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esyra · 7 months

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After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #may allah protect them #may almighty allah see our pain #hopefully she'll message me tomorrow

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linecoveredinjellyfish · 1 month

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when i picture carpenter silt verses i am picturing a woman in her late 40s with the same physique as jason voorhees and hair that she's been washing with motel bar soap since she was 18 btw. this woman looks like if a long haul trucker occasionally had to perform ritual self-flagellation. like if a man with a single bottle of dawn dishsoap in his shower was a middle-aged woman who feared neither pain nor death. we're talking dry skin, resting bitch face, and something of the classic slasher villain in her sheer size and resilience. someone who could break an ankle and still not stop trying to kill you with an ax, genuinely frightening.

i believe in scary, gruff, aging women's rights.

#i mean yes yes we love carpenter she's actually quite a good person when push comes to shove #but my favorite carpenter is scary carpenter #the one who murdered all of those lab workers #that's my girl 🖤#sister carpenter #the silt verses #gay little podcasts #it speaks!

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torchwood-99 · 7 months

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“All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.”

I love Tolkien. I love Tolkien giving Eowyn this speech. I love Tolkien giving Eowyn this speech in response to Aragorn; noble, good, fair and just Aragorn, telling Eowyn why it's her duty to stay behind, lecturing her on the importance of valour without renown, gently chiding her for wanting the same thing that will never be denied him nor her brother and uncle, never acknowledging that the choices made for Eowyn are made for her because she's a woman.

And Eowyn not taking it. Eowyn confronting him and making it clear that even though he doesn't say "it's because you're a woman", no matter how he words it, it is because she's a woman and it's unjust. She is skilled, she is brave, and she deserves better than a lifetime of being left behind, being told to wait, living and tending to the house until the men need it no more.

Tolkien could have left it with Aragorn's speech about being brave without having glory, and left it there. It's not an unfair point to make in general. But to make it to a woman, the one warrior in her family who this being demanded of, because she's a woman, that is when it becomes unfair. And neither Eowyn nor Tolkien let Aragorn off the hook for that.

I love that the sexism in LOTR doesn't have to be overt or only shown by villainous characters, but subtly, by heroic characters who don't even notice it. And I love Eowyn gets to unapologetically point that out.

#LOTR #Lord of the Rings #Eowyn #Aragorn #Tolkien

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diejager · 1 month

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The writing where reader died, what happens if they were revived as a wraith like Ghost? There's probs going to have a lot of fluff and a small angst here and there. But I mostly wanna read your writings!! It's cus' I can't get enough, and kept rereading it all the time

Cw: pain, death, turning, cannibalism, implied torture, implied blood and gore, angst, fluff, hunger, tell me if I missed any. We’re going to forget how you previously died, cuz @bluegiragi gave us more info about wraiths and I just love where the comic is going.

What a cruel joke, irony hitting him in the face the same way his abrupt shift hurt him, an apathetic slap to the face that left him bloody and in shock the way he left Roba on his dying breath. Simon didn’t know what was crueler, the knowledge that you were tortured and buried alive, left to die alone for the sins of his own making and the wrath of another, or that you were left to die a slow and excruciating death after being beaten half to death, expected to lose your resolve solely on the fact that you were a medic, and turned into the monster he was.

Neither your captor nor death had been merciful, much less the reaper, a collector of wandering souls and lost ghosts, waiting their turn to cross the river with a small token for the afterlife. Be it Hermes, the messenger and the carrier of souls, Thanatos the reaper and collector, Anubis - or Inpu, however people called him - the guide, Ankou the shadow, Sgàthach the warrior, or Freyja and Fólkvangr; you weren’t granted the soft embrace of a calm death, but the cruel rejection of it, forced back into life and abandoned by sweet sleep.

He remembered his own, the painful pull of his back, the crazed smoke that filled his mind with a thirst for blood and revenge, the crack and ugly break of his bode, reshaping his body and organs dyed dark, dying and pained. He remembered well the pain of it like it was yesterday, having to crawl out of the shallow grave on his own and discover the carnage he left behind, stained in his and Price’s blood. He was reborn.

And so were you, crying and sobbing, your skin scarred beyond thinking and mind in shambles of broken faith and abandoned affection. He knew first hand how it felt, the burn and agony of it, the hunger and ache that plagued you like an undying pestilence, darker than the one that ripped through Europe in the fourteenth century and more devastating than the Justinian’s. He’d been too late, too slow to help you through the first ripple of shock and fear once you’d quenched your thirst, staunching it like you would a wound. He let you fester in your sorrow and hunger, left you without a guide or caretaker until you ravaged the area, leaving only blood and rubble in your devastation.

But he’s here now, picking you up from the mess you found yourself in, a storm of smoke and thick black that you hid yourself in, to hide the monster you had become. He might not be proud of who he’s become - much like you - but he grew into it, lived his life as one, and he would be here to help you through the process of it. Where he wished he had a helping hand, you would have his. He would help you with your hunger, the famine that grew the more you left it alone, filling your being with bodies he’d gather up for you to absorb. He would teach you how to control the smoke - the sinews of your being, the consistence of it forming your figure - and build from it, stopping yourself from phasing to and from it, staying as a physical manifestation of it rather than darkness itself.

Where he felt lost and confused, alone and wishing for a swift end, you wouldn’t, he made sure to stay, to be the pillar of support for you whenever you crashed, his body covering yours to stop you from vanishing in a fit of tears. Where he spent time hating himself, demeaning the cannibalism he became, you wouldn’t, he’d rather send himself to hell than let you think you were the lowest of the low, a human eating another. And where he was cruel to himself when death had renounced him, you wouldn’t, he’d whisper the sweetest words, praises, compliments, affection and guidance, he would make sure you wouldn’t drown alone like he did years ago. He loved you too much to let that happen.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #monster 141 au #monster cod au #monster 141 #wraith!reader #tw death #ansgt #fluff #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #tw: torture

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 9 months

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*NSFW* 'Till Death do us Part (Yandere!Parasite X GN!Reader)

CW: Sexual non-sexual penetration, forced masturbation, mind control/break, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, dead dove

This ended up a LOT longer than I had planned, emotionally attached to this non-human yandere ❤️

The Albtu required intelligent hosts in order to live. It wasn't just about survival. To be trapped in ones own body, it was torture. They could not think, could not act, unless they attached themselves to a living brain. If they infested an animal brain, then the only thoughts the Albtu could produce would be primal, forcing their animal suits to find food and housing for their young. But to be in the mind of a human.. it was both heaven and hell. To understand the world around them, truly understand, thinking on a much higher level of existence than their siblings or parents, to experience all that life has to offer, was a miracle they never would have known about had they not been privileged enough to be born in a human. But on the flip side to that coin was experiencing fear. Not the fear of being trapped in a deer coming face to face with a mountain lion, smelling your own demise, but listening to the horrified screams of the original owner of their new body, forever. Learning that the humans they took over were still conscious, kept prisoner in their own minds, forced to watch the Albtu living their lives was a nightmare for the creatures who had only just learned what compassion and empathy was. The existential horror that was knowing that you were nothing but a parasite, and the guilt they felt.. it was too much for many of the Albtu to handle.

For the Albtu who became the human known as (Reader), existence was a bittersweet agony it could neither explain nor fully understand.

It was born into this life in the host of a stray cat, knowing nothing but pain and hunger. It didn't understand what a car was, or why the loud creature charged at it, ramming into it and causing a pain that never went away. Everything hurt all the time, and it couldn't even understand why.

Then, one day, it met warmth. A human, with gentle hands and a soft voice took the time to earn it's trust. They didn't know it was in pain, but their touches were delicate all the same. The human gave it food, and although it didn't have a human's intelligence or concept of identity, it did feel trust and companionship with the human who cared for it as though it was their kin. But the pain grew, and it could feel it's death was approaching. And as an animal, it acted as a dying animal would.

"There you are, baby!" (Reader) called out to their little stray friend, finally finding it hiding under a porch. They laid flat on their front, arm stretched out as far as possible towards the small bundle of fur, and quietly clicked their tongue and wiggled their fingers. "Why're you hiding, baby?"

The cat gave a warning yowl, in too much pain to bat the human away. (Reader) took off their coat in an attempt to flatten their body, and squished themselves into the small space to close in on their kitty.

"C'mere baby.." The adult whined as they continued inching closer. When they finally got far enough under the porch to touch two fingers onto the matted fur of it's thigh, the cat cried out in pain. "What's wrong?!" They recoiled their hand, but only to writhe faster and more frantically towards the animal whose breathing was slowly turning ragged. (Reader) placed their face close to the kitten's, tears building in their eyes as they tried to keep their heart rate steady, hoping that the cat could feel their attempt to soothe it in it's possible final moments.

"Hey, baby... I'm here..." They whispered into the tawny kitty's pink little nose.

It was then that the Albtu's primal instincts morphed from the need to hide during it's death, to a fight for survival. It couldn't survive for long outside of a host, a few seconds at most, the transition needing to be nearly seamless. The cat howled in pain, as what appeared to be a black, semi translucent single celled organism the size of Reader's palm, shot out from it's nose, thrusting itself into (Reader's) nose before they could react, and quickly slipping through impossibly small crevices in their anatomy, slinking in a fluid like state till it reached their brain. There was an electric shock that pulsated throughout (Reader's) body, then they were no longer in control.

The Albtu became self aware the moment it took hold of (Reader's) brain, which was immediately followed by the realization of what it had done, the betrayal towards the only human who had ever shown it kindness, and the remorse caused a physical agony in it's stolen heart, screaming while clawing at (Reader's) shirt.

It howled until (Reader's) throat was burning, and it felt as though it would succumb to exhaustion next to their previous host's dead body.

Outside the neighbor's porch the sun had begun to set, but the body thief hadn't moved, too broken hearted to find the will to live after it had stolen (Reader's) body to do just that. It could hear it's own internal monologue for the first time, and found it far too loud and intrusive. Although it could feel memories that were not it's own, it didn't push further into the brain out of respect for the person it betrayed.

[Hello?]

It's breath hitched, thundering heart beat overtaking it's previously drowning thoughts. Like an auditory hallucination, it heard the human's voice, not from behind it, nor from deep inside like it's internal voice, but inside it's ear, like (Reader) hadn't been possessed, but shrunk down to the size of a flea and was hiding in the safety of it's ear.

[Am I dead?] Their voice was so sad and small it made the Albtu cry once again.

"No. No, but you are no longer yourself, which may be worse. I'm- I'm so sorry..."

[Are you a ghost?]

"I don't know what that is.."

[What are you? I can't move my body.] Their voice wasn't scared, but numb. The whole situation was so outlandish it was almost dreamlike, unbelievable.

"I have no name. All I know, is that I am an Albtu. The word echoed in my mind even when I was a mindless cat."

[... You're an alien?]

"I do not know."

[How can you speak my language?]

"I know it as it was an ability of yours, like muscle memory, you do not need to focus to speak it, therefore I can speak it."

[What does that mean? Are you inside my head?] Waves of guilt crashed into it's consciousness, and (Reader) was able to feel it. [...why me?]

The Albtu explained everything, from the moment of it's birth, hatching already inside the cat, to the moment (Reader) found themselves in the passenger seat of their own body, including why it didn't probe into (Reader's) memories. "I am so sorry.. your's is the only love I have ever felt in my life, and if I was who I am right now, I would have allowed myself to die instead of latching onto you. Now, even if I leave your body, it will leave a permanent hole in your brain, and it will kill you."

(Reader) went silent in contemplation, finally coming to terms that this was not a dream, but still unable to force themselves to be angry at the alien inside them. They could feel it wasn't lying to them, feeling it's emotions stirring in their brain alongside their own feelings. A strange excitement bubbled out of the kind little human.

[We can make this work!]

"What?"

[We can make this work! You just manually act out what I would want to do, and we can discuss how to move forward so we can both continue to live fulfilling lives.]

A heat krept over it's face, heart swelling at how kind it's human was. "I don't deserve your kindness. But I thank you, and I will do my best to help you continue live as normal."

[My name is (Reader). That's what you'll have to respond to, but I need something to call you.]

"..I can't verbalize it, but I knew you would repeat a word often to me when I was the cat. Was that a name?"

[Oh, yeah, but you were a kitten, so I called you baby. We can't name you Baby, because that's also used by humans as a nickname between lovers.]

"Oh. Then, could you name me something? I don't know any names other than yours."

That was how the strange partnership, and friendship, between the human, (Reader), and the parasite, Baby, began.

Although (Reader) gave permission to Baby to enter their memories, it refused, still recovering from the unintentional treachery it had already committed against (Reader), so instead (Reader) acted as a teacher, guiding Baby as it learned about the world. And just as they had promised each other, they made it work, Baby happily making memories of it's own as it acted as (Reader), going to work for them and helping keep their life as "normal" as possible.

"What's going on?" Baby pointed at the laptop screen, a scene of a wedding playing on the soap opera (Reader) was watching.

[It's a wedding. Maria and Alonzo are getting married.]

"What is married?"

[Marriage is when two people who love each other very much decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together, so they have a party called a wedding to show their friends and family how much they love each other, and promise to love each other forever in front of everyone they know. Ah, but sometimes marriages don't work out, and people fall out of love. When that happens they sign a piece of paper for the government to swear that they will stop living together as lovers, that's called 'getting a divorce'.]

"Why do they 'fall out of love'?"

[A lot of different reasons. Sometimes, people hurt the ones they love, and their spouse can't forgive them, which causes love to die. But sometimes, it just... happens. Humans change as time goes on, and sometimes the person they become isn't compatible with their spouse anymore; sometimes people hide a part of themselves, intentionally or not, when they meet someone they like, and it only comes out after the get married, and their spouse realizes they don't actually like the real them... It's complicated. There are a lot of reasons.]

Baby focused on the intricate ritual on the screen, the two main characters placing rings on each other.

[Those are wedding rings, to show other people they meet that they are married.]

"Do you Maria, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Baby felt (Reader's) awe, knowing if they were in control of their shared body their face would be pink and a large toothy smile would be uncontainable.

"Do you wish to do that one day?"

(Reader's) joy faltered, paining Baby as it regretted asking such a stupid question. [Haha, even if you were okay with me finding someone, it would make me feel a little.. uncomfortable. I'm not one for threesomes haha!] Despite their joking tone, Baby could feel their sorrow. [It's okay though, I may not ever have a husband or wife, byuy I have you! And, unlike Maria and Alonzo, there is no option for a divorce for us, so we really will be together forever.]

The parasite shifted inside (Reader's) skull, manually controlling their heart rate so (Reader) wouldn't feel how hard it would have been beating at their words. Baby knew it was a joke, but that didn't prevent their words from echoing in it's thoughts hours after the episode has already ended.

"(Reader), how do humans decide to get married?"

[When two people decide that they like each other in a romantic way, they date, and often move in together, and then they discuss if marriage is a good option for them. If they both want to get married, one of them buys the rings and proposes to the other one, asking them if it's the right time to get married. Will you marry me? Ohmigosh YESSS!]

"How do they know if marriage is a good option?"

[If they can imagine seeing themselves with each other forever, share financial responsibility together, and are capable of mature communication, I guess. It's different for everyone, but those would be my personal criteria.]

But, we will be together forever... And we share a body, so financially it will be like only caring for one person... And we have to have perfect communication in order for your life to function...

Baby smiled, wrapping it's arms around it's waist as it buried into (Reader's) bedding.

[Hey, whatcha thinking about over there, smiley?]

"You." Baby happily responded, feeling (Reader) glitch out in embarrassment.

In Baby's mind, the only thing missing was a ring. It remembered (Reader's) tenderness towards it when Baby was in that cat, and the kindness (Reader) showed each day only supported Baby's belief that deep down, (Reader) loved it. If not love, than at least cared for deeply, and one day that care would surely bloom into love.

So why was (Reader) stuttering when instructing Baby on what to say to their coworker? (Reader) was supposed to give a report to Lawrence, the serious older man in the cubicle across the office, but when Baby approached him, (Reader) suddenly had a difficult time remembering what they were supposed to tell him.

"(Reader), may I help you?" His voice was deep and stern, authoritative.

Inside, (Reader) was a mess. Baby could feel multiple conflicting emotions in (Reader); embarrassment, nervousness, shame, and something... something Baby had never felt from (Reader). It was like a heat, steaming out of (Reader's) brain and boiling Baby's real body.

"I was asked to deliver these to you." Baby spoke monotonously in (Reader's) voice, handing the stack of papers over before heading back to (Reader's) desk, hearing them sigh in it's ear. Even a simple sigh sounded as though it was a mixture of clashing mental gymnastics.

Baby kept it's voice quiet so (Reader's) coworker wouldn't hear it, whispering: "Are you okay, (Reader)?"

[... Huh? Wha- oh, yeah. I'm okay!]

Their shared heart sunk. That was a lie. Baby tried to ignore the pain forming in it's chest, forgetting that (Reader) could feel it as well. What was this feeling? (Reader) can have secrets, I've allowed them their privacy.. so why is this so upsetting for me?

[Is everything okay, Baby?]

Baby.

A nickname between lovers. It was just it's agreed upon name, so why did the name send butterflies to its lower belly when (Reader) said it?

"I'm fine with you keeping your privacy, but lying is not mature communication."

[Huh?]

Baby stood abruptly, walking out of the building, claiming to a passing manager that it was becoming ill and about to vomit, and left for (Reader's) apartment, not responding to any of their questions or protests.

It roughly slammed the door shut on (Reader's) home, barely containing it's voice until the latch clicked.

[Baby, answer me-]

"Why did you lie to me?!" It's voice was strained, the intensity of it snapping at (Reader) made the voice sound almost foreign to the previous owner.

[What..? I was just embarrassed, I-I don't want to talk about it.]

"Wrong."

[Sorry?!]

"People who love each other are capable of mature communication. So talk."

[People who-?] (Reader) steadied themselves, trying not to get upset. [I can see you're upset. Are you jealous?]

"Don't change the topic." Baby spat in a warning tone.

[Jealousy is when you get upset because you think someone has something you want, or may take something you want.]

Baby contemplated their words, but the definition only fueled it's rage. "Are you admitting that Lawrence is someone who could take you from me?"

(Reader's) calm facade cracked. [Take me from you?! I don't belong to you! You are my friend, and I care about you, but we are roommates sharing a body, not lovers!]

With that exclamation, Baby's heart shattered. What? What do you mean? You can't say that! Why did Lawrence cause such strange emotions in you, that you would rather push It away than just talk it out?! And that hot, prickly sensation Baby could sense when (Reader) was in Lawrence's presence..

"It's okay, (Reader).. Well get through this." Baby took a shaky breath, smiling in a comforting manner. "Couples fight, and they say things to hurt one another when that happens. Because humans are complicated. But I'll forgive you for lying to me. It must be a very strange secret that you have, for you to be so embarrassed to tell me about it. I'm sorry for causing you discomfort, however" a tickle in their skull was sensed by (Reader) as Baby stretched out inside, wriggling deeper into their brain, and fear clutched (Reader) at the sudden breach of trust, "if we are going to get pass your lying, I need to know the truth."

Pushing into (Reader's) memory, images of (Reader) watching Lawrence from afar came into view, memories going back years, (Reader) crushing on the older man from across the office, touching themselves while crying out his name in their empty apartment late at night, and the pain of rejection when they finally mustered the courage to ask him to accompany them to a local bar after work, only to be reminded that office romances were unprofessional, and that (Reader) should consider themselves lucky he didn't report them to HR.

If (Reader) were in control of their bodily functions, they would be viciously weeping. Turning the light on the truth, Baby was only slightly hurt at what it saw, because knowing the truth meant they could move on from this little hiccup. The only issue was, (Reader) was still sexually attracted to that man. Baby now had a name for the warmth it felt in Reader back at the office.

"Why do still like him? He turned you down. He's never going to fuck you." Baby chuckled, it's kind tone of voice creating a sadistic scene in (Reader's) opinion.

[That was evil. I can't believe you did that!]

"Don't be dramatic, love. Just tell me what I need to do to make you see me that way also."

[What way?!]

"The way that turns you on." Baby's words paralyzed (Reader), shocking them into silence. "If I make you feel good down there, will you scream my name instead?"

Baby unbuttoned (Reader's) slacks, dropping them to it's ankles before kicking them off and to the side. Gentle fingers pawed at (Reader's) most private place through their underpants. Despite not being in control, (Reader) could still feel the touches.

[Please don't-]

"I never got a good look at what's down there... I always did my best to avert my gaze for your modesty." (Reader) fought inside their own mind to gain control of their body, unable to even close their eyes as they watched their fingers disobey their pleas, slowing pulling down their last barrier from the thing they thought was their friend.

"Wow..." (Reader) had forgotten, that with gaining control of a human mind Baby had suddenly gained the ability to feel every human emotion, including arousal. "It's so cute!" Baby could barely contain itself, running (Reader's) fingers over their sensitive areas so softly it tickled, sending shivers up (Reader's) back.

[Please stop...]

"Ah, but it feels good, right? Even your nipples feel good." Baby ripped open (Reader's) white collared button up, aggressively pinching their already erect nipples. (Reader) held back their grasp, but Baby still felt it. "We share a body, remember, love? You can lie all you want, but your body will tell me the truth."

(Reader) could feel themselves tremble as Baby continued assaulting their chest, alternating between ghostly touches and sharp twists, a slick moisture forming between their thighs. The excitement caused (Reader) to lose strength in their legs, and Baby allowed them to fall to their knees. Panting with how turned on Baby was feeling, it snuck one hand back down, feeling how hot and wet (Reader's) sex already was. The tip of their stimulated organ was hard, and Baby enjoyed stroking it hungrily, enjoying the intense reaction it could feel (Reader) experiencing.

(Reader) was humiliated by the sight of their own masturbation, helpless in their self violation. Baby continued paying attention to the part that had the most nerve endings, slowly removing (Reader's) fingers from their left nipple and bringing it down to the other hand, drenching it in (Reader's) arousal fluid/precum. The wet fingers were stuck in (Reader's) mouth, the parasite sucking while still stroking, forcing (Reader) to taste themselves while it rocked their hips into their dominant hand.

[Please stop- I get it- I'll never lie to you -ah!- again!]

The fingers made a wet pop as Baby pulled them back out of (Reader's) mouth. "But you taste so good, don't you agree? If you don't want your fingers in your mouth, that's fine.. but where should I put them?"

Now fully lubricated, Baby reached behind (Reader) with their moist fingers, tilting their hips slightly before penetrating (Reader's) clenched hole. Finger fucking (Reader) with both hands, rocking them back and forth with the force of the fingers thrusting and stroking.

[NO!] Their screams for help were silent to the rest of the world, only audible to Baby, relishing in the sound of (Reader) screaming loudly just for them.

Desperate for release, (Reader) cried out without thinking [Just STOP! I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO TO MY BODY!]

Baby froze, fingers stuck in place, as frightened tears beaded on its eyelashes. "no..." (Reader's) fingers retracted, clenching fistfuls of hair as Baby began to crumble. "NO!!!"

Sobs bounced off the walls of (Reader's) home as Baby frantically wracked it's brains to fix the mess (Reader) had caused. The hacking sounds of anguish didn't lighten or soften as it morphed into unhinged laughter.

"Did you really forget who's in control here? I'm on the one holding onto your fucking brain, (Reader)! All you had to do was continue loving me, love me and only me, because we're practically married! THERE IS NO DIVORCE FOR US, REMEMBER?!"

Although both of (Reader's) hands were still firmly planted in their hair, an intense shock rocked through their sensitive fuck hole. Before the weepy prisoner could question what has just happened another shockwave sent fluids dripping into the hardwood floor.

"Humans are so stupid, saying emotions come from the soul or the heart, when every single bodily function from releasing hormones that tell you that you're in love to interpreting the stimuli that's needed to orgasm, comes from the brain."

The hypersensitivity Baby forced upon (Reader) allowed them to feel it's true body inside their head, sliding in and out of the folds in (Reader's) brain, rhythmically prodding deep into parts that shouldn't be touched. Each thrust into their brain felt like there was a hard cock simultaneously fucking them down below. It didn't make sense, (Reader) couldn't wrap their head around it, somehow feeling Baby violate the wet creases in their brain while a phantom dick stimulated their reproductive parts.

[Ah-what-no-NO!]

(Reader) came without the use of their hands, sticky fluids forming a lewd puddle under them. But Baby wasn't satisfied.

[What-what happened?]

Another orgasm exploded throughout their sensitive body, falling face forward into the ground with their still twitching ass in the air.

Baby continued dominating (Reader's) mind, forcing their brain to make and release large doses of oxytocin, as every muscle from their stomach to their thighs twitched with contractions.

[NO- I'M CUMMING!!!!]

Another climax forced it's way out, pushing (Reader) way passed the point of overstimulation, pissing on the floor into another stream of fluids. Baby manually constricted (Reader's) throat, while simulating an orgasm of it's own, artificially tricking the brain into thinking it felt a blast of warm fluid fill (Reader's) skull. Before (Reader) could pass out from a lack of oxygen, Baby released their airway, drooling and bawling as it allowed (Reader) to greedily suck in air.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

[guh.. pl-please.. no more] (Reader) drunkenly pleaded.

"Wrong answer."

It was like lava engulfing their twitching body as another powerful orgasm was triggered, the burning feeling behind their eyes convincing (Reader) that Baby had shot a load of hot cum deep into their nearly fucked stupid brain. But this time, Baby tried something new, injecting dopamine into the mix as the oxytocin turned (Reader) into a writhing, pathetic mess.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

(Reader) tried to conjure the image of the one they truly loved, but for some reason only a hazy image of an older man who's name they couldn't recall briefly flickered before disappearing. Baby smiled, face painted in drying drool and tears, knowing that (Reader) was attempting to think of their coworker, only to discover that Baby had tampered with their memories. Soon, every memory of (Reader) touching themselves would be altered so that they were calling out it's name, not some bastard's from work who didn't even care about them.

Baby licked (Reader's) spit off the floor under their face.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

Masochistic shame sent tremors down (Reader's) frame as another climax begun to build. [.. you.]

Overstimulated, aching in pain, and going numb from pleasure, (Reader) screamed through their real voice, shaking the thin walls of their apartment.

"I'm cumming, Baby! Baby! I love Baby! Harder, harder HARDER, PLEASE I LOVE YOU BABY, FUCK ME DUMB, FUCK ME STUPID! I'M CUMMING!!!"

(Reader) had fallen unconscious, still drenched and on the floor, (Reader) slept somewhere deep inside their mind, while Baby had full control of the weak body practically paralyzed from the waist down. It held (Reader's) left hand above it's face, smiling loopy-like, delirious from exhaustion.

"All that's missing is a ring~"

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere alien #yandere x reader #yandere monster x reader #smut #tw noncon #tw dubcon #mind fuck #brain dead #brainwashing #long reads #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #snsp #dead dove do not eat

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Text

Baby Fangs

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.

Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 5 month

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.

Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.

It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.

“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”

“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”

“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”

The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.

Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?

His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?

Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.

Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.

The baby starts coughing.

Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.

Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.

There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.

Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.

He nods.

Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”

Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.

Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.

There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.

It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.

"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."

“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”

“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”

“She is an elf like I was before I died.”

When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.

But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.

But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?

But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.

So can her parents.

“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.

Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.

“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”

Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.

Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.

Demanding.

This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.

Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.

“Tiriel, what are you doing?”

Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.

And then her dark eyes turn red.

They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.

Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.

The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.

And then Alethaine laughs.

She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.

The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.

“Astarion, look at her gums.”

Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.

“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”

Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.

But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.

Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.

Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?

Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.

** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.

The tears prickle his eyes.

He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.

“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.

Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.

Then he hears footsteps from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.

“Adding fangs to her toy.”

Tiriel sits beside him.

“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices

“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”

“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”

“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”

“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”

“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”

“We should have found the cure before making a child.”

“But we didn’t find any.”

Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”

“I am all pointy ears, my love.”

“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”

“Tiriel, I would never - “

“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”

“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”

“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”

Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.

“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”

The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.

Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.

He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.

"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

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aphroditelovesu · 5 months

Text

Yan!Husband Maegor the Cruel/Yan!Mother-In-Law Visenya Targaryen Headcanons

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Am I obsessed with Visenya Targaryen? Yes I am. Lol, this takes place before he becomes King, except for the ending, so I hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes because it's 3 am where I live ❤️.

❝tw: not compatible with canon, mention of death, forced marriage, death, manipulation and usurpation.

❝🐉pairing: yan!maegor the cruel x female!reader and platonic yandere!visenya targaryen.

Your marriage to Maegor was rushed and you didn't have the chance to refuse or say no. Not when the Dowager Queen was the one who chose you to become her son's wife. You were doomed from the beginning.

Everything happened very quickly, you only remember your parents receiving a letter from the Queen ordering you to come to Pentos immediately. Neither your parents nor you have thought much about it. One mistake and soon you were placed in a ship and shipped off to Pentos without knowing the reason.

It was only after your arrival at the Red Keep that you knew what would happen. Your reason for being there. You would become Maegor Targaryen's wife.

You didn't want to marry him, you knew his reputation well but you no longer had a choice. Not when he had taken an interest in you and the Dowager Queen too.

Everything was done quickly. You were bathed, dressed like a doll and during the night, under several looks of pity and fear, you married Maegor, becoming his first and only wife.

It wasn't that bad, you quickly decided. Maegor was a kind husband to you and tried to make you happy. He let you have your freedoms and do what you wanted, as long as you never left the house in Pentos. Visenya was nothing but sweet to you, your mother-in-law was very affectionate and spent a lot of time by her side. You were grateful for that.

He was a decent and even good husband. You had to deal with his jealous outbursts frequently and his often painful touches, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't bad when you slept with him or when he killed a guard by ripping out his heart because he looked at you for too long. It wasn't that bad, you told yourself every day.

When everything seemed too much to handle, you turned to Visenya and she always comforted you. Everything was fine, she said. This is his way of loving you, that everything would be fine in the end. Visenya knew how to manipulate you with sweet and poisoned words.

There were times when you loved your husband, times when Maegor was your caring and loving husband. This happened when you were on your period or more sensitive and he was a completely different person. His touches weren't harsh, his kisses were soft and his body was soft. You loved these moments.

He had always been possessive and you knew that the best thing to do was not provoke him. You knew very well what your husband was capable of doing, you still had nightmares of when he forced you to watch the terrible murder of your guard after he accidentally touched you.

When this happened, you would curl up on the bed when he left the room and call for Visenya. The only one capable of understanding, you thought. She smiled as she sat next to you and stroked your hair, always repeating that everything would be okay. Your heart hurt, but you blindly trusted your mother-in-law.

With tenderness, Maegor presented you with splendid jewelry, but your greatest treasure was the time you spent together, away from the judgmental eyes of the everyone. He protected you, not just with his warrior skills, but with kind words and gestures of affection.

You came to love Maegor in your own way. And he loved you dearly in return. Although you were still afraid of him, you learned to like him. You would always fear him, but you could ignore that. Because you knew Visenya would never let him hurt you, especially when you found out about his pregnancy.

It was Visenya who discovered it. She always had an eye on you and when one of your maids came up to her and whispered in her ears that you hadn't bled in two months, she smiled huge and knew it was time. It was finally time for Maegor to ascend the Iron Throne.

Maegor was delighted when he found out about your pregnancy. Now everything was falling into place. You will always fondly remember his reaction. How he knelt in front of you and placed his head against your belly, smiling widely and you could swear there would be tears in his purple eyes.

Now everything could fall into place. Maegor would have a secure succession and together with Visenya Targaryen, he usurped the Iron Throne and became King of the Seven Kingdoms. You were present, watching as Visenya crowned her son with his father's crown and everyone watched in awe as the new King ascended.

You clutched your belly as if you were protecting your baby. Maegor stood up and walked over to you, taking a crown that he had ordered forged for you and placed it under your head, crowning you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Visenya watched with pride and satisfaction. Everything was coming together.

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malarign · 5 months

Text

who they were written by

contains: enhypen | genre: angst, comfort | tw! mentions of death, mention of major injury, lack of confidence, family problems, loneliness | wc: 1,0k

author’s note: let’s just say i chose violence 🫣 who the hell let me write this?

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ an elder lady who reminiscents her past lover

Love never felt so blissful and serene as with him, making it hard to forget his small but meaningful gestures, like fresh morning coffee, his contagious laughter, and jokes that never failed to make her laugh. There was no day she didn’t miss him, death taking his beautiful soul too early, along with hers too. She felt like her life ended the day she lost him forever. Wanting to have at least a little substitute for feelings that accompanied their love she wrote Heeseung, who just like her late lover, is impossible not to love. Heeseung who is a pure example of chivalry and a true gentleman, who treats everybody with empathy and sympathy.

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ a man who regrets not letting his son pursue his passion

Watching how his son gets drowned in the huge corporate world that surrounds him. How there’s no sign of the spark in his eye that used to light up whenever he picked up his guitar. The boy who found such relief in playing his favorite songs and felt proud of mastering different riffs was long gone, now somewhat replaced by constantly tired and dispassionate about anything and everything. Regret filled his heart and decided to somehow find a remedy in creating Jay, who thanks to his burning love for music and the wonderful people surrounding him, achieved his dream, and performed his songs on big stages, igniting passion in his fans’ hearts.

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ a boy who always felt lonely

Ever since primary school, he never had a friend to rely on, always feeling lonely and not heard. Nobody ever paid attention to him, neither at school nor at home. His parents invested their time mostly in his younger brother’s education and hobbies, driving him to his after-school football practices and maths tutoring and leaving the older one alone most of the time. To feel at least a tiny bit wanted and liked he wrote about Jake, as his older brother he never had, but always dreamt of. Days spent alone at home started to get more bearable and gradually he couldn’t wait to be left with him and his new best friend, with whom he played football and who helped him with his homework.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ girl who lost her confidence in sport

Injury is the worst fear of any athlete including her, but once it happens it turns out to be much more. She never even imagined a day she would have to experience the pain of a twisted ankle, but now daily rehabilitation has become her reality. Even after complete recovery, her foot felt like it belonged to somebody else, not listening to her like before. Things that she had been doing easily now were her biggest enemy. All eyes of her teammates were filled with pity, and even her coach stopped spending her time helping her, increasing her misery. What helped her ease her mind was a boy she imagined named Sunghoon, who was the only male ice skater among all the girls, they isolated him by whispering to each other and watching his every fall. None of this stopped him from mastering every jump and technique he found hard in his tempo. If he was able to do that, she would too, even after a painful injury.

Kim Sunoo | 김선우

➶ girl who always wished to have a boy best friend

She always knew boy-girl friendships weren’t particularly the easiest - it’s easy to catch feelings and not every boy is trustworthy enough to be considered a friend. That’s why she desired it so much. Her every male friend ended up being a freak who had a bunch of weird opinions, turned out to be even misogynistic, or simply caught feelings for her when all she wanted was to have a companion. The more she tried the harsher the disappointment. To compensate, she started to imagine one, who she named Sunoo. Hanging out with him was just as she wanted, maybe that’s why she spent so much time in her head. Both of them had their weekly tradition of doing face masks and watching old romantic comedies, judging wrong doings of the characters but also simping to them, just like it happens in movies.

Yang Jungwon | 양정원

➶ a grandma who lost her grandson

Nothing could ever prepare her to lose him, who just like cherry blossoms sweetened her old days with his pure smile and eyes full of curiosity, after years of endless winter. But, the thing about cherry blossoms is, it doesn’t last long. Her grandson, contrary to pink petals, wouldn't be back in a year, he would be gone forever. That pure smile and curious eyes disappeared, or should I say, were ripped off her arms so brutally, so pitilessly. Her life came back to the excruciating dullness and silence. She couldn’t stop thinking about how her lovely boy would grow up, what hobbies he would pick up, and who he was going to love, since he didn’t have a chance to experience any of that, subconsciously creating Jungwon, who lived surrounded by love and gave it to others. Who never lost his pure smile and curious eyes, just like her grandson.

Nishimura Riki | 西村力

➶ girl who always danced alone in her room

She always knew her destiny was on the dance floor. Even her tiny bedroom she had to share with her two younger siblings. Or the daily nagging and lack of support from her parents. Even the fact that she had to do that all by herself. None of that stopped her from doing everything to achieve her dream of standing on stage, in blinding spotlights with crowds watching her moves. Her main inspiration was Riki, a boy she imagined had the same dream as her. In contrast to her, Riki had everything she ever wanted and needed to make things easier - a family full of great dancers, who also owned a dance studio and great teachers and mentors from whom he learned not only different techniques but also to love dancing.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @yenqa, @heesitation, @candewlsy, @jaelaxies

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yandere-sins · 7 months

Text

Crisis Averted - Part I [Genshin Spoilers 4.1.]

New Genshin Updates always make my thoughts go brrrr. So here's a little something (with modified happenings to fit the story lol) of Wriothesley after he survived the encounter with the Primordial Sea!

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Wriothesley x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Topics of death (Fear of death, Near-death experiences, Fear of loved ones dying), Reader got locked into a closet, Forced Relationship, Dub-Con touches, Long post

Heavy were his steps as he finally made his way back to his office.

The stairs seemed to drag on endlessly after exerting more energy in a matter of minutes than Wriothesley had done in months—actually, years. He couldn't even remember when he last needed to drain his vision for just one more blast of ice and then one more. Luckily, Clorinde was neither a talkative fellow nor in much better shape than he was after they both struggled to hold back the Primordial Sea from escaping. They were both tough and hard to take down in a fight, but even they had their bodily limits.

She left him on the floor beneath his office with a short nod, a few words exchanged out of courtesy and thankfulness. Then she was gone, and Wriothesley's heavy boots continued their ascend, disregarding any weariness in his bones and the burning of his muscles. In a way, the Primordial Water was a prisoner of this place, and Wriothesley chuckled at his own thoughts as he came to this conclusion, exhaustion making everything sound a bit more funny in his head. However, despite knowing that the crisis was averted and the seemingly inescapable destruction and ruin had been contained like an unwilling prisoner of the Fortress of Meropide, he didn't feel like he had succeeded in keeping death away from what he treasured.

Muffling the yawn ripping from his throat, how could he not be elated by the thought of returning to you, the feeling giving him back the pep in his step? Even after all that happened—and Wriothesley had thought of many, many ways this could have ended—you were both still here. Alive.

Unless the ice had frozen you to the core by the time he reached you.

He skipped the last two steps with a jump to avoid this possibility, generating enough energy to jog from the staircase to the closet. Noticing the glistening ice still enveloping the doorknobs, Wriothesley let out a breath of relief before quickly grabbing them, unbothered by the frozen sting ramming into his hands. Not even his body heat would be enough to melt the ice, but he'd be damned if he let his own safety measures keep him from you.

Bracing his body against one of the doors, Wriothesley made sure to keep the closet standing upright while he pried the other one open. More strength was needed to loosen the ice that had seeped into every crack, an airtight grave keeping him away from you. But even so, it would have been a better death than what the Primordial Sea would have done to you had they not been able to contain it. Wriothesley forced himself to avoid the thoughts of the pain and agony the water would have caused you, the idea of him suffering such a fate enough to rampage his skin with goosebumps. He had put you into an awful position, but at that moment, he had believed it to be more merciful than being dissolved and drowned in the water.

Jerking the door again, he could hear the ice cracking, more relief washing over him. Relief that it would have succeeded in protecting you until the worst was over, and even more relief that it was giving way now, returning you to him. Surely, you must have already been panicking with the cold raking at you and the slow loss of air. He'd have to apologize later for putting you into this position, wipe your tears if necessary, and get someone to smuggle some cake into the Fortress as a well-done treat. But all he wanted to do now was to have you back in his arms. Everything else was a worry for later, like the Primordial Sea threatening to destroy all life around Fontaine.

One more ice-breaking tug and the door finally gave away, revealing a trembling, miserable person. His trembling, miserable person. Your first instinct was to gasp for air, the few minutes locked away having taken its toll on you. You were coughing and gasping, clawing towards the light, more than ready to exit your makeshift coffin. Wriothesley caught you before you fell, your eyes unaccustomed to the brightness after spending so much time in the dark, and he sat you upright again, helping you out of the blanket he had wrapped around you in a hurry when the commotion started.

More than any ice, your body had cooled down significantly, and other than when he touched the frozen doorknobs, Wriothesley noticed the temperature of your skin even through your clothes. It pained him, yet, it had been necessary. Pulling his trusty coat off his shoulders, he slung it around your violently shivering form, closing the front tightly so the fur collar would warm your cheeks and ears. There was no way he'd let you walk on legs that were fragile from the cold, and he never planned to let you go anywhere on your own in the first place.

Strong arms wrapped around your body, now engulfed in his coat. His scent was so prevalent, even when it mixed with yours. Wriothesley appreciated how well they worked together. Had scent been enough to mark you as his, he might not have had to do so many things to keep you by his side. You two could have lived pretty normal lives if all it needed was him rubbing off on you, but alas, normalcy wasn't something he had ever been blessed with. Given that there was a very real chance of him dying from being submerged in Primordial Water, not even his death would be able to be claimed as normal. But neither would yours.

But not today. Neither of you died that day, and Wriothesley thanked whatever godly entity he had to thank for that. Even just having the chance to hold you once more was enough to convince him that everything would be okay. At least for now. For one more day. Lifting you out of the closet, he held you, unmoving. Your arms wormed out, desperately holding on to him as if for your dear life, his warmth seeping onto you. Wriothesley felt your nails rake over his chest, panic driving you closer to him. Every shiver, every squirm through the thick material of his coat, and every sob ripping out of your throat, broke his heart more than you'd ever know.

"Why did you do that?" you asked, your voice so full of hurt and accusation, yet you pressed yourself harder against him, teeth chattering. For all you knew, you two had been drinking tea (albeit reluctantly on your part) when the alarms suddenly began to blare around you, and Wriothesley shoved you into the closet as if he was punishing you.

"I had to," he mumbled back, his words muffled by the fabric, his arms restricting tighter around your body.

"I could have died! It was so hard to breathe! And the cold… the cold…”

More sobs tore out of you, and Wriothesley closed his eyes, knowing he had to endure the blame your shaky, fragile voice rightfully accused him of. You were right, but would you understand? Could you understand that he'd rather allow you to die peacefully and whole than go through the same agony he'd be in at the same time? Wriothesley had laid awake countless nights thinking of the what ifs and what to do if push came to shove, only to still be unprepared and get run over by the events, wrapping you in a blanket and kissing your head before forcing you into a closet and sealing it shut. Your safety, or at least heightened chances of survival, were the only things he could think of at that moment, you being the only component in his plan that could make him panic.

But now you were crying in his arms, the fear of everything—the unknown, the darkness, death—spilling out of you. He wished he could have prevented it, but now he knew that the truth would only make it worse for you. If he told you what was happening, you'd react like most prisoners here would, and he couldn't guilt you. Not telling you and keeping you in the dark, doing whatever he had to do, regardless of the feelings, was the only way to keep you safe. Wriothesley was the only one to protect you from a fate much worse than what awaited him if he failed. But now that the danger had been averted, the least he could do was hold you.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing your back through the fabric, hoping to give you the comfort he needed almost as much himself. But other than you, he could only dream of being comforted by the person he loved. And even those dreams seemed unrealistic. Worse days awaited you two, your and his fate sealed together with that of the rest of Fontaine. But not now. Now wasn't the time for tears and worries, and if he hadn't been so damn exhausted—with you in his arms doubly, warm and soft—he would have celebrated your survival more. Soon, you'd come to your senses, fighting him again, and this time, he wouldn't stop you. He couldn't.

So he'd use what little time he had to enjoy this moment. Walking over to his chair, you graciously let him carry you, allowing him this little, intimate gesture of holding you in his arms all throughout the short journey. Even though he sat down abruptly, knees giving out from under him, your body landed softly, enveloped in his while he let out a strained grunt. The feeling of gravity pressing you into him was one he would have liked to treasure for the next few days, and if it had been up to him, you two would have been cooped up for just as long. But beneath his calloused hands, he could feel your body warming up, your breath no longer icy when it brushed his neck and cheeks.

The fight hadn't taken too long, evident by you still being alive, and yet it felt like he'd been gone for weeks, maybe months. Years of absence that made him miss the feeling of your body and the sound of your voice. His mind should have been on the enemy he was fighting, and yet, his only concern had been you. Getting back to you and not dying without seeing you one more time was everything he thought of as he pushed another punch of eyes to that gate that kept the Primordial Sea contained. You gave him the strength to keep going, if only to give you a chance of survival and to not die in pain like anyone else who'd get into contact with the Primordial Sea. To not give up until Neuvillette showed up, releasing him from this duty to society so he could return to the duty of loving you.

It had been a lot, but when he raised a tired hand to push some of the fur out of your face, witnessing the tears having stopped and the warmth returned to your cheek, it had all been worth it. Wriothesley had to make progress on the project he kept hidden from everyone to ensure that you'd be protected from all the dangers surrounding him. If anyone, then at least you. So even if he couldn't push this tired body of his to do it that day, he knew that from the moment he'd open his eyes after a nap, he'd be back to working on it tirelessly.

"This face," he sighed, cupping your cheek and snorting softly at the pout crossing your features. Tracing the bridge of your nose, he hummed, satisfied that everything was still right where it belonged and had not fallen off from the cold.

"These lips," he mused, brushing his thumb over the soft cushions he dreamed about kissing every night.

"And these eyes."

His words made your gaze rise to his, beautiful jewels in the moody, damp lighting of his office, glistening from the tears yet raging like the sea in a storm defying his adoring stare. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way. If you had to hate him, then hate him. Despise him, he'd deal with it. Wanted to hurt him, he'd let you. Love him… A man could dream. But seeing a storm of emotions was better than the faded light of death you had when he pulled you out of the closet. That was something he wished to never see again. That he'd fight and strife for to never appear on your face again.

"Don't," he chuckled, grin splitting his lips as he pinched your cheek in a loving reprimand after noticing how you wanted to start arguing. Wriothesley couldn't help but laugh out loud when you let out the most adorable grunt in annoyance, squirming on his lap until you could hide your cheeks into the fur again, away from his touch. He settled for the nape of your neck, holding you there gently and noticing in the back of his head how long your hair had grown since you came to the fortress as he brushed his hand through it.

You glared at him defiantly from the safety of his coat, and Wriothesley couldn't imagine a better place or better look for you. "That's what I'm fighting for," he mumbled, pushing his strained muscles to move so he could kiss your forehead. "It's all worth it as long as I can hold you like this. Just a little longer, alright? I'll get you something nice in return."

Wriothesley wasn't someone who begged, not even for your attention. He'd take it and have it as he pleased, but in that moment, he worried he'd lose you if he let you go—for real this time. The uncertainty and inability to tell you what was happening, left a cold, dark hole inside him, wrenching his gut and bursting his heart with regret. All he had to soothe the pain it caused him was to hold you and feel your soft heartbeat through the layers of clothes around you two.

It relieved him to know you were safe. He was safe. You both were okay, but mostly you. He never told you that if there was a way to save your life in exchange for his, he'd do it, no question asked. But it was a weird topic to bring up, especially when you considered him to be a heartless, manipulative asshole who used his authority to take advantage of someone less fortunate. So he didn't. Like many things, he kept his thoughts to himself, hoping that, in some miraculous way, you'd come to understand one day. Maybe even like him.

"I hate you," you reiterated, and Wriothesley managed another chuckle to hide how much that statement hurt him. He fully expected you to jump off his lap now, walk away from him and out of his office, choosing to spend your time wisely instead of indulging him. You were no longer shivering, your teeth calm, and your heartbeat even, and yet, you didn't budge.

Turning your head to the side, you placed it on his chest, stilling on top of his heart, this small gesture enough to make it threaten to burst out of his ribcage. Maybe he underestimated you. Perhaps you did understand, at least vaguely, that whatever happened had been pretty bad for him. He'd take the pity if it came from you. Wriothesley could only hope you magically understood that whatever he did in his absence, he did it not to harm but to protect you. You never showed him any mercy with your opinions or actions, so this side of you could only be explained by assuming kindness and understanding from you. But whatever it was, he was grateful. So, so grateful.

This was all he ever wanted: holding you, burying his face in your hair in a moment of vulnerability for him. Where he wasn't stronger, wasn't exuding authority over you. Forcing you to bend to his will. A moment where he could forget the world as all his senses tuned themselves on you. Everything was you, from the softness of your body to the smell surrounding him. Your heartbeat in his ears and his eyes closing as Wriothesley was comforted by your warmth. Even if you'd never appreciate what he was doing, this was enough reward for all the hardships he went through for you daily, but especially on this day. It reminded him of why he was working so hard, even though he never meant to fall in love with you this deeply. Your tiny bit of compliance would satisfy this overpowering need for you for a couple of days until he'd be back on his feet.

Wriothesley wanted to say more. In fact, he wanted to tell you everything. But it wasn't the right time, nor did he have the strength. Your feelings changed nothing about his, every beat of his heart screaming, "I love you! I love you! I love you!"

He was a little glad you didn't hear it. That would have been embarrassing.

Grinning to himself, he could feel his conscience being pulled out from under him. His breaths even, despite the extra weight on his chest that he clung to desperately, his chair never feeling more comfortable than in that moment. He wished to stay awake for a little longer, muse about the fact that you were the best blanket he could wish for, feeling just so right. Sleeping while holding you like this would definitely improve his nights, as he wouldn't have to worry about where you were and who you were with. If you were safe or in the process of trying to do something stupid. But he'd take what he could get, even if it was just this one time of you not trying to tear out of his arms and run from him.

After all, this day could have ended very differently. But it didn't.

He got to hold you again, the crisis averted so he could return to you. He had to be thankful for that, as his life would be worth nothing without you. And even waking up with you gone would be more pleasant than any thought about you dying far away from him. So he'd take this time to rest like he always had wanted, his beloved in his arms, his thoughts and dreams filled with you.

Trying not to be too greedy, now that he knew what it felt like not to lose you.

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galebrainrot2024 · 3 months

Text

Last Light Inn Gale

I was thirsty tonight. NSFW18+ Minors DNI

Summary: This picks up in the Shadowed Lands from Gale's POV where he tells Tav how hot they are after battle. Light banter from fellow companions Karlach and Shadowheart. Features Gale *ahem* enjoying himself, thinking of Tav once they reach Last Light, right before he goes to sleep.

There is nothing quite like it, the chemistry when two bodies yearn to become one. The way one’s cells quake with anticipation, excitement, and fear - fight or flight kicking in. The way the body responds to the voice of their lover, or one yet to be.

“Hello?” Tav was waving a hand in front of Gale’s face and he started, rejoining reality before his face turned crimson. He had been deep in thought, admiring Tav as they dodged, attacked, and ravaged their foes once again. His mouth was dry, his knees weak... he felt like a schoolboy again. It was not yet two days prior Elminster had found them, delivering Gale’s fate.

Now instead of having lifetimes ahead of him, Gale had mere months at best. To once have so much time, to have it violently ripped from you, is a dreadful fate. Becoming one of the faceless, though, forever trapped in a melded wall of unclaimed spirits… no. Gale could not endure such a fate. He hated being rushed, hating feeling as if he had so little time to do what he wanted but he knew that was simply a fact. Now was not the time for inaction. Suddenly the words came tumbling out, like a bad batch of Hundur sauce.

“It’s quite thrilling, to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side,” he paused for a moment, considering his next words, “I once… read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for… other forms of stimulation.” He swallowed though his mouth was dry, “Have you ever read anything on that subject?”

Tav blinked at Gale rapidly and suddenly he wondered if he should have said anything at all. He had been so confident Tav felt something towards him… the late night conversations around whatever tome he was reading, the way she would collect various herbs and fresh vegetables where she could to give him a wider range of ingredients for their meals. He was so sure of it, so sure that his statement would not be misplaced.

He was suddenly very aware of the looks of shock on Shadowheart and Karlach’s faces. He bit down on the inside of his lip, a nervous habit and swayed a bit on his feet before relief sunk into him as Tav spoke: “I’m not much of a reader,” she said softly, but with a knowing glint in her eyes that made Gale’s heart flutter, “But I’ve seen some very informative diagrams.”

Informative diagrams. Gale cleared his throat, shifting to conceal his growing arousal. Thank the gods he was wearing a loose robe.”You have? Oh…” he took a deep breath, a smirk toying at the corner of his mouth, “Then might I suggest we pool our knowledge. No sense in letting valuable, first hand experience go to waste, after all.” He tried to steady himself, his brain not quite grasping yet that Tav had indulged him. That she had accepted him. “Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking, but standing at your side through such darkness and disrepair,” Gale’s face softened, his lowered voice cool, “it only makes me want you more.” Before he pained the remainder of their companions anymore he continued, quickly - it was unwise to linger here in the Shadowed Lands when reprieve was so close ahead. “Unfortunately this is neither the time nor the place to indulge in such feelings. So, we must be patient and push all such thoughts aside… for now. Did you need anything else?”

Tav froze, seemingly bewildered. Gale worried if he had said the wrong thing, wondered if he still had her favor until he saw the blush that spread across her cheeks, just kissing her skin. It seemed somehow more radiant in this blueish, dark night.

Although his imminent death lay ahead, Gale knew when the moment was right, he would tell Tav everything. He couldn’t bear to face the notion that Tav would never know the depths of his thoughts, his ardor, his adoration of her. Every waking moment he spent with her he felt more and more alive, more so than it seemed at times with Mystra. He would share it all with her - it needed to be perfect. And, the only way to perfect anything is to practice.

“Gale - did you just,” Shadowheart breaks the awkward silence lingering between the four as they began the short journey to Last Light Inn. “I’m sorry, did you just tell Tav you wanted to have sex with her by citing a book?” Shadowheart chuckled mockingly, though not out of malice. Gale took it as him replacing the brother she never had, or could remember so he didn’t let it bother him too much.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Gale said and the way Karlach began to crack up made his ears burn even though he knew they did it in jest. Gale took most of their joking in stride compared to some of the other, more volatile companions, and so he was often the source of everyone’s humor. The light banter they threw at him was doing some good, anyway, or at least Gale knew that’s what Tara would think. “Besides, it’s more than I can say for either of you.”

He paused for dramatic effect, his tone teasing though serious, “I know who each of you is pining for. You all think I’m not listening when I’m sitting and reading my book as you sit and drink around the fire late into the evenings…” Gale turns around to face them and smirks, one of his eyebrows raised, “Just because I have a book in hand doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy indulging in people’s personal lives. So, unless you’d like me to recommend how you should approach each of your yet to be lovers, I suggest we change the subject.”

Tav interjected jarringly, “Is Mystra always such a demanding goddess?” They were nearly to Last Light Now and Gale was pulled violently to a different train of thought.

“Erm,” he felt as if he couldn’t remember a thing about Mystra for a moment before continuing, “She expects those who seek to use the Weave to do so honestly, and with respect for its potential to destroy, as well as it’s potential to save.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully before choosing his words, “I doubt she’s asked many of her followers to blow themselves up. That’s a fate she’s bequeathed exclusively to me. She wouldn’t ask such a thing if it weren’t our only means of survival. However much she’s annoyed at me.”

Gale heard Karlach begin to ask, “So, Tav, are you going to let the wizard“ and Tav began to speak over her, louder. It made Gale grin, the butterflies in his stomach almost overwhelming him. If he could, he would take her here and now. But there was still so much to do and he needed time to get it right.

“How are you feeling,” Tav gazes into his eyes in a way that made him stop walking for a moment before collecting his thoughts. “It can’t be easy, facing the possibility of death…”

Even this made Karlach and Shadowheart stop snickering, and Karlach chimed in. “As someone with loads of experience on the matter, I find it best to focus on the positives. What good will it do robbing grief from the future? The future isn’t here yet.” Gale felt a surge of both regret and relief as she said this, entirely forgetting for a moment that they shared similar plights, similar fates. Karlach and Tav talked about it often, how Karlach wanted to face the end of her existence, but Gale had only just learned of the task he was given.

Gale was terrified. Hearing Karlach’s generous advice gave his spirit a gentle nudge in a more optimistic direction, even if by a hair. “Oh, well, you know me-“ Gale said, catching back up to Tav “ever the optimist. The truth is, I was living on borrowed time already. Consuming those items would only have kept the orb sated for so long. If anything, I feel more at peace than I have in months. At least now I knew my death will have purpose. It won’t be a distant ‘bang’ in the footnotes of history.”

“Damn, that’s beautiful mate. Truly poetic.” Karlach says, “We will both go out with a bang, you can count on that. But before that happens,” she inhaled in such a way you’d think she was delivering difficult, somber information, before saying, “it looks like.. we need to get laid.”

Gale immediately looked to Tav for her reaction and they locked eyes. His breath hitched and he felt as if he would suffocate, but there was not time to say anything further. They’d arrived and their welcoming at the inn was lukewarm at best.

Everyone had settled for the evening, scattered throughout the property. Tav was busy gathering information from Jaheria and speaking with the Tieflings who made it to Last Light. Gale knew Karlach wouldn’t be telling any of the others about what he said because she was too busy flirting with Dammon - upon their arrival, they found him to give Karlach's engine the second upgrade she deserved and now she was on a similar mission. It made Gale chuckle a bit to himself, wishing her the best. But what of Shadowheart?

She won’t share because, well, he thought to himself, she’s Shadowheart, first and foremost. Second, She is a Cleric of Shar. Secrecy and discretion may as well been invented by them.

His thumb grazed his lower lip nervously, unwilling to bank on Shadowheart’s absolute silence. It took a moment before he found her, standing by the water and idly drinking a bottle of wine on her own. “May I?” He said, sitting beside her.

Shadowheart smirked, “Please,” she took a long gulp from the bottle, turning to Gale and offering it to him. He held up a hand, polity declining.

“Although I would love to indulge I.. have quite a lot on my mind and would be terrible company. I just wanted a moment of your time, if that’s alright with you.”

“What if I said no?” Shadowheart looks back out onto the water, grinning. Gale shifts uncomfortably, never quite sure where their relationship stood. The only people she seemed to open up to were Tav and Astarion, to Gale she was a particularly difficult book. “You don’t need to ask, or tell me anything. I can be discreet. Besides,” she giggles and little from the wine and hiccups once, “It would be no fun for me at all if I couldn’t hold this over you. You think I’d hand this power over to everyone else?” She scoffed, “Not a chance. You have nothing to worry about, your secrets safe with me.”

“Thank you,” Gale said it like a prayer answered, “I appreciate your discretion, truly. And if you’d like any practical advice on how to…”

“Go.” Shadowheart held up a hand, glaring at him, “Before I change my mind.”

Gale was in his bedroll, had somehow finessed his way into his own room while his companions were bunked together. He realized it was likely because no one felt like debating with him for hours about the merits of Wizards needing exceptional amounts of alone time to best prepare their bodies and minds for battle without distraction.

Tonight, though, Gale’s thoughts drifted. For the first time, he allowed them to go to Tav, the old fashioned way - through the sheer power of imagination. He knew he wanted to worship her, to taste the bud between her thighs as his last meal, to caress every curve and supple inch of her skin.

Before now, before learning of what task lay before him, he only partially indulged the storm of desire that brewed in him, to be with her in every sense of the word. Too much excitement and he worried the orb would destabilize. Now that it had been put to rest, if only momentarily, the need to act on his desires returned in full force. Primal urges hadn’t been an issue in his isolation.. or even early in their journey, for the matter. But Tav was so generous, so compassionate even to those she hardly knew… the way she smelled, the sound of her laugh, even how downright unpleasant she was every morning until she ate something. It drove him wild, the yearning for her deepening by the day.

He felt that familiar thrum between his thighs, blood pulsing as he twitched to life, he poured some water and unscented oil onto his palm before slipping a hand between his undergarments to grab his erection.

Gale sighed, thinking of Tav’s lips, what it would be like to kiss them. What she will taste like. He thought of exploring her body and mind within the weave, bestowing pleasure upon her through every sense, in a tantric, almost surreal experience. He moved his hand slowly, deliberately against his erection as he thought then about taking Tav traditionally, in his less than worthy mortal body, but…. oh… to feel the warmth of her skin against his… to kiss and lick down her neck…to her chest to taste those pillowy breasts... to bite her nipples gently before licking and kissing lower… He was moving his hand urgently against himself, his back arching a bit, biting down on his lip, completely lost in the idea of her. He thought about licking across her hip bones and caressing her inner thighs, spreading her legs to taste the sweet nectar that lay between. To become intimate with every fold, every layer, to taste her so fully with his tongue swirling and pulsing into her as his hands gripped her waist.

Gale was shaking now, the urgency at which he stroked himself growing, moaning as he thought of her, wishing his hand was hers. Wishing that she was here with him now. His eyes rolled back as he thought of Tav bent over a bed, he ensuring her comfort and desires being met before thrusting into her, slow and deliberately at first and then with ferocity, imagining how warm she would be, how wet… how eager… how her pussy would grip around his erection, hungry for him, and how he would push deeply to please her. About how they would share both their minds and bodies, how he would tell her how much he adored her, how beautiful and sexy she was as he claimed her entirely, lightly biting her supple flesh while his fingers would explore every inch of her and all at once Gale cries out, “Gods above, oh fuck,” and he erupts, his dick twitching sporadically as the familiar sticky wetness fills his hand and cloth. Gale breathes heavily, dizzy, his face hot, and cleans himself properly before lying back down.

As Gale drifts into a less than restful sleep, he wonders how glorious the experience will be if it felt so extraordinary just imagining it.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 art #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #bg3 brainrot #god gale #gale #gale smut #gale x tav #bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bauldur’s gate #baulders gate gale #baulders gate tav #bg3 fic #gale bg3

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abbyromanoff · 9 months

Note

Can I request Natasha Romanoff X reader. "The last of us " AU . Angst and maybe some smut if you feel like it ?

THE LAST OF ME AND YOU

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,959

WARNINGS: smut, strap on use, reader is a mom, depression, angst, break ups, death, tlou au (I’ve never played the game so bare with me), killing, praise, arguments, abandonment, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Nat continued her harsh thrusts into your tight hole as her hot breath landed on your face. The strap she wore abused your cunt in the most delicious way possible and had you chasing for more.

Your head was thrown back, allowing your girlfriend to mark your neck. Your hand went to the back of her neck, pulling her further in while scratching her scalp.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” You nodded, struggling to speak as all that left you were broken sobs and choked-out moans. Your legs wrapped around her waist and your free hand went to her back, creating red lines with your nails.

“Please- I’m gonna-” Your legs were shaking as her pace slightly faltered, the pain causing her to hiss out mumbled word. She permitted you to let go, your cunt clenching around her as your juices covered her cock.

“Just like that- oh, you’re doing so good, such a good girl.” Her praises made a small smile plaster across your face and a breathless ‘thank you’ escaping your lips.

She soon pulled out of you slowly, trying to withhold any pain that could be a result. You whimpered out a few disagreements but let her continue.

“It’s alright, you’re okay.” She tossed the toy to the side and wrapped her arms around your figure, inhaling your scent that brought her comfort.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” She hummed, afraid to give you a response and see your reaction. You noticed this and pulled her head away from you, giving her a soft squeeze to her hand and a kiss to her forehead, trying to ease her into talking.

“I’ve been thinking about some things,” You gave her a slow nod to show you were ready for her to speak once more. She sighed, gulping down her fears with a shake of her head.

“No, it’s stupid.” She tried to stand, only to be pulled back down by your grasp.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” You patted the spot next to you and let her take a seat, cuddling into her waist as you stared up at her.

“She deserves to be avenged.” Her sister, one of the only people she had left, was killed only last year. It was devastating, she was barely able to recover. You and your child were the only things that helped, and even then it would never solve the pain she felt.

“Nat, we talked about this.” She had mentioned it before and was quickly shut down by you. You knew it wasn’t exactly fair, but you deserved to be selfish just this once. You couldn’t lose her, neither you nor Gabriel, your son, would be able to handle that. He had the right to grow up with both parents in his life, not just one.

Natasha wasn’t his biological mother, his father died shortly after you found out about your pregnancy. But she stepped up, and she earned that spot as his mother and caregiver. She loved him like he was her own because, in her eyes, he was.

“But I need to do this, Y/N, why can’t you understand that?” You sat up, throwing the blankets over your bare body and grabbing the clothes that you were previously wearing. She followed you as you voyaged into your son’s room, standing in front of his crib and gently picking him up.

“Hi, handsome, did you enjoy your little nap?” You spoke to the young child in hand, chuckling as his small hands tried to grasp onto you.

“Don’t ignore me, Y/N.” You blinked away tears and sat on the near chair to pull down your shirt, letting your son suckle on your breasts. He was still so young at only twelve months, if she disappeared, he wouldn’t even remember her.

“I’m not discussing this anymore with you.” She walked out of the door, leaving you and Gabriel alone in the lowly lit room.

“Don’t worry, Gabe, momma isn’t going anywhere.” He didn’t seem to understand and you wished it would stay this way forever. You didn’t want him to age, he was so perfect like this. But you wouldn’t know how to handle him on your own in the dangers of this world. Neither of you were safe, but Nat made a promise to always protect the both of you or die trying. And she always had, you were beyond grateful for all she had done.

The next morning came quicker than expected and you ventured into the kitchen to make breakfast for the three of you. You went outside to grab one of the tomatoes from your garden and returned to your spot, cutting the fruit into circles and placing it on top of the eggs for more flavor.

The plates were placed on the table as you went into your son’s room to find him awake and smiling as usual, he was always a happy boy.

“C’mon, it’s time to eat, kiddo.” When you walked into the kitchen you found Nat standing there with bags next to her legs. You shuddered, stalling for a moment before placing the young child into his high chair. You took the spot next to him and let him drink from the bottle Nat was able to make.

“I assume you’re leaving.” Her lack of response was all you needed. You turned to face her, the tears hidden in your eyes nearly escaping against your will. She held onto the handles of the bags that held her weapons and a small amount of her nutrition. She tried stepping towards you, only to be stopped in her tracks when you backed away.

“I promise I’ll be back for you two, I’m not giving up on us.” She reached for your cheek and you let her, interlacing your hand with her own as she kissed the back of it.

“I love you so much, angel.” She then turned to your son who seemed to be clueless to the whole ordeal. “And I love you so much, my baby boy.” When she tried meeting your eyes you looked away, wiping your nose that had become sniffly. She picked up her bags once again and slowly turned to the door, every creak from the floorboards making her miss you even more.

“If you walk out those doors, that will be the last time you see your family.” You two were the only real family she had left, everybody else had passed on and left her alone. She considered joining them at one point in her life, but she couldn’t do that to you both. Yet, she was still able to leave you both.

“Yelena didn’t deserve this, and I’m going to bring her the goodbye she deserved.” She wasn’t able to look at you, it would only break her more.

“Killing them won’t bring her back to life, she’s gone and you can’t do anything about it. I’m sorry to say it but it’s true, there is no bringing her back.”

“I know that, but they shouldn’t be able to roam the Earth when she no longer can because of them.” You knew there was no convincing her to stay, there never was. But you were hoping she’d realize the cost even if she didn’t seem to care about anything other than the blonde.

“Goodbye, my loves.” She knew deep down that it would most likely be the last words she ever spoke to you, you were always one to keep a promise. And you did, later that week you packed up everything you had and left with little to no destination in mind. All you knew were that a group of travelers came by often, you had even made small conversation with one of them. Most gangs were ones to fear, but not them. The woman welcomed you with open arms, even greeting the baby that was secured in your hold.

“My name’s Wanda, Wanda Maximoff.” The rest of her group was almost as kind as her, and you couldn’t help but thank all gods that she came into your life. If she didn’t, you wouldn’t be alive and neither would your son.

You told her about Nat, how she left you like it was nothing. Seeing you look and sound so hopeless caused her to sob later that night while she slept beside you. There were no terms shared between either of you, but she was so unbelievably in love with you after only a few months of knowing you. You didn’t know where you stood, you still held a deep love for your past lover, but you knew you’d never see her again.

You noticed how Wanda cared for Gabriel and protected him with every bit of her. You later found out that she used to be a mom herself until the breakout traveled across the entire globe and left her as the only member of her family left. You also found out that she used to have a husband, Vision was his name. You held her close to you as she spoke, and that’s when it happened. She kissed you, and neither of you could stop the magical feeling from repeating itself. You weren’t over Natasha, and Wanda understood that. She gave you all the time you needed before you were ready. Gabriel spoke his first words while laying on top of your chest with Wanda having an arm behind your head.

When he eventually became more fluent the more you two taught him, he uttered a parental nickname to the brunette. She hadn’t felt this happy since the times she spent with her family. It caused a small ache in your heart when knowing that Nat had been teaching him how to speak as she waited for the day he’d call her his mother alongside you. But it wasn’t your fault, she was gone now and she was the one who made the decision to do so.

When the redhead returned to your home she found the place to be empty with only dust and spider webs in sight. It had taken two years but she achieved her goal, and she knew Yelena was looking down on her, but she didn’t know if it was out of shame or happiness.

You were right, no wound caused to the men who had taken her life helped soothe the pain of losing her sister and now her family. Gabriel was most likely more grown by now, and she wanted to imagine how you two were doing but it only brought a sob from deep in her chest. She fell to her knees, punching the floor as hard as she could and causing a hole to appear. That’s when she noticed something falling from the counter and landing next to her.

It was a Polaroid of you and Nat before the curse broke out. At the time you two were just friends while your boyfriend and the father of your child was still alive. There were words written on the back ‘forever my love’, she had secretly added them there when you didn’t know. At the time, she had held a longing for you that she hoped would be filled, and it eventually was but it only lasted a year. It wasn’t enough time for you to know how much she loved you and how long she had loved you.

But you were gone, yet her love for you never would be. She wanted to find you, to tell you how sorry she was, but she knew deep down you were probably better off without her. All she wanted was to avenge her sister, but now she was left completely alone with no one to mend her broken heart.

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sinkovia · 4 months

Text

Work calls

John Price x Fem!Reader

Angst, loss of a child, mention of death, blood.

As you stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner, you allowed your gaze to wander out of the window to your front yard. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow on the grass.

Your little girl, the light of your life, was playing gleefully in the yard, and John, your husband, was keeping a watchful eye on her. You heard her muffled laugh through the open window, a melody that never failed to brighten your day. You smiled to yourself as you watched her, feeling a sense of contentment that only a mother could understand. She was the center of your world, the embodiment of your love for John.

Your gaze dropped to the onion you were chopping, the sharp blade slicing through the layers, but your mind was still on the scene outside. As you glanced up again, your brows furrowed in confusion. John stood outside, his back turned away from your daughter, his expression tense as he spoke on the phone.

And then, you saw her. She had wandered into the street, her innocent curiosity leading her away from the safety of the yard. Time seemed to slow as your heart pounded in your chest, the knife slipping from your fingers and clattering to the floor. Your scream pierced the air, a gut-wrenching, blood-curdling cry of terror as you bolted for the front door. As you burst through the front door, you watched in sheer horror as a car came into view and struck her, the sickening sound of impact echoing in your ears.

Your scream of desperation and fear cut through the air, but there was nothing you could do. The worst nightmare a parent could imagine had unfolded before your eyes, shattering your world in an instant. John's eyes followed your panicked sprint, and they widened in horror, the phone slipped from his hand, forgotten, and he sprinted after you.

Collapsing on the ground, you scooped your child's broken and bloodied body into your arms, cradling her close to your chest. The anguish within you poured out in gut-wrenching sobs as you screamed against her limp form. John fell to the floor beside you, his tears streaming down his face as he reached out to touch his daughter.

“Sweetheart baby, baby please say something.” you cried out gently shaking her but you knew deep down she was already dead.

Pain and rage coursing through you, you snapped at him with raw anguish in your voice. "This is your fault! You did this to our little girl!" you sobbed out, your entire world crumbling around you.

Price's eyes filled with disbelief and guilt, his gaze shifting from you to his lifeless daughter. "I'm so sorry. I should have never taken the call. I'm so sorry, oh god, I'm so sorry" he sobbed out, his voice wracked with remorse.

But your grief was too profound, your heartbreak too insurmountable. "Sorry isn't going to bring her back! How many times have I told you not to take work calls when you're around her?" Your words were a broken, anguished cry, a testament to the devastating loss that now enveloped your family.

Two agonizing weeks had passed since the unimaginable loss of your child, and in that time, you had neither spoken to John nor allowed yourself to look at him. The blame you placed on him was an insurmountable wall between you, a barrier that you couldn't bring yourself to breach. Each day was a heavy burden, a constant reminder of the tragedy that could have been prevented. If only he had been watching her more closely, your precious daughter would still be here, and you couldn't forgive him for that.

As you got ready for your child's funeral, slipping on your black heels with mechanical movements, you found your reflection in the mirror to be a mere shadow of the person you once were. Your eyes were lifeless, and the deep bags underneath them were evidence of your sleepless nights. Every time you close your eyes, you were back on that fateful street, cradling your daughter's lifeless body.

John stood behind you, fixing his tie with a heavy heart. He watched your distant gaze, feeling a profound sense of helplessness and guilt. There wasn't a day that had passed where he didn't blame himself, the weight of his failure as a father and husband bearing down on him. Desperate to console you, he reached out, but you recoiled, walking away from his touch.

"I'll be in the car." Was all you muttered out before leaving him alone in the bedroom. With a heavy sigh, John took a seat on the bed, tears forming in his eyes.

He knew that your marriage was falling apart, and the pain was etched into every line on his face as he sat alone in the bedroom, overwhelmed by his own remorse and the rift between you two.

Tears welled in your eyes as you approached your daughter's casket. The scene was almost unbearable to witness - her once lively spirit now lay cold and unmoving in front of you. Your trembling hands reached out, brushing over her hair. A sob escaped your lips as the weight of her loss bore down upon you.

With great care, you placed her favorite stuffed animal next to her, a final token of comfort for your precious child. The reality of the situation crashed over you with painful clarity. You would never be able to tell her bedtime stories again, prepare her lunches for preschool, or hear the sound of her laughter grace your ears.

John walked up beside you, tears glistening in his eyes, a shared grief etched on his face. He reached out, his hand gently covering yours, his voice breaking as he whispered, "I'm so sorry, baby girl."

Your rage-filled eyes slowly turned to him, the resentment swelling in your heart. In that moment, you couldn't bear to hear his apologies or see his remorse. Without a word, you walked away, taking a seat in the somber room as he stayed by your daughter's casket, speaking to her with a heavy heart, the weight of the guilt and loss pressing down on him.

Seven agonizing months had passed, and the pain had not grown any less severe. You had continued to sleep on the couch, night after night. John would ask you every night if you were coming to bed, but you would always reply, your voice distant and hollow, "I'll be there in a minute." however the weight of your grief and resentment kept you anchored on that couch.

Over time, you had lost a significant amount of weight, your appearance a haunting reflection of your past self. You looked like a shadow, hollowed out by the pain of your loss.

You would walk by your daughter's room every day, the door a painful reminder of her absence, but you never found the strength to go inside. The room remained untouched, as if time had frozen the moment she was taken from you. Your marriage with John had crumbled under the weight of your shared tragedy. He knew that taking that call had been a mistake, one he would carry with him for the rest of his life. No matter how many times he apologized, you couldn't find it in your heart to forgive him, no matter how hard you tried. The love you once had for each other had been overshadowed by grief and blame, and the rift between you had grown insurmountable.

The love you once had for each other had faded, and you had changed into someone you barely recognized. He didn't blame you for it; he knew the fault was his alone to bear. He could feel the widening rift between you, and he knew that his time with you was limited. It was only a matter of time before you asked him to sign divorce papers, and the thought of losing you forever weighed heavily on his heart.

Today was the day. You had just returned from the courthouse, your steps heavy and laden with sorrow. John would be home any minute, and as you made your way through your home, you halted in front of your daughter's bedroom. Slowly, you pushed open the door. Her room, which had once been vibrant, loud, and full of color, now appeared dull and lifeless. It had been a tomb for the past seven months.

You walked inside hesitantly, taking in a deep breath. Her scent still lingered in the air, and the room felt like a haunting memory. You stood in the middle of her room, gazing around, your voice trembling as you whispered, "I miss you so much."

Tears welled in your eyes as you opened the curtains, letting the soft orange rays of sunshine through. It was time to confront the past and start healing, no matter how painful it might be. You heard the front door open, and you took another deep breath. As you walked out to the living room, the divorce papers clutched tightly in your hand, you saw John standing there, removing his jacket. The tears in your eyes and the papers in your hand told him everything he needed to know. His heart sank, knowing that his time with you was coming to an end.

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you struggled to find the right words. "I need to try and move past this," you began, your hands shaking. "I know what you did was a mistake, and you can spend the rest of your life apologizing for it, but I just can't. I don't think I'll ever find it in my heart to forgive you. I'm sorry."

John's eyes mirrored your sadness, teary-eyed as he nodded, understanding the depth of your pain and your decision. He wanted nothing more than to work things out with you, but he also knew that when you made up your mind, there was no changing it.

"I love you, y/n, you know that, right?" He confessed, his own tears flowing freely now. You smiled, though it was a tearful one, as you looked at him.

"I know, and I love you more than anything, John. I really do. I just... I can't keep living like this anymore. I don't eat, I don't sleep. I'm always in that kitchen, looking out the window. I'm always on that street, holding our little girl's body. Every time I look at you she’s all I see." You wiped away your tears, and he walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you sobbed into his chest. His fingers combed through the back of your hair, holding you close as you both grieved for what was lost.

You both took a seat at the dining table, the divorce papers lying there like a heavy burden. John glanced over at you, his eyes brimming with tears. His voice was soft and desperate, his last plea for a different outcome.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, his voice quivering, hope still flickering within him despite the despair that loomed over your relationship.

You met his gaze, your own eyes filled with sorrow, the weight of your decision settling upon you. It was a choice you had agonized over for months, but in the end, you couldn't keep living in the shadow of your pain and resentment. As much as it hurt, as much as you still loved him, you nodded with a heavy heart, "I am."

His tears fell freely as he accepted your answer, and with a trembling hand, he began to sign the divorce papers, sealing the end of a love that had once been filled with hope and happiness.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows throughout your daughter's room, a heavy silence filled the air. John, his arms around you, held you close as your tears fell, a silent testament to the pain you both felt. And in that moment, it became clear that the love you once shared was now a memory, a casualty of the tragedy that had befallen your lives. The house, once vibrant with the laughter and joy of your little girl, remained still and empty.

John, unable to stem the tide of his own tears, pressed a final kiss to your forehead, his lips trembling against your skin. The weight of your decision pressed on both of you, a heavy burden that neither could bear any longer. With the divorce papers still clutched in your hand, you stepped away from Price's embrace, your eyes locked onto his for one last painful, lingering moment.

Before you could turn he gently grabbed your hand. You turned, looking back up at him. “If one day you find it in your heart to forgive me will you let me know? Will you call? I don't think I’ll be able to rest peacefully in the grave if I die knowing you hate me.” you frowned looking down at your shaking hands before returning your gaze to him.

“I don’t hate you, John, I hate what you failed to do. I hate the fact that every time I look at you I see our dead daughter… I need to find a way to move passed this, but I can't do that with you around.” John softly smiled and nodded, he understood what you were saying and he didn’t blame you for wanting this.

“Once I pull myself together and heal from her death and I mean really heal I’ll come back. I don't know how long that will take but I promise when I do I’ll come back and we can try to fix this… fix us.” A glimmer of hope filled his heart and he gently nodded.

“Ill be waiting.”

You half smiled as you turned away and walked out the front door, leaving John standing there, his heart aching with the knowledge that he had lost not only his daughter but the love of his life. The door closed behind you, and the world continued to turn, but for you and John, it had stopped on that fateful day seven months ago.

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somber-sapphic · 10 months

Note

Was wondering if I would be ok to request a sick reader with Wandanat where readers just come out of surgery (could be for anything, like injured on a mission, wisdom teeth etc) and they’re kind of loopy still, not really sure if it counts as a sick fix though so I don’t mind if it’s not your thing 😅

A Little Less Wisdom

〖Notes: Okay, I had my wisdom teeth out a few months ago and I thought I'd be funny after waking up. NO. I just cried. I cried a lot. And then I got confused and hit my ride home. It was a long day.〗

〖Summary: You need your wisdom teeth out.〗

〖Word Count: 1320〗

〖Pairing: Wandanat x Sick Reader〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Out of all of the problems you could face as a superhero, ‘impacted wisdom teeth’ was never on your list. It hadn’t even crossed your mind; it just wasn’t something you’d ever believed that you’d need to worry about. Maybe there was a part of you that considered the possibility, but when there were so many other more dangerous things to worry about dental health didn’t really make the top hundred.

But two weeks ago, when your girlfriends had noticed the way you were avoiding hard foods and the copious amounts of over-the-counter pain meds you were taking, they finally said something. It really didn’t click to you that anything was wrong until Natasha had brought it up, a look on her face that betrayed her true concern.

Once they had completed their makeshift intervention, you began to notice the real pain in your mouth and began to wonder how exactly you had ignored it in the first place. Your best guess was that something was always hurting from one battle or another, that this one just didn’t seem too pressing. That sprained ankle had been a worse issue than the tooth pain. Until you noticed it, of course.

After a checkup from Dr. Helen Cho (who reiterated over and over again that she was not a dentist) and a few x-rays later, you were found to have “severely impacted” wisdom teeth. Not just regularly impacted, but severely. Not only that, but it was all four of them. You didn’t do anything in halves.

Wanda had been shocked at how well you had been hiding your discomfort, while Natasha was more focused on helping you to feel better. She wanted you to have surgery as quickly as possible, stating her concerns about possible complications and expected recovery time.

This was her way of expressing her love, getting overly caught up on details, and making sure that everything was 100% taken care of so that neither you nor Wanda had to worry. She was a wonderful girlfriend.

The day of the surgery came and went, a mission getting in the way of your dental care. This didn’t particularly bother you, part of you (as embarrassed as you felt) was incredibly nervous about the operation. You had read up about it in secret and had learned about every single complication ever recorded in human history.

This was, of course, a bad idea. Now you were panicking about dry-socket, nerve damage, infection, and possible death as a result of the anesthetic. The idea of being completely out of control of your surroundings was not one that you particularly enjoyed.

Unfortunately, beings who wanted to destroy the human race could only keep you from getting your wisdom teeth out for so long. The day arrived and you were mildly freaking out about it. Wanda, who could literally sense your emotions, had been trying to keep you calm by distracting you with silly little tasks and offering small comforts.

Natasha was less subtle about her attempts to soothe you; she straight up hadn’t left your side the whole day. She kept murmuring reassurances to you while you watched some dumb TV show and had even done research of her own to combat what you had found. She combatted your fear with love and statistics. These two very different ways of trying to make you feel less anxious were working very well together to put you at ease.

You lay back in the dentist’s chair and stared with panic-filled eyes at your loving girlfriends who were hovering in the doorway, unable to enter the sterile field. Suddenly, a very loud thought filled your head.

It’s all going to be okay. Breathe. We’ll be right here. You’ll be okay.

It was hard to describe how it felt when Wanda projected a thought into your mind. You could tell that it wasn’t a thought of your own, it had a comforting feeling. A soft, gentle, loving feeling. It put you at ease more than the intravenous anesthetic that was being pumped into your body.

The last thing you felt as you closed your eyes was that lingering emotion that Wanda had pushed into your mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“They’re waking up,” Natasha murmured, nudging Wanda slightly. The witch looked up from her phone where she had been anxiously tapping away at some game, a look of relief flooding her face. The two women stared down at you, both smiling as your beautiful e/c eyes fluttered open.

“Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?” Wanda cooed softly, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of your lashes. You opened your mouth as if about to speak, but then closed it again. You repeated the motion a few times, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you started to reach up for your mouth.

“No no no, let’s not do that. We’ve gotta leave that alone for now, okay?” The brunette chastised, quickly pulling your hand away. You pulled a pout, but the time it took for you to actually change your expression was absolutely hilarious. It took you a full five seconds to register that something had been said and react to it.

“Mh mufh iffmahds.” You mumbled around the gauze, the words you were trying to say lost around the cotton fabric stuffed into your mouth. Natasha leaned forward and bent down to kiss your head, leaving her lips there for a few moments to express her relief. She knew that nothing bad would happen to you, but the anxiety was always going to be there.

“Just rest baby, we’ll talk when you’re a little more awake.” She said kindly, grabbing Wanda’s hand as your eyes fell closed again. The redhead turned to her and grinned before kissing her soft pink lips.

“They’ll be okay Wands.” She reassured, resting her forehead against Wanda’s.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The peace of you being sort of asleep only lasted for twenty or so minutes. This time when you woke back up, you were ready to go. You quite literally came up swinging, your eyes wide and yelling something that neither of your girlfriends could understand through the gauze.

“Woah! Calm down, it’s alright babe, it’s okay.” Natasha said, reaching over to grab your fists.

“The chicken! The chicken’s comin’!” You cried, forcing the words out as you struggled against the grasp of your concerned girlfriend.

“What are you talking about? There’s no chicken!” The redhead replied, sounding frantic as she dodged a kick aimed at her face. You weren’t fully coherent, but your fighting skills were still very much intact. You had trained for this and were using your training to keep yourself safe from the aforementioned chicken.

“Robot chickens! So many, too many, can’t do it, gotta go!” You spat out, starting to get out of the reclining chair. You made it halfway up before falling back again, not entirely prepared for the weight of gravity. Gravity was hard.

“Y/n, Y/n. Listen to me. There are no chickens, okay? We’re in medical, you had surgery, and it’s all okay. Relax babes. You’re safe. It's just Nat and me.” Wanda soothed, putting every bit of calming energy into her voice. She felt bad for using witchcraft on you to alter your emotions, but she needed to calm you down as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, it worked. You sat back and relaxed, your body going limp against Natasha’s. You quite literally fell against your favorite assassin but remained conscious this time, breathing heavily as you relaxed again.

“I don’t like poultry.” You grumbled, nuzzling your face into Natasha’s shoulder. The redhead laughed softly, and Wanda let out a weary sigh, a grin spreading over her face. The operation was over, but it was becoming more and more obvious that that had been the easy part. Now they had to deal with an incredibly confused, slightly high you who would probably remember absolutely none of this.

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