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screampied · 2 months

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“. . do you . . know what happens after death, sweetheart?”

the words that slipped out of nanami’s lips struck you right in the very depths of your heart.

it stung—a sharp prod that made the very crevices of your mouth twitch. his hands, his once warm and loving hands started to grow abnormally cold. frigid to where you even started to adapt to his chilled temperature.

“no why….” you started, feeling your throat tighten. “why are you asking me that, kento?” you sniffle, tightly interlocking your fingers with his.

he stares at you with a warm smile spreading across his lips.

regardless of his current position, peacefully resting his back against the ground—his inevitable fate had finally caught up to him.

nanami’s breathing patterns changed significantly. everything was so loud, all he could make out through his peripherals was splotches of blur and your pretty worried face. “. . because,” he continues, and his speech was so slow. you could tell he was trying to get every word out, every syllable, every vowel. just for you and only you. “i’m about to find out, my love . .”

your irises focused on him. nothing else, no one else—just him.

you’ve never seen him like this. so pale, so weak, so . . . scared.

his pure emotion, it showed in his eyes. his perfect brown eyes that you never failed to get lost in. for the first time in what was probably forever, nanami felt…scared. he tried his best to conceal it in front of you though. but even his best wasn’t enough, because you probably knew him better than you knew yourself.

“don’t say things like that, kento,” you mutter, already feeling that annoying plump knot rise up in your throat. your breath was shaky, tremble after tremble. “you’re fine. you can get up. we can get up.”

he knew when you said we, you implied that you’d both be walking away together — hand in hand, like in those stupid cheesy movies you’d watch with him every sunday after he gets off work. but alas, reality was quite harsh to face. an even more incredible tough pill to swallow. nanami knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

it was irksome, you had to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent a single tear to roll down your cheek.

nanami’s eyelids were hanging on by a thread, just barely open. he was trying—trying so hard to hang on, a small pout curls against his lips before he huffs out a single breath.

“ah . . forgive me, you’re right,” he says, his thumb swiftly stroking the front of your hand. a single tear escapes past your lower damp eyelid. even his voice sounded different. a voice you grew to love, so sweet and protective. it now sounded incredibly tired. you could hear a slight wheeze between breaths of his. “hey, don’t cry. don’t do that, look at me.”

his voice was so soft, you sniffled—despising the irritating tears that started to run down both sides of your temples. if it was anything nanami couldn’t stand, it was that he couldn’t stand to see the love of his life shed such sweet pitiful tears for him.

you looked at him, watching his eyelids struggle to stay open for you. everything ached, his body didn’t even feel like his own anymore. it was an indescribable feeling from when he got struck, laying against the slick cold floor of the shibuya train station.

“. . d-don’t leave me,” was all you managed to say, your lips was trembling, your heart pounded and you didn’t wanna say goodbye just yet. “kento, i need you.”

“hm? what are you mumblin’ about, sweetheart? ‘m right here.” his voice, it sounded happier.

you furrowed your eyebrows, now finding yourself buried into nanami’s bare chest, damp chin pressing against his pecs and all.

you were here safe and sound, snuggled up all against him, as you should be. it took you a long while to calm down, he’s staring at you with a soft loving gaze—a brief look of concern before you mumble out a, “..kento? are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be, baby?” nanami hums, a soft thumb stroking your back. with a relaxed breath, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss near the very tip of your forehead. his touch was forevermore soothing, a touch you never wanted to forget.

you let off a jittery sigh of relief, finally coming to the conclusion that it was another one of your horrid nightmares. you had nothing to worry about.

he was fine.

you were fine,

everything was fine.

. . is what you kept telling yourself.

nanami never told you those words, he didn’t kiss the tip of your forehead or stroke your back lovingly whilst staring into your eyes. the only true unbearable truth was that nanami was gone.

he was gone, and his last words weren’t even “i love you,” or “i’m sorry.” on his fatal dying breaths, nanami’s last words to you while squeezing your hand, sliding a ring into your palm, he rasps out a breathy, “will . . you marry me?”

but before you could tell him yes, he was already gone.

#★vegasbaby.#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk fic #jjk drabbles

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thatfreshi · 8 months

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Can I request Astarion x reader and he drinks from u when your standing and your legs buckle and you start to collapse from the blood loss but he catches you and Carries you to your bedroll and takes care of you?

Forgive me if it's rough, still trying to figure out the speech patterns!

Recommended Song: Ivy - SALES

It usually wasn’t often that Astarion asked to feed on you. Sadly, resources have been scarce, wild animals included. Anytime Lae’zel is out scouting she tries to bring something back for him, but to no avail. Recently, he had been asking quite often, and there is always an air of guilt in his question.

“I’m sorry to ask my love, I just worry the others will see me differently, if I were to feed on one of them.”

It’s not as if your other companions aren’t aware of his situation, or the fact that you have to satiate him every once in a while. You think he simply feels like a burden, having to ask people for the very thing that sustains him. He just feels a little less like a burden when he asks you.

“Of course dear, no need to be sorry.”

You’ve gotten used to how this goes, as you’ve been travelling together for quite some time, and you and Astarion got smitten rather quickly. He’s always quite gentle, even if it does hurt at first. Instead of sitting down however, you continue working on stitching up a piece of your sleep-wear. With powerful magic from the likes of Gale and Shadowheart, you think such minute things could be fixed easily, but alas, they still require a realistic solution.

While you’re busy putting to work the simple stitch he taught you, Astarion moves to drink, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Many would think that the act of being drained of your own blood would be, well, terrifying, but something about it is quite intimate, heartwarming even. You don’t even really think about how your veins start running cold, how you start to feel much worse than normal. Then, you’re on the ground, needle and thread along with you.

“Darling! I apologize, I should’ve had you lie down first, I should’ve-”

He cuts off his own words as he scrambles to think. You’re still not fully there, but you want to tell him you’re fine. Sadly, eyes can’t always tell all. Even your parasite seems too drained to connect with him. When you regain some of your senses, you see that Astarion has brought you back to your bedroll, muttering something to himself, pacing the tent.

“I could’ve waited, I would’ve been fine. I-”

He pauses, realizing you’ve started to stir.

“Tav, darling, are you alright?”

You try sitting up, and he quickly moves to support your back, wrapping his arm around you waist.

“Yeah… yeah I’m okay.”

“I apologize, I knew it was a risk to feed on you again so soon. I put you in a terrible position, asking you like that.”

You reach to put your hand over his.

“No, it’s alright. I’ve become so nonchalant about it, I should’ve been much more considerate of the circumstances.”

He’s silent, trying to find another way to blame himself. The truth is, both of you were quite tired from the recent adventuring, and weren’t thinking straight.

“I’ll tell them all we should stay at camp for another day. Or perhaps they can journey back to the Grove and we can stay for another evening.”

You tighten your grasp on his hand until he finally make eye contact with you.

“Astarion, it’s fine, truly. I’ll be fine tomorrow, come morning.”

You smile at him, despite the nausea caught in your throat. He feels bad enough, no use in making it worse.

“Here, come lie with me.”

You meet the ground once again, and he joins you shortly after. He still has that look, that dreary mist across his eyes. Instead of trying to tell him in words, you nestle into his side, wrapping yourself around him, a way of saying ‘I still love you, no matter what.’ He leaves a kiss on your forehead, and finally lets the tension go. You close your eyes soon after, exhausted. Astarion never tells you, but he stayed awake and by your side the entire night, unmoving, just in case.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #comfort

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 7 months

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Hello are you still doing the SAGAU for reader gets mad and blowing up at people for certain characters? If you are can you do traveler or Lumine if you don’t want to do a general head cannon and fischl still? I’m so angry about how many NPC world quests that now seem like a pattern of traveler helps and then gets backstabbed and left to die and just really think those NPC need to under stand the gravity and anger of the players.

Hello, @celestialsiren! Yes, supposedly, I am still doing this series lol—I don't see why I should end it, seeing as there's always new characters that people request for. Ofc I'll do the Traveler!

Click Me For Part 1!

Click Me For Part 2!

Click Me For Part 3!

Reader Defending the Traveler! (Also No Vice Versa)

(Disclaimers: This May be OOC, And This Post Will Mainly be Using Lumine as "The Traveler." However, This Post Still Can Be Read as GN!Traveler or Aether.)

Lumine

To be frankly honest, I think you (the Reader) would feel pretty connected to Lumine. She's understanding, she's calm, and most importantly, she gets what it's like not to be from Teyvat. She's passed the celestial atlas to venture the world that is Teyvat, only to be prevented by the Unknown God.

Safe to say, you both were like two peas in a pod. And you were willing to travel with her and find her brother. Lumine gets you a lot, and you refuse any harm coming her way.

That includes verbal complaints. Like, honestly—Lumine's done so much for Teyvat for an outlander, and this is how they treat her?! You weren't having it.

So you planted your foot down, and boy, was your glare menacing. Your words were harsher than the blizzards of Dragonspine, and your glare was as menacing as the Dead Skeleton of Orobashi in Watatsumi Island.

Anyone who you deemed as enemy—in this situation, these good-for-nothing, took-for-granted gossipers—was paling at the seems of the Almighty Creator stomping their egos down. And, not gonna lie, Lumine kinda likes watching some of them. Some of the insults you used were actually used in other worlds—something only Lumine would know, but others didn't. It was kind of hilarious.

Alas, she can't have you go around and go all out all the time. Someone needs to make sure that the Creator doesn't try to decimate random folks, even if they are pretty infuriating.

"Your Grace." Lumine puts her hand on your shoulder. "Let's hurry up and finish this commission. We still need to get those rewards." You huff, but you let the insulters go, without a threatening note.

Yeah...she was not expecting to be an occurrence with so many other characters, but hey! Lumine's not gonna stop you :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: And we're done! Sorry if it's really low quality lol—I am so tired as I'm writing this :') I do hope you guys enjoyed it, though! Don't feel discouraged to keep sending me requests!

At this rate requests are probably the only thing that's keeping my blog alive. My blog is on constant life support LOL

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #genshin self aware #sagau #sagau genshin #yandere sagau #sagau brainrot #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #sagau lumine #sagau aether #sagau traveler

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todorokies · 6 months

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A LONG WALK - satoru gojo & suguru geto

✩࿐ a midnight summer stroll with your companions stirs certain emotions regarding self doubts & nostalgia . . .

contents: sfw, polygamous satosugu x reader (can be perceived as platonic or romantic), gn!reader, fluff & angst with some comfort, 1.3k words

a/n: based off of this fanart … pls support me by reblogging my work !!

the chilled summer breeze flows melodically through the air and finds its way swirling into your skin, arising small goosebumps on your exposed arms. you should’ve taken suguru’s advice into consideration by wearing a light cardigan for your midnight outing instead of leaving with a simple tank top.

albeit taken back by the breeze, you couldn’t be truly bothered by it, allowing the gentle wind to cascade your face caressing you softly like an embrace. with closed eyes, enjoyable fragments of your childhood flashes before your eyes with each rippling gust of currency.

your mother taking you to your first hanabi festival, getting your face painted with unique spiral patterns, the colourful loud sparks of light illuminating the sky as children’s laughs and adults’ excited clamours follows along with each firework.

your chest begins to rapidly ache by the supposedly fond memory, causing palpitations on your fragile heart. your innocence got unrightfully taken away at such a young age being forced to slave the rest of your life away to the occupation of a sorcerer, something you still haven’t come to terms with.

despite the roaring traffic in the centre of the city, a particular voice is able to pull your mind out of self imprisonment.

“a penny for your thoughts?” satoru appears standing by your side with two popsicles in one hand —one that is wrapped and the other unwrapped, presumably his.

you playfully scoff, reaching for the wrapped popsicle and satoru takes a seat next to you on the bench; your face must’ve been in clear discomfort for him to ask. “keep the penny, it’s nothing serious.” you attempt to wave off his concerns.

he nudges at your elbow, “if it’s causing you to look like you’re going through a midlife crisis on a park bench then it’s definitely serious, cmon spill it.” his words are lighthearted but voice is woven with sympathy.

“where’s suguru?” you dodge his inquiry “and you got me the shittiest flavour, really? nobody likes grape, you should know by now i’m a cherry type of person.”

satoru throws a complex glance your way but decides to not push it any farther, “he went to the convenience store to pick up some ingredients. i think he wanted to cook us beef stir-fry this time? not sure though.”

you hum in acknowledgment finding it a bit strange how he doesn’t press you for more information or your popsicle flavour statement. comfortable silence soon falls amongst you two, the frequent honking of cars and chatting of civilians keeps the streets lively. it’s a nice reminder that you’re never truly alone in such a big city as tokyo.

but alas, the warmth the eccentric city provided could never be enough to rebuild the wall of blissful ignorance you once had as a child. having to lick over the fresh wounds that reopen every time something triggers the painful truth of your inevitable death that will come from this line of work.

you must’ve been zoned out for quite some time because the grape popsicle began to melt and trickle down your hand landing in droplets on your pants.

“‘toru—” you begin but bite your tongue unaware of where to even start in your pursuit to find answers to calm your erratic mind.

“what does nostalgia feel like to you?” a stupid question indeed, as you watched satoru’s face twist and turn trying to either make sense of it or formulate his answer.

he soon replies, “it usually hits me in the face at the weirdest times, but when it does, it’s a bittersweet feeling that makes me glad i was able to experience it when i did.” he shrugs, licking at his almost-done blue popsicle.

“oh.”

“was that not the answer you were looking for?” he frowns, peering at you through his sunglasses.

“no, it’s not that, whenever i feel nostalgic it’s a gross gut wrenching feeling that seriously makes me ill. i hate it.” you truthfully express yourself.

“well, there’s no right or wrong way of feeling nostalgic, it just stems from how intense you feel about that specific memory.” his words flow casually as if this topic was second nature to him.

you huff, “since when did you become so insightful and wise?” you attempt at a joke to lighten the dull mood.

he laughs. the type of laugh where his snowy white hair bounces rhythmically with each chuckle that emerges from his throat “oh stop that! i’ve always been big brained with knowledge.”

another fit of comfortable silence washes over until you felt the urge to break it, “y’know, sometimes i wish i could live in the past forever… the present is too painful at times.”

satoru demeanour falters as an unfamiliar emotion glistens in his eyes then disappears shortly after. his eyebrows furrow causing creases in the middle, he nibbles at his bottom lip with a visible hurt expression distorting his face, “are me and suguru not enough for you?” he immediately regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

satoru isn’t religious by any means, but he’d like to thank whoever is higher above for making it possible that you and suguru have crossed paths with him. you both complete him and give him a sense of purpose to continue what he deems he does best at; protecting. satoru prefers to live in the present with his loved ones, not the past. hearing those string of words from you caused a small pit in his stomach to erupt.

your eyes widen, “no! that’s not what i meant—”

“sorry for the long wait, i had trouble deciding if i should buy teriyaki sauce or we should just make it ourselves.” suguru comes into view from the sidewalk with a grocery bag in hand and a popsicle in the other. his eyes dart between you and satoru, already sensing unspoken tension, “everything okay?” he quirks an eyebrow up.

“yup!” satoru responds with obvious faux glee. he stretches his legs then proceeds to get off the bench taking a quick peak in the grocery bag, “took you long enough though, we were gonna turn into skeletons soon.” he flicks suguru’s forehead then scurries off like a mouse farther down the sidewalk to avoid getting his foot stomped on.

you join suguru by his side to journey back to campus. he briefly recalls his sightings that included a newly opened karaoke bar and hydrangeas are finally in bloom having seen them on his way to the store.

“you should talk to him when we get back, let him cool off for a bit,” he refers back to satoru. his minty breath fanning against the shell of your ear, “i will, don’t worry.” you send a tight-lipped smile his way.

the walk back is peaceful. the breeze from before turned into clouds of humidity, grasshoppers chirped loudly replacing the buzzing traffic that has now quieted down, assuming everyone else is calling it a night as well.

suguru takes out his phone to check the time mumbling curses under his breath once he reads three-thirty-five am, “we should hurry back before yaga kills us.”

his words trigger something in you.

“do you think we’ll be able to survive in the long run?” you suddenly blurt out. your voice shakes as you attempt to shove the forming lump in your throat down.

context isn’t provided but suguru has a hunch of what you could be referring to. the air around gets thick and the world stills as he carefully thinks over many ways to respond to the difficult question with a simplified answer.

“i think—” he pauses, and glances over at you to see your glossy eyes reflect in the moonlight and his heart crumbles at the sight.

at the end of the day, you were all still children forced into a wretched society that measures self value to strength and was either discarded by the horrors that walked among this earth or the adults in charge of the hierarchy.

“i think we should just protect who we can and cherish our possibly limited time together.”

tags: @tokyeoi @satocidal @yunymphs

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated <33

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secondhandsorrows · 4 months

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3 Quick Tips on Writing Dialogue

Okay… so one of the biggest writing hurdles I often face is writing dialogue. Good dialogue. I know such a statement can be pretty subjective, but there’s something to dialogue that demands attention. There’s things involved like subtext, purpose, characterization, and sense of realism. On the other hand, there’s also character voice, expression, body language, and dialogue tags (sparingly, if you can)… all of which can be important, too. Sometimes it’s tricky for me to get a handle on writing dialogue that sounds natural, less stilted, and more as though the characters are real and conversing like we humans would (not to say dialogue should include unnecessary filler-words and repetitions we tend to overuse in our day-to-day conversations).

Today, I’m going to share three quick tips I’ve accumulated from research and from my own experiences in creative fiction workshops on improving your dialogue.

1. Avoid needless filler-words and phrases.

Let’s just get this one out of the way. I know this was already mentioned a few sentences ago, but it needs to be further cemented. This is the kind of fluff that we use in day-to-day chatter, like misused grammar, useless small talk, and talking in circles that, more often than not, comes across as boring and trivial. We may think this is a good way to create realistic dialogue, but alas, there is such thing as too-realistic dialogue. Focus instead on crafting dialogue that sounds as natural as possible. At least, try to get rid of the fluff, or use it with caution, as it may bog down your pacing and slow down your readers.

This doesn’t mean you can’t utilize some small talk, repetitions, filler words, or speech patterns like stammering. Rules are sometimes meant to be bent, just a little. It can be used to create distinctions between unique character voices, lighten the mood, express an emotion that is being felt, if you know where to put them. Dialogue can — and should — be personalized to each character.

This brings me to the next point:

2. Refrain from revealing too much information at once.

Not only is this considered info-dumping, but giving away a ton of detail in a piece of dialogue can come across as stiff and out-of-place. Though it may seem convenient to utilize dialogue as a way to pass information to the reader without getting all repetitive or boring within the narrative, it tends to break away from what the character (or a real person) might actually say. Especially when it’s given to a character that has no reason or incentive to recite drawn-out exposition to give the reader some background. This can be attributed to being uncharacteristic.

Try tweaking it as to fit your character’s voice: their mood, how they communicate their values, which aspects they find more important to discuss, which topics they actively avoid or tend to overlook. Also keep in mind who they’re speaking to, and whether or not they need to hear the information, as well.

3. Think about what is being left un-said.

Now, I’ve mentioned subtext quite a bit, already. Subtext, as the definition goes from Literaryterms.net, is “the unspoken or less obvious meaning or message in a literary composition, drama, speech, or conversation.” Knowing this, we can implicitly communicate to the reader covertly a truer meaning or mood within a conversation or interaction between characters: that a character is smiling through a grimace trying to look as if he’s enjoying what his friend had cooked for him when in reality he’s forcing it to spare their feelings. Or, when a woman says “she’s fine” when actually she’s not fine (real). Her answer is forced, her tone clipped, her arms are firmly crossed and she’s angling herself away. How about when a character is pining for another? They might stammer over their words and are prone to blushing whenever they’re around.

There’s a lot of different ways you can go about using subtext. I probably could’ve added a lot more, but all I want to say for now is that the beauty of subtext allows to stir interest and to further character examination, especially in dialogue. There is more that can be said, but the characters may choose not to. It could also be used to hint at the reader, to foreshadow, facilitate themes, make contradictions, to build tension and emotion… there’s internal conflict that can be explored here. Let your characters tell their own stories in their own, unique ways.

That’s all, for now. Hope this helped!

#writer tips #writing process #creative writing #writing advice #fiction #character dialogue #writing #writing dialogue #dialogue tips #writing tips #character #on writing #story tips #subtext #writeblr #books #bookblr

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aeferkssr · 8 months

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FORCE OF ATTRACTION

every magnet has a north pole and a south pole. placing two unlike poles together causes them to attract. when you try to place two like poles together (north to north or south to south), they will repel each other.

established relationship (xiao, childe), pining (kazuha), public opinion. obvious xiao favourtism. mentions of assassins/murder. mentions of still births. slight yandere!childe (not really,, kinda?). author started college and thinks they know everything /j

masterlist.

COMPUTER ENGINEERING / ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING

you two were polar opposites.

personality wise, xiao was quiet, aloof, and kept to himself most of the time. you, on the other hand, were the friendliest person on campus, always eager and ready to help if anyone had a problem.

he wore dark shades of black, grey, and the occasional teal to match the accents in his hair, while you were always delightfully decorated with an abundance of colours and patterns. even your majors were black and white.

so why is it that all of a sudden you two are inseparable?

the canteen was filled with idle chatter as usual, but one topic seemed to stick among the students of your college, the topic was discussed in hushed whispers and occasional coos as you broke off half of your cinnamon roll to give to him.

students will gawk at the gentle way you hold his hand to lead him to the location of your biweekly date, will laugh among themselves at the rips of his ears as it glows pink from realising that despite your major, how nice they are to hold, and will reminisce on the small kiss you have gave him prior.

(now that they think on it a little more, his flushing ears may be the result of that)

hardware and software rarely come together. but when they do, you know that good things are bound to happen

ASSASSIN / OBSTETRICIAN

your dynamic was chaotic. one who did all they could to bring life into this world, and the other who never hesitated to take it away. you did everything in your power to ensure safe deliveries while he would massacre in the flick of a wrist.

you sob as you mourn the loss of your patients offspring, while tartaglia laughs at the screams of victims praying for their lives.

two completely different world views.

yet, you cradle his head into your chest as a mother would to her newborn. yet, his blades soil with deep crimson as soon as he finds any person that may have given you a hard time.

yet, despite the stark difference in occupations, you two make it work.

after all, you two are human.

LINGUIST / MATHEMATICIAN

the both of you bonded on your love for your respective fields… while unintentionally hating on the others.

kazuha loved poetry. words were so powerful to the point where they can alter your very emotions, they were colourful, so full of life and meaning. he loved the way how the right words could change the very course of a conversation, and the allure of alliterations that allow ample amusement. numbers just seemed too… stuck up, too boring.

you, on the other hand, has a passion for numbers. numbers were factual, straightforward, to the point. if you counted ten apples, there is without a doubt ten apples. numbers never lied, numbers never had double meanings, numbers never mislead you the way that words and letters did.

kazuha visibly relaxes as he sees your animated expressions explaining your passion, his mind being swarmed with thousands of words and phrases to attempt at describing this feeling, describing you

but alas, nothing seemed good enough for someone as breath-taking as you.

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genericpuff · 2 months

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I was wondering, what are some things about LO that you included in LR that you regret including, be it minor or major, if at all?

Krokos and Withy, not the characters themselves, just like, their names LMAO Because I really don't think there's any logic behind why they have those names in the original comic, the name Krokos was clearly derived from Crocus who was a male lover of Hermes and it uh... wouldn't be the only time Rachel's taken a queer character and genderbent them or changed their characters entirely just to "write the gay away" (ugh I hate that I just wrote that lol). I'm not the judge of whether or not she was deliberately trying to straightwash queer icons from Greek myth, but I do think it's at least a pattern of behavior that's worth examining and discussing (and I've definitely discussed it here before) because... yeah, it keeps fucking happening.

But alas, I kept their names as is because there's only so much I want to change from the original comic before I feel like I'm straying too far from the point of retelling it in the first place, it's the double-edged sword of taking on a project like this, I'm not just inheriting what could have been, I'm also inheriting what is and that includes some of Rachel's odd decisions that I then have to work around. Many of them I dropped entirely, there are some ideas and decisions she made that even I can't be bothered to try and work with, but Krokos and Withy are strongly intertwined with the Act of Wrath plotline which was the BIGGEST one I wanted to tackle and do justice in Rekindled. So, their names stayed. I don't know if I regret that per se, I'm just kinda more like grumble grumble "Rachel whyyyy" LOL

That said, I'm hoping to at least include Cyane down the road as she was a nymph who actually existed in the text and played a role in some versions of The Hymn to Demeter.

Other than that, sort of TGOEM, and again, not even its purpose, just its name, I could have come up with a new name for it, but it's yet another one of those things that I wanted to find new ways to work with while still keeping it familiar to the original source material. So I'm working with that one as best as I can as I plot out the story and scripts.

So yeah I think that's it! If I think of any more worth sharing I'll definitely edit / reblog but honestly most of the things I kept from LO I kept for good reason with a greater plan in mind so anything that I wasn't comfortable with keeping or couldn't find a way to work with I just left on the cutting room floor. So there's very little so far that I've 'regret' keeping in, anything that would meet that criteria just isn't there, period.

#anon ama #anon ask me anything #ama #ask me anything #lore rekindled #lore rekindled ama #lo critical #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical

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sixeyescurseuser · 4 months

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(2)

Geto had sensed Gojo’s presence ever since the alpha entered the infirmary. Because his heat symptoms mainly consist of nausea and muscle cramps, Geto can do nothing more than lie on his side facing away from the door, dying on the inside while the best friend he’s trying to hide from barges into the room like he owns it.

The omega lets out a shaky sigh.

“What, did you come here to gloat about how you were right this entire time? That’s pretty shitty, even for you, Satoru,” Geto mutters. He doesn’t receive a response.

The thing is, Gojo isn’t thinking that at all. While he’s admittedly quite dumbfounded at the turn of events, Gojo just knows that Suguru is the only other person who can keep up with him.

And Suguru is an omega, who is currently very much in heat, in PAIN.

Frozen in the doorway, Gojo doesn’t have time to rethink everything he’s ever been taught. Belatedly, he realizes what his instincts have been yelling at him this whole time.

Suguru’s in heat!

Help him!

Comfort him!

As the silence drags on, Geto becomes more resigned to the fact that Gojo is witnessing him like this. Pathetic. Weak. Vulnerable.

Whatever, Geto feels like vomiting and hiding away forever anyway. Fucking heats, man.

But Gojo doesn’t leave. Frankly, the alpha still doesn’t say anything, and Geto is just about to tell him to leave when footsteps sound across the tiled floor. Geto tenses up as the alpha rounds the bed.

Then, a mop of soft, white hair comes into Geto’s view. Gojo kneels down, face at level with Geto’s. Gojo’s expression looks…concerned. No smugness in sight.

Not something Geto was expecting at all.

“Satoru?”

Gojo uses one hand to brush aside Geto’s bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

Amidst the stomach cramps and pounding headache, Geto’s heart swells.

“Tell me how I can help,” Gojo pleads. Geto’s glazed eyes widen in disbelief. He almost doesn’t register the question enough to answer.

Luckily, Gojo repeats, “I’m serious. Suguru, please, let me help you. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Without wasting another moment, Geto grabs at the hand that had brushed away his bangs.

“Take off your shirt,” he rasps out, then as a second thought, “And your pants.”

One minute later, Gojo stands like 🧍🏻in his pink heart-patterned briefs while Geto happily puts the newly-acquired shirt and pants in his nest. Unbeknownst to Geto, he lets out content rumbles during the process.

Gojo finds it very cute. However, he’s also very aware of how rudely he intruded into Geto’s heat room; the alpha begins to fidget, unsure if he’s allowed to stay any longer.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll get going-“

“Shut up and get in my nest,” Geto growls. Gojo immediately moves to comply.

As soon as Gojo climbs in, Geto plops himself half on-top of the alpha, and then drags the sheets on top of them both.

“This is your penance for talking shit about omegas,” Geto states, pillowing himself on Gojo’s pecs. His heat-muddled brain tells him to bite the skin.

“I didn’t- OUCH, that hurt," Gojo cries out, but he still wraps his arms around the omega's waist. "Suguru, I never meant any of that about you. I would never say you’re a burden."

Geto continues nibbling on Gojo's chest.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want you taking back what you said only because I fit into that category,” Geto snarls. He noses his way to Gojo’s neck and doesn’t hesitate to lick over Gojo’s scent gland.

Which was kind of a mistake because now Gojo’s cotton-candy scent mixes deliciously with Geto’s chocolate and lavender scent.

(Oh, they’re both only in their underwear, Gojo thinks. How…nice.

(Gojo @ his dick: “Don’t u fucking dare”)

Geto feels himself slick a little. Luckily, beneath him, Gojo is too preoccupied with the way Geto’s tongue feels on his neck.

“F-fuck- oh my god,” Gojo whines, breathing heavily. Astonishingly, his alpha isn’t roaring at him to flip Geto over and switch places. In fact, it feels more like being pampered than being challenged.

Alas, Gojo is still very sensitive. No one has ever so much as touched his scent gland and Geto is just going to town on it, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin. He tries pushing the omega back but Geto growls at him in warning before going back to his task.

“Suguru, slow down,” Gojo coaxes, lightly pulling at Geto’s hair. Geto raises his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

But before he can protest, a pair of lips gently presses to the spot between his cheek and eye.

What?

Gojo’s cheeks turn pink, crystal-blue eyes shifting to the side.

“Sorry, that was supposed to be to your forehead,” he admits.

Geto blinks once, then twice, pupils dilating by the second.

“Try again.”

Gojo nods. He leans up and lands a peck on Geto’s eyebrow.

Geto laughs freely at that. Gojo feels like a goddamn saint for causing that.

The alpha begins littering Geto’s face with kisses: on his nose, his cheeks, his chin, finally his forehead, and then once at the corner of his lips.

Geto purrs deeply, the deep vibrations steady between them.

Gojo now cups both of Geto’s cheeks. The omega’s expression is relaxed, world’s different compared to when Gojo had first entered the room.

Looking at him like this, Gojo yearns to be somehow even closer to Geto.

“I want to kiss you,” Gojo confesses, caressing his thumb against Geto’s cheekbone. “Will you let me?”

If possible, Geto’s purring even louder. He completely melts into Gojo’s large hands, then wavers a bit as he nods his assent.

But before Gojo can bring their lips together, a knock sounds on the doorframe, startling both of them.

“Geto, I brought the juice pouches you wanted,” Shoko interrupts, placing a carton on the table. She slams a sack down as well. “And stole more clothes from Gojo’s room, because you two will definitely need it.”

She side-eyes her friends, who are frozen in their compromising position. Geto doesn’t move more so because he’s really comfy. He opts for hiding his face in Gojo’s neck.

Gojo, on the other hand, can’t manage anything other than a viscous snarl in Shoko’s direction.

“Woah, calm down, lover boy. He’s all yours,” Shoko says, holding her hands up in surrender.

“You went through my closet?” Gojo bites out.

“Yep, Geto asked me to,” Shoko answers. “Later.”

With a salute, she walks out and closes the door.

“You really told her to?” Gojo can’t help but ask, urging Geto to come out from his hiding spot.

Geto nuzzles against Gojo’s scent gland.

“Just in case you reacted badly,” he said. “Cause you know, I lied to you and everything. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you left.”

Gojo flinches so hard, he jostles Geto into lifting his head.

“You thought I would leave you? In this state?” Gojo asks, a bit hurt. Geto shrugs, eyelids lowering.

“I don’t know. I can’t think straight when in heat, Satoru. It’s easy for my thoughts to spiral,” he says.

Gojo scoffs, but he understands. Ruts can get like that too.

“Well, I’m telling you right now, I’m staying here for as long as you’ll have me,” Gojo declares, cupping Geto’s cheeks again. “You’ll never have to deal with another heat alone again, not if I can help it.”

Gojo pauses, uncertainty flashing across his features.

"If- if that's what you want."

Geto stares down at Gojo with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gojo thinks he’s never looked so beautiful.

Without repyling, Geto surges forward and kisses Gojo’s soft lips, pressing down for a long moment before parting.

But Gojo doesn’t let him go far. The alpha guides Geto down into a second kiss, then a third, and a fourth-

Geto hums in approval, feeling like the luckiest omega in the world with such a strong and caring alpha underneath him, providing kiss after kiss.

Gojo’s eyes have slipped shut, allowing Geto to control the kiss. A swipe of the omega’s tongue and Gojo is opening his mouth, moaning when Geto boldly licks in.

Their combined pheromones swirl in the air, clogging the room with their scents. They keep kissing, bruising their lips and working their jaws until they’re sore.

A new energy spreads from their lips all the way to the tips of their toes, and they begin to paw at each other under the covers.

In the next hour, Geto’s heat officially escalates for the first time.

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ieri shoko #satosugu fanfic #satosugu fluff #satosugu headcanon #jjk headcanon

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taduki · 1 year

Text

The M6 w/ an MC that acts like a grandparent

Grandparent as in the, “you want a hard candy, baby?”, grandparent who thinks every living being is their grandchild. This post has been brought to you by the multiple people who tell me I have grandma rizz. (I put so much love into this, it took me like 4 nights to write — goodbye forever).

Asra

Your mannerisms are slowly but surely rubbing off on them.

If you carry around hard candies and sweeties, Asra 100% enables it by asking if they can have some. They will also buy exotic sweets from their travels for your collection, though the children might not like them.

Y’all are ROCKING the grandparent look !! Crocheted cardigans and flower-patterned shirts in every color of the rainbow are hanging around the bedroom(s) because I KNOW Asra don’t got space in their closet. They probably utilize the Magician’s Realm as a secondary closet to be honest.

Speaking of crocheting, Asra gets a great idea going with the grandparent image and decides to take up either a crocheting or knitting class. The respective instructor may or may not have fainted upon seeing one of their patterns…

Asra finds customers with children much easier to handle with your added patience and patented jar of caramels on the counter.

You want to kill Azz? Fix the buttons on their top like how the wife in Pixar’s “Up” fixes her husband’s tie.

When they had to reteach you how to do daily things again, they thought, in their own guilty conscience, that this was some way of repaying the favor to you. All of the favors. All of your love to everyone.

Julian

He’s used to being the charming one!!

Though, you leave him lots of room for his signature drama and flair, so he warms up to it after a bit.

He wasn’t as easily charmed by your demeanor as the average person was at first. He thought of you as a little lamb in the streets. He could swear you would be the biggest target for getting pickpocketed in the Red Market, but damn you are CAPABLE!!

Madly in love with your capabilities, magic or not. Takes him a bit to get used to your overflowing sweetness (and pocket sweeties), but finds he is also madly in love with those too.

You are like his pocket Mazelinka, and it horrifies him to no end. At least you don’t spike his soup with sleeping potion…

You force him to bedtime and he isn’t up for it until you read him bedtime stories and sing lullabies. He is definitely embarrassed... He’s like, “I’d never fall asleep to MC’s bedtime singing and stories! ZZZzzzzzzZZZZZZzzz”.

Portia

You two are the world’s best grandparents.

Unlike Asra, Portia pursued crocheting/knitting and never stopped. Though she can be busy, she enjoys it as a hobby as has you to thank for it!! (As you stand there confused why she’s thanking you for it).

She didn’t mean any harm by it!! She just wanted to try new things and you happened to be an “inspiration”.

You two have interactions like The Golden Girls. Zero elaboration.

One of the books she read while teaching herself to read was The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. She quotes many things from the book during her work life, but her favorite quote has become, “Every little thing wants to be loved”, before booping yours or Pepi’s nose.

She says it constantly and you’re starting to think it’s just her way of saying you’re cute and she loves you.

But the truth is that and she just loves the way YOU love things. The way you squish Pepi’s face in your hands and sing/talk to the flowers are just a few examples.

Nadia

She might actually tear up.

Could you possibly get more endearing?

To her, you’re the entire package. You’re a blessing in a bundle. You’re strong enough to beat the Devil and sweet enough to cream butter. If she wasn’t so refined and kept, she’d be kicking her feet and rolling around on her bed.

Alas, she knows many other ways to exert her love for you. What? No, she wasn’t going to spoil you with rich delights! — as she inconspicuously waves a hand behind her back to hide the palace tailors in the hall…

Nadia is very well aware of her many duties and obligations, but she knows to leave a generous amount of time for you. After a rushed, exhaustive day of hard work, Nadia gracefully lays her head in your lap and lets you coddle her. She will accept your head pats, listen to the most storybook-like day you’ve had, and talk about her troubles. All the while, you tell her allllll of the things she should do like more frequent breaks and standing up and saying no when she simply cannot do something even though she already knows.

But she loves it. She loves your care, the little things you do around the palace that make her think of you. You recommended the gardeners sing and talk to the plants and she was delighted to hear it made a difference, but every flower in that garden paled in comparison to you. She believes you are Mother/Father Nature.

She frequently has you accompany her during dignitary meetings, etc. as her magician consultant, and as such, you take no “hoot-a-nanny” nor “monkey business”. (Nadia has never had to hold her laughter in this hard). She regains her composure quickly though, and soon discovers many visitors find you very charming and welcoming. She finds this to be a strategic play in negotiations, so she invites you to meetings more often, definitely not because she just wants to see you more…

Muriel

He too thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

You tend to feed Inanna many treats because she's just such a good girl!! Muriel gently tries to tell you when she's had enough, but Inanna seems to be starving even after his generously suggested amount…

You could paint his face bright red by pinching his cheeks and calling him something cute like sugar or honey or, god forbid, pudding pie.

You went to help him out with the chickens one early morning and apparently one of the chicks was sick and she wasn’t eating enough. So after Muriel was done checking up on her, you bent down and gave her a nice little lecture how she’ll grow nice and strong after she eats. And Muriel DIED.

He firmly believes the chicks are your grandchildren now because they love you back. (Their cheep cheeps are full of love, he insists).

A good half of Vesuvia are your grandchildren now too. You guys are hero grandparents, I don’t make the rules.

Amongst the minimal duties of being hero grandparents, one of them includes having a baking morning and going to the docks in town to call the children over and hand fresh food out later in the day. The kids call him every unflattering name from Peepaw to Gramps, but he assures you he doesn’t mind at all.

Lucio

He finds you so endearing and sickeningly sweet, he can’t handle it.

He dies from the granny pet names too. He acts like they’re regular pet names, but he expected stuff like babe or darling, not butterscotch pumpkin puffball...

He’s met his fair share of old folks at the snooziest diplomat parties, and even though he’s got that worry in the back of his head that he’s getting older and older too, he’s finding it easier to go through it with you.

He enjoys if you sing him old folk songs, some he may have never heard of. (HUGE bonus if he dances with you to your singing).

It is THE most entertaining thing to him when you’re mad at someone. You wave a stern finger at them and lecture them like you’re their parent. It could literally be the most buff, drunk, muscly regular at the bar and you’d scold them ‘til they’ve recoiled back into their seat, and Lucio, of course, brags about it to the world. “Why use magic when you could’ve just scolded the Devil into submission, MC??”

As you two go through each passing day, he appreciates your slow and caring nature more and more. He’s begun to appreciate the little things like the rise and fall of Mercedes and Melchior’s stomachs during their afternoon naps.

If you knew him years ago, he would’ve thought you were strange and not worthy of his time, but now he quite enjoys your mannerisms and spending time with you.

#the arcana headcanons #the arcana game #the arcana hc #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #the arcana muriel #lucio montag #lucio morgasson #too much effort #oopsie #the arcana imagines #main 6 #the arcana x mc

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poguesprincess · 2 months

Note

pope not being able to study because reader won’t stop bothering him it can be kind of smutty or something regular

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

you respect pope and his study regime, but that doesn’t mean you wont try to have some fun with it sometimes.

something about it is just so attractive to you. i like to think sometimes he’ll put on these nerdy little reading glasses that you find extremely hot on him— the way he’s hyperfocused on whatever information he’s trying to retain and they slip lower on the bridge of his nose, the crease in his brows and the way he recites the information to himself quietly has you rubbing your thighs together from afar.

you’re also restless, and he’s the only one that can calm you down. whether it be from pure wanton or puppy-like energy, the boy has a knack for slowly tiring you down so he can turn back to his studies. it has you pacing around the room in your silky pyjamas, mumbling to yourself as you try to give your active mind something to think on.

“you’re talking to yourself again.” he speaks outloud, making you stop in your tracks. he turns to you, taking in your figure in your revealing lounge clothes, and you notice the way his chest rises and falls slightly faster.

“you’re ignoring me. who else am i supposed to talk to?” you reason, hands resting on your hips as if you’re scolding him. he finds it endearing.

“just let me finish these problems and i’ll join you.” but alas, youre in his peripheral, and he just can’t take his mind off the way your nipples pebble through the thin fabric, or the way your hips sway as you stumble back and forth. he seriously needs to stop giving in to everything you want, he thinks, as he stands to fulfill the desires invading his previously focused mind.

other times, you simply just miss his presence. the two of you can fill your days with excited conversation, laid across his chest as he recalls whatever topic he finds interesting to you as you listen intently, nodding and humming to encourage him to keep on going, even if you don’t entirely understand what he’s rambling on about.

sometimes he’ll let you sit on his lap as he works, legs crossed against his own as you zone out, happy to be in close proximity with your boyfriend. it doesnt last long, though, before you’re fiddling with his hair, twisting the thick curls that stand out slightly against the rest of his hair pattern— or trailing your fingers along the sharp end of his jaw, tracing circles on his bicep and kissing him in their wake as if to leave your invisible mark on him.

“it’s hard to work when you do that.” his voice is even, tainted with concentration as he continues to scribble down notes and annotations onto his notebook. you hum, continuing with your antics. was it your fault he’s so easily distracted? you begged to differ. once he’s finished scribbling, he turns his attention to you, soft hands gently grabbing your jaw as he leans in to press a kiss to your bitten lips.

“do you miss me?”

“maybe.” it makes him chuckle. he presses another kiss to your cheek. it spurrs you on, moving your head to capture his lips on yours once again. when you open your mouth to deepen the kiss, he pulls away, and you let out a weak whine.

“gotta study for this test tomorrow, darling.” you don’t listen to him, whispering pleads for him to join you in bed, to talk you down in his arms and stroke your hair in the way you liked. your heart yearned to be infinitely closer to him. every plead is accompanied with another kiss to his jaw, his neck, and soon you notice the way his pen falters, and his hand moves to stroke your hair before he’s pulling you up and onto the bed, strong arms wrapped around your figure.

“you can’t always sweet talk me out of studying, you know”

“speak for yourself.”

#꒰ ۫ ੭ requests! ୨ৎ ꒱#εïз pope prompt !#pope heyward prompt #pope x reader #pope heyward

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sweetteaanddragons · 10 months

Text

Two and a Half Men: A Time Travel AU

“We could always try stabbing him,” Nolofinwe said.

“You would certainly have the advantage of surprise,” Feanaro said dryly. “Unfortunately, I think that’s the only advantage you’d have.”

He was accustomed to having a slight height advantage over his brother.

It had been many long years since he’d been accustomed to Nolofinwe requiring two books in his chair to scrawl his latest idea on the parchment with which they’d all but blanketed the table.

Nolofinwe scowled at him.

His half-brother had once had an impressive scowl, as much as he hated to admit it. The effect was currently ruined by the chubbiness of his small cheeks.

“You could help stab him,” Nolofinwe pointed out.

“True,” he agreed. “I could throw you at him. That would certainly take him by surprise.”

This was not, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, a particularly helpful remark. They needed to do something about Melkor, and if they were ever to move beyond scribbling ever more implausible plans in Sindarin, they needed to be proactive about it.

But they had been talking for hours, and he was quickly reaching his limit.

He pushed away from the table to check on the impromptu play area he’d constructed from every pillow in the library he could find.

Maitimo was still playing with his wooden letters. He had not yet spelled anything identifiable with them.

“I told you he didn’t come back with us,” Nolofinwe called from the table, having apparently decided not to navigate descending and reascending the chair. “Why would he have?”

“Why did we?” Feanaro shot back. “And I told you. He’s been crying more than usual lately.” He was not crying now, at least; there were no signs of distress at all on his solemn little face, except for the fact that it was solemn and had not once descended into giggles over the past few hours.

“You’re stressed. He’s probably just picking up on that.”

It was slightly odd to receive exasperated parenting advice from someone who was currently small enough to be literally - and easily - thrown at Morgoth.

(It was, he had to admit, a satisfying image. Give him a small sword, pick him up, and then step back to watch the chaos - )

(But Atar would have questions, so alas.)

He checked Maitimo’s letters for patterns one last time as he leaned down to pick up his son. If Maitimo had come back with them, he couldn’t imagine the stress of being trapped in such a small body, unable to communicate.

But so far as he could tell, the blocks were sorted purely by color.

“Very clever,” he praised the baby anyway, bouncing him in his arms. “You’ll be organizing supply chains in no time.”

A flicker of movement alerted him just in time to their approaching company.

His father emerged from the nearest labyrinth of bookshelves, smiling hopefully.

Feanaro had to bury his face in giving Maitimo’s head kisses for a moment.

It was not the first time he had seen his father since his return. But it was still - he still had to -

By the time he lifted his face, he was almost certain it was normal again. In this one thing, he envied Nolofinwe’s younger form; no one thought too deeply about why a toddler’s face did anything. If Nolo appeared distressed, then a snack or a toy or a hug were quickly presented until it went away.

Feanaro, on the other hand, had been having a great many Significant Talks. Apparently it had been more concerning when he had frozen in the middle of the day and abruptly begun screaming than when Nolofinwe did it.

They were probably just lucky that no one had yet realized those two events had coincided perfectly.

“How did things go with your brother?” Atar asked, voice unbearably hopeful.

“We’re inventing a new language,” Feanaro said, to explain the notes. “Maitimo helped.”

Atar smiled indulgently at what was currently his only grandson. “Of course he did. Did you have fun, Nolo?”

Nolofinwe looked down at the so far dismal fruits of their labors and produced a world-weary sigh that almost made Feanaro snicker.

To his credit, though, he also produced the answer that would allow them to continue this collaboration:

“Oh, yes. Lots.”

#silmarillion #time travel #nolofinwe #Feanor #finwe #maitimo #i have done these two time travelling before #but i enjoyed putting this twisted on it

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anteroom-of-death · 2 months

Text

Teacher's Pet part 13

Synopsis: After exams, the two meet up. Is it a simple meeting? Or does it develop the game further...

A/n: smut, domestics and more, and oohh look the Doctor falls even darker down. And look at me, 3 fics in a week. We're so back baby. Thanks to you all. Now I go deal with my migraine!

As he stargazed on his walk home, the Doctor had a lot to assess. As far as little tests went, this was a success. Missy’s presence and nature was a good metric for physical responses to real danger. His little fawn passed with flying colors!

Her mind surged with chemicals in a way that was palpable. Her body flooded itself with just enough hormones to shrink itself to deferment. Her heart raced like a small prey animal being hunted for sport. It was a good sign.

He felt insane. What had he come to? Was this his plan to groom a companion he held in his past, before Rose? Or was this a new game for him to play?

He felt high. Was this how Missy always felt in her amoral schemes? No wonder she always pulling these acts…

It felt wonderful, in a sick way.

How much could he push this all and stay the Doctor?

He felt like he needed to go join her for that night cap she mentioned. Not that he could particularly get drunk of whatever liquor he would consume, but off her mere presence!

Anything physical would just be an added benefit…

He did go into her mind, she was planning on telling him about her profession. She just didn’t know the correct way. Or that he already knew. Her mind was a fascinating place to rest in.

He was going to hold her to his promise of not letting any boogie-men come for her, or chance at changing this body. Or take her off planet. He respected her for not wanting to risk her young-ish life.

He felt it on an egotistical level.

He reflected on those past companion he did take to bed. There had to be a common thread between them! What pushed a person from ‘traveling companion-familial bond’ to ‘romance and sensuality’? What traits was he drawn to? It had to be some link across regeneration.

He further anthologized and went to pathological levels.

He couldn’t find a true common thread.

This all drove him insane.

He looked to the stars. He could name all of them, and when he saved them and their planets. He could see everything so clearly.

Except this pattern.

Part of him wondered if past incarnations of Missy were correct…he had been spending too much time amongst the human race. He was acting and living and rewarding himself like one.

A God Walking With Apes.

He deserve to be punished as much as rewarded. He knew that much.

But alas, he was taking his reward. And his rest. Sweetly.

The Doctor was owed that much.

He went back to his office and busied himself with the starts of exams. He infinitely preferred the paper exam. Kept students more honest. Kept them more creative.

Oh, sweet irony.

Soon the days of exams came. And he promised (y/n) after a drink. At hers. They’d not seen much of each other with all the fuss and confusion of the time.

It was all arranged.

The wolf to devour the fawn. Again.

And he would.

He met her at the front door of her flat, with a bundle of flowers. And a note scrawled, ‘You survived.’ She took them and inhaled. Her smile widened. There was something hiding in it. Something that he’d like to uncover very much.

Despite the dedication he’d put into knowing her mind, the specialties of her neurology left him often scrambling for control. Maybe the human race in some swathes of the population developed a small evolutionary protection against higher beings with advanced psychic abilities, but of course viewed it as disability.

She welcomed him to her flat. It was a bit cramped, and recently looked like it had be purged and deep cleansed. She was obviously trying to make the best impression.

She took his coat and laid it on her chair as she ushered him to her small corner of kitchen.

As she went to the cupboard to get some glasses, she pointed to her fridge.

“I have wine, tea, vodka, arak, rum. A bit of Jameson left. I’m not an alcoholic, I swear.” She stopped listing.

“I’ll take the Jameson.” He figured the whiskey would be a good choice. Matched his current body.

“Yeah, cool.” She got a wine glass out and an Ikea tumbler from her cupboards. After she poured the wine and got out the Jameson.

“Neat or on the rocks?” She called over.

“Neat.”

“Cool, cool.” She replied, echoing the previous reply…

She also got a vase and poured in some water and jammed the flowers in. It was placed on the table.

“Thanks!” She smiled.

She took a large sip of her nearly-full glass.

“Okay, so, first things first. I’m sorry…yeah. I am…uh…a sex worker. I work in the local brothel. I get tested every three weeks. I’m clean. Yeah, no needs to worry for you. If you can or can’t get diseases. I don’t know.” She confessed and looked down, rubbing the stem of her glass with her thumb and index finger.

“Next, I think…I’m actually in love with you?” She said. “I’m not going to quit the job yet. I need money, and…things are getting so pricey these days…it’s easy-ish money. It allows me flexibility for school. Yeah.” She nodded her head some more. Unable to make eye-contact.

“Lastly, I’m fine with the everything.” She flapped a hand out and pointed broadly. “Yeah, I never thought life…would go this way…aliens are real. I’m with one romantically. And I can work on the incredulity bit. I’m very flexible…yeah…” She nodded her head.

Now this was interesting! A declaration of love and her baring her soul.

He already knew, but opted out of telling her. It would clash with his byline.

Honesty created more secrets…

He cradled her hand in his. “It’s all well and good. We all have our lives. I travel in space and time, tinkering. You, escorting.”

She flushed deeply, he could feel her pulse racing through his hand.

Her face went through an array of emotions before settling on confusion and hope.

Very good.

“I was so worried, what with the stigma, especially after Missy and you talked about your species.” Her other hand curled onto her chest over her heart. “Google isn’t exactly awash with…you know…advice. And I don’t have particularly a group of girlfriends to ask anymore….mnnn.” She smacked her lips together and bit a small piece of dry, scabbed over skin off. It let out the smallest price of blood.

“I’ve put you in an impossible situation.”

She pursed her lips together and sucked in a bit of air. “Yes, you have.” She ended it with a small laugh.

“Just don’t get me killed like the others…” She pleaded in a serious tone.

“Yes, I’ll try.”

She smiled.

“Any plans for the summer?” She did a one shouldered-shrug.

“Probably London for UNIT. Get Nardole to guard the mad lady. I was thinking of taking my TARDIS. But she has a mind of her own. She might drag me off planet…if you want, when you want. I’ll call a car. I’ll hold myself to that promise for you.” He levied.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I miss Petronella.” She blinked.

“Don’t…not go off planet for me. I’ll be good here. Just work and all. Preparing for next term…” She smiled and offered the metaphorical olive branch. “You are from there.” She pointed skyward. “It’d be cruel of me to tie you down.”

“I’m semi-retired.” He reassured her. Then he shifted the frame. “And you? What about you? You deserve a bit of a trip. Where could you go off. The kids love Ibiza! I could use some of that useless money I’ve been-“ He was cut off.

“No, don’t. That makes things between us…tricky. Trickier than now.” She took her free hand and placed it on top of the hand that kept her other hand clasped. “You’re my boyfriend. Question mark. Not my sugar daddy. I’d get a sugar daddy if I wanted one.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Yeah.” The singular word came out of her mouth with an air of authority and behest. Her brows shot up, upper lip on a curve.

“Are you going to the big end-of-terms party that the student union is hosting?” The Doctor probed. “I’ve been asked to play guitar!”

“No, I got to work. I didn’t take that shift week before last. I’m…behind on my finances. I’ve taken up a longer shift next week.” She untangled their hands and pointed at a cork board across the way over her desk. “Bills don’t stop because my boyfriend takes me to London.” She scratched her brow with her ring finger.

“That dress and those shoes were…out of budget.” She rested her chin on her now propped-up palms.

She was always in motion even when she wasn’t.

He felt that on a deeper level.

How alike they has been in regards to that! Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was the universe giving him a gift as his reward for countless times saved.

He felt himself believe.

“I do want to hear you play guitar.” She postured and let out a little hitched huff of air.

“Want me to whip up something? Do you want to go out? I can order takeaway too. I should have planned this drink better.” She took a large sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to…entertaining people at home.”

Her eyes got very large, “I think outside of the landlady once, this is the first time anyone’s been here besides me since I moved in…wow.” She fluttered her lashes in a quick, palpable realization.

“I have an air fryer!” She bragged. “Horrible noises, but it makes good food.” She enticed.

“I once made a silent pen for Ibn Rushd. He hated the noise of all writing tools he had. Your air fryer should be a piece of cake!” He got up and started towards it.

“Wait until dinners done.” She said opening up some frozen bags and dumping them in.

She also got out a cast-iron skillet, and began making something in there, delicate chopping and spicing.

“Hey, could you like…heat up the pitas, they’re in the bread box. I usually just toss them in the oven for 5 minutes both sides.”

The Doctor did one better. He used a heating system he pulled from his jacket.

“I can help serve.” He offered.

“Plates are…there.” She pointed as she pulled out the air fryer drawer and tossed it in the pan.

He set the perfect table, all arranged around the flowers he gave her.

He had repeatedly told many before her that he didn’t do domestic. Alas, he was here playing house, assisting in the dinner. Setting the table…

She unceremoniously dumped out.

“I’m no chef. But it’ll taste good. And sustain life.”

“All that matters!” He grinned up at her.

It was a great meal, the Doctor mused. Very good measure of spices and ingredients.

Clean up was her (also unceremoniously…) dumping them in the sink.

“So, dear Professor Doctor. How else will we celebrate.” She sat down in a comfy, squashed chair and tapped beside her on the small chair that faced her. He followed.

“Well, ideas!” He swirled his hands around.

“Ideas.” He mused.

A very human idea came.

He sprung up and kissed her on her neck. He grasped her waist and started to drag her against the side of the chair.

“A good idea?” He pulled back.

“Doctor’s orders.” She quipped as her heart accelerated and she looked at him, her (insert your eye color here, dear reader.) shining with eagerness.

She started trying to rip off his clothes. Kissing his nose and trying to motion both of them to the bed at the other side of the flat.

The mess of limbs found themselves there as they removed clothes and shifted over to the bed.

The tactile nature of this was how he learned that this was the first time she’d had anyone in this particular bed. This was special. It was her sacred space. Her safe place to sleep.

This felt delicious and perverted. He was furthering this all. However, this choice was all her idea. No interference on his part.

She’d chosen him…

She laid herself down for him. She was propped on her elbows and leaned her torso such. Her mind was racing.

He jumped onto the bed. She jumped up.

“Wait.” She went to a bag and got a bottle of lube out. She jumped back on the bed. She squeezed some out onto his shaft and massaged it down to base. She place a small bit in the palm of her hand and slicked it in her folds. She slid back under him and banged the bottle onto her bedside table. Amongst the clutter and the giant water bottle.

“I’m ready, fuck me.” She begged. “Fuck me, please.”

He entered her. His tip surged and reached her cervix. Kissing her forehead as he did the first big thrust, he grasped at her wrists and palms.

She slid herself further down, allowing him to get a better angle. Letting him go deeper. Further. Harder. She moved her arms to a place he could grasp them better.

“Such a good pet.” He grunted. “You’re so good to me, my fawn.” He praised. She wrapped her legs around his ass and thighs as response.

“Th-th-thank you.” She let out.

He hid his smile in a kiss in her hair. He snuck his face down and grazed her jaw with his teeth as he continued to give her firm, hard, quick thrusts. Their stomachs brushing against each other, he gave her breast a grab and teased her nipple with tongue and teeth.

She let out a moan and curled her lips over her tongue and her eyes reactively shut tightly. After a few moments her eyes fluttered open, lashes brushed against lids.

She used her now-free hands and grabbed his face and the waves of his hair. She brought her face up and kissed his face and bit his neck. Suckling gently before making her way back up. She placed one final kiss and let herself go limp and him to take over.

And that he did!

He arched his back down as her eyes rolled back into her skull. The pace picked up and her arms found themselves naturally above her head.

He took the opportunity to bind them in his hands and wrapped his pinkies around her bed frame to keep them both steady.

He felt his cock being worked by the muscles of her walls. Her stomach arched up and over as she worked him with her delicate, well-toned pelvic muscles.

“I’m asking your permission.” The Doctor found himself saying, not entirely of his own volition. “May I fuck you harder? Show you what this old body can do…as an alien?”

She nodded her head and swallowed. She looked a tad unsure and confused. “Sure. Yeah?” He was trying so hard to not enter her mind. Just let her be for once. Enjoy the moment unbridled. But this opportunity was too good not to take…

He saw the verbal cue pool out of her mouth and he entered her mind, flooding it with an overproduction of those precious chemicals: dopamine, oxytocin, adrenalin, endorphins. The entire lot of them…

He kicked his body into high gear. Playing her body with his cock and lips. Brushing, kissing, biting, claiming. He kept her wrists in the manacles that was his hands.

Fucking her so deeply and making her now somewhat-dependent on him.

How could she not become dependent on him now? She was radiating these precious hormones and chemicals that pudding-brained apes needed.

His little fawn, safe by his side. Now his for all eternity. Even if she would never by any volunteer-ship leave Earth. Or risk her life.

Good!

Perfect. More than perfect. This one will never die by his blooded hands.

He could continue moments like these until her heart stopped.

More than good! Perfect!

She was quickly cumming underneath him, her legs still wrapped around him. Her breathing was becoming very shallow and her moans had turned to grunts and groans. Like the animal she was, in rut. Maddened by hormones and thrashing to get him deeper in.

And how could he not be obliged?

He let her have it and when he finally came she started crying.

He felt a stab of regret. Did he go too far?

The Doctor let go of her hands and she immediately grasped in for a hug as he pulled his now-flacid cock out of her cunt.

“No need to cry…” He smiled, kissing her hair. “You did so good for me.” He repeated that line a few times until she became more lucid and he retreated from her mind.

“What was that?” She asked in earnest.

He lied, “I kicked my body into high gear. Like a rabbit wand. Only better.” He would never come clean about his mind games. Not now, especially now…

“I’ve been going easy on you. You’re so…breakable.” He ruffled her hair. “The whole lot of you.” He clarified. “I could go harder, but I won’t. I know the limits.”

He did. And yet he was crossing them even more.

He once asked Clara if he was a good man. He felt like he was at one point, even an excellent man. But now, not so much.

But did it matter?

His little fawn was soaked in sweat and radiant in her hormonal flush. Glowing from her fresh fuck.

Or did they make love? He wondered.

Was it love? Obsession? Or both?

Maybe it was both, on both accounts. From both ways.

He laid his naked body next to hers and she instinctively folded herself into his arms. She grabbed his arms in return and started tracing little patterns on the Doctor’s arms.

She let out a small hiccup.

“Obviously, we can’t do that all the time. But it was great. Yeah?” She concluded.

“Anything you want…” He murmured into the crook of her neck. He planted a small breathy kiss on it.

She drifted off to sleep, still grasping him in their cuddle.

Perfect is as perfect does.

And the Doctor felt he did perfect.

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