Como admites que el dolor todavía es tolerable, Kureha simplemente te revisara. Él palpa el área, pero superficialmente no puede notar nada fuera de lugar. Indica una radiografía para salir de dudas.

Habla con preocupación cuando los resultados llegan y cuestiona si has tenido alguna cirugía previa. Dices que sí, era una cirugía menor que se realizó muy rápido, en palabras de tu doctor habitual.

Kureha explica que tus doctores dejaron una herramienta quirúrgica dentro de tu abdomen cuando cerraron tras finalizar la operación y eso era lo que te generaba el dolor. Antes de que Kaoru o tú puedan reaccionar, los tranquiliza, dice como puede solucionarse y que es una ventaja que hayan venido a buscar ayuda lo más rápido posible.

Kaoru quiere que el procedimiento se lleve a cabo lo antes posible, pagara lo que sea necesario, podría rechazar incluso que trates de usar tu seguro médico; no le importa pagar cualquier suma de dinero con tal de que estés bien.

Tus doctores recibirán la visita de los hombres de Kaoru, solo quiero agregar.

Casi que Kaoru espera justo junto a la puerta del quirófano, quiere verte tan pronto como la cirugía termine, quiere asegurarse de que estés bien y fuera de peligro.

Kureha Shinogi.

Está hablando sobre el deterioro del profesionalismo de los doctores, ¿Qué tan poco interés debes tener en tu trabajo y en tu paciente como para que cosas así sucedan? Simplemente es ridículo, ¿acaso las escuelas de medicina están regalando los títulos? Podría estar de mal humor durante todo el día por ello.

Se está quejando en voz alta, pero está seriamente preocupado. Solo está buscando una salida viable, pero los pensamientos intrusivos y escenarios negativos lo asaltan.

¿Es realmente seguro abrir una herida que todavía no sana? ¿Qué tal si se infecta cuando quiten los puntos de la operación anterior? Sería problemático, pero dejar el instrumento allí lo es más.

Solo tiene la cabeza caliente, pero vuelve a su racional yo después de calmarse. Estarás bien, estas en sus manos y él no dejaría que nada malo sucediera.

El rencor que siente por su colega, quien te realizo la cirugía, no desaparece tan rápido como cualquiera esperaría. Kureha es profesional, muy profesional, pero esto no lo piensa olvidar.

Quiere ser quien se ocupe de la extracción, solo quiere cerciorarse de que esté bien y, además, necesita deshacerse de esa insistente vocecita que le dice que los demás no podrán lidiar con esto como él. Puede parecer que es su orgullo hablando, pero no, es la ansiedad.

No retrocede a pesar de las negativas, y como es el espléndido doctor Kureha Shinogi, no hay de otro que permitirle asistir durante la operación. No es lo que él quiere, pero acepta a regañadientes, al menos estará cerca por si algo pasa

Al final todo salió bien, estás bien, él está bien y esa vocecita se fue.

Yujiro Hanma.

Él puede notar lo aletargado que te has vuelto, más lento y más sensible ante el dolor que experimentas en tu vientre bajo. No lo menciona porque siempre te queja de lo "insensible" que llega a ser cuando te dice que eres débil al no aguantar el dolor.

Sinceramente, le molesta que un simple dolor pueda quitarte la fuerza y la movilidad, cree que haces un escándalo por nada.

Él puede ver que algo va mal, una anomalía irregular que está en un lugar incorrecto, algo que no debería estar allí simplemente. Pero es un idiota y está convencido que solo eres un bebé llorón.

Se queja todo el camino sobre como es un desperdicio ir al doctor, sin embargo, es él quien te está arrastrando al hospital para que seas tratado.

"Es esto o dejarte fuera de casa para no tener que escucharte mientras te quejas" levanta los hombros y responde con el ceño fruncido.

Es capaz de lanzarte encima de la primera camilla que vea al entrar al hospital, camina unos pocos pasos por detrás de él para evitar esto, es un hombre de palabra.

Probablemente desaparezca durante todo el tiempo que estés en el quirófano, aunque los doctores insiste en que sentía que eran observados todo el tiempo, como si alguien estuviera apuntando a sus frentes para jalar el gatillo ante el más mínimo error.

Te recoge del hospital, espera que te recuperes pronto, no son buenos deseos.

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lanymme · 5 months

Text

Think about how closely Kristen and Saria’s relationship parallels Saria and Silence’s.

You have this woman that opens new avenues for you, shows you new ways of living, lights the way ahead of you and grows toward you, opens her heart to you like nobody else, and she betrays your trust so deeply that you’ll never forgive her. It cuts you off, leaves you to walk the path she left you on alone.

Over time, you begin to understand more of what went on behind that face that dazzled you. What she was struggling with. That dream (reaching the stars, lighting a new way for humanity, fulfilling her parents’ wishes | protecting Kristen, walking with her, uplifting humanity with her) that took away the woman you loved (Magnetic. Electrifying. Idealistic. Vulnerable. Dreaming. Loving. Pioneering | Upright. Unyielding. Uncompromising. Kind. Loving. Protective).

You see how the dream arose from the very things you love in her, but it doesn’t change the compromises that woman has made. It doesn’t make things better. You don’t forgive her. She’s still keeping you in the dark, and the course you’re following is still part of the story she’s telling herself. But you understand a little more of her now, as you hold things together by yourself while she chases her dreams. You grow, you are forced to grow, and every time you look up from the mess she left you with you can see her back, her touch, in the world around you. You can’t decide between hating her and missing her.

And then, the time comes when you meet her again. You have a chance to talk to her. To say your piece, and air your grievances, and she understands. She knows you’re right. And you can see a future where you reconcile (with some strict conditions) and reunite.

But she still keeps chasing her dream, up, up into the sky, leaving you behind. You can’t stop her. She wounds you again. Somehow, this time it reminds you how beautiful it was. How much you love her.

And then she’s out of your reach forever. One last betrayal. You never got to really reconcile.

It shatters you.

Only one of those seekers gets to avoid that fate. They can’t all stand together, linking hands in a chain.

Because Kristen is never coming back down to earth. And Silence never left it.

If it was Saria’s choice… perhaps Silence would be the one suffering alone. Betrayed, one last time.

But it isn’t Saria’s choice, of course. It never was with Kristen, really.

And so, Saria falls. She’s the one whose hand fails to reach.

Of course it shatters her. But then, who could be better at taking hits than Saria?

And Silence is there to pick up the pieces. Who could be better at healing than Olivia?

And of course, Ifrit is there too. Together, with both her parents again. The three of them can walk forward, hand in hand, into a kinder future.

Even if Saria never stops looking up.

#kristen wright #olivia silence #saria #arknights #lone trail

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seresinhangmanjake · 7 months

Note

Can you do something of Jake comforting the reader after loosing their grandfather who they were close with? My grandpa passed very suddenly and unexpectedly last night.

Hi. I am so sorry for your loss. I know how that feels and it is a hard thing to accept and work through. I hope you like what I wrote and that it makes you feel a little bit better :)

Words: 965

Get Me Through

You couldn’t understand the horrible timing of your phone ringing and door banging in tune with one another when the sound of both was the absolute last thing you needed. People did not often bother you. With the exception of a select few, no one ever called. Rarely did anyone other than that same small group show up unannounced at your front door. And while you didn’t mind seeing the faces of your friends, today you didn’t need it. You’d already had to turn away one of them, and that should’ve been enough.

As you made your way into the hall, your head started to pound, and in an effort to force it to cease sooner, you ignored the phone in favor of the knock. The ringing would stop on its own. The knocking, however, seemed to be on a damn mission. Open the door or suffer the consequences of a house full of loud echoing for god knows how long.

You didn’t have the energy to put on the look of irritation that you felt deep in your core. As it was, you could barely keep your eyes open. So to avoid as much interaction with the intruder as possible, your plan was simple. Open door, curse out knocker, close door, back to bed. But when you pulled back the wooden slab—painted a shade of eggshell blue by the hand of one of those you loved most—you couldn’t find it in you to utter a single word.

The look on his face was not one you’d ever seen before. It didn’t falter when he took the phone from his ear and clicked the red circle on the screen that ended the ringing pouring from your kitchen.

“Sweetheart.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eye.

“What am I doing here?” His voice held a pain that almost made you feel guilty. Almost. Perhaps definitely, had your emotions not been solely reserved for something other than the way the man before you was presenting. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here hours ago.”

“Jake—”

His arms wrapping around you stole the breath from your lungs, shocking you so much it took a few seconds before you could settle into his warmth, acknowledge that you liked it a bit more than you cared to admit, and snake your arms around his shoulders to keep him close.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Your tears were undoubtedly soaking into his naval academy t-shirt; the one you typically teased him for being too tight around his biceps while secretly admiring the definition it gave to his upper body. But today, you were only thankful that it kept you from dampening his shoulder with salty liquid and snot.

Through your sniffles, you said, “Rooster called?”

With his nod, his nose brushed along the column of your neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

"He said he’d cover for me with Mav. I can be here as long as you want me.”

Forever, you could have muttered. Just stay forever. You knew you would always want him anyway. He might as well have set up camp just as he did in your heart and head.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said as he lifted his head. His thumbs swiped under your lower lashes to clear the tears collected there. "Let's get some food in you."

—

At some point, you'd melted into one another.

It took you a moment to push through the initial internal resistance at allowing him to hold you. Something screamed that the closer he was to you, the warmer his touch, the farther away he would eventually be. Completely out of your control, you would lose him. Not unlike how you lost one of the most valuable pieces of the puzzle that was your family.

You couldn't have that again. You wouldn't be able to handle the absence of another. And even though he was right beside you, clinging to you as you sobbed, whispering sweet words in your ear, you were still terrified he would disappear.

"I know it doesn't feel like it right now," Jake said, his hand rubbing up and down your upper arm as you laid together on your bed. "But—"

"You don't have to say it," you interrupted. Your voice was unfamiliar to your ear; hoarse after hours of weeping. "I know one day it'll be ok. I'm just tired of losing the people who loved me." Your arm subconsciously tightened around his waist, then you released a long exhale. "When my grandfather died, it hit me that I don't have many people who love me without expectations or demands the way he did. I didn't realize how alone it would make me feel."

"Sweetheart, I don't have expectations of you. Nor demands," he said, words slightly muffled from his lips brushing against your temple. "Your grandfather was a great man, but he hasn't been the only one to love you wholeheartedly." His breath heated your skin, which carried all the way down to your toes. A blanket; warm and sweet and safe. Then he whispered, "You won't ever be alone."

You remained silent, unsure of how to handle the depth of his sudden confession. He'd never told you something like that before, but you couldn't fully process it past the light fluttering it bloomed in your stomach. While your heart was sure you felt the same for him, your brain couldn’t spare the effort. For now, you had his comfort, and the solid weight of his body against yours, and his soft touch to keep you grounded. You had what you needed. You had him. And you knew he would help you get through the night, so he could be there for you in the day.

---

A/N: I hope this fic helps anyone who has dealt with something similar feel a little better, too.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm #tgm fic

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anouri · 1 month

Text

Fernando Pessoa from The Book of Disquiet (1982)

#words #fernando pessoa #the book of disquiet #perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid #mine

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geekyarmorel · 3 months

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hi! love your work, could i please request smth where reader gently blows into mother miranda's eye to help her get something out of it? or vice versa, whatever you're comfortable with <3

So like eyes being blown on or wind hitting eyes is kinda a ick for me. But!!! I changed it just a little bit to using eye drops, hopefully you like it. Also writing a frustrated reader and Miranda is kinda fun.

Something in Your Eyes

Mother Miranda x Reader

It had started off like a normal day, work in the lab going steadily. You pulled up a new slide under the telescope, taking notes on what you saw when you noticed something new. "Miranda? I think I've found something."

The woman came over immediately, rubbing one of her eyes before looking in the viewer. Or well tried to look, she pulled back and rubbed her eye again, an annoyed look on her face. She steps towards the side and motions for you to look. "Describe it for me. There's something in my eye." She says while trying to blink it out.

You took a look again and began to do as instructed. "It looks like a new spore, though it acts like an amoeba and will absorb some particles around it."

"Interesting." She stepped back to try looking in again and lowly a curse slipped from her lips. "Take good notes." Miranda grumbled, going back to her own work hand rubbing at her eye still.

You wait just a minute watching her while she seemingly suffered. Deciding it would probably be better to not say anything you go back to work. Though it isn't long when you hear an aggravated sigh followed by mumbled cursing. You couldn't help the small smile that curled your lips as you found it amusing that the local deity and brilliant scientist is being bested by something in her eye. At another curse followed by the slam of something down on her desk you turn to her.

"Perhaps you should try rinsing it out." You offer, watching as she rubbed again. The skin there growing red and puffy with the force she was using. "I think we have eye drops in the bathroom cabinet."

Miranda scoffed, "It's fine. I don't need any eye drops." She rubs at it again, before blinking rapidly again.

"Your eye says a different story." You reply as you watch her scowl at you. "It's red and puffy."

"Just get back to work." She snapped and you held your hands up in mock surrender. You turn and put up with her irritated mumblings for as long as you can before you can't stand it and leave the lab. You go to the bathroom and shuffle things about till you find what you're looking for. With the drops in hand you go back to the lab, setting the drops on her desk.

Miranda looked at the drops then to you, her eye redder than before. "I'm not using those."

"They're just eye drops and they'll help you. I swear I'm going insane from your grumbling." You protest, scooting them a little bit closer to her. Amusement crossing your lips as you watch her scoot away from them. "Miranda?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you scared of eye drops?"

She scoffs loudly and levels you with one of her signature looks. "I am not afraid of eye drops."

"Then-"

"I don't like them." She answered, shuffling some papers around to avoid looking at you. "I......can never keep my eyes open."

"That's understandable." You soothe, watching the older woman. "But I really think they would help." Miranda rubbed at her eye again, trying to level you a look. "How about I help?"

"How are you going to help?"

"I'll do the drops, all you have to do is hold your eye open."

"No."

"Miranda." You sigh her name, knowing what you were going to have to do. "Listen we'll make it a deal. You let me help you with the eye drops and I'll do anything you want me to do in return."

Miranda quirked an eyebrow, "Anything I want?"

"Anything."

"Very well." She said with a nod. Going over to the sink she washes her hands before taking a seat so you can help her better. Carefully she held put her hand to her eye, it took a couple of tries but eventually she managed to hold it open. "Go ahead."

Quickly you squeeze the bottle, a few drops coming out and landing in her eye. She rapidly blinks and slightly shakes her head like that would help rid her of the liquid. You help her wipe away the remnants and look at her questioningly. She sat quietly for a moment before answering with a sigh, "Yes you were right. It helped."

You smile but don't say anything, you knew that her just admitting to you being right was hard enough for her. You go to turn when her hand reaches out to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to her. "Miranda?"

"You said I could have anything I want." She begins, eyes flickering from your own to your lips and back. "I want you."

You feel your cheeks burn red, tongue wetting your lips quickly. "M-me?" Your heart fluttered in your chest as you waited for her response.

"Yes, you." A hand coming to cup your cheek and draw you closer. "I want to kiss you, I want to hold you, I want to know you inside and out. Let me have you."

"You can have me-" As soon as those words left your lips, hers crash into them. The kiss bruising and fierce like she was desperate for you. You dropped the bottle and your hands grab a hold of her hips, pulling her into you while you submitted to her kisses. You aren't for sure how long you kissed but your lips were kiss swollen and your breathes mingled together as you tried to catch your breath.

As Miranda caught hers she pulled back and grasped one of your hands. She began to lead you up the stairs out of the lab. "Miranda?"

"I have many more kisses to give you, now come along." The smile you smiled was perhaps the brightest yet.

#resident evil village #mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #re8 mother miranda #miranda x reader #mother miranda × reader #resident evil mother miranda #mother miranda re8 #geeky got an ask #geeky writes

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amphiptere-art · 3 months

Text

Hey.

So I might be removing myself from watching anything of the Sun and Moon show.

I'm definitely not entirely leaving the fandom. But it's fairly close. I just can't watch it anymore. Eclipse is a comfort character for a reason, and seeing him being treated like shit without him even doing anything villainous is just a little too much.

No one has been able to explain to me how eclipse could get a good outcome out of this. Not without saying that the writers are going to retcon own characters. Which doesn't exactly make me feel good about Eclipse either.

There's a reason I actually gave Algol his design. I wasn't really planning on having him be a character in the sulky star cluster. It was a code name, And maybe eventually when we got to the end arc of the show he would join. But he definitely was supposed to be more of a background character.

That is no longer the case. Algol will be joining shortly. And with him is my departure from watching the show.

I also do not want to have much knowledge over what's happening. Not unless it is in Eclipses favor. If all you can tell me is that an episode is funny, because it either doesn't include eclipse, or just a simple fact that eclipse is snarky in the face of his absolutely terrible situation. Then I definitely don't want it. Unless Eclipse is actually getting therapy, or mental help. Or perhaps escapes and returns to your standard Saturday morning cartoon villain.

I Don't Want It.

I don't want to learn that eclipse is still stuck in the same shitty situation. I don't want to learn that eclipse is still being treated terribly by Sun and Moon. I don't want to learn the eclipse is still suffering because of his created pains.

Bottom line, I'm not watching it I'm going to try my hardest to avoid spoilers.

My characters are no longer able to watch a show. The channel can no longer be found. Alvis has locked the book. And now only the footnotes can be seen.

There is a very high chance that I will start posting more standard security breach like stuff. Such as warehouse, rusted wheels, perrfect thief, stop you silly siren, ect. Since I will not be watching the show my characters are only growing off of themselves, and crossovers. And if I'm being honest that line is a little thin.

Most of my character stories have either ended, have had arcs, or just set in a continuous world that's not really evolving. So my Tsams characters I just kind of floating waiting for another ship to come around. Who's going to be a little bits of action but it's going to be slow. Something for my own entertainment.

So while I might be holding back on my Tsams characters. I might ask for interactions with my characters in these other worlds. Such as perrfect thief or rusted wheels. As I would actually like to see interactions with those characters a lot more than Tsams ones.

#sams #tsams #tsams au #sams au #Dragon squeaks #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show

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moishe-pipick · 1 year

Photo

“You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do, and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.”

- Franz Kafka

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multimilfs · 1 year

Text

Zelda Spellman x Fem!Reader: On The Basis of Understanding

Summary: ghostsunderstoodmysoul requested "Hi, darling! I didn't want to bother you so quickly, especially since you just wrote something at my request. But sorry, I couldn't resist seeing that Zelda is also on your masterlist. I was thinking about something where the reader was bitten by a werewolf and every now and then turns into one herself. She can't deal with the fact that something independent of her is taking control of her body, and she can't do much about it. And here comes Zelda, who also suffered a similar trauma when the Caligari spell was placed on her, and she herself had no power over her body. Maybe something in the context of their developing relationship? They both support each other, Zelda teaches the sensitive reader to overcome her fears and helps her control her "powers", and in return she shows Zelda what tenderness, affection and care mean. Thank you in advance and have a lovely day!"

A/N: Now I hope you all don't think I forgot about the requests in my asks.... I didn't! They're just taking a while to get to, you know, with the burnout and all. This was the first one I ever tried to write again so it was written over the course of a few months, forgive any errors or lack of fluidity on that end.

Happy halloween!!! 🎃

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld @angel7376

Warning(s): Brief descriptions of violence

It’s that time again. The time when your skin itches unpleasantly, breaking out into a permanent set of goosebumps and your nail beds ache, the skin splitting like a bad hangnail. You wrap bandages around your fingers in hopes of quelling some of the pain until your transformation.

The physical changes are only a temporary side effect, one that you welcome. They mean peace for a few days after; no voices, no urges, just blissful quiet and energy eventually floods your body like you’d slept for days.

Then it ends. You open your eyes to a heavy feeling in your chest. Voices, whispers in the back of your mind prod you without end—eat this, do that, kill them. The little control you have goes to staving off those urges.

No one notices, praise Lilith, but it's miserable.

A hand settles on your arm and you turn to meet inquiring eyes. Zelda examines your face like she can understand exactly how you feel. Most of the time, she wasn’t too far off.

“Have you prepared for this evening?” Zelda’s eyes dart briefly to your wrapped fingers.

“As much as I normally do.” You answer.

This prompts an eyeroll. Her hand leaves your arm, coming to rest on her hip as the other holds a lit cigarette. She inhales slowly, breathing it out in a quick puff. Then once more just for flair.

“Which is to say you’ve done nothing.” She states—no question in her tone, just a knowing glare.

“It’s a little counterproductive to prepare for something you can’t predict.”

“Perhaps it would be more predictable if you were.”

You laugh. A bitter note creeps into your chest, tinging the amusement with something angry. If only it could be that easy. You thrive on routine, but this… beast inside of you does everything to fight against it. Being predictable would go against its very nature.

“If you say so, Zelda.”

“You know this could be avoided if you allowed me to be there,” She says, inclining her head and flourishing with a hand as she speaks, “but you choose to doubt my skills.” “There is nothing about doubting your skill involved. I’m choosing not to put you in danger.” You say. The conversation alone is giving you a headache, though it’s one you have often.

“I’m quite capable of protecting myself.”

Humming, you let the conversation lapse into silence. It isn’t comfortable now, but soon enough it will be. You greatly admire Zelda’s willingness to help, the problem is that by helping she puts herself in danger. Too many people have been willing to put her at risk and you refuse to do the same.

This is something you’ll figure out alone. If you hurt someone, especially Zelda, you will never forgive yourself.

Your shoulders tense, flashes of images running behind your eyes; cruel nightmares brought on by your affliction. Nightmares of the beast taking over, rendered useless as it tears the woman apart. Bile rises in your throat as your stomach turns.

Her hand settles on your arm once more, eyes apologetic. You give her a small smile.

“The wards will allow you in, should you need my help.” Zelda murmurs.

“Thank you.”

The staccato of heels grows quiet as she walks down the hall and into her office. You let out a breath, closing your eyes and trying to push away the horrid images. Why is this your fate, of all things? Is it too much to ask for control over your own mind?

Class doors open around you, forcing your movement. Your free period is over. In a few minutes, a class will await you, full of curious young witches and warlocks who are completely oblivious to their professor’s lack of control, lack of being.

With your mind clouded by worry, the rest of the day passes quickly. It’s like a blur where you feel in control and yet, not present. It isn’t you speaking or moving; you watch from outside yourself as it all happens. You would blame it on the other part of yourself, but it has no involvement. It’s too busy getting ready for the full moon.

Fear creeps in slowly, leaving you frozen in your living room. That’s all you remember before everything goes black.

—

Something… hard is pressed against the side of your body. Not hot or cold, but lacking in any sort of temperature, and uncomfortable. You shift and something tugs at your arm. A pin-prick of pressure, pulled and released in an instant. The groan that leaves your mouth is something less than human, forcing you to open your eyes and look down.

Splayed in front of you are two long legs covered in fur. You shift from laying on your side to laying on your stomach, feeling that familiar prickling as the wooden boards pull at your fur. The only thing allowing you to see in the surrounding darkness is an overhead light and your enhanced vision. You’re on a porch, one you don’t recognize until glancing at the door.

Zelda Spellman stands in the doorway, leaning against the wood, smoke framing her face. She watches you with only a curious glance. You can’t believe you hadn’t caught the cigarette before, it’s stench overwhelming; unpleasant if not for the way it mingled with Zelda’s perfume.

“Took you long enough.” She sighs, further framing herself with the smoke, “Come inside.”

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. As if you’re on autopilot, you stand on aching haunches, moving towards her. It isn’t until your mind becomes present that you stop. That familiar voice, though faint, was ordering you not to obey—not to follow the orders of a witch.

Before, this voice’s desires would be law, forcing you onto an alternate path. Now it was a suggestion. You continue in spite of its angry cries, following Zelda up the steps and into a room you’ve seen before. You hesitate.

“I’ve had the sheets changed for you, go on.” Zelda urges.

Unfamiliar warmth fills your chest as you leap onto the bed. She had no idea you’d come, but made the effort anyway. The covers, no matter how old and worn, were reserved for you. You have some small place in the Spellman house. Even if it is temporary, it’s more than you had before.

You turn, working out lumps that aren’t there. Curling in on your body, your ears twitch. A soft sigh catches them before the door closes and you’re alone. Left with the faint scent of cigarette smoke and Zelda, you settle in for the remaining hours of the night.

—

“Hilda, don’t disturb her. She’s had a long night.” A voice hisses through your exhaustion.

“I’m giving her some clothes.” Hilda hisses back.

The lack of twitching in your ears is reassurance of being human once more. You try not to move too much or breathe too fast, so Hilda won’t worry that she’d woken you. If Zelda got on her case, you’d feel horrible.

“You’ve done more than enough, now shoo.” Zelda whispers, her voice losing some of its bite.

“I’m going, I’m going!”

Hilda’s steps fade, but you can still feel a presence. Zelda. Her warmth seeps into your body despite her place across the room. Eyes pierce your flesh and continue to do so until you open your own.

“Good morning.” You murmur, meeting her eyes.

“It’s closer to the afternoon, but yes, good morning.” Zelda says.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

You shoot up, just managing to remember your state of dress before the blanket falls. Some time during the night you burrowed below the covers. Now, they’re the only layer between you and Zelda’s stare.

The near-slip makaes Zelda’s lips twitch, a smirk beginning to form. You would glare if the energy was available to you. But when you shoot up, your vision begins to spin, and your head feels heavy.

“I’m not in the habit of giving my guests a schedule. You needed the rest.”

“Still, I feel… rude for intruding on your home and then missing breakfast.”

“As if Hilda could think of you as anything other than a delight. She’s saved you more than a fair portion of her food and excitement.” Zelda scoffs, but can’t hide the note of fondness when talking about her sister.

“Thank her for me, will you? For that and the clothes.” You smile, motioning to the neatly folded shirt and pants at your feet.

“You can thank her yourself after you get dressed.”

Zelda makes no effort to move and you glare. Rolling her eyes, she covers them. She sees no point in your efforts to conceal your form, being around for ages makes the stigma around the human anatomy trivial to her, especially since she’s of the same sex. But she respects your desire for privacy.

“Something was different last night, wasn’t it?” She asks, eyes still covered as you dress.

Now that you think of it… something had been different. Though you can’t quite place your finger on it. All you know is that you felt better this morning, less tired than after previous transformations.

“It was, I believe. Though I’m not sure what changed.” You answer honestly, finally coming to button the pants you were offered, “You can look now.”

Zelda lowers her hand, taking in your appearance and nodding. Then she sits back in her chair. You notice a short glass on the table next to her, no doubt filled with a sophisticated mix of alcohol, despite the early hour.

“You seemed more like yourself when you arrived. Less… aggressive.”

“Aggressive?” You ask, a note of panic seeping in. Have you hurt her before?

“You’ve never done anything physical, though a fair bit of snarling anytime I came near you. You were far more annoying than dangerous.”

Swirling the liquid in her glass, she takes a slow sip. Her eyes watch over the rim as you relax. Many times the two of you have discussed your fears, especially those related to hurting others. Causing any pain to people around you would blemish your caring spirit.

“I had more awareness when I arrived. You told me to come inside and I could, I didn’t have to fight with… it to do what I wanted.” You admit.

“You have to stop referring to your other half as an ‘it.’” Zelda sighs, exhausted with the effort of repeating herself, “Every time you’ve ventured closer to acceptance, you’ve gained more control. You can’t fight for the rest of your life.” “Says who?” You snap.

It’s pure, unfiltered anger that you direct her way. She hesitates, filling you with guilt, before moving forward without acknowledgement.

“It isn’t healthy. You know this, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Because this thing, this curse? It isn’t me. It will never be me. How can it be, when I can’t even control it?”

The look in Zelda’s eyes leaves you uneasy. Worse than pity or sadness, it’s an understanding. She knows what it's like to lose control and it terrifies you. You’re keenly reminded of her own experience, your stomach turning unpleasantly.

“Whether you like it or not, lycanthropy is a permanent affliction. You lose nothing from trying to accept it.”

“I lose myself!” Tears pull at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall with each breath. How many times will you have this conversation before she understands?

Zelda looks into your eyes. Her mouth is open, lips poised to speak, when she pauses. A nerve has clearly been struck. It's only natural, but there will never be a conversation on this topic that didn’t strike a nerve. The open wound in your heart will know no peace.

“In order to become what it is, it needs you, Y/N. Mind and body. It is fueled by magic, but lives only with your essence. Losing yourself is impossible.” Zelda stands, crossing the room. She stops before you, forcing your eyes to meet her own, “The being you believe is in your head? It has to bend to your will. All you need to do is accept its presence and it will fall in line.”

You let some of the tears fall, emotion tightening in your chest. A hand wipes away the tears, delicate eyes following the trails of them. Can it really be so simple?

Months; you’ve fought this feeling for months. So many words have left Zelda’s lips in that time. Reassurances, urges—all to accept the situation as it was. The things she said bounced off of your mind, never taking purchase, until now.

Relief should flood through your veins. The tears in your eyes should be happy, joyous. Instead, grief drags your heart from the joy it craves. You’ve prolonged this pain for months, when it could’ve changed in days, all because of your fear.

You have no idea if Zelda will understand, but you don’t need to know. Not when she pulls you against her. Tears soak her blouse, she says nothing. Your hands clutch onto any part of her available.

“I’m… scared.” Wincing against the grit in your voice, you try to pull away. Zelda doesn’t let you.

“I know,” Zelda says, rubbing a hand over your back, “but one day you won’t be.”

You hated to admit she’s right, and over time, she is. Instead of shutting the animalistic thoughts and urges out, you redirect them; picking up something to do or eating to keep your jaws busy. The fear is still ever present. As small as it is, it holds you back.

Zelda takes on exercises to attune you to your own senses and now you stand in a large field, eyes closed as she instructs you.

“What do you smell?” She calls from across the space.

“I don’t know. Flowers?”

The sigh she releases makes you grin. Then comes a click, metal on metal; Zelda’s lighter. You hear the sound dozens of times per day, enough for its absence to worry you.

“Attune your senses to my cigarette. Expand your breadth, take it in.”

Hands clench at your sides, you make the effort to open yourself to the surroundings. It's like unplugging your nose after swimming in a pool. For a moment, scents meld together. The mixture is like a stain on your sense of smell. Then they begin to separate, splitting like a cell.

Petrichor clings to every blade of grass and leaf, enhancing the pungence of the sweet florals. Some are fresh, strong, their blooms new to the world. Others brown at the edges and give off musky nodes. Standing out among the natural scents is the familiar burning of Zelda’s cigarette. The tobacco is new, though the paper is damp.

All of it is so defined now, clear and original. It was overwhelming before you latched onto Zelda. Now, in your mind’s eye, you can confirm her position based on the tobacco. It struggles to blot out the fresh blossoms on your left. If you hadn’t heard her voice come from that way before, you would locate her now.

The more you think, the more you know it isn’t her cigarette that gives her away. Plenty of witches at the academy smoke. None of them wear the same scent, bear that same unintentional fragrance of soil like she does. It is her. As if it was written into her very DNA, you know this to be true.

“Tell me what you know.” Zelda says.

“They’re new, but you went out to smoke this morning. The paper was already damp before coming out here.”

“What brand?”

“Heavens Zelda, seriously? That’s impossible!”

“Focus. Don’t make excuses.” She hardens her tone, sending a chill down your spine.

You try to focus, but you can’t get a hint from the tobacco itself. Sometimes the box can give a hint of where it’s been. Nothing. You have little knowledge about cigarettes and can’t pinpoint anything.

“I don’t know.” Your shoulders sag and you open your eyes.

The red and white box catches your eye, you grit your teeth. It’d been so simple. Marlboro reds are popular, but that was the reason you didn’t name them. Zelda isn’t someone who ordinarily goes with the popular choice.

“Do you normally smoke those?”

“If I want an easy option, yes.”

“What the hell does that mean?” A laugh escapes you, walking closer to her.

“I roll my own cigarettes, darling, that is what it means.” Zelda says.

You raise an eyebrow at that. Everyday you learn something new about her, something obscure. She is a woman of refined taste and knowledge. The idea that she rolls her own cigarettes shouldn’t surprise you.

Though that begs the question; if she rolls them, does she grow her own tobacco? The mortuary does reek of it, but you’d put that down to Zelda’s constant consumption. That would explain the ever present scents of less… legal plants coming from the attic as well. You guess that was just Ambrose’s doing.

“Alright, Coach, what next?” Crossing the field to stand at her side, you offer her a grin. A small smile pulls fondly at her mouth.

“I’m afraid I’m cutting it short today. I have far too many papers to grade this evening.” She sighs.

Zelda pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers, cigarette nearly burnt through in her other hand. You take it and stub it out on the bottom of your shoe. The entire moment, your eyes never leave her. The tense set of her shoulders, barely shaking hand, and creases on her forehead create a worrying picture.

“Zelda, when was the last time you slept?” You ask.

“Last night.”

Her answer is quick, too quick. When your eyes meet, you can see the exhaustion reflected back in them. You reach out to rub a worry line from her forehead. It’s an unusual desire, but she allows it, despite her surprise. She even leans into it slightly.

“And how long did you sleep last night?” You prod.

There is no hiding the sheepish, caught expression on her face. It mingles perfectly with her typical indignation at being managed, “...Three hours.”

“I thought as much. Come on.”

You give her no time to adjust before taking her by the hand, pulling her across the green space in the direction of the academy. She stumbles for a brief moment. She attempts to pull her hand from your own, but your gentle grip is firm. An over dramatic sigh comes from behind you.

“Must you manhandle me? I’m perfectly capable of walking.” Zelda says.

“Are you?” You throw back without thinking, “Because you’re not capable of basic self care. It makes me wonder.”

That is another piece of your affliction you are adjusting to; your natural shyness is nowhere to be found, replaced with a quick-wit that often surprises others. Zelda inhales sharply, but says nothing. She’s becoming used to your easy quips. There is nothing for her to argue against, though, as you’re right.

It isn’t until you’re surrounded by the walls of Zelda’s office that you release her. Then you begin rifling through her desk, making her raise an eyebrow. She crosses her arms as she watches the scene, “What in Lilith’s name are you looking for?”

“Your answer key.” You throw back distractedly.

She’s at your side in an instant, unlocking the top left drawer and handing over a stack of papers. You scowl while she smirks.

“What are you doing with them?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to grade your papers.” You smile.

Zelda freezes in place. She looks as if she’s never seen you before. You wait, in awe of a truly speechless Zelda Spellman. Finally she speaks again.

“Why?” She asks breathlessly.

“You need papers graded and you need a nap. You can’t do both, so I can take care of one for you.”

Her flinty, suspicious eyes soften into warm pools. Indecision keeps her from speaking. You say nothing, not wanting to interrupt the thoughts running through her mind. Is your offer really so shocking? It feels like a trifle compared to all she’s done for you.

“I can’t let you do that, Y/N.” Zelda tries, but her voice lacks conviction.

“You can. Now, lay on the couch, I’ll go grab a blanket from my classroom!”

You rush from the room before she can mount an argument. Left behind in the office, Zelda sits down heavily on the leather couch. She stares at the doorway in disbelief. A tumultuous swirl of emotions pulses through her chest, a mixture of pain and longing. Somewhere relief worms in.

When is the last time someone went out of their way for her? Someone who isn’t her family, that was. She can’t recall. The number of friends she has can be counted on a single hand—a single finger, even, as she counts only you. Her heart aches.

You rush back into the room, a large green blanket piled in your arms. Behind the mountain of fabric, she catches the smile you aim at her. Her heart ceases in its ache, instead overwhelmed with warmth.

“I had to dig through my chest, but I remembered you liked this one last time,” You comment, missing the shaky smile on her lips, “Now lay down and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it all under control.”

For once, Zelda has nothing to say. She lays her head on the arm of the couch, letting you drape the blanket over her. Her eyes follow you to her desk where you sit. Then they slip closed briefly.

When they open again, she tries not to move. She’s content to watch you; the way you fiddle with the pen in your hand, eyes darting back and forth over the papers on the desk. You bite your lip in concentration and a fond smile breaks out on her features.

Over the weeks of work, you’ve become sure of yourself. More than ever before. And in that, you begin to take extra steps for her. Though she’s coming to realize they’ve always been there. Your care isn’t new, just more obvious under her constant attention. Like your affections, she’s also failed to acknowledge her own.

“Damn.” She hears you mutter, tapping the pen to the wood rapidly. Then you meet her eyes.

A brief expression of surprise flits over your face, before you smile. Zelda lets her own smile remain. What was it she said to you—that accepting your situation would make you happier, offer more control? Perhaps accepting this feeling in her chest will do the same for her.

“Has something stumped you?”

“Maybe,” You say, smile never wavering, “Did you enjoy your rest?”

“I did. It seems you need some now.”

“I’m okay, Zelda-”

“You can’t enforce self care on me and then refuse it yourself. It’s remarkably hypocritical.” Zelda says, raising a challenging eyebrow, “Come here.”

Knowing you’ve been caught, you stand and cross the room. You plop unceremoniously down next to her. The action draws a chuckle from her lips, husky with sleep.

Zelda offers a portion of the blanket to you. Rather than trade spots with you, she remains seated, waiting for your decision. It takes no time for you to take the offered warmth. In the silence of the room, you snuggle into her side. She leans back into you.

It takes only moments before you drift into sleep. She traces a finger over your cheek, sleep pulling at her once more. Before joining you in unconsciousness, Zelda presses a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. You are safe—loved. And so is she.

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dreamingofyeo · 4 months

Text

crescent: chapter 1 ☾⋆⁺₊✧

The boy in the stocks

792 words

masterlist - playlist

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It was the sound of the loud, cruel laughter of castle guards and various cold hearted villagers that tore you from your sleep. It was rare your lady allowed you a day of rest, yet when one is given the castle decides to drag another poor soul to the village stocks? As if to mock the very definition of rest. You could care less about the physical definition, but knowing of someone’s suffering but a few meters from your door laughs in the face of a more psychological one. The kind of rest you truly need. Maybe that’s a selfish take on the matter, but living in such environments forces you to adopt such a mindset. Living in this kingdom assures you that whoever is currently being forced into the stocks is less than deserving of the humiliation.

Having long learned not to watch such torment; you try to block out the sound of rotten vegetables exploding against wood and flesh. You force yourself out of bed, make sure the sheets are properly made and wipe the sweat and visible grime from your body with a damp cloth before pulling your clothes on. It’s dark in the room, you’re unable to afford wasting the candles in daylight hours; so you steel your nerves and swing open the window shutters, desperately trying to avoid the scene outside of them.

You begin busying yourself with general domestic work when the sound of your father’s laughter and mocking reaches your ears, causing your attention to snap to the window in disgust.

He should be above this, it’s a disgrace to your mother’s memory for him to include himself in such an event. He will surely do more than scold you if you intervene but you cannot stand idly. A foolish decision? Perhaps. But one you do not care for the consequences of, you are more than accustomed to his backwards parenting methods.

You walk calmly out of the house and easily spot your father’s head of black unkept hair amongst the crowd, politely making your way through the masses to reach his side. He hasn’t noticed you yet and begins his next verbal assault.

“This bastard! can’t even meet our eyes when we speak to him. A poor excuse for a man indeed, ever fitting that he be here.”

You cringe at his words, he’s truly one to talk about being a ‘man’, he reaches for another rotten tomato and is preparing to launch it at the man when you gently take a hold of his arm.

“Father I think we should go inside, mother wouldn’t approve of this, and neither do I.”

At this, the man in the stocks raises his head to the source of the calm voice. Your father gives you an incredulous look of poorly masked anger and disgust, a concoction which unnerves you and causes the woman just behind you to attempt tugging your form towards her. He grips your arm harshly though and yanks you into his space before practically hissing,

“No, I suggest you go inside, this instant. How dare you attempt to embarrass me, I will deal with you later.” he finishes before snapping his arm away from him sending you off balance, you barely catch yourself but find yourself now meeting the eye of the man in the stocks.

He is surely around your age, slightly shaggy black hair falling around his defined face. His youthful look makes him seem more of a boy than a man, deepening your anger at his situation. His expression and eyes are what strike you though, he is looking at you with none of the expected hurt and embarrassment the punishment aims to induce. His countenance is that of pure curiosity, and he offers you a small smile of gratitude for your words which you return despite the confusion your own expression must emit.

You make your way silently back through the crowd to your door, various villagers offering you looks of either disgust or barely concealed laughter at your act of deviance to your father.

The man in the stocks observes you until you vanish from his view. The tomato finds it’s target causing him to tilt his face away as it splatters onto his cheek, now facing your window he finds comfort in seeing you.

You busy yourself again with domestic work, attempting to hold back the emotions before giving in, continuing folding linens with tears silently running down your face.

The man’s face twists in confusion at this, before dropping his head, not wanting to spy on your sadness. It’ll all be over soon, the guards will drag drag him back to his cell soon enough. Until then he will bask in the comfort of your actions.

chapter 2 ->

~taglist

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