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morbific-or-felicific · 4 months

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-AGNOSTHESIA PART 3 Featuring Scaramouche’s

Part 1 Part2

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 2.6k~

Description: After you almost fail your midterm Scaramouche decides to punish you

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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You were in the library, sitting across the table from your boyfriend. You could feel his eyes on you while you read through the notes he had helped you make. The two of you had a midterm in half an hour, and you were hoping to at least get a seventy five…however out of reach that may be.

“You know, if you don’t know the material by now, you aren’t going to magically learn it in the next thirty minutes.”

You let out a sigh and met your boyfriend's gaze.

“Are you going to let me stop studying then?”

“Do you really think you can afford to stop? You do know how stupid you are, right?”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and returned your focus to your notes.

As you studied, Scaramouche lazily scrolled through his phone, texting and watching videos. It frustrated you to no end to know that, despite his lack of effort, he would no doubt earn the highest mark in the class. Meanwhile, you* were working as hard as you possibly could while still running the risk of failing, with Scaramouche’s ominous threat of ‘punishment’ hanging over your head.

You barely noticed when Scaramouche started gathering his things to head to class, having to have him snap his fingers in front of your face to break your focus. Finally, you gathered your notes, and the two of you made your way to class.

~ ♡ ~

Although you swore you had only spent twenty minutes writing the test, you supposed the full hour and a half must have passed since everyone who was still writing was instructed to hand in their tests. You had managed to finish just in time, but you weren’t feeling very good about how you had done.

You made your way out of the classroom to where your boyfriend had been waiting for you, laying across a few chairs he had somehow come into possession of. As you got closer to him, he looked up from his phone and stood up. He was happy to see you but also rather concerned about how upset you looked.

“How did it go?”

He spoke with uncharacteristic softness and concern.

“I don’t think it went very well…”

You felt rather hopeless about the whole situation and had already resigned yourself to failure.

“Come on, with how hard you’ve worked? I’m sure that you did just fine.”

You didn’t respond, choosing to instead stare dejectedly at the floor. Scaramouche offered a soft smile.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We can go get food and watch a movie.”

You stayed silent for a moment, thinking over the proposal.

“That actually sounds really nice.”

“Come on then.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to his car.

~ ♡ ~

It had been exactly nineteen days since you had taken your midterm, and you had finally been emailed the results. You sat at your computer staring at the unopened email. You knew that you had probably failed, but you didn’t want to know that you had actually failed. You took a deep breath, did your best to relax your body, and opened the email. You scanned through the words and eventually found your results. You had passed. You swore you had never felt so relieved in your life. Granted, you had only gotten a 58, but that was more than enough for you. You wiped away a few tears of relief and flopped back in your chair. You took out your phone and called your boyfriend.

“Hello-”

“I passed.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes!”

“Well that’s no surprise. You have me as your tutor, afterall.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face. Although he was clearly trying to hide it, pride was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, baby.”

You heard Scaramouche let out a little puff of air from his nose.

“Wanna come over so we can celebrate?”

“I guess I can.”

“Did you pass?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Well congratulations, you are the reason everyone hates being marked on a curve.”

You actually heard your boyfriend laugh at that.

“It’s not my fault you’re all inept.”

“Are you coming or not?”

There was a brief silence.

“I’ll bring food.”

“See you at 5:00?”

“Alright, love you.”

And with that, he hung up. You sighed and sent an “I love you too” text.

You spent the rest of your day doing some chores and some reading, and eventually, Scaramouche was knocking on your door. He brought an obscene amount of sushi, and somehow, the two of you managed to eat all of it.

It was a nice evening. Scaramouche was in a surprisingly good mood(he wouldn’t admit it, but he was quite pleased that you had managed to pass your midterm), and there wasn’t anything left to stress about.

The two of you sat on your couch, scrolling through streaming services. You were nestled under your boyfriend’s arm as he navigated to netflix and started scrolling through movies.

“So what movie do you want to watch?”

“Pride and-”

“No.”

“But you said I could pick!”

“Only if you pick a good movie.”

“You haven’t even seen it!”

“Too bad. I’m picking now.”

You sighed but didn’t really protest. You usually ended up liking whatever movies he chose anyway. This time, however, you had gotten somewhat bored about halfway through “Inception” and decided to grab your phone to scroll through whatever app seemed interesting.

“You know, if you’re bored, we can do something else.”

The prospect of doing something different admittedly interested you, so you decided to go along with it.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

A small smile made its way onto Scaramouche’s face as he stood up, turning off the tv and reaching out his hand to you. You took it and followed him to your bedroom. You certainly weren’t going to complain if he wanted to reward you for passing. As you stood at the end of your bed, he stood away from you, leaning against the now closed door.

“Take off your clothes.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed by how blunt he was but did as you were told anyway. You began to pull your shirt over your head when he stopped you.

“No. Slowly.”

You looked away from him, even more embarrassed now, and started slowly sliding your hands up your sides, bunching up your shirt as you brought it farther up your body. You pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the ground beside you. Next, you undid the button on your pants and slid the zipper down, but before you could begin to slide them down your legs, you were stopped once again by yet another command.

“Turn around.”

You silently obeyed and turned to face away from him as you slid your pants off, bending at the waist, knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted from you. When you finally kicked off your pants, you turned back around to face Scaramouche. He had a little smirk resting on his face, and you could now see a bulge beginning to make itself known in his pants. Despite the number of times the two of you had fucked, you were still embarrassed to be almost naked in front of him.

“Why are you stopping?”

Your blush darkened as you reached behind you to undo your bra, letting it fall to the ground and then turning around once again to slide off your panties. Scaramouche bit his lip as he watched you. Fuck, you were so good for him. It’s too bad he had to punish you for almost failing your midterm, not that you were aware of that yet.

You turned around once again to face your boyfriend, and he began to move towards your closet, where he kept a few things for situations such as these. You were a little confused as to why he would want to use any of those things when he was rewarding you, but you didn’t question him. You fully trusted Scaramouche and knew he would never hurt you… well, unless you wanted him to. You continued not to question him when he brought out a coil of rope and told you to get on your hands and knees on the bed.

Although, you were still confused. He knows that you like being able to touch him, so why would he be using rope? You finally decided to question his actions when he had finished tying you up, a bad choice on your part. He had just finished the last knot when you piped up.

“Uh, why are you tying me up?”

“Because stupid little whores don’t get to touch me.”

Okay, now you were very confused.

“But I thought-”

“Dumb girls who almost fail their exams don’t get rewarded.”

His words would hurt if you didn’t know how proud of you he was.

“But-”

You felt his hand land hard and heavy on your ass, and your words morphed into a little shout of pain. You tried to wiggle away from him, but with your calves tied to your thighs and your hands tied behind your back, you couldn’t move an inch. You felt his hand land again on the other side of your ass as he reiterated his point.

“Don’t you think brainless sluts should get punished? I’m sure it’ll help get some sense into that empty head of yours.”

You could hear the smile in his voice. You heard him step away, and with you unable to move, you had no idea what was coming next. As his footsteps came closer again, you felt a finger run along your slit.

“You’re so wet already, pathetic.”

Your cheeks were burning. As he began to play with your clit, you started to let out little moans and whines. Fuck, he was good at that. You could hear how wet you were, his fingers starting to push in and out of you rhythmically. If he kept going, you were going to cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt so good. It felt like he was turning off your brain. All you wanted was for him to make you cum, and maybe for his cock to be inside of you. That would be nice too.

“Fuck, master, I’m going to cum!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, his fingers had been removed from you.

“No! Please! I need it! Please, let me cum!”

You were so close. You needed it so bad. Scaramouche knew that, and frankly, he couldn’t care less. Stupid girls don’t get to cum.

He teased you like this for at least half an hour, although it felt like an eternity. He kept bringing you to the edge just to steal away your end with a derisive laugh.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound?”

You let out a particularly pathetic whine.

“‘Oh, master, please let me cum! I’ll be a good girl, please!’. You’d be worthless if you didn’t feel so good on my cock.”

Warm tears slid down your face, but you could feel yourself get wetter at his words. Scaramouche walked around the bed so he could take your face in his hands.

“Fuck, you look pretty when you cry.”

More tears ran down your face, despite the warmth you felt from his words.

“I should just keep you tied up so you can cry for me and be a good little fleshlight. That sounds nice, right, slut?”

You nodded, not quite sure how to respond. He laughed and walked back behind you. You tried to wiggle away, but you were still helplessly at his mercy.

You heard the clicking sounds of him taking off his belt, and you felt adrenaline shoot through your body. Finally, you were going to feel his cock inside of you.

However, your hopes were quickly dashed when you felt the harsh sting of a belt hit your ass. You screamed. Scaramouche laughed.

“You like that, don’t you, princess?”

You cried louder now, the sound only serving to make your boyfriend more turned on. Once again, you felt his belt come into harsh contact with your ass.

“Count.”

You let out a little shout of pain as another hit came.

“One!”

Your counting was followed by a whimper of pain and a light laugh from Scaramouche. Then the belt came down again.

“Two!”

You whimpered in pain, and your fists clenched behind your back, your nails digging into your palms. You didn’t know how long this would continue for, but you were ready to take whatever he chose to give you, as you always did.

Three more hits came from his belt, each one followed by a shot of pain and a number.

“Five!”

You readied yourself for another hit, but it never came. You jumped when you felt him gently rest his hand between your shoulders, slowly tracing his way down to your waist. Suddenly, he removed his hand, and you could hear him stepping away. He came to sit on the bed in front of you. He rested a hand on your cheek once again and leaned into you.

“Do you want to cum? Hmm?”

He smiled at you mockingly. You nodded emphatically.

“Please! I need to cum, master! Need it so bad!”

He couldn’t help but snicker at how pathetic you sounded.

“Well, if you want it so bad, then okay. I’ll make you cum, sweetheart.”

Fuck. If he’s saying yes, there has to be a catch… unless… was he done punishing you? You quickly got your answer when your boyfriend stood and walked back to where you couldn’t see him.

You heard him fiddling with something, and after a few moments, you felt something cold and plastic run up your slit a few times, collecting your wetness before finally pushing inside of you.

You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t stop the whine that you let out when the dildo started vibrating intensely. You started whining and moaning, not being prepared for the pleasure. Scaramouche walked in front of you once again, this time with a ballgag in hand. He pushed it inside of your mouth and tied it behind your head.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

And with that, you could hear your boyfriend walk out of the room and close the door, his light laughter trailing behind him. You tried to call out to your boyfriend, but everything came out garbled between broken moans. He wouldn’t leave you tied up for too long… right?

~ ♡ ~

You had no idea how long you had been left tied up like this, and you had lost count of how many times you had come. All that you knew was that you were exhausted. Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door clicked open. He was back. Without saying a word, he turned off the vibrations and gently pulled out the toy. He walked around to sit in front of you and untied the gag, removing it from your mouth.

“Did you learn your lesson, princess?”

He smiled as if he were talking to a child. You nodded your head.

“Mhm!”

“Good girl.”

He stroked his thumb on your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. He started to untie you, going through all the knots until you were finally free. You stretched your sore limbs as Scaramouche left the room in search of a warm cloth.

Eventually, he reappeared with a warm cloth and an extra blanket. He cleaned you up and wrapped you in the soft blanket before carrying you back to the couch so the two of you could finish the movie.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#scaramouche.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#personally i think this is fantastic but that’s just me #i hope you all like the food i’m sorry it took me so long #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #afab reader #female reader

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navybrat817 · 7 months

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How Far Down

Pairing: Mickey Henry x Female Reader Summary: Mickey is bad for you, but you just can't stay away. Word Count: Over 2.1k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, semi-public fingering, implied public sex, unhealthy relationship, codependency, bittersweet, spooky vibes, Mickey Henry (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #3 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! @tavners , thank you for suggesting Mickey and semi-public sex! I hope I did it justice. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics and Mickey edit by @rainbowkisses31 . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Mickey was like a drug to you. His touch sent dopamine through your body, the pleasurable sensation bringing you to new heights again and again. You needed more of him to satisfy your craving. He delivered every single time.

But being addicted to a man as free spirited as him was like trying to catch the wind in your hand. He slipped through your fingers quicker than sand. When the inevitable comedown happened, it left you disappointed with the harsh reality that he would never truly be yours. So you walked away.

Until he called you back to him.

"It's the Halloween bash. C'mon. We'll have fun."

You should’ve had the strength to ignore him or say “no”, but you were helpless to resist his call. You asked for the address when you messaged him back and hoped you didn’t sound too eager. One night wouldn’t hurt. You’d only stay long enough to make an appearance and you’d be on your way. Besides, it was a party and Mickey had a job to do.

He wouldn’t notice if you left early.

“Better not bail on me or you’ll hurt my feelings. And I’ll hunt you down.”

You wouldn’t dream of bailing on him. The thought of hurting his feelings produced a pain in your chest so great that you thought your heart would give out. That was one of the things that scared you about Mickey. You gave so much of yourself away and did you get enough in return?

It would be fun if he hunted me down.

The day leading up to the party was a blur, your stomach twisted in knots as you got ready. You had no reason to be nervous. It was a night of fun to be had and nothing more. As long as you didn’t let Mickey suck you back in, you’d be fine.

There was a line out the door of the club as you arrived and you wondered just how long people were waiting to get in. Mickey instructed you to give your name to the bouncer, which you did. For a second, you didn’t expect your name to be on the list. He could’ve done it as a prank to get back at you for walking away. It was a silly thought. He was many things, but he wasn’t cruel.

Still, you let out a sigh of relief as the bouncer let you go right in. If that wouldn’t have worked, you would’ve tried to flirt with him. Your slutty angel costume left little to the imagination, which was both sexy and ironic. You never felt angelic or innocent around Mickey, but it was fun to be in his presence.

The halo fell from my head a long time ago.

Orange and purple strobe lights flashed in time with the music, giving the club a perfect Halloween glow as the bodies moved along the dance floor. The array of costumes brought a smile to your face. Everyone was having fun, uncaring of what happened tonight. Problems would still be there tomorrow, so why not let loose?

“There you are.”

You heard Mickey over the music and blinked a few times, not remembering walking through the crowd to get to his booth. Your throat constricted as the two of you locked eyes. While you were some form of an angel, he had demon horns and an open red shirt. The light around him accentuated his muscles and gave him an ominous glow as he walked around the table, grinning as held out a hand for you.

It only took you a second to take it.

“Knew you couldn’t resist my invitation,” he said, jumping down to join you on the floor instead of pulling you up to the booth. “Though a small part of me wants to punish you for staying away for so long. Why did you run away from me?”

Part of the charm of Mickey was that he didn’t come across as arrogant. Playful, the life of the party, and someone who encouraged you to make the best out of bad situations, but never full of himself. You admired that. He was also unreliable, too spontaneous. A distorted dream of a man that you could never have.

“You know why I left,” you reminded him, putting your arms around his shoulders. “But we could both use some fun, so why not take you up on your offer?”

“And that’s just what I am, aren’t I? A good time,” Mickey smiled, slipping an arm around your waist to drag you against him. “Everyone’s having a good time tonight.”

Even if you didn't leave at the end of the night with Mickey, you knew it wouldn't be a boring evening. Watching him in his element was hotter than you cared to admit, the gorgeous man making everyone get lost in the music and atmosphere. It was like he encouraged people to lose their inhibitions. No one cared about the consequences.

They lived like there was no tomorrow.

The flashing lights reflected off his blue eyes as you gazed at him, but they almost looked black. “We can’t have too much fun,” you teased as he began to grind his hips against yours.

“Why not?”

You sighed and wondered if he was trying to goad you or if he really didn't get it. “Because we both know how this’ll end and I'm a little tired of it.”

Mickey would happily go on his way while you were left with a void in your soul. The worst part was you were certain he didn’t do it on purpose. The bond between the two of you wasn’t pure enough to be love, so why would you expect him to treat you like you were his other half?

“Why does it have to end at all? C'mon. You and I always have fun together,” he argued, grabbing your chin with a firm hand so he could lick you from your chin to your forehead. “Besides. Your aura is so delicious. I've missed it.”

A lustful sigh left your lungs before you attempted to step back. The smile on his face looked strange. “My aura? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mickey threw his head back as he laughed, his chest shaking as his fingers dug into your hip. He sometimes struck you as a man more intelligent and deeper than he let on, but always swayed you from those thoughts with a slip of his tongue or the slide of his cock. He was lust in human form. But he led you down a path with no end.

So why did you follow him?

“You know what I mean. Your whole glow screams lust. And lust is a sin that feeds itself and grows,” he said as he pushed your costume up your thigh. It didn’t matter that there were others close by where anyone could see. And you didn’t put up a fight. It wouldn't be the first time you fooled around with people mere feet away. That was part of the fun. “But I don't need to feed myself with you around. You feed me plenty.”

At that moment, you almost wondered if Mickey’s costume was real as he hooked a finger in your panties and moved them aside. He could easily lure people in under the guise of a good time. Lost in his hypnotic gaze, you moaned as his finger circled your hole. “It's like you really are a demon,” you breathed as one finger pushed inside you, making you clamp around him.

His teeth flashed in a wicked smile as the digit moved in shallow thrusts. “Demons come in all forms. All shapes and sizes,” he said as you frowned. He had to be kidding. “This city is my playground with plenty of people to play with.”

You smiled after a second, playing along. “Is that what you're doing? Playing with me?”

“You make it easy to play with, even when I have to chase you. Though I didn't exactly chase you, did I? All it took was a text,” he said, though you didn't feel insulted at the implication of how easy it was to get you there. “And dressing up like an angel? You’re far from being immune to temptation.”

It wasn't fear that moved through you, but your smile slipped all the same even as he dragged a finger in and out of you. “I, oh, was kidding about the whole demon thing.”

The gorgeous grin was back on his face. “So was I.”

He sealed his lips against yours as he pushed another finger in, the feeling making your head spin as you rocked your hips. Wantonly, you practically humped his hand as he took what he wanted from you. It was pathetic that you allowed him in so easily, but didn’t he always make you feel good?

“You’re bad for me,” you whined, gasping when he bit down on your bottom lip.

“The worst,” he agreed, pressing his palm hard against your clit. “But you’re so good for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

The praise warmed you as your moans got louder.

“I could fuck anyone here tonight, but it’s you I want,” he went on, curling his fingers just the way you needed him to. “My filthy, desperate angel. You’ll let me do whatever I want to you and you won’t stop me. Do you know how good that makes me feel that you want me so badly?”

You wanted to argue that he was wrong, but how could you deny his words when you were so close? And he was right. He could fuck anyone he wanted, but his fingers were deep inside you because you were special. You meant something to him.

Right?

“You want me, too,” you stated, but the words came out like a whimper, lost in the music.

“Of course, I do. You’re my favorite. That’s why I wanted you here with me tonight,” he smirked, the words as empty as how you felt when the sun came up. But you believed him because you wanted to believe him. That it didn’t matter if he took other lovers because they didn’t mean anything to him. He was still your addiction and you wanted to get high. “Now come on my fingers. I know you can do it.”

With a shudder, you did as he said and soaked his fingers with your juices. He licked into your mouth as it went slack from pleasure, an almost smug hum reverbirating as the digits continued to glide along your walls. The familiar haze washed over you as he guided you through your orgasm. If anyone around you noticed, they didn’t care.

Neither did you.

“Delicious,” he purred as he drew his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth. “How do you feel?”

Licking your taste from his fingers, you swallowed with a heavy heart. “Empty,” you admitted, the high crashing even sooner than usual. You hated it. You wanted it to go away.

You needed to go, but your feet wouldn't allow you to move.

He didn’t look at all offended by your answer. Instead, a pleased smile spread across his face. “That’s because my fingers are never enough. You need my cock.”

You both knew you weren't going anywhere. Why argue? “I need your cock,” you agreed. All he had to do was fill you up and it would make it better.

“Bend over my table and I’ll give it to you,” he promised with a glint in his eye. It was like staring into an abyss and you wondered how deep it went. Would you ever reach the bottom if you fell?

“But the crowd-”

“They won’t even notice. They'll just think we're grinding to the music,” he said, gracefully hopping on the stage as you followed with shaky limbs. “And even if they did, who gives a fuck? They’ll wish they were in your place, but they never will be. You know why?”

“Because I’m special?”

“Yeah, you are. My favorite angel who feeds me well,” he assured you, the void in your chest slowly starting to grow smaller as he brought your back to his chest. “But don’t ever walk away from me again, okay? It'll only hurt us both.”

There was no sarcasm in his tone. Only truth.

“I won't walk away,” you said, letting him pull your dress up again as he pressed his clothed cock against your ass.

You'd always come back if he called.

“That's my girl” he praised, lightly biting your earlobe. “Now hold onto the table so we can have some real fun.”

With a nod and a smile, you fell into the abyss.

Why is he so pretty? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Misc Sebastian Stan Characters ⚓ Ko-Fi

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robininthelabyrinth · 1 year

Note

A prompt: I'm still in love with Second madam nie. Anything from her POV, maybe including her favourite person, nie mingjue?

ao3

"Send Huaisang to my office. Immediately."

Nie Mingjue’s order went out, and no sooner out than fulfilled, even if Nie Huaisang did show up looking disgruntled and a little disheveled, as if someone strong had hoisted him up over his protests, thrown him over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and whisked him away when he'd much rather be in his room reading or in a shop buying something. This was precisely what had happened, so Nie Huaisang felt entirely justified, even if his brother frowned ominously at his not-befitting-an-heir-of-a-Great-Sect appearance.

Still, his brother refrained from scolding (for once) and merely said, "Close the door."

Nie Huaisang did, his interest reluctantly piqued.

"Something political that I'm not supposed to know about?" he asked. "Or...?"

"Or," Nie Mingjue confirmed, and produced a letter. "Your mother wrote to you."

Nie Huaisang couldn't stop himself from wrinkling his nose.

Nie Mingjue noticed. "What's the matter? You don't want to hear from Second Mother?"

Actually, no.

Neither Nie Huaisang nor his mother had ever managed to properly explain to the bull-headed Nie Mingjue that certain types of people simply couldn't abide sharing space with another of their own kind - yes, even their own children, yes, even from a young age - and as a result he worked tirelessly to maintain his little brother's relationship with his long-absent, presumed-dead-by-most-people mother over both their protests. His persistence and earnest insistence that familial relationships were important was a little cute, actually, but it did mean that it was awfully hard to skive off without actually engaging.

Of course, the same was true on his mother's side. Nie Huaisang had to suppress a snigger at the thought of his brother hunting down and officiously scolding a fox in some forest somewhere with instructions to write more often.

"Are you going to read it?" Nie Mingjue prompted, and the expression on his face suggested that the answer to the question was required to be 'yes' and also 'right now, in this room, while being watched’. Nie Mingjue would never be so rude as to actually interfere with or eavesdrop on Nie Huaisang's correspondence, but previous experience had already shown him that listening to Nie Huaisang's claims of wanting to read it later or in private would only result in the letter not being read at all, whether due to negligence or it "accidentally" being destroyed in a fire or somesuch.

Damn Nie Huaisang's former self for having used up all the good excuses too early!

"Oh, all right," Nie Huaisang grumbled, and settled himself down to read. At least he could be fairly sure that the content would be about a subject of his liking - after all, the only thing Nie Huaisang had in common with his mother, other than a shared bloodline, was a fondness for his older brother.

Hey, pigface -

(Rude as always, Mother.)

I would say that I hope you're doing well, but I don't actually care (it's mutual!) and I'm sure that if there was anything wrong with you, my darling pork bun would have already conveyed it to me. (Almost certainly true.) He'd be ever so distressed about it, the poor tasty little lamb, so you'd better keep yourself in one piece for his sake, you hear me? (Like Nie Huaisang was going to get anywhere near danger anyway. She wasn't wrong about how much Nie Mingjue would worry, though, so Nie Huaisang reluctantly agreed with the sentiment - he'd be able to point to that when his brother ever so politely inquired as to what his mother had written. See, a positive interaction! They were capable of it! Mostly!)

As for your delicious older brother...(She'd better not say anything about Nie Huaisang stopping him from getting into danger, because that was impossible; Nie Mingjue and danger were practically best friends) well, I will only say, if he dies, you are to avenge him.

(Obviously.)

Now, I'm equally certain that you don't give one fig for my own state of health (completely correct), so I won't bore you with that. I will say that your cousin in Dongying is doing very well (that was good, Nie Huaisang had liked him, though of course he'd liked the fact that the man lived all the way away in Dongying even better) and his musically inclined partner sends you in particular his regards. (He'd probably mispronounced it.) I'll spare you how he mangled it (called it!) and tell you instead that he is still proficient in that song you taught him (aww, how cute). I enclose some little tricks that you might find useful (please no) assuming you ever endeavor to be useful (never!)

Now, onto the most important subject (about time) - how is my tender little zongzi doing? (What a stupid question, she literally saw da-ge when she gave him this message.) He seemed fine in person, but you know he doesn't want to burden people with his troubles (sad, but true) and he is especially cautious when there's a chance that the person in question wants to help out (that's because certain people thought the only way to help any situation involved murder and/or eating people). I expect at least four pages of his day-to-day activities (psst, like Nie Huaisang was going to strain himself to do something like that) in exchange of which I will provide a brand new illustrated set of your preferred brand of picture book (...damn her for knowing his weaknesses).

Stay alive and in your own territory (same to you, Mother), and best wishes to my best little savory dumpling in the world, may he be ever delicious and ready to eat.

(Stop being weird, Mother.)

(Also, he wasn’t hers, he was Nie Huaisang’s.)

"No signature, as always," Nie Huaisang observed, and Nie Mingjue snorted.

"Like anyone could mimic how your mother talks."

Nie Huaisang thought about it, then shrugged in agreement.

"How is she doing?"

Nie Huaisang gave his brother an incredulous look, which (rightfully) made the older man flush.

"I have no idea how to tell," he defended himself. "I just want to know that she's not facing any difficulties, that's all. She'd never admit it if she was."

Only da-ge, Nie Huaisang thought fondly, and also No wonder she likes him so much.

It was, he had to admit, the one area in which his mother had impeccable taste that completely accorded with his own.

His da-ge was simply, unquestionably, the best.

#mdzs #my fic #my fics #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #second madame nie #just a silly thing

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stellamancer · 11 months

Text

kitchen improv (katsuki bakugou x reader)

notes: just like everything else in this series based on real life experiences! LMAO. i should be working on shine on the sea but this happened lmao. i promise i am really not this prolific!!!

contains: possible ooc. i have very little confidence when it comes to writing bakugou’s voice. also not proofread/beta read, i apologize for an errors.

wc: 1.1k

Bakugou is going to kill you.

You fret wildly over your stovetop, over the pot of soup gently boiling there. It smells heavenly and why wouldn’t it? It was a recipe you’d received from Bakugou a while back, after he’d shown up on your doorstep one evening, touting a container housing a bright lemon yellow soup. He’d said something about making too much and not wanting it to go to waste, and you, ever the glutton, were not one to refuse a free meal, especially one that was home cooked.

You also suspected he’d known you’d planned to eat, as he liked to call it, more of that ‘convenience store shit’ but that’s neither here nor there.

Rather than just leave the soup with you, he’d come in and the both of you chatted while you graciously ate the warm velvety soup he’d offered you. To be honest, it was probably supposed to be two meals worth, but Bakugou’s cooking was so damn good you’d consumed it all in one sitting. Once you were done, Bakugou, after what looked like some thinking, handed you a little recipe card, written in a neat and careful hand, for the soup and off-handedly remarked that even someone like you could probably make it.

He is going to kill you when he finds out he was wrong.

You can already hear him now, annoyance and disappointment saturating his voice as he tells you exactly what you did wrong: you didn’t follow the instructions. It’s not that they were hard to follow or even vague, because Katsuki Bakugou is nothing if not meticulous. You just happened to be… a little loose with them. It should have been fine, you’ve heard that cooking is not an exact science, that it’s okay to improvise a little and that things would still turn out fine.

But maybe you improvised just a little too much.

Panicked, you pace back and forth down the length of your kitchen. Is there something you can do to salvage this? You glance at the pot, the soup looking more and more ominous by the second. Surely, there’s something you can add to make it better… but what? More eggs? More broth?

While you’re contemplating your options the doorbell echoes throughout your apartment and you curse. More than following the goddamn instructions, what you really should have done was not mention to Bakugou that you were making his stupid soup recipe. He’s been teaching you how to cook for how long now? Of course he was going to come and try the fruit of his student’s labor.

You take a deep breath and march over to the door. There’s no use in pretending you’re not home; he already knows you’re here. Besides, if you ignore the doorbell long enough he may very well just bust his way in on his own, thinking you’ve passed out in the kitchen or something.

The front door swings open revealing Bakugou, dressed casually in one of his black t-shirts. You do your best to not get distracted by his sculpted arms, peeking at you from beneath his sleeves; you’ve got a crisis to divert.

“Hey,” you say, leaning against the doorway, with what you hope doesn’t look like a strained smile.

Bakugou’s eyes narrow immediately. Wrong move. He glances past you toward what you think is the kitchen, then looks back at you. “Fess up. What went wrong?”

You gulp. Of course he can tell.

He snorts, and before you can even try to explain yourself, he’s pushing past you. Desperate, you latch onto one of his arms, but it doesn’t stop him.

“Bakugou, wait, I can explain—” you whine as he stomps into the kitchen.

“Doesn’t smell like ya messed up, so—” He stops short as he peers down into the pot. Your breath stops in your chest. Your heart too. Bakugou is completely silent as he stares down into the abyss known as your stock pot. He doesn’t look at you when he finally speaks, his voice completely flat. “You didn’t use chicken stock.”

You squeak. He’s correct. “I… I thought vegetable stock would be okay because that’s what I had on hand!”

How were you supposed to know that vegetable stock would affect the color of the soup that badly? Instead of the pretty lemony yellow the soup is supposed to be, it is a strange cross between orange and brown. If you had to be honest, the color is absolutely off putting— no food meant for consumption should be this color.

Terrified of Bakugou’s response, you shut your eyes, preparing yourself for the scolding. But… it doesn’t come. When you open your eyes he’s still staring at the soup, frowning slightly, like he’s actually unsure what to do. You wonder if he’s also thinking if there’s something that could be done to fix the color.

“...d’ya taste it?”

You definitely seasoned it, but you were far too worried about the soup’s unpalatable color to think about tasting it. Bakugou can tell what your answer is and reaches up to flick your forehead.

“Idiot. Y’should always be tasting yer damn cooking!”

You wince. “But the color!”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs the little tasting dish he convinced you to buy and ladles a little bit of the soup into it, sipping at it. Bakugou’s expression doesn’t change as he tastes the soup, so you can’t tell if it tastes as bad as it looks or worse. Then, he ladles a little more to the dish and offers it to you.

Scared, you stare at the pale brown liquid. It can’t be poisonous. If it was then Bakugou would have said something. For sure. But still, you’re worried. What if it’s gross?

“Hurry up. We don’t got all night,” Bakugou grumbles.

You take a deep breath, and lean forward to try the soup. As you do, you realize that this would count as Bakugou hand feeding you. The thought makes you almost spit out the soup, but you manage to keep cool so you can taste it and…

It actually tastes good. Not the same as when Bakugou made it, but good. Most definitely edible.

You stand up straight and Bakugou is regarding you with a small smile. He knows it’s good too. “Food ain’t all about looks, ya know. “S more important that it tastes good.”

You nod in agreement. He has a point. You’ve eaten a lot of ‘ugly food’ that tasted amazing and a lot of ‘pretty food’ that tasted like garbage. “Right.”

He nods, then flicks your forehead again. Kinder this time. Gentler. “Just make sure ya follow the instructions next time, dork.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #nikuniku fics #in regards to me #i had the stuff to make a homemade vegetable stock so i did that #i should come up with an actual name for this damn series #kitchen adventures with bkg?#lets go with that

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zoros-bandana · 1 year

Note

Hello Dove, I've been reading your shots for a while now and I must say your work is lovely, and everytime I read them it makes my day.

I hope is not a bother, but may I request a platonic scenario with Zoro and a youngling swordsman. Basically the strawhat crew stopped by in a island to refill their supplies, Zoro being Zoro started to explore alone and got lost (as usual) and he saw a fight between the youngling swordsman and other pirates, witnessing their fighting style with their katana that looks like Shinobu Kocho from demon slayer, cause their katana is not for slay rather works like a syringe cause is always covered in poison. Zoro caught interest in the youngling somehow but failed in the attempt to reach them so the strawhats set sail. Without knowing the youngling was hiding in the ship cause their next destination is the same as the crew, cause the youngling was finding a person to get revenge on for whatever reason, in the end they ended up discovering the youngling and the rest I'll leave it up to you.

I personally love platonic scenarios and I don't see much of those, but of you accept them then it's ok. However if you don't make platonic scenarios, feel free to make changes if these request caught your intrest. Have a lovely night

Apprentice

(SFW)

Warning: mention of wounds, mention of drinking, mention of fighting, spoilers for Nani’s backstory, spoilers for Zoro's backstory

Summary: After finding a small boy on the way to the Isle of Tenohira, Zoro reluctantly comes to care for him, reminiscent of his past self in his stubborn and vicious sword wielding abilities.

Word Count: 4,000

The Going Mary docked at the small port, clear blue waters rocking gently as one-by-one the crew dismounted, leaving Usopp behind to care for his worn-out ship. It was agreed for only a short stay to collect necessities and supplies for the next stretch of vast blue, knowing anything longer than a few hours would detour their path for the Isle of Tenohira.

Zoro landed on the creaking wood, grunting as he peered over his shoulder at the sudden commotion caused by his captain. Rolling his eyes he watched as Luffy ran off laughing, Nami and Sanji following close behind, yelling at him for being careless and ignorant of his surroundings. Every trip curated the same response, predictable turnouts from his fellow crew-members as they scattered over the island, never sticking to the plan Nami instructed.

Looking around, Zoro noted his surroundings, figuring he would go in search of a bar to drink at for the duration of the time. The island, although small, made up for the distance with height, weaving hills dotted with pink shrubs falling beyond his sight. Figuring the sun was pointing east, he turned on his heels, heading west, walking towards thick shrubs away from the obvious clearing to the town.

He took his time wandering, assuming the bar wouldn't be far from his position, taking in the unusual sights around him. It was a particularly sunny day, a warm breeze rustling through the vibrant shrubs with a whistle as if they were singing out to the swordsman. The grass, if you could even call it that, was short and tuft, weaving strands of iridescent gold, dotting through flowers curved in oblong shapes.

Zoro shook his head, dizzy from the unfamiliar surroundings, parted at sea for what felt like weeks.

A call up ahead prompted Zoro to face to his left, easily spotting the commotion right away. A band of mismatched pirates surrounded a little boy no more than ten, laughing down at him. The young boy wielded a sword, unusual in appearance, as most things were here, with scaling edges down the blade, dripping in an ominous thick brown liquid. It was clear the sword was too large for the boy to hold, using both hands on the handle to lift it off the ground. Shrugging at the boys obvious stubbornness to fight alone, Zoro continued on, assuming the situation was under control.

As Zoro sat in the bar, he couldn't help but feel panicked, unknown to how the fight turned out; feeling a slight guilt in the safety of the child. Looking at the boys stubbornness and dedication to take out a band of pirates reminded him of a younger version of himself, holding onto a weapon that would've taken all his strength just to hold. He held his breath, hoping that the pirates wouldn't enter the bar, cementing only what he feared.

The more Zoro drank the less he remembered about what he saw, fogged over by the alcohol in his body; the ringing of chatter around him soothing his mind. He swayed along to their conversations, dancing silently to his own rhythm by the vibrato in their voices, amusing himself as he flagged down the bartender for another beer.

The doors of the bar crashed open, Zoro sluggishly looking over as someone called out his name, groaning as Sanji made his way over to him. He swore under his breath, wishing someone else came to collect him, scowling at the two-bit chef. Sanji ignored Zoro's look of disgust, grabbing onto his arm as he trudged out of the bar, barking at him. The crew had agreed to be back at the ship hours ago, and as per usual, Zoro lost track of time, drinking away.

Too blinded by hate to zone into Sanji's words, Zoro stumbled alongside him, his eyes darting around. He refused to look in his direction, the drug of alcohol creating a haze over the surreal island, making it seem almost amusing to him. And although this island sparked a particular interest in him, he couldn't help but feel soothed by the promise of returning to his beloved ship.

He couldn't wait to return back to his usual napping post.

Zoro awoke to a heavy crash, his hand reaching for his sword in a bid to fight whoever disturbed his drunken rest. Jerking his eyes around the room he was met with silence, a figure crouching behind one of the barrels in the corner, knowing they were caught. He assumed it was Luffy or Chopper, coming to pry some of Sanji's hidden treats, quickly lacing some venom in his words.

"Oi, piss of will ya! Ya wanna get cut? I'm tryna to nap here!"

"I'm sorry mister..."

Quickly, Zoro sat up, his eyes wide at the unfamiliar voice realising it wasn't a crew member. Focusing on the barrel, he watched as the boy he encountered before stepped out, his sword slung to his back. His innocent and round face was littered with cuts and bruises, one of his dark brown eyes clouded with a purple ring. His light ash hair seemed almost wet, sticking to his forehead, dipped with darker ends from what he could assume was blood.

"The hell ya doing here?"

"I snuck onto the ship"

"Well, yeah" he rolled his eyes, taking a stand. Zoro moved his neck around, cracking in a rolling motion, walking over to the barrels. "Ya need to get outta here, idiot, it's not safe invading a pirate ship!"

"I wasn't trying to invade" he admitted sheepishly, "I just needed a lift to the Isle of Tenohira"

"How'd ya know we were going there?" Zoro drew out his sword, sceptical of the boys knowledge.

"I heard the stringy one talking about it; the one with the hat"

Luffy.

Realising his mistake, Zoro withdrew his sword, sighing heavily. He was still half asleep, his brain feeling like static as he thought for a moment, unsure of what to do with the boy. He could throw the boy overboard, letting the sea drift him someplace he wouldn't have to step foot in? But it would cause too much commotion.

Looking away he sighed again, not wishing to look down at his soft and wide eyes, knowing he might give in and help him.

Zoro just wanted to nap.

Scratching his head, Zoro felt lost, confused on what to do. He didn't wish to put further injury on the boy, given his current timid and broken state, but he also knew he couldn't stay here, his rest disturbed enough. Suddenly, he had an idea, smiling wickedly, knowing exactly who would put some sense into the boy. Zoro was familiar with them enough to understand how they operated, viciously attacking any of the boys on the crew whenever they pleased, hoping the same end would be met for the boy in front of him.

That was it.

Zoro was decided.

He would take the boy to see Nami.

"Oh my dear, look at you!" Nami bent down in front of the boy, cupping at his face "what happened?"

Zoro's face dropped, not expecting her to react so sensitive to his needs. When he had brought the boy to the crew he received a hearty thud over his head, Nami immediately snapping at him for bringing a child onto the ship. However, as she faced the boy she shifted, turning almost into somebody he didn't recognise at all.

"Did that brute do this to you?" Nami's tone was snappy as she whipped her head around to Zoro, glaring at him. "If I find out you laid a hand on this poor child I-"

"No" the boy shook his head "I was ambushed by some pirates back at the island"

Nami turned back to him, whimpering her bottom lip as she pulled him into a sweet hug, her breasts engulfing the boys face, almost suffocating him. She cooed aimlessly at him, inaudible to Zoro as he stood there burning up, realising he should have been tougher on the boy and kicked him off as soon as he saw him.

"You really thought she would be mad at him, didn't you?" Sanji snickered, lighting up a cigarette. "You clearly don't know my sweet Nami-swan at all"

"Oi, shut up, ero-cook! Nobody asked you to speak"

Sanji quickly snapped into action, lifting his leg up to strike at Zoro, to which he swiftly dodged. Pulling out his swords, Zoro resumed a typical stance, mumbling profanities as Sanji attempted to land a few hits at any open area he could find.

"Will you both just be quiet!" Nami ordered, flailing her hands into fists as she smacked them each over the head. Shoving herself between the boys she created space to separate, clearing the thick air that hung overhead.

Luffy laughed, amused by the astounding situation, the addition of a possible new crew member exciting him. "I think we should keep him"

"Huh?"

"Luffy! You can't be serious!" Nami's face dropped, realising the possibility of the situation. A familiar feeling of anxiety fell over her, reminded of her horrible tangled past with pirates as a young girl, never wishing upon that for anybody. "We can't possibly accept a child to join our crew, especially since what has just happened! We need to turn the ship around and get him home to his -"

"I overheard you were travelling to the Isle of Tenohira" the young boy piped up, averting the attention back to him. Everyone continued their silence, waiting for the boy to explain further, giving him a chance to speak his peace. "I will be happy to leave once we have arrived; I just need a ship to take me"

"That's at least a three-day trip" Usopp interjected, informing the boy of his situation.

"I am aware, just please let me stay until you dock there"

"What has you so interested in this island, anyway?"

"I need to get revenge on some pirates" the boy lowered his voice, a hideous growl muffling his words.

Luffy laughed, reminded just how stubborn and vengeful his own right-hand was, noting similarities between the two. "Well, we will be more than happy to have you join us. What is your name?"

—————————

After some time, Zoro returned to the crows nest, fuelled by his strict routine to get back into training. He was aware there was too much time lost, frustrated with the unwanted distraction of a child to focus on his goal. The weights he usually bared felt heavy, only frustrating him more, feeling much weaker than before. He knew nothing had chance but regretted falling out of his usual rhythm.

He lunged the weight back and forth, mimicking a swinging action similar to his sword, working his arms to swing all around him. As he spun around the room he stopped, stepping back in fright, tripping over his foot. The weight landed behind him in a crash, rocking the crows nest briefly, causing him to wobble off balance.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The young boy stood in front of him, his cuts and scrapes patched up poorly by Nami's efforts to coddle the child. He had changed into new clothes, a large t-shirt bunched up and tied off at the waist, showering him in fabric.

He ignored his question. “Do you mind teaching me that?”

"What?" Zoro acted clueless, hoping the boy would give up and leave.

"Would you teach me how to train properly to be a swordsman?"

"No"

The boy huffed, confused that Zoro would be so quick to shut down his request, despite his blunt and dismissive attitude to his presence. Unamused by the boy's childish behaviour Zoro stood his ground, turning back to his weights with a heavy roll of his eyes.

A harsh quiet fell over the crows nest, almost irritable, growing an intense and thick atmosphere. The hairs on the back of Zoro's neck stood at attention, a shiver running down his spine, knowing something bad was about to happen.

"NAMI!" The boy's voice rung through the crows nest, shrill and cruel. He added a drawn out whine, letting his voice be heard through the ship, rearing his beloved new friend. The addition of overdramatic tears rolls down his cheeks, making his performance theatrical and threatening for Zoro. He had already underlined his name in Nami's bad book, knowing this would corrupt him into something horrible; owning her something to make up for the child's woe.

Zoro felt a rush of regret fall over him, spiteful a part of him felt so connected to the boy in front of him. Since seeing the boy on the island, he couldn't help but sense a part of the stubborn swordsman inside him that pushed him to where he was today. But as he looked down at the manipulative tactics of the child, he realised he was far from the same.

"Fine!" Zoro snapped, turning around to face him with a roll of his eyes. Pointing to the boy with the end of his sword, Zoro held himself firm and cold, not wishing to give into pity for the sake of the child. "But I will not go easy on you because you're a kid. Understand?"

The boy nodded, a delighted smile replacing the well of tears, wiping away the snot from his nose. "I understand"

As per Zoro's usual routine, he trained, holding the same measures as he would against any object to come in his path. The boy, all the while clasping his sword, struggled to keep up with Zoro's intense ability. He accommodated both hands to lift his chosen weapon, making the fight more strenuous on his body, his arms and back caving at the heavy weight. And Zoro could feel it too, every hit that collided with the sword appalled him, wondering how someone of his size wield such a beast.

The sword matched the length of his own, the spikes curling through each clatter as they collided. Zoro feared what liquid oozed from the weapon but knew he was far from finding out such atrocities. He was a small child after all; Zoro was the master here.

However, no matter how hard and fast Zoro swung, the boy kept up, ignoring every inch of his body to give up. His hands were covered with thick callouses, grasping the handle of his blade tightly not to drop or lose sight of Zoro. Cuts and bruises littered his skin, fair to the word of keeping up with Zoro as much as he could.

He was learning fast.

He would be something great one day Zoro was sure.

Around the crew the boy would keep the same chipper attitude, slowly mimicking how they moved. He carried the same light-hearted and hungry energy as Luffy, challenging him to the last bits of meat Sanji worked hard to prepare; winning with Nami on his side. His stamina and aim heighten, time spent with Usopp throwing off Zoro's expectations for how quickly he was learning skills. Accidents and wounds lessened, learning how to fix his own incidents, knowing any setback would cause his training to lessen.

He was improving in all aspects, quickly adjusting to the movements and flow of sparring against Zoro, reminding him of a version of himself long forgotten. Zoro could see that now, misjudging his manipulation, realising how smart and creative the boy was in his own right.

Zoro's past stood in front of him, so vivid it haunted him in the night, keeping him awake from drawing in his memories. He viewed himself, the child, in the same determined nature which craved more, burning their bodies to the ground in pain; and no amount of rest would be enough to sooth them. He could feel himself attach to the boy, instinctively protecting his own shadow, and as the Isle of Tenohira grew closer, Zoro started to grieve something he was fond of.

"Oi!" Luffy's voice boomed through the ship, the clatter of his sandals beating against the deck. It had turned three days since the boy joined the crew, a day Zoro had began to dread, knowing instantly what that meant for his and the boys future.

In the crows nest Zoro caught onto Luffy's voice, the boy catching the same, however, failed to part away from his training; lifting the weights above his head. Unwilling to make the first move Zoro ignored the call, turning back to his own corner, twisting his sword around in motions that caused his head to spin, unable to keep up.

"Was that Luffy?" the boy finally spoke, grunting through his repetitions.

Zoro grunted, unable to look over at him, half afraid he might actually break. He didn't wish to admit he had grown fond of the child, distancing as much emotion as he could muster, his direction becoming a loose brick in his emotional walls built around him for years. He was started to enjoy the presence of somebody else in his space, quietly and in tune to his own routine, sliding peacefully compared to the distant chatter of his fellow crewmates.

"Should we go down? He is the captain after all?"

"Do whatever you want" Zoro bit, unwilling to move from his spot.

Latching onto a spot on the wall Zoro focused, hearing the boy behind him put down the weight. He said something, to which Zoro grunted again, unsure what exactly was being said, before leaving the crows nest. Zoro's vision began to blur, his focus slipping, wishing to go with him, see him one last time with everyone; but he also didn't wish to part from him. He could hear below him the crew, their voices echoing off each other, laughing, enjoying the few moments left together before separating on the Isle.

He was hurt.

Everywhere hurt, unsure where to pinpoint what was happening to his body.

It was only a child after all.

But a part of Zoro felt helpless, pathetic, unable to even face his friends or the child to say goodbye. Why was he craving to the idea of something so mirrored by his own actions? It should fuel him to move; to work better. He had always desired more, nothing being enough for him no matter who or what stood in his way. All he wanted was to live his dream, to focus on what was at stake, and nobody, not even a version of himself would stop him of that dream. He made a promise to himself. He made a promise to...

Zoro steps away from his post, looking around in despair. How did he not realise it sooner. The boy, it wasn't him. It wasn't a part of his past haunting words and memories of his upbringing, triggering his fight response. He was someone else. Someone he didn't wish to lose again.

It was Kuina.

Zoro quickly scaled down from the crows nest, fumbling as he landed onto the deck. The ship was deserted, everyone disbanding off the Mary, his voice calling in a desperate plea for anyone to still be aboard the ship. He didn't care how loud or broken his voice had turned, desperation forcing him to try every avenue; even if it meant he would be teased.

"What are you on about, Marimo?" Sanji's voice snapped, his frame appearing in the door of the kitchen. A cigarette was alight in his hand, flickers of smoke guiding up towards his brow. Zoro spun towards his voice, too rushed with adrenaline to capture fully who was in front of him. He just needed answers.

"Where did they go?"

"Who?"

"Everyone. The boy. Where are they?"

Sanji smirked, dropping his cigarette, letting his foot squish the remaining bud with a slight sizzle. "So you do care about him?"

"I don't have time for your half-ass comments, twirly-brow. Where are they?"

Looking out towards the Isle, Sanji nodded towards a patch of houses, spreading out into a clearing of people. It was undeniable how his friends stood out, Luffy's buoyancy and features standing out in the clutter of grey. His friends were clearly taken to the midst of the town, carelessly wading through for food no doubt, occupied in their own endeavours to care about the absence of the boy; his figure missing from his friends.

Zoro ignored the cooks advice, shrugging him off as he hurdled over the side of the ship. He didn't have time to argue over his useless directions, deciding he was wasting more time standing around than actively looking for the boy. He could feel his mind racing, his body struggling to compete with the overflow of words that swum around in his head. His eyes were frantic, knowing he couldn't dare leave any patch of the Isle unattended.

It wasn't long since everyone had parted from the ship, however, it was unclear to Zoro just how far the boy had got before colliding with those pirates. He was so quiet of how and why he needed to fight them, but there was a strong determination bubbling like fire within him, knowing he needed this and would stop at nothing to achieve it.

Zoro had participated in his fair share of fights, memorising every step and manoeuvre since occupying the battle field. He could determine when and where a band of pirates would attack, catching them out in a feverish rage before they suspected a crucial attack. Everything in his body was telling him to ignore the cooks advice, and while he knew it wouldn't be hard to do so, it was if something was pulling him to the other side of the island.

A commotion of voices caught Zoro's attention, averting him to change course, sprinting up a hill, weaving through thick trees. In one hand he had already untied the bandana around his forearm, prepared to cause a devilish scene to the upcoming voices, growing louder and cruel. It was obvious a fight was brewing, a sea of cluttered metal and shouting bringing out the small call of a shrill voice; someone he recognised well.

As Zoro reached the hill he saw the boy surrounded by a band of pirates, more dehumanised and feral than when he first met him. It was clear now why he swore revenge, the burning look in the child's eye was unmistaken; they had taken someone from him. And just like the rage and desperation to reunite with his dear friend, Zoro concluded in an instant what he needed to do.

Sliding through the battle, Zoro's sword flipped and sliced through several bandits. His motions were smooth and quick, catching the pirates off guard in a bid to get to the boy. He knew it would be an incompetent action, throwing everyone, even the boy off from their main objective. However, Zoro was prepared to catch them in a moment of weakness, letting them know the boy wouldn't have to fight alone.

Reaching the boy, Zoro stood close, almost protecting him. He stood to his side, nudging gently, the boys expression on the verge of bewildered tears. A part of him swore he would never see Zoro again, his last few moments heartless and rude; but he was glad he was here alongside him.

"Well, cmon them" Zoro raised his swords, looking over at the boy. A smirk was plastered on his lips, curling his grin in a cocky arch, determined to boost his ego. He could tell he wished to say something, pleased to have company in the rut of a mismatched battle; in over his head.

But Zoro needed this to stay between them - both knowing each other as their own outlook and companion.

"They'll have to take us both on if they want to defeat you"

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 7 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/jamdoughnutmagician/730882062233518080

I hope this is ok and I’m not sure how to just like share it to your wall kind of thing tumbler is still kind of new to me. But the picture made me think of Curtis and Honey immediately and I hope it’s ok I shared it with you. Love there story and the playful Drabble you’ve done. I connected to that so much. My life if chaos at the moment and my bf has been a trouper and so supportive. It’s such a fine line between laughing at the bad stuff or crying and he’s held me when I cried and made sure I’m laughing too. Even if he’s a cheater and tickles..

Sorry that was a rant. Either way love Curtis and Honey and thought I would share. Thank you for the moments of peace when I’m reading your stories!

Hey babes,

its a bit of a process to learn, it doesn't really let you post on walls like FB does, but you can tag someone in a post you want them to see. Or this, this is perfectly fine with me if you wanted to stay anonymous.

Thank you so much for sharing, I can see Curtis pulling this off easily. He would make it so spontaneous too that Honey is in shock for a moment before she is shouting "YES!"

Im so happy that they have been able to be a source of comfort for you during this time, hopefully things start to get calmer and more settled for you babes. Your boyfriend sounds absolutely wonderful though, an absolute sweetheart. That support, knowing when you need some light laughter or just when to cry... oof I love that for you. It's that support we all deserve. I can even forgive him that he cheats by tickling you into giggles.

You are welcome and thank you for reading them! Honestly, they have gotten this far because of you guys letting me know what they make you think and feel. I hope this little thought helps. 💛🐝

And Chill?

Curtis x Honey Drabble

Your nose was stuck in a book, but not one of those fun ones you would become so invested in that Curtis often brought you tea and snacks after a few hours because you had forgotten.

This book was the newest teacher's handguide and it was reading as stiff as a stereo instruction manual. Already you had doodled along all the edges of the pages with random little pictures trying to keep yourself awake.

And the house was quiet, Curtis having left to help Grey and Edgar with a weekend project. So not even he could help distract you this time with it. So when you started humming along with the Halloween theme song, it clicked that the noise was coming from outside of the picture window. "What the hell?" You flung the book aside and got up from the couch to go peer outside.

Moving aside one of the gauzy curtains, you saw Curtis standing in the front yard, his black trench coat tails flipping in the bit of wind bustling the leaves around the yard among the Halloween decorations, above his head he was holding a cardboard sign reading "Horror Movies and Chill?" with a sketch of what looked like Micheal Myers peering around a bush. The music came from what looked like a dusty old tape player at his feet.

You waved quickly before bolting for the door and dancing out onto the porch. "Yes! Big giant YES!" You giggled as he let his arms drop the sign to tuck under his arm and reached to grab his boom box that was still doing the ominous theme song. "I can make us some snacks and pop some beers." You excitedly said while going down the stairs to meet him.

"No need Pretty Girl, already ordered us some takeout. You my Love just gotta get into comfier clothes than those. Although..." He leaned back a bit, smirking as his eyes fell down your teacher's outfit. "Keep on those stockings?"

"I will surprise you... Horror movies and just chill huh?" You tilted up to catch his mouth, sharing a kiss that you both grinned into.

"Cuddles too, all the cuddles Honey. Promise."

"Perfect, just what I was hoping for today, Curtis." You reached for the boom box's volume, turning it up when it switched to the Ghostbusters song, dancing away back up the stairs with a sway of your body, glancing at Curtis over your shoulder.

Curtis was right behind you, crowding you playfully through the door with a press of his body and the graze of his beard against your neck, making you tingle. Tonight was already so much better.

#amber answers #life is short so make it sweet #curtis and honey #i hope you feel better soon!

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maddieonthemovee · 11 days

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May 6 — Asakusa

We started off our day at Asakusa, which was filled with stands, shops, and restaurants. After wandering the shops and purchasing a couple of blind box collectibles and a matcha latte, my friends and I met up with the rest of our group. Each of us got our own fortune by paying 100 yen and then shaking a container full of sticks, each with a number. Then we pulled out a stick, found the box with the matching number, and pulled out the first fortune in the stack. My fortune read, “The Final and Last Fortune,” which seemed very ominous. I was told it was worse than a regular fortune, but better than a bad fortune. At least I didn’t the worst one! Next, our group walked up the steps of the Senso-ji shrine, dropped a coin into a collection box, and joined our hands in silent prayer, ending with a bow. We repeated the process once we were inside.

Then it was lunchtime! My friends and I got udon to eat (a couple of us also got prawn tempura), which was amazing. I also tried barley tea for the first time! Three of my friends enjoyed an ice cream float of sorts, and then we met back up with the group to head to our next destination, the Fukugawa Edo Museum. At the Edo Museum, we were personally guided through a replica of a neighborhood from the mid 1800s, which was built to scale, interactive, and immersive through its audio and visual elements. We could hear rain falling, bells chiming, and cats meowing!

After our time at the Edo Museum, we had the rest of the day off. My friends and I located a park that we strolled around. We saw various animals like turtles there; it was very peaceful and quiet. After a little bit of downtime at the hotel, we walked to an area filled with arcade/gaming complexes, anime stores, and maid cafes. It was very crowded and more city-like, a stark contrast from the museum and park we went to earlier in the day. There, we walked around, ate sushi, went shopping in Don Quixote, and then headed home. Our first day in Japan and in Tokyo was an amazing, packed day!

Academic Reflection:

In “Contemporary Japanese Buddhist Traditions”, I was introduced to the basic aspects of Buddhism in Japan. Common activities include visiting temples, participating in rituals, receiving divinations, and purchasing amulets. Through today’s activities, I was able to witness and participate in a variety of rituals that sought to dispel misfortune and danger. At the Senso-ji shrine, I saw many locals gathered around an incense burner, wafting the smoke over their heads, and for some, even into their hair. This reminded me a lot of my own faith and the role that incense plays in it. I practice Roman Catholicism, and incense plays a large role in many of our rites on specific dates, such as solemnities or Good Thursday. I can see the potential influence of Asian belief systems’ use of incense on Catholicism’s, as trade likely spread it from China to the Roman Empire. In Catholicism, feeling incense on your head or any part of your body is seen to be a blessing from God. Therefore, I found it surprisingly easy to lean into partaking in this ritual.

In the reading, I learned a lot about the various aspects of Japanese Buddhism and how it has evolved. One thing that specifically stood out to me was how its demographic evolved and was broadened over time, specifically due to the influence of pop culture. Manga, anime, and characters/mascots all played a role in how Buddhism experimented and spread their teachings in order “to interact with a larger and younger audience and to make Buddhism relevant to the outside community”. This phenomenon of elements of media and pop culture being used to influence public attitudes and behavior was evident to me as many advertisements and instructions were communicated through engaging visuals with animated characters while we were navigating the subway system and choosing stores to shop in. Before utilizing the subway, our course director shared with us a Japanese graphic depicting animals and humans in a subway. The humans were covering their ears while the animals were shown to be speaking and/or yelling very loudly. This graphic reminded me of what I had read about experimental Buddhism, and I could therefore understand how a religion’s teachings could be effectively spread through manga and other forms of media.

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cafalla · 5 months

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Dorothy, Volume 1 (2005) Scans - Chapters 1 & 2 // Part 2 of 3

Here is Part 2 of my Dorothy comic post!

Please refer to Part 1 for some background info about this book and its old website!

In this post (Part 2), I'll cover Chapters 1 & 2 of the comic! See the end of the post for the link to Part 3.

In chapter 1, we are introduced to our main character, Dorothy Gale. She is a rebellious teen girl who feels misunderstood and aimless in life.

It is implied her parents died five years ago. She is upset that her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are treating her like a kid, when they "aren't her real parents".

Dorothy steals her Uncle's truck and begins driving off with the intention to run away from home, despite being warned of a terrible storm incoming.

Confronted with the tornado, Dorothy tries to out-drive it, but winds up being pulled into the storm.

I enjoy this panel of Dorothy getting flung around the truck while in the tornado. She's quite funny, even if she is a bit self important. But what teen character isn't?

She thinks about her parents, and decides she'll do anything not to die in Kansas.

Comically, Dorothy somehow manages to get on top of the truck and just…dives off of it? While still probably thousands of feet off the ground inside a tornado?

Miraculously, Dorothy lands on the ground and just passes out, while the truck explodes into flames near her.

She then gives us these iconic lines after waking up.

Queen shit, honestly.

Then Dorothy looks around and again, delivers a banger of a line.

Oh god, love love love this cgi/editing. I truly do. It's so fun and creative.

I'm being 100% honest and genuine, not ironic at all. I adore this.

The chapter then shifts to the Evil Queen's castle. We meet a character called Graybones, who is implied to have been a powerful man once, but is now just a servant to the Queen.

The Queen tells Graybones that "the one from her dream" has arrived, and then says Dorothy's name out loud.

But all that is boring part to me, so I'm not including it here!

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

Chapter 2 begins with a flashback of Dorothy at eleven years old. Aunt Em tells her that her parents have died. It then cuts back to the present Dorothy, exhausted after having wandered around for an hour in this new world.

She is the title of this chapter: Lost.

She assesses her resources, aka the random stuff she brought in her bag.

There is actually some foreshadowing here!

Dorothy continues walking on, trying to think positively, when she is attacked by a flying monkey. We get to see the panel that was used as an example back in the behind the scenes screenshot from Part 1, remember?

Ouch.

Dorothy runs away, then trips and lays on the ground while trying to give herself a pep talk. She notices a funny little robot dog approach her, and the dog jumps on her.

It's Toto!

I mean…To-2!

Dorothy and To-2 find a strange looking person passed out, and Dorothy gives them some of her water. The person claims they are a witch, calls Dorothy a sorcerer, and says they knew Dorothy would arrive.

We then shift over to the Evil Queen, where her and Graybones are discussing finding a magical necklace.

Going back to Dorothy, we see the witch entrust her with a necklace, saying it has always belonged to Dorothy.

The witch instructs Dorothy to walk to the munchkin village. Dorothy and To-2 begin walking, and the witch disappears in a flurry of bubbles.

Dorothy expresses that she hopes they don't run into anymore weirdos, while the back of an ominous scarecrow is present on the last panel.

If you'd like to read the comic for yourself, please feel free to check it out on my Internet Archive account.

Part 1 -> Intro & Background Part 2 -> You're Here! Part 3 -> Chapters 3 & 4

#txt #dorothy #dorothy comic #dorothy volume 1 #dorothy gale #comic #comics #comic book #2004 #wizard of oz #scans #nostalgia #part 2 #long post #books #catie fisher #greg mannino #mark masterson

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cletusthurstonbeauregard · 6 months

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By Annie Ewbank Senior Associate Editor, Gastro Obscura

In 1886, a researcher at Yale’s Peabody Museum was cutting into an ostrich egg when it violently exploded. A build-up of gasses inside the egg shattered the shell, raking his face with shrapnel and sending everyone else in the room running from the fumes. The incident was on my mind this week, as I prepared myself to crack open an ostrich egg of my own. I was intimidated by both the egg’s size—imagine a toddler’s head—and the ceramic-hard surface, dotted with large, deep pores. How did I acquire said egg? I’m not one to make impulse purchases, but when I saw one sitting in a clear cabinet at Ostrichland USA, I felt compelled to buy it.

The main draw of Ostrichland USA, a roadside attraction/farm in Solvang, California, is the opportunity to feed these massive birds. I forked over the $7 and walked out back, where hundreds of birds roamed behind fences. Most stood seven feet tall or more. Each of their fluffy black-and-white wings was as large as an unfurled umbrella, and their enormous scaled feet kicked up clouds of fine dust as they stampeded over, vying to peck food out of the long-handled tray I held. “Yes, we like to bite,” a sign cautioned.

Perhaps I was a little adrenaline-drunk or sun-dazzled when I went back into the gift shop and bought the egg—the last one available that day, as the cashier told me. I gleefully watched her pack it up into a cardboard box with a sheet of cooking instructions and went back to the car to carefully stow it away under a seat.

After I got home, unpacked my treasure, and took a dozen photos, reality set in. I’m not a huge fan of eggs. Something about their texture and slightly sulfuric smell sets me on edge. And looking online, I read that a single ostrich egg can contain the liquid equivalent to 24 chicken eggs. But I was determined to use every bit, and to save the hard, deep-pored shell as a keepsake.

Thankfully, my friend Tam had also once bought an ostrich egg from a farm before and offered to help open it. “I’ll bring my tools,” they ominously texted.

There’s a long history of ostrich-farming in the United States. Throughout the 20th century, ostrich had been touted as “the new red meat,” leading to ranches popping up, usually in arid areas that mimicked the bird’s natural habitat. The ostrich’s territory spans the deserts and savannahs of the African continent, and once, there was even a species of ostrich native to the Arabian Peninsula, though humans hunted them to extinction in the 1900s.

The American public has never totally embraced the ostrich steak or burger, and, stateside, the industry has stayed small, with several operating as tourist attractions. (Ostrichland doesn’t sell ostrich meat from its birds, but will sell eggs at $60 each.)

Ostrich meat is lean and greatly resembles beef, which is probably why humans had the guts to transport these large birds across the world despite their terrifying size. Ostriches made it surprisingly far past their stomping ground in the ancient world, with Romans relishing ostrich brains and letting them loose in the Colosseum for sport.

But ostrich eggs are the real historical marvel. In South Africa, archeologists have found carved, decorated ostrich-egg fragments that are 60,000 years old. Shells have also been found in Egyptian royal tombs and Bronze Age shipwrecks. While their shells were valued for their durability and beauty, their insides were also savored. Cooking ostrich eggs was a snap for ancient nomads: Simply crack a hole in the top, set the egg in some coals, and stir the inside with a stick.

Ostriches are the planet’s largest birds, and their eggs are the largest as well. Their superlative size and familiar flavor made them a fascination for Europeans and Americans, who acquired them for novelty and research. Alexandre Dumas (of The Three Musketeers fame) included a recipe for an ostrich-egg omelet in his 1873 cookbook, where he suggested cooking the egg with lots of onion, sweet pepper, and tomato.

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lightywolf307 · 1 year

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Light and Whumper pt 6 - freezing buckets

Masterlist

Light woke up in the middle of the night. She didn't hear any particular noise, but instead, she smelled something. She opened her eyes and sat up. She noticed that something is covering her. Something warm and fluffy. She looked down at her half-naked body. Her chest and shoulders were exposed but ad she looked at her arms she could finally put the picture together. She had Whumpers white cloak on. "Wait," she thought "he cares about me?" "Probably not...."

She threw her body back on the mattress. She smelled the disgusting smell of the mattress she hated it. Light decided to turn around and close her eyes and then fall back asleep.

She woke up to Whumper kicking the bedframe. She looked up

-why did you give me your cloak? -she stormed Whumper with a question.

-well. Answer me first; do you know how to get to the shadows dimension? -he asked

-yes. -she shrugged her shoulders

-alright. That's another reason not to kill you.

-but it doesn't mean I will tell you as well -she smirked

-FCK YOU LIGHT -he shouted and snapped.

-AHHHHH PLEASE STOOP! -she yelped

-beg me -he ordered

Light slowly climbed down from the bed. Her little body was shaking because of the shocks. Whumper wouldn't stop electrocuting her until she started begging for him. She got on her knees and took a deep breath.

-p..please......please I BEG YOU PLEASE STOP THIS PAIN.... I CAN'T BARE WITH IT.... p...please...have m.ercy -she confessed and fell on the ground.

-fine. -he snapped and carefully disconnected the chains. -you're filthy. I do not want to touch you today.

-t..thank you... -Light was still trembling on the floor.

-speaking of dirt and filth..... give my clothes back right now. -he demanded.

Light slowly took off the cloak and handed it to him. He tossed it aside and looked down on Light.

-GET UP! -he watched Light stand up and lead her to the torture chamber. The fact that he didn't even touch Light was odd. He opened the door and Light followed him inside. The chair wasn't in the room, which was an ominous sign for Light. She looked at Whumper for further instructions.

-go to that wall right there. -He pointed to the wall with the small window on it. Light slowly stumbled across the room and turned around. The window was above her. She only saw the brightness and felt the chilly wind. Whumper walked over to Whumpee and grabbed a chain. It was rusty and cold. Light flinched as he put one on each of her wrists and ankles, then finally he stepped back to see what he is "working" with today. He started at Lights shivering body for a while and suddenly looked up.

-I have to go grab something. I'll be back gorgeous. -he hurried outside and walked back with a blue folder.

-What's that? -Light asked

-Remember this? -he showed Light the folder. -this is all your documents from 170 yrs before. -he opened it and started reading.

"Name: 307838

Age: around 7

Power: Light

Power level: Unknown." -he stopped for a moment

"Methods of exacting power:

-chains (failed)

-electric shocks (failed)

-persuading (obviously failed)" -well this is weird. It seems like the strongest methods didn't work for you. I guess it will be a challenge for me. -he let out a cute giggle - but at least I get to carry on our beautiful legacy. Oh by the way. I spoke with my girlfriend. And she is interested in you.

"At least she is not a pervert like you" -Light thought. She didn't dare to say them out loud even if she had the urge to do so. It was a pretty wise choice because Whumper was in a bad mood.

He kept reading Lights files. Light closed her eyes and flashbacks flooded her mind. Flashbacks of weir scientists walking up and down the halls. Gases were being released in her cell, suddenly fell asleep, feeling the electric shocks she feels now, but those were only at her neck. She remembers having a chain in her mouth and multiple on her body. The white....white cloaks on the scientists. And the blood-stained shirt and shorts she wore. The white walls, cell bars, equipment everything was white! Even the chains..... And then she suddenly realized Whumper had already left. She got lost in her thoughts for such a long time. This barely happened to her.

Whumper came into the room carrying 2 buckets filled with water. He left without saying a thing and came back with 2 more buckets. He repeated his actions until there were 15 buckets in the chamber. He left once more to get some ice cubes and dumped a ton of ice cubes in each metal bucket. Light was sitting in the corner. She didn't bother to stan since it was a waste of energy.

-hey beautiful, mind standing up for me? -he sang. Light's movements were unhurried. Whumper stepped over to his victim and lead her to the wall. He picked up her writs by the chains and pushed them to the wall. He let Light's hands go but her hands stayed there; her hands were chained there. He repeated his actions with Light's legs so now Light was chained to the wall in a "T pose".

-so. who do you consider the shadow?

-not going to answer. -she stated

-fine. -he put his hand in the ice-cold water and sprinkled some water on Light. She proceeded to start licking it since she was thirsty.

-how did you escape it? -he continued with his usual questions.

-family secret -Light grinned. Whumper's expression turned cold as he sprinkled a bit more water on Light's face.

-do you think the shadow likes you?

-how am I supposed to know? -she said and watched Whumper’s face fill with anger.

He reached for a bucket filled with Ice and dumped the whole thing on Light. Whumpee couldn't even say a word since the action of her torturer gave her a huge shock. But she stayed strong and didn't let her guard down. After tons of unanswered questions and ice-cold bucket dunks, Whumper had to leave and get more water. Light was shivering as the ice-cold liquid dripped down from her hair and pants. The fact that she only had a bra on made things good and bad at the same time. She could feel the freezing water touch her bare skin, on the other hand, she didn't have to wear something wet sticking to her upper body. After 5 rounds of buckets, the session was over. Light was whimpering and shivering against the deepslate wall. The water made her wounds sting and it didn't clean the blood off. She felt miserable. She couldn't wait for this break to end. She was craving Whumper's touch. He didn't even lay a finger on her all day. As the minutes turned to hours Whumper finally arrived in the room.

-so. Are you hungry? -he asked Light slowly nodded. -Good. Then I got you something to eat. He was carrying another bucket. But instead of water, thus one was filled to the rim with ice cubes. He leaned close to Light and grabbed an ice cube -Open up for me gorgeous -he ordered and Light opened her mouth. He slowly put the ice cube in. -Now eat up. -he stated

Lights razor sharp teeth cut through the cube pretty easily. She opened her mouth for another bite and Whumper placed 2 smaller cubes in. The frozen water tasted like pure coldness. Light's mouth and insides were freezing. She was so concentrated on eating the cubes she completely forgot about her sense of time. When the bucket was finished Whumper smiled reassuringly.

-well done! I am proud of you love! -he sang.

"Proud of you" "proud" "p r o u d" "of you" these words reminded Light of the shadow. The times when the shadow would praise her if she did something incredibly good. It was a rare sight. It was hard to please the God of darkness. And only a few managed to do so. And Light was among those people. This little journey in her thoughts gave her, even more, will keep her mouth shut forever.

Light's eyes were droopy. She couldn't keep her head raised and stared at her shoes. She let out a small yawn.

-Looks like somebody is getting tired -Whumper muttered. -You are not the only one. Come on it's time to sleep. -he let Light go from the chains and watched as Light dragged her body outside the chamber to her cell and just fell on the bed. Her skinny body didn't even make a bend on the mattress. She watched as Whumper put the chains on her shivering body and left the cell. But this time he didn't give her a goodnight kiss and didn't even say "goodnight". Light felt bad. Like she did something wrong. She always got a goodnight kiss. What happened now? She started crying. She couldn't control her emotions. The cell was so cold she felt like she will be frozen alive by tomorrow morning. But she knew she must sleep, so she turned to the wall and slowly cried herself to sleep......

#non human whumpee #whump #whump prompt #whumpee #whumper #pet whump

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x-amount-verbs · 2 years

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A Helping Hand - Part 3

[start here] || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

[silco x f!reader] [3.3k words] [no y/n] [during timeskip] [touch-starved reader] [henchwoman!reader] [SFW rated M] [physical therapy] [PT dom silco] [TW: panic attack]

AO3 Link

For all the menace his words held, your time in Silco’s office looks like it will be boring as hell. Turns out, the tasks the Doctor expects you to do are… painfully dull. The ominous way Silco went to his desk? It was to get a fucking dumbbell. A dumbbell, and it wasn’t even a big one. You’d been assigned wimpy reps with a wimpy dumbbell.

Maybe you’re a little angry.

Not angry— frustrated. You just want to have a hand that works like it’s supposed to, and you have a numb piece of kit that you have to stare at in order to tell how hard you’re holding something.

You don’t have the guts to complain for the first long while.

You were given the dumbbell, told to do reps, and you sat in the chair and did them, because what else were you supposed to do, and Silco just ignored you to read papers, so you were performing for no one and—

Okay, yeah, you’re angry.

“Is this really it?” You try to temper your annoyance, but your tone is still a bit snippy.

Silco shoots you a warning look. When you meet it with your stubborn glare, he lets out a beleaguered sigh as he unfolds from his reading position. “Thrilling, I know.” His murmur drips with sarcasm.

“I just lift a weight? That’s all? How is this helping me-” You swallow the word before you can let it slip. How is this helping me feel again? It’s what you want, so badly. And you can’t let people know what you want. “How is this helping with control?” you ask instead.

His lips purse ever so slightly as he fixes a look on you. For once, you meet it head-on. The attention makes your head spin, blood rushing in your ears as your skin flushes, but frustration bolsters your confidence. Without a word, he stands.

Ah, so it’s this again. This silent instruction he’s so wont to do.

This time, when he comes around to your side of the desk, he doesn’t sit. He’s closer, feet inches from yours. He looks down at the hand, clutching the stupid little dumbbell. Your right hand is the fake; he holds out his left, like a mirror, fist pointed up the same way you’re holding the weight.

Your confidence wavers. Unsure how to respond, you silently copy his movement, lifting your arm to show the dumbbell in your grip.

He opens his palm.

Brow furrowing, you open yours, but his minuscule tilt of the head makes you close it again. Reinterpreting the movement - goddess, can’t he just say what he wants from you? - you raise your hand higher, turning your palm as you do, intending to set the weight in his open grasp.

Silco’s foot slides out of the way just in time as the dumbbell smacks onto the floor, rolling a few inches away.

Your cheeks burn. “…Sorry.” It’s a reluctant apology. Whatever point he’s making, you get it well enough. If you had a better feel for controlling your hand, you wouldn’t be dropping a three pound weight thanks to mere gravity. But if you had feeling in your hand, that wouldn’t even be an issue.

“Pick it up.”

You shoot a brief sharp look up at him, but the way his good eye goes cold quickly pricks that healthy touch of fear back into you. Amazing you’d forgotten it for a second.

Letting out a huff of breath, you relent. Standing, you take the couple steps necessary to reach the dumbbell, and grab it with your good hand—

A pointed clearing of his throat sends a pang through your system, a rush of heat and an equally strong tickle of frustration. That familiar pins-and-needles feeling of— something. Humiliation, maybe? That colors your cheeks red. Instead of glaring at the man making you do this, you glare at the dumb weight as your prosthesis wraps around it, watching the tension form in the fingers, feeling the hook of it dragging on muscles in your forearm in lieu of any feeling from the hand itself. Now hold tight.

You try not to acknowledge that you’re holding your breath as you stand and turn to Silco again. You didn’t realize how close you’d gotten, and the proximity makes your head swim as he raises a brow and holds out a hand. Both your eyes and his focus on the prosthetic hand as you carefully place the weight in his palm.

There’s no small amount of relief, but you try not to exhale all at once, hiding that fact. Dropping the weight on his toes would probably get you kicked back on the graveyard shift, even if he kept running tests. Forcing you to be up 18 straight hours would probably be just his level of passive aggressive fuckery.

When he doesn’t speak right away, you look up (he may not be a hulk, but you’re - unfortunately - no giant yourself) and find him still looking at the weight, expression thoughtful. There’s an almost absentminded mutter of, “good girl,” as his finger taps against the crossbar.

That phrase again.

…It truly, honestly, sincerely, and completely irritates you.

Your heart is lodged in your throat, skin tight, ears burning— and you blame all of it on irritation.

“Hm.”

“What?” you ask, wondering if there’s something you did wrong.

But Silco only shakes his head. He returns to his side of the desk and picks up a pen, sliding a leatherbound book from a different drawer, parting it at the marker left between pages, and jotting something down. You can’t take your gaze off his hands.

Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe your fascination with his sinuous movements, the way his fingers whisper over the paper, the graceful curve and flex of his hands— Jealousy. That he should have two of them, so easily controlled, and you have one and a half, both undisciplined at best.

Yep. Jealousy and irritation, that’s where all of these feelings come from. And exhaustion, why not, add that to the excuses— reasons, the totally logical reasons that your body has decided to react the way it does.

…Shit.

You shove that mess of thoughts away, happy to be rid of them. But it still leaves you standing awkwardly in front of Silco’s desk. You don’t want to make the mistake of assuming you’re done. “Now what?”

“Hm?” His eyes raise to yours, then drop to the hand again. It’s the important thing here, obviously. “Have there been any changes since yesterday?”

You shake your head. “Still nothing.”

Silco nods, scribbles something else. “If anything changes, inform my staff.”

Aren’t you technically on his staff? “Like… Sevika?”

“Sevika, Lock, Orid— any will do, it all comes back to me.”

There’s no argument to be made there, you simply nod. After another moment of silence, as Silco makes another note, you cough quietly.

He looks up. “Have management find you an actual office to work in. With a chair. And a desk.”

Your gaze skirts aside, guiltily. Were you that obvious about the aches and twinges from hunching over on crates? Shit, you thought you were better than that. Undercity kids learned to hide their pain early.

“And get a meal. Utensils only; right hand only.”

“I’m going to make a mess,” you point out, unable to hide your irritation. The presumption to assign you a task of how to eat, honestly. Your tone is too cynical to be saccharine as you add: “Your lovely hardwood floors will be ruined.”

“Wear a bib?” The mocking suggestion is given with that hint of a smirk. “Or better yet: simply don’t spill.” His oppressive air has eased up a bit, you notice. It’s not as static as you’d originally thought, the weight of it fluctuating with tone and mood. At the moment he’s almost… playful? Looking back at his notes, he murmurs, “…And those floors have seen far worse.”

You glance down, recalling an incident when you first got promoted beyond standard grunt underling to an actual job team, and celebrated a little too enthusiastically with your cohort (never quite close enough to be ‘friends’ more than ‘coworkers’). Heh. Yeahhh… No, you know the floors have seen worse. It took a lot of alcohol to have you doing the things you did that night. And plenty of that alcohol ended up on the floor one way or another.

But that was years ago now. At least, a couple.

…Actually, the whole exploding hand incident made a bit of a mess, didn’t it? “Fair,” you concede.

“I have some improvements to make to Singed’s plans.”

It’s an unexpected announcement, made without fanfare. You think to shield some of the surprise from your face. Something churns in your gut, and you’re not quite sure why.

“Get your meal, practice with your utensils, and finish your work for the day.”

A thought hits you, and you wonder if he even knows the tasks you’ve been set in your clerical work. Does he not care, or is he aware how utterly pointless the busywork is that you’ve been given?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, on time.”

A short nod acknowledges his direction, but you hesitate without leaving. His pen stills and he gives you an expectant look. “I was just…” Your mouth is dry, and you wish he’d turn down the— the power thing again. Watching his desk, annoyed by your own inability to hold his attention without squirming, you lift your chin slightly. “I was expecting some kind of… post-surgical instructions. How to care for the- the thing, and what not to do, and all that.”

To your surprise, Silco nods. “Right.”

His tone is businesslike, but lacking the usual superiority. He flips to a new page and starts writing line after line, continuously flipping back to a page earlier in the book, like he’s copying something word for word. That churning is back, and you’re not sure you want to examine it. Mostly because there’s something… ticklish to it. Something…

You clear your throat, trying to push away the thought, because it makes no sense, but the wisp of it still passes through the back of your mind: something affectionate.

Which obviously makes no sense. He’s being controlling and micromanaging your recovery, speaking like he owns you just because he paid for your prosthesis; there’s nothing endearing about that. But something about the diligence he’s applying to your particular needs is…

You dig your still-raw thumb into your palm. Dumb thoughts. Stupid frivolous things. His interest is for the investment, for a potentially breakthrough technology that he can capitalize on. That’s all.

The paper is ripped from the notebook, and Silco holds it out to you.

You scan it briefly, surprised to find his writing so refined. Clear script, smooth curves, though the spacing tightens every so often. The rules themselves are straightforward. Avoid strong acids, rinse within a given time period after contact with other non-water liquids, apply a lubricating oil twice a week, or more if needed. Check forearm compartments for fluid levels, maintain above the mark on the tubes, refill when necessary. Flush the system once a week, etc etc— it all makes sense.

You fold the page in one hand without finishing it, not wanting to fumble with numb fingers after all the rest of your humiliation of the day. “Thank you.”

His nod feels like a dismissal. You nod back, and head out.

Just like yesterday, he speaks your name once, just before you reach the door. This time, the final warning is less of a threat. “Medication before we meet tomorrow, hm?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mercifully, there’s no good girl in response. Thank fucking Janna.

—

After grabbing a bowl of whatever’s in the kitchen for evening staff to eat (one of the reasons you started working for Silco to begin with: he keeps his people fed), you promptly ignore your assignment.

Well— you make all of three attempts before losing patience with the thin-handled spoon clattering against your too-clumsy fingers, and just switch to your dominant hand. It’s the way you’re used to eating, anyway. And it’s not like anyone is watching.

Meal done, you find Orid, the building manager, and mention the desk request. How easily the man agrees to find a place for you is one thing, but the pitying look he gives you says more to you about your task than your earlier hours of work. With that look he gave you, you highly doubt that your work serves any purpose. Literally just pushing papers and killing time, kept within the walls of The Last Drop to avoid breaking anything expensive. If that’s the case, you’ll have to find some other way to pad your time trapped in a back room.

You’re theoretically free to go, but have been loitering around wondering if you need an escort home. You’re lurking by the back door from the kitchen to the alley, since the bar will be picking up soon, and the kitchen empties out before regulars start showing.

Every hour with the prosthetic hand should be easier, should feel more like a part of you— but it doesn’t. It’s still a foreign body clamped onto an arm you tried to ignore ever since the incident. Your arm was in a sling, in a sock-like cover for most of your recovery time before getting the hand, except for the extended periods of fittings and tests. You avoided looking at it, and treated it like a broken arm. Because that’s what it was.

That’s what it is.

…That’s what you are.

Broken.

The anxiety attack comes on slow.

Your usual near-silent breath feels louder and louder, harder and harder, faster and faster. On the verge of hyperventilation, you drop to a crouch, quickly collapsing to one knee. Blood rushes in your ears, vision feeling prickly somehow, like everything is made of billions of tiny hyper-luminous dots, pinpricks of light into your eyes. Your heart feels ready to burst. Or squeeze down into a rock. Or swell and leak out your throat.

Oh gods oh gods oh gods.

Are you dying? This is dying. You’re going to die. Why does the world feel like it’s moving so fast?

You fall back, letting yourself sit on the dirty tile. The whole time, as your world continues to crumble and break apart, the bridge you’re standing on getting narrower by the moment, the prosthesis has just weighed heavy on the stump of your arm.

You thought this was over. Didn’t you deal with your grief yesterday? Didn’t you solve it? Isn’t it over? Gods, you can’t do this tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. You can’t live like this, hit with this feeling of— helplessness, worthlessness, ugliness, uselessness. It’s horrible.

Your throat is sore, choked, eyes stinging as your body threatens tears.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— no. No no no. You can’t do this. You don’t want this. You don’t want— this.

Your good hand digs into your thigh as you resist the urge to snap. To self-destruct. To smash the hand against anything and everything, to rip it out of you in the hope that you’ll find your real hand underneath.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

Now is not the time or the place. Never is the time, that’s when you’ll confront this. The wonderful far off time of never.

A short frustrated whine stays trapped behind your lips.

Calm down. You need to calm down.

But as soon as you think that you need to, you can’t.

A shrill grating sound is stifled in your throat.

You slap your good hand over your eyes. Breathe. Breathe. Don’t look at the hand, don’t think of the hand— definitely don’t smash the hand.

You go through peaks and valleys - purposeful calm and sudden fits of hyperventilation - multiple times. The one thing that snaps you out of it is—

The wet hits first, then the chill. Hand flying away from your face, you look up in shock.

Sevika.

She fucking… she poured a drink on you.

“What the fuck?” Your voice is shrill and choked, but at least some degree of your indignation is present.

“Get up.” She’s grimacing, but her words aren’t a snap, just a gruff rumble.

You just blink.

“Don’t make me pick you up, kid.”

For some reason, the only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m 28.”

“Good for you.”

Despite her threat, she doesn’t harp on it as she grasps your good hand, braces against your feet, and levers you off of the floor. Her mismatched hands set on your shoulders authoritatively, and turn you around, marching you to the sink. Cold water goes on, and she pulls your good hand under the tap before letting go and stepping aside.

“Breathe.”

You breathe.

…It kinda works. And by kinda, you mean… it works weirdly well. Your breath is still shaky, but the rushing water somehow does… something. Black fuckin’ magic, honestly. The feeling of it sliding over your forearm, drenching your good hand, gives you something to focus on without resorting to your usual bad habits. And the cool is nice against your sweaty palm.

Gradually the feeling of imminent doom fades. You try to focus on your hand under the water, and ignore the heavy fake hanging at your side. You ignore the gnawing need burrowing at the base of your spine, the part of you that needs to latch on to something for comfort, to be comforted. You crave it, yearn for it deep down: a gentle touch, a reassurance. But for now, just calm down. Just feel the water. Just smooth water.

Once you feel a little steadier, a little clearer and more present, you stare at Sevika with no small amount of amazement. “How the fuck did you do that?”

She shoots you an unimpressed look. “You think I didn’t deal with— shit?” Grey eyes only hold yours for so long before they purposefully look aside, in a way that keeps the choice of it in her court. The woman is a force to be reckoned with.

“How did you—”

“Got over it.” She’s prickly again. Though after a pause, she begrudgingly adds, “You get used to it. And—” she hesitates. The words come out with some reluctance, like she’s giving up a prized secret. “I have a— friend. Who helps.”

What, like a doctor? You almost ask, but the flush peeking out over Sevika’s collar makes you reconsider. So it’s that kind of ‘friend.’

“It goes away, eventually.” The closest thing to comfort you’re going to get out of her, you suspect. “It helps once you realize there’s things you just can’t do with a normal hand.” As if to demonstrate, she brings flesh fingers to the complex structure of frameworks and machinery that serves as her left arm, unlocking something on it.

You can’t even follow the movements, the latches and slides and rotating parts, as the thing seems to spring to life, clawed hand angling and levering to let a blade slide out. “And this is just the second iteration,” she points out. “I work with a guy up entresol; we shoot the shit about new modifications, how to automate stuff, all that.”

You look down at the thing that’s supposed to be your hand. “Yeah mine can’t do that.” Flexing the fingers, you grimace. Useless piece of overpriced junk. “It’s supposed to feel, but… it doesn’t.”

“No shit?” Sevika gestures and the blade slides away, all the pieces flipping themselves right way round, and she secures it back to neutral with her right hand. “Damn.” You can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic. It kinda sounds like it. “So just giving you an actual functioning hand to replace the old one?” Oh. Okay yes, that’s sarcasm. “Like you never even lost it? Wow. What a drag.”

She didn’t have to make you feel stupid about it.

Her lips quirk up a little, letting out a soft snort. “C’mon kid,” she turns off the tap, pushing a dishrag in your direction. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Arm half-heartedly dried, she claps the metal hand on your shoulder and you wince despite the painkillers. “I’m not supposed to drink for a week.”

“Cards, then. You any good at poker?”

“Fifty-fifty.”

“Perfect.”

—

[next part]

[I could lie and say I posted early in celebration of Easter and Passover and Ramadan and all that, but I just got impatient and was ahead in my writing goals for the weekend xD Regardless: a gift!

As always, boosting is appreciated, to help combat the bizarre tag inclusion rules on tumblr. If you want to check it all out on AO3. If you want to join the tag list, comment your handle on this post. Comments on the fic are always read and appreciated, be they tags or comments on here or ao3 especially favorite parts I love hearing favorite parts ❤️ -verbs]

Tag list: @hawk4president @mello-jello29 @jennrosefx @dad-dumpster @ellhd-imagination @zuckerwattencupcake

#silco x reader #silco/reader #silco #silco arcane #silco x f!reader #arcane #arcane league of legends #x-amount-writes #wip:a helping hand #a helping hand

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jeontaeil-archived · 2 years

Text

MERRY FUCKMAS! | L.DH & J.SC

pairing: sub!haechan x dom!reader (fem) x sub!sungchan, genre: smut, threesome, finger sucking, face sitting, fingering, handjobs, deep throating, marking, unprotected sex, words: 2k+, warnings: 18+ content, read at your own discretion

"strip and lay down. i have something interesting planned for you two," you had instructed the boys before disappearing into the bathroom.

they had no clue what you had in store for them. but you were never so ominous about something unless you knew they were going to enjoy it.

both of them had done as you had said, patiently sprawled across your king sized bed with their hands on their stomachs. sungchan was staring up at the ceiling while haechan kept his eyes on the bathroom door. they could hear you humming a christmas tune to yourself as you got ready for them.

a good ten minutes later, you extravagantly kicked the door open, standing in its threshold to show your outfit off. both boys sat up and gasped in surprise, eyes raking over your figure hungrily.

"that's the hottest santa fit i've ever seen," haechan exclaimed, licking his lips at how attractive you looked in the fluffy red and white robe paired with a dainty little hat. the robe ended just above your upper thigh and sungchan could see the edges of the matching bright red lace you were wearing underneath it, making him feel even more excited about this than he was before.

"merry christmas boys. i'm so glad we finally get to spend the holidays together," you said, swaying your hips seductively as you sauntered over to them.

cupping their jaws, you affectionately rubbed your thumbs over their cheeks. both of them leaned into your touch. "are you ready?" you asked them, staring into their eyes. they nodded, wide grins plastered on their mouths. you smirked and leaned down to sungchan's level, pressing your lips onto his.

he reacted immediately, kissing you back hard. haechan tensed up beside him, longingly watching sungchan's lips move against yours. you pushed your thumb against his bottom lip, prompting him to open up. haechan parted his lips and ran his tongue over your thumb, shutting his eyes as you began pumping it in and out of his mouth.

tilting your head, you deepened the kiss with sungchan, tasting the desperation on his tongue. he was always like that, constantly craving more of you.

when you pulled away from him, he chased after your lips, pouting in disappointment. haechan looked up at you eagerly, hoping you'd give him his chance.

instead, you motioned for them to move up the bed. climbing onto it, you crawled over to haechan, all the way up to his face, and threw your leg over him, planting your knees on either side of his head. he grabbed your thighs, staring up at the red panties you were wearing. you wiggled your hips over his face and looked at sungchan. "sit up and come closer."

sungchan scampered to lean against the headboard and scoot over to you. reaching down between your legs, you pulled your panties to the side and lowered your hips down on haechan's face. his tongue impulsively came forward to meet your pussy.

he furrowed his brows and threw his head back, breaths getting heavier and heavier the faster you went. you moaned softly at the feeling of haechan's tongue on your cunt, squeezing sungchan's cock tighter the more the pleasure built up. he hissed and glanced down at his cock, then to you, eyes pleading you to go easy on him.

lowering your hips even more, you purposely brushed your slit over haechan's lips. he tried raising his head to get back at your clit but you harshly tugged his hair, forcing him to concentrate on your entrance instead.

relieved, sungchan relaxed and raised his hand to your chest, pulling the white border of your robe to the side. you chuckled and undid the buckle that was holding your outfit together, pushing it open so he could see what he wanted to. he reached for your boob, groping it through the thin material of the lingerie you were wearing with his long fingers.

he leaned forward, looking up at you for approval before kissing the top of your chest. when you didn't object, you reached behind your back and unclipped your bra, pushing it up so he could properly taste your skin.

sungchan was always so gentle with you. however, the urgency was more than evident. with the way he was shifting between licking and sucking at your nipple, you knew he was struggling to choose what to do.

"it feels amazing baby," you praised, playing with his tip. sungchan hummed and slowed down a bit, tweaking your other nipple with his hand.

hearing the compliment you gave sungchan, haechan brought his hand up to your entrance and slipped a finger inside your walls. he curled it up, drawing a loud cry from you. as he pulled his finger back out, he pushed his tongue in its place, alternating between fucking you with the two.

you ran your fingers through haechan's hair more gently this time. "you're doing so well," you purred, letting him hear what he wanted to hear. he hummed delightfully and kept going. you returned to stroking sungchan's cock and he continued sucking your tit.

you felt haechan's other hand slither up your thigh and his thumb found your clit. "don't you dare," you warned him. he wasn't allowed to make you cum unless you asked him to.

he kept his thumb on your clit but did nothing with it, fucking you on his tongue as if nothing had happened. sungchan, on the other hand, was a whimpering mess. "is my baby close?" you asked him, pumping his cock faster. he nodded frantically, seething from his lips. "would you like to cum inside me?" you proposed, putting haechan on hold.

"what about me?" haechan whined from underneath you. "be patient," you reminded him, keeping your eyes on sungchan, who nodded once again. "yes please, i really want you."

getting off of haechan's face, you made him lie down again and threw you leg over his lap. angling his throbbing tip at your entrance, you grabbed the base of haechan's cock and dragged your palm up as you sunk down on sungchan's cock.

both boys groaned in unison; haechan, glad that he was finally being touched and sungchan, already feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of your wet and warm walls.

with sungchan's hands off your tits, haechan seized his opportunity and squeezed them to his heart's content.

you could feel sungchan's fingers trembling as they clung on to your waist. leaning down, you kissed his jaw tenderly. "just relax," you whispered to him, running your tongue over the spot on his neck where you knew he liked it most.

"wait," sungchan spoke through labored breaths. you sat up, eyes glossing over his face attentively. "what is it?" you asked, slowing down so he could speak comfortably. "i don't wanna cum just yet," he admitted, avoiding your gaze. you cupped his cheek and smiled at him. "that's alright baby boy. you can make me feel good until you're ready."

you turned to haechan who was already in the process of getting up. after taking off your bra, you laid down on your back and beckoned haechan over.

he knowingly brought his cock to your mouth, waiting for you to open wide before pushing his length in.

sungchan settled in between your legs, licking a long stripe up your pussy. he closed his eyes and sucked on your clit very gently, relishing the taste of you.

you raised your hand up to fondle with haechan's balls as he slowly started thrusting in and out of your mouth. your other hand went down to tangle into sungchan's hair.

the tip of haechan's cock hit the back of your throat, but you were so used to deep throating him that you didn't gag. he let out a loud groan of satisfaction and gradually sped up, making sure he pulled out all the way before shoving his cock back into your mouth.

a distracted sungchan was now kissing the insides of your thighs, subtly sucking a few dark marks into them. you didn't mind since he was stalling anyways.

haechan's groans and grunts were getting louder and heavier. his jaw was open wide, head thrown back as he lost himself in the pleasure.

when he pulled out of you, you tapped his thigh and sat up. you then made sungchan get off his stomach and sit up with you with his legs sprawled out in front of himself. after that, you got on all fours, placing your hands on sungchan's thighs.

haechan got the memo and pressed his cock against your ass, getting a nice grip on your hips.

you innocently licked the base of sungchan's cock, wanting to prolong his pleasure for as long as possible.

haechan rubbed his tip along your slit, using your arousal to slip inside you with ease. after bottoming out, he paused and allowed himself to get a nice feel of your walls before slowly grinding his hips into you.

you moaned softly and sucked on sungchan's tip, keeping your eyes on his expressions.

once again, the deeper haechan fucked you, the more you lowered your mouth on sungchan's cock. haechan's strokes were short and quick. you could tell he was busy chasing his high.

momentarily pulling your mouth off sungchan's cock, you turned around to haechan, who stilled as soon as his eyes locked with yours.

"slowly baby. i'm not going anywhere," you said to him, moving your hips back and forth along his cock to show him how fast you wanted him to go.

he nodded apologetically and thrust into you at the same speed you'd demonstrated, looking at you for confirmation.

"just like that," you praised, giving him the green light to continue.

returning to sungchan's cock, you lowered your mouth all the way down to his base, holding your head in place so you could run your tongue over his length.

haechan's thrusts were long and full. you knew this was his favorite position because he always managed to hit the right spots inside you. both your boys always strived to make you feel good no matter what.

you started bobbing your head up and down over sungchan's cock. he groaned and placed his hand over yours, relaying his appreciation for how good you were making him feel.

the momentum of your motions had your hips pushing back against haechan's cock, meeting his thrusts half way. he took that as a sign to go faster and started bucking his hips into you harder.

the vibrations of your choked moans made sungchan groan even louder. he squeezed your hand and leaned back on his palm, resisting the urge to thrust up into your mouth.

both boys were groaning and sighing in unison. you could tell they were close. haechan's thrusts were starting to get uneven. he kept snapping his hips into you, hoping that each consecutive thrust would take him to his high.

sungchan's thighs were already beginning to shudder. the faster you bobbed your head the more jittery he became.

"i'm gonna cum," he warned in a broken whisper, knowing he wasn't strong enough to hold back any longer.

you hummed and felt his cock twitch inside your mouth. two seconds later his cum was shooting out onto your tongue.

seeing you swallow sungchan's cum helped push haechan to his own high. with one last final snap of his hips, he pulled out of you and jerked himself off on top of your ass, preferring to paint your skin with his cum rather than see it pool out of you.

all three of you were a panting mess by the time you were done. the hat on your head was hanging off one side, but for the most part, it had remained.

"did you boys have fun?" you asked, swiping a drop of sungchan's cum off your lip. both of them nodded; sungchan, completely exhausted, while haechan looked like he could go for five more rounds.

"it was so fun! if sungchan wasn't such a wimp i would have loved to keep going," haechan said, glaring at sungchan. you shook your head with a chuckle. "don't be like that. you can always get more if you're nice about it."

sungchan crawled over to the side of the bed and rested his head on a pillow. "you guys can keep going if you want. i'll sit this one out."

#nct smut #haechan smut #sungchan smut #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #neosmutcollective #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #kpop smut

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caitimetravels · 3 years

Text

she's insignificant

chapter 4: run girl run

the umbrella academy x reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: mentions of blood

masterlist

"you will be working on locating number five instead" reginald instructed the young girl. she raised her head in shock.

"what?"

"come, we must work in solitude" he ignored her confusion, uncaring for her feelings as usual. he lead her down the stairs. she only remembered coming down here once as a child, it was when vanya was sick. reginald showed her to a vault like room. she stared at it, unsure.

"you will be training down here from now on, your siblings will not disrupt you down here"

the h/c haired girl stared at the room with wide eyes. her siblings wouldn't disrupt her or she wouldn't disrupt them..?

————————————————–

"like i said to your son earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential. without the client's consent i simply can't help" lance biggs sat in his office chair, staring at klaus as he talked. five stood beside the chair y/n sat in, hands in pockets and annoyed.

"well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name" five leaned in, gritting his teeth.

"well, that's not my problem" lance shrugged, "sorry, now there's really nothing i can do so.."

"oh, what about my consent?" klaus looked up now, gaining five and y/n's attention. what was he doing? "who gave you permission to lay your hands on my son?"

"what?" the other three people in the room all spoke in unison.

"you heard me"

"i didn't touch your son" lance argued, glancing at five.

"oh, really?" klaus begun to lean forwards, moving to stand up. "well then how did he that swollen lip then?"

"he doesn't have a swollen lip-" lance was cut off as klaus struck five across the face. five touched a hand to his now bleeding lip, glaring at klaus in confusion.

"and, what about my daughter? how dare you lay a hand on her. she's so sweet and innocent" klaus turned to y/n now, gesturing to her. she awaited a hit now, sure he was going to punch her. "how could you assault her like that?" and just as she thought he slapped a hand across her face, leaving a bright red hand print.

"i want it. name please, now" klaus turned back to lance, leaning on his desk. the doctor raised a shaky finger at him.

"you're crazy"

"you got no idea" klaus laughed breathlessly before taking notice of the snow globe resting on the desk. he picked it up smiling as he read it. "'peace on earth' that's so sweet" y/n jumped in surprise as he smashed it over his head, groaning in pain. he held his hands to his face for a moment before looking back up, hair dripping with water and glitter. blood dripped down the side of his head.

lance quickly dialled a number into the phone, lifting it to his ear. he was still in shock, "i'm calling security- what are you doing?!"

y/n stood and gently gripped five's blazer sleeve, pulling him back as klaus ripped the phone from lance's grip. five glanced at her in confusion but then realised what was happening as he barely missed an elbow to the face as klaus dramatically cried into the phone.

"there's been an assault in mr biggs office and we need security now, schnow!" klaus slammed the phone back onto the table before leaning close to lance. "here's what's gonna happen grant"

"it's lance-"

"in about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood and they're gonna wonder what the hell happened and we're gonna tell them that you, beat the shit out of us" klaus breathed for a moment standing up straight now, staring the doctor down. "you're gonna do great in prison grant, trust me, i've been there. little piece of chicken like you, oh my god you're gonna get passed around like a.. you're gonna do great, that's all i'm saying" klaus waved his hand, smiling.

five smirked now, proudly standing beside klaus. y/n nervously stood behind five, watching over his shoulder.

"jesus, you're a real sick bastard" lance stared up at him, stunned.

"thank you" klaus spat out a piece of glass.

————————————————–

"focus, number eight!" reginald shouted once again, frustrated as she failed once again to find her missing brother. she squeezed her eyes closed tighter, trying to ignore his insults.

it had been almost 6 years since five had disappeared and around 1 since ben died. she had spent that year working on finding her brother only to be unsuccessful. it was like he had dropped off the face of the earth, she didn't know how her father expected her to find him.

she needed to focus. her eyes glazed over again as she opened them, turning black for the sixth time that hour. her hands glowed a soft white colour in her lap as her powers worked. she couldn't hear her father anymore.

she opened her eyes slowly to see destruction. where was she? she notices a store behind her, flames still burning endlessly upon rubble. carefully she walked into what was left of the department store. there sat a mannequin in a white top with black dots, only the top half of the mannequin was still undamaged, she had a single arm and no hair but what was left of her body was fine. suddenly someone walked through y/n. she stared at the boy for a moment, recognising him as her missing brother.

"five..?"

————————————————–

klaus sat atop the bench while five sat across from lance who searched through the files. y/n stood in between the two, arms crossed and guarded as she watched everything over klaus' shoulder. her face still slightly hurt, hand print clearly visible.

lance nervously flicked through the file five was looking for before pausing as he read it.

"huh.. that's strange"

"what?" five snapped impatiently,

"uh the eye, it hasn't been purchased by a client yet" lance looked up at him now,

klaus jumped off the bench, stepping behind lance. "what? what do you mean?"

"well, our logs say that the eye with that serial number.." klaus stepped over to his other side and leaned over his left shoulder. "this can't be right, it hasn't even been manufactured yet. where did you get that eye?"

lance, klaus and y/n all looked to five. where did he get that eye?

————————————————–

he was a little older than she remembered but he was definitely the same boy that ran away all those years ago. he didn't answer her voice, not hearing her at all. she frowned, watching as he dug through what was left of the store. he was searching for something useful.

while he dug through scraps she went back to the beautiful mannequin. she was surprised at how it had managed to stay okay through all of this destruction around them. she reached a hand out to touch her before she heard five's voice. had he seen her?

"five" she smiled, turning to him only for him to walk right through her again. she frowned, why couldn't he see her? she tried to grab his arm but her hand only phased through. she was like a ghost.. where was she? where was five? "five, can you hear me?" she stood in front of him, trying everything to get his attention.

"five? five!" why couldn't she help him? she just wanted to help. she felt so useless, watching him walk around and gather materials. she couldn't speak to him, he couldn't hear her..

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"well, this is not good" five breathed out in annoyance as they exited the building.

"i was pretty good though right? 'yeah, what about my consent, bitch?'" klaus grinned, giddy as they stepped out. y/n sighed at her brother, trailing behind.

"klaus, it doesn't matter" five snapped, stopping on the last step to glare at him. klaus stopped just after, turning to face him.

"what? what? what? what's the big deal with this eye anyway?" klaus carelessly threw his hand in the air, not at all bothered.

"there's someone out there who's going to lose an eye in the next seven days. they're going to bring about the end of life on this earth as we know it" five spoke seriously, stressed.

y/n's eyes narrowed. that's where he had been..

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she felt herself being pulled away, like someone was tugging her. she fought, wanting to stay, she needed to help him. she needed to tell five he could get back, she could help him, she would.

she continued to call for him even though she knew it was useless. she wasn't able to help him no matter how hard she tried. she was like a ghost. five finally stopped rummaging, now noticing the mannequin behind her.

"how did you.." he spoke softly, he even sounded the same. god, she missed him. she almost broke down again as he walked through her, picking up the mannequin softly. just as y/n faded she reached her hand out, trying to touch him. her hand instead gripped the mannequin. she shouted in pain as she felt like she was being torn apart. she squeezed her eyes shut hoping the pain would stop.

when her eyes opened again she found herself in that same room with her father scowling down at her. he watched her for a moment, for once allowing her to calm down. she slowed her breathing, wiping away the tears on her cheeks, bitterly.

"report, number eight?" reginald asked, impatiently glaring.

"i.." she paused, she couldn't tell him. she would find five on her own if she had to but she couldn't tell him, she wouldn't. she was a failure. she couldn't tell him she couldn't do it, the punishment would be too great. "i didn't find him.."

reginald clicked his tongue in disappointment. "you are dismissed until further notice. training will not resume"

"what? but what about five-"

"number five is gone and you can do nothing to help him if you keep failing, number eight. you are too weak. you are dismissed" he snapped, narrowing his eyes, daring her to talk back again.

she stayed silent.

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klaus paused before ignoring five's ominous tone, "yeah, can i get that twenty bucks like now or what?"

"your twenty bucks?" five stared at him in disbelief.

"yeah, my twenty bucks"

"the apocalypse is coming and all you can think about it getting high?" five got up in klaus' face, annoyed. how could he not care that the world was ending?

"hey, um.. five?" y/n tried to diffuse the situation before anything could happen. she didn't need another family fight.

"well, i'm also quite hungry" "tummys-a-rumbling, grr" klaus grinned, patting his stomach and imitating gurgling sounds.

"you're useless.." the boy clad in uniform mumbled, incredulous. "you're all useless!" he begun to walk away to the stairs of the building.

"five? hey, come on. i'm sure we can do something else to stop the-" y/n smiled softly, walking behind him, holding his blazer sleeve. klaus interrupted her.

"oh, come on, you need to lighten up, old man" he stayed where he was, exasperated. "klaus!" y/n scolded, sitting beside five only to be ignored. "hey, you know i've just now realised why you're so uptight! you must be horny as hell. all those years by yourself, that's gotta screw with your head, being alone" he acted sympathetic as he sat on five's other side. y/n rolled her eyes, he was definitely just doing this for his money.

"well, i wasn't alone" five stared off while he fiddled with his fingers.

"oh? pray tell" klaus turned, interested.

five looked up now, reminiscent. "her name was dolores, we together for over 30 years"

"30 years? oh wow, god, the longest i've been with someone was.. i don't know.. three weeks?" five's eyebrows furrowed, bored. he looked around for an escape. "and that's only because i was so tired of looking for a place to sleep-" he noticed a cab driving by and took y/n's hand before blinking into the cab. "he did make the most fantastic ossobuco though, it was.. five? y/n?"

the pair appeared the back of the cab, scaring the driver. "don't stop. just keep going" five instructed before leaning out the window and saluting condescendingly at klaus.

"hey, hey, hey, hey! what about my money?!" he shook his hand, angrily yelling at them.

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"y/n, dear" grace smiled at her, standing in the doorway to the library. her siblings stood around their mother, all ready for bed. she was going to tuck them in. "it's bed time, come now, let's get you ready"

y/n stared at her books for a moment before ultimately sighing and following along. she brought two with her though. diego walked beside her, as grumpy as usual and only there because he was a mommy's boy. his eyebrows furrowed in confusion however at the books in her hands.

"why do you need books on physics and probability?" y/n looked up at him, surprised he was talking to her. usually her siblings ignored her now that she wasn't part of their missions. she stared at him for a moment, deciding whether to tell him or not. with a glance at the cameras in the room she decided against it.

"none of your business" she muttered quietly, curling her arms around the books, holding them to her chest. it gave diego a look at the equations written on her arm though. what was she up to?

he dropped it nonetheless. he didn't care too much if he was being honest, what she did was her business.. for now.

she was going to find him. she had to. with her books splayed out around her she made sure to stay to the quiet corner of the library, the one no camera in this house reached. loose sheets and notebooks filled with equations sat messily in front of her, decorating her wide array of books. if she could only tell five she could help him. he was surely smart enough to figure this out on his own but how long would it take him? she wanted him to come back sooner not later.

"come on, you can do this" she clenched her hands into fists, glowing white as she focused. her eyes turned black and she looked around. she couldn't move, she was stuck. she noticed five walking around but her body wouldn't do what she wanted it to. he walked over now however, did he finally see her? he smiled, taking a seat beside her. she noticed a book in his hand but she couldn't read what it was. he scribbled in it, focused. the only she noticed was that she was sat in red wagon, unmoving and unblinking. what was wrong with her?

five wrote down a few more numbers, showing her what he had written so far. it was similar to what sat beside her earlier. "i've almost got the equations dolores"

what..? her name wasn't dolores?

she gasped as she was shaken back to reality. looking up she found a concerned looking klaus with diego a few feet behind him.

"oh god" klaus sighed in relief as her eyes turned back to normal. "i thought you died or something"

"idiot, if she was dead her powers wouldn't have been working" diego scoffed although he too looked quite relieved she was okay.

"what were you doing?" klaus sat beside her now, staring at the numerous equations in front of him.

"what are you doing? shouldn't you be training or something?" she frowned, annoyed at having been caught and interrupted.

"we asked you first" diego countered, crossing his arms.

"i was practicing, nothing you should be concerned about" she waved it off, packing up her books and notes.

"it looks like a lot more than practicing, eight" he moved closer, stepping on the sheet she was about to pick up. he leaned over her, watching her carefully. she eyed him back, just as daring.

"you don't know what it looks like, two" she stated calmly, still holding the sheet.

"c'mon, y/n, just tell us what you're doing" klaus whined, "what are we gonna do? tell dad? we're not luther"

y/n snorted, remembering the jokes they used to make about luther sniffing dad's underwear. "fine, i was looking for five, dad stopped my training" diego stepped back now, confused.

"why would he stop your training?"

y/n paused, looking guilty. she glanced nervously between the two of them before waving them down towards her, whispering. "you can't tell anyone.. i lied to dad, i did find five"

"you're kidding" both boys stared at her in disbelief.

"why would you l-lie? w-w-w-what are you going to do if h-h-he finds o-out?!" diego freaked out now, his stutter coming out in his nervousness.

"he's not going to find out. he doesn't care about me now, i'm practically useless to him now" she shrugged, continuing to stack her papers again. "besides i can't move or talk to five whenever i find him, i just.. exist. i'm like a ghost or something. i still need to figure out how to communicate with him" she sighed heavily. first, she wanted to figure out what book he was reading. she had never seen it before.

————————————————–

"what are we doing?" y/n and five stood outside the department store.

"i thought i said no questions until later" he raised an eyebrow at her. "we're just here to get something" she shrugged and he held her arm before blinking them inside. they walked around for a moment, using five's flashlight.

"oh my god! five look!" y/n gushed, noticing postcards on a stand. "they have so many cities!" he stared at her for a second, confused by her fascination before remembering she had never really left the house. she gasped suddenly, turning around and holding up a fluffy bunny keychain. "it's so cute!"

a small fond smile grew on five's face as she took interest in the small, almost useless items that the store had to offer. with a sad look she turned to him, still holding the white bunny keychain. "five.. can i keep it?"

he paused, he was about to take dolores so he didn't see why not. if he said no he would be hypocritical.

"fine. but don't touch anything else, okay? we can't risk getting caught" he nodded before walking away. y/n grinned, hooking the keychain into her belt loop before looking around.

five finally found dolores, looking up at her. "dolores.. it's good to see you"

"i've missed you, obviously.. well, it's been a rough couple of days" y/n couldn't see who he was talking to but heard his voice. she frowned, he had gone through a lot.

suddenly five yelled, "no!" and then there were gunshots. y/n dropped to the floor, praying five was alright. she ducked behind a gardening stand. five appeared beside her and she almost screamed. he held a finger to his lips, shushing her. she nodded, watching as he grabbed a spade, testing it's swing before disappearing again.

she watched as he fought one of the two shooters, slicing their arm before running again. she couldn't see him after that, not until he came back over with a bag, pulling her with him. they ducked down one of the aisles and he tried to spatial jump but it didn't work. he was too tired.

"shit.. come on!" he tried again. in a last effort they ran and jumped over a stall, caught as the lights from the guns shone on them like headlights. both five and y/n froze.

"got him" the one with the pink mask spoke before they were distracted by sirens. five used this to their advantage, pulling y/n out and away from the line of fire. they stayed behind a stand, waiting for the masked shooters to leave before they did themselves.

as they sat y/n finally got a good look at dolores, freezing when she realised she knew the mannequin.

"oh my god.."

"what?" five furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"you were in a relationship with.. a mannequin?" she looked up at him in disbelief. the mannequin was not her issue though.

"look, if you have a problem-" he glared, ready to defend himself but she shook her head.

"no, no. i get it.. it's just.. " she trailed off awkwardly.

"what?" he snapped, getting impatient.

"five.. my soul was in that mannequin"

tags: @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1

#tua #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x sibling reader #the umbrella academy x sibling reader #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Xingqiu - Yandere Profile

I actually just got my sweet bookworm boi to his next to last ascension, my hydro baby, my angel, I love him even if bc of him I have to marathon fight the oceanid

I’ve had a lot of reqs for him & Chongyun dating back to January again lol but it only felt right to wait until I finished both so I could release them at the same time, so, Chongyun’s will be up immediately after this!

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TWs: fem reader, yandere, confinement, manipulative behaviors, mentions of homicide, gaslighting, Xingqiu being a spoiled arrogant brat

TWs (below cut): noncon/dubcon, manipulating and guilting reader into sex, overstimulation, fluids/cumplay, humiliation

Since there's no canonical age but he has a bit of the rounded young face I'm tagging with the sh*ta tw as well!

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Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 7 Brutality: 3 Physical capability: 4 Mental/emotional instability: 6 Restrictiveness: 7 Sexual sadism: 5 Stubbornness: 8

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Tries to buy his way to you, initially. He's grown up seeing the power that money holds over people, and, well, his father can always just wave a bit around and get whatever he wants from most people, so why should you be any different? He goes for stereotypical "girl" things like flowers and jewelry at first, unless you have some prominent and well-known interest, in which case he'll invest in something related to that.

Honestly, for all his chivalry and all that, his maturity is something of a faux one, a sort of projected self-image of the gentlemanly figure he strives to be... but when he lets that slip, he can be something of a childish spoiled brat. The thing is... he's completely unaware and refuses to acknowledge that he can be so immature. He likes getting what he wants, when he wants it, exactly how he wants it, and being denied the things he wants isn't particularly common in his life. So rejection comes not so much as a disappointment so much as a shock. No matter, you're just... a brat, yourself. You think you're too good for everyone, he reasons, so you play hard to get.

Really, after recovering from the initial shock, he realizes he likes things this way. He likes challenges. It would be no fun if you came to him easily. You may be a brat, but in the end, the one thing he refuses to ever do is lose. Chivalrous gentlemen are fine with having to earn their things, so really, he's thankful that you reminded him of his morals, of his desire to truly earn the things he wants. It will make it that much more meaningful.

So he goes heavy on the idea of "courting", following whatever old and prudish traditions may exist in Liyue. If you're from somewhere else, he figures, that could be why -- clearly he hasn't followed through on whatever is normal for your culture. Silly him. He makes an effort to research whatever those traditions may be, and goes to the absolute maximum on performing them. Lavishes you in gifts of all kinds, constantly giving you compliments. He even goes to the effort of, if all else fails, reading romance novels targeted at women to get a better grasp of what exactly you're supposed to like, and emulates those behaviors.

Overall, though, in later stages Xingqiu slightly more mild for a yan, allowing you to have interactions with others (even if he’s irritated), such as his family, family servants, and his friends, and will even take you outside now and then. However, he will cut off your ties to those friends you had before that weren't mutual friends. He's also one of the least likely yanderes to ever kill someone, and will avoid hurting people if possible -- if anything, he prefers more discreet methods like ruining their life socially or financially.

He's also a lot more moody behind closed doors than he is to most people. His attempts to be oh-so-mature eventually kinda crumble, and the more comfortable he becomes around you, the more he lets his immaturity show.

He could assign family servants to looking for you, but really, he prefers to do it himself, this is about love after all, he doesn't want to assign them to a task they would never perform as diligently as he could. But rather than stalking, he chooses to just kind of... stay with you. He's somehow always where you are, "coincidentally" running into you everywhere and then somehow nothing having anything to do, because he clings to you for hours until you finally have to go home, and even then, he'll just follow you to continue the visit there if he can. No point in watching from a distance when he can be right there with you. And again, he's actually surprisingly unaware that his clinginess is so obvious, he's oblivious to how obvious his infatuation is. Which is a bit odd, considering that he's usually fairly perceptive, but he's so confident in the fact that he is normally perceptive that he allows himself to slip into abnormal behaviors without really realizing it, because he's not constantly on guard in the way some less socially adept yanderes are.

On a genuinely sweet level, there's one little thing he keeps hidden from you. He's actually written a lot of love poetry for you, verses about you and all of the things he loves about you so much... Despite usually being fairly confident in his work, he can't bring himself to show it to you. He's too flustered. And considering your negative reactions to his affection (read: not wanting to be kept like a captive animal), he is actually a bit sensitive to that perceived rejection, which further discourages him. He keeps them all stashed away, stuffed into some fairly hidden drawer. Should you ever come across them and bring them up, it's one of a very few things that will genuinely make him super embarrassed, and he'll just insist they weren't about you, even though the details make it obvious they were, and storm off, never bringing it up again.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It's not kidnapping. It's... relocating. He's far too chivalrous to resort to something so brutish as kidnapping! He'll make sure you want to come with him. He can easily arrange for there to be rumors and reports of... occurrences near your home. Criminal activity, maybe false rumors of mysterious disappearances. Hell, he'll get Chongyun to testify that your house has demonic spirits in it. Something to make you want to move out. Maybe some things start happening to you -- you get the feeling you're being watched, you get threatening messages mailed to your home, you have strangers (read: randos who will do anything for some mora he gives them) telling you you're not welcome in the area and to get out. It's all incredibly confusing and scary and you have no idea what brought it all on!

Luckily for you, you have a rich, generous friend who makes it more than clear you're welcome to come stay with him for a while at any time. Eventually, no matter what it takes, he can push you to a point where you'll take him up on that offer. Something feels... oddly ominous about the way the gates to his family estate close behind you once you walk in. Like they're sealing your fate.

And once step one is done, step two of his plan goes into place - make sure you never want to leave. He can make that happen, there's plenty of space here for you to roam, plenty for you to do, and even when he's not there to entertain you, there's plenty of servants to keep an eye on you and make sure that whenever you try to leave, they'll smile and tell you you can't go just yet miss, there's this or that going on tonight! The young master said he had something important for you when he gets back later! You can't go out now, there was just an attack by some deranged person in the town still on the loose! Just... go back inside for now.

Of course, it's wishful thinking, but he likes to maintain the delusion that he can just keep this going indefinitely, that you won't finally one day put your foot down and tell him you've been stuck here nearly a month and you're ready to at least go visit home. He might even entertain it a bit - sure, you can go visit your old house with him and collect some of your old things to bring back with you, but he makes sure to make it look at though whatever problem he made up is still occurring. Nonetheless, if you're insistent, or at whatever point you finally crack and catch on, demand to know what's going on - well, it's not pretty. He gets into something of a tantrum if you don't comply, but ultimately, in his own little huffy, ticked off way, says you can't leave, and that's that, no more questions allowed, and no more of this ridiculous demand to leave. Of course, darling is taken aback at first, even thinking he's joking, but it soon becomes very clear he's completely serious, and intends to enforce that command.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

When he's with you, he's tends to be pretty clingy, both physically and in conversation, never ceasing talking about this or that, and he's actually a sleep-clinger as well, keeping an iron grip around your waist when you sleep. So, whenever he's at his home, he insists on you being in his presence, usually physically touching, so you won't really get an opportunity while he's just in another room or something because you can't get any privacy to begin with. When you're in public, he's incredibly watchful over your every move and incredibly clingy then as well, so don't expect such a chance to arrive either.

Thus, your best bet is to try when you're under the watch of guards, whenever he's gone for whatever reason. They've been instructed to watch you from a distance, you see, he doesn't want them interacting with you directly, so you'll have a few chances here or there where they get distracted or their backs are turned. There will likely eventually also be a time where there's a scheduling error, you end up unsupervised! However, physically getting out of the estate is still difficult. There's still posted guards everywhere. So all in all, it's fairly difficult, especially in broad daylight, the only time he's not with you.

When you're inevitably dragged back kicking and screaming by some poor guards that aren't getting paid enough to deal with this, after getting back and hearing the report he deals with it in that unnerving saccharine way of feigning ignorance to try and get a reaction. Now, he knows you weren't trying to get out... right? Surely you got distracted by a bird or something, right? That's the only reason why you'd ever try to leave, right? It's obvious he knows better, and is just fucking with your head, but it's best not to lie. What he wants is an admittance of guilt and an apology, preferably down on the floor begging for forgiveness.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Moderate, leaning towards difficult. He's perceptive, and intelligent, but that intelligence is largely a sort of book-smarts type of intelligence. He's generally crafty and a prankster himself, so pulling things over on him is difficult because he's familiar with the mindset and methods of doing so, but he can be tricked if you put on a believable enough act. Basically, a darling who is a good actor stands a much better chance.

However, he's ultimately a learner. You can get away with some tricks or plots once, but he won't fall for the same thing twice. Any sort of escape or deceit you've tried once, he'll make active efforts to guard against and prevent in the future.

Manipulation, though, you can forget it. He's way too proud and stubborn to be emotionally manipulated, in the end getting his way and what he wants takes priority over making you happy, so don't expect to be able to manipulate him based on the notion of something making you happier.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Fairly lenient, actually. You get a lot of access so long as your behavior is good, so really it's wise to be on your best behavior in the long term of things. He can get you anything you want, especially reading material. And you actually get to go outside, yay! He's like my earlier Childe profile on that -- he likes to go on dates, and he's actually really enthusiastic about it! He's big on date planning, wanting to see everything there is to see and do everything there is to do together. The rules are that you just need to be physically attached to him in some way -- you can hold his hand, grab at his sleeves, or he can do so to you (although he'd prefer you cling to him. He likes the image it projects to people around you). He actually gets really hyped about said dates whenever you plan them, he'll talk to you for hours plotting out all the things to do on this particular outing. At one point, his smile drops and his voice goes low and he tells you that, just a reminder, you know the rules for dates, right? ...Good.

Similarly, if you ask, he'll let you accompany him on more trivial outings as well, say if you'd like to go grocery shopping, and he certainly won't turn down a trip to the bookstore. The same rules apply, although he's a bit less excited for something so mundane.

One thing he won't do, surprisingly, is let you have anything to do with Guhua arts or skills. He won't teach you anything he knows nor let you learn, and if you were a follower of it before, he'll cut off your access to any material. His reasoning is that he just doesn't really think anything to do with combat suits you. You're better off learning more passive skills and hobbies.

In reality? He can't stand the thought of you ever being able to present a challenge to him in that sense. It would kill his ego if you ever managed to do something related to the Guhua arts better than he can, or even half as good as he can.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Well, to occupy your time, he has things that need cleaning you know... Honestly, he's messy, and he's already used to having maids, so he kinda treats you like one to some degree. Of course, he's active in his little heroism adventures, but when it comes to his own living spaces and such things he can be a bit lazy. So, he'll give you tasks to do sometimes, he likes the power rush too that he gets from ordering you around a bit. It soothes the ego.

Outside of your strolls together, you can't be going outside (and you don't get to choose when you do go on your little walks and dates, he does, although he may grant you the wishes of your begging). Also, don't actually try to talk to the guards. They're there to watch you, nothing more, so pay them no mind, and by no means should you ever have a reason to make conversation with them. If there's an emergency or something you need, you may inform them and get help, nothing more. And really, they're more afraid of this rule than you are -- you'll have difficulty finding one even willing to talk to you, they all take the warnings they've been given very seriously.

He eventually gets nitpicky and makes all sorts of little behavioral rules, it's incredibly obnoxious. But honestly, suffering his bratty tantrums is enough of a punishment, even if he didn't usually follow it up with actual punishment, which, for him, tends to be something perverted in some way.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

He actually gets jealous rather easily, often over people who are no real threat. You can never be too nice to anyone -- even after he introduces you to his father and older brother, he expects you to be happy to meet them... but not that much. If you show too much excitement or happiness over any other being, he gets pouty, especially other men, but also your friends, male or female, family, even animals. His first reaction isn't to kill, rather, just an increase in isolation. Drag you back home and make sure you get a lot of time to yourselves, seeks reassurance that you really love him. If it's his own family, he might get grouchy towards them, snap at them a bit, bitterly drag you back off to your own room, where he'll then proceed to get equally grouchy towards you until you have given him enough reassurance he deems sufficient. In his own time, when you're not around, he makes sure to make it perfectly clear to those around him that they aren't to get in between you two.

He's one of the better yans to have in this regard, though, because he's unlikely to resort to killing anyone. He's got too much of his self-image invested in the idea of morals and justice to be able to do so, he can't delude himself into believing it's right or acceptable. It's not impossible to push him to that point, but it wouldn't just be someone you show any positive reception towards -- if Xingqiu did end up killing a rival, it would have to be one for whom you have very blatantly made clear you have actual romantic and sexual affection, someone who poses a genuine, real threat.

Xingqiu is a sort of open book when it comes to jealousy -- it's obvious to everyone around you that he's mad at someone else for even looking at you, and he doesn't try to hide it. It makes him that much angrier if someone doesn't obey his silent demand to stop interacting with you, doesn't seem fazed by his glares and coldness. He'll meet with them privately and make things clear verbally, since he tells himself maybe they're just dense and too stupid to understand. But they only get one more chance. Cross him twice, and they'll likely find themselves in financial ruin after pulling some strings through the connections of his father and brother.

What would make him significantly more likely to kill someone is someone who poses a legal threat, someone who catches on to what's going on and threatens to get him in serious trouble for it. Even if he tried bribing them, well, they'd likely just pretend to accept, and someone so bold likely wouldn't bow to threats.

This is where he can slip into the mindset of a delusional yandere. He once again projects the image in his head, that knight he wants to be for you, and hey, sometimes to save the princess, the heroes in his martial arts epics have to get their hands dirty, have to unfortunately get blood on their hands for the sake of the greater good. And hey, then it's usually called character development. Most of his fictional heroes tend to have killed at least one person in a sort of epic battle to defend something precious to them. This is no different. Of course, ambushing an unarmed person and running them through hardly counts as an epic battle, but he doesn't really take that part into account.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

Again, a bit of a spoiled brat at times. He's pouty, gives you the cold shoulder, yet dramatically inserts himself in front of you and whatever you're occupied with so you can't do anything. Basically he's forcing you to acknowledge his pouting and ask him what's wrong so that he can pull the "oh, nothing" until you ask again, and maybe he'll eventually bitterly, passive-aggressively make it clear what you did wrong. The bright side is he's easily soothed - an apology and some groveling will fix his attitude pretty quickly, although he'll have an infuriating air of superiority about it all, telling you he's glad you were able to understand what you did and have, hopefully, learned to correct the behavior in the future.

Worse offenses, things that make him genuinely and truly infuriated, are significantly worse, but rather uncharacteristically for him, he's quiet. And that's what's do frightening about it - for once you almost wish he would blabber or complain or whine like you're so used to, but his fury is dead silent. He moves without speaking, harsh motions that will either shove or tug you to wherever he's trying to maneuver you, and he shows how he feels through actions rather than words - he slams doors and objects, stomps, everything about his body language is frightening enough to make you stiffen and jolt.

Thankfully, Xingqiu is a milder yandere when it comes to severity of things he'll do to you in moments of anger -- he's one that can control himself well enough not to severely hurt you, break bones or anything like that. When it comes to his flashes of anger, at worst he might slap you in his tantrums, but he has at least enough self-control and empathy for you to manage better than a lot of yanderes.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Below. It's mostly that he thinks rather highly of himself - he's an important person you know. He saves people, he goes around doing his little vigilante thing, and he's not afraid to flaunt sometimes.

If you happen to also be from a rich family, you can earn a little bit more respect from him, you're cultured and sophisticated. If you're intelligent, you can get some validity in his mind as well. He'll still consider himself more intelligent and higher status, something you'd be mindful to remember, but he'll begrudgingly acknowledge it.

A commoner darling, though? God forbid an airheaded one? Forget about getting any respect - you're more like... A cute little puppy to him. Dumb and loud and clumsy, but nonetheless very cute and loveable. You were just... Made to be something of an accessory to him. And he loves and values you, you mean the world to him really, but that's all the more reason why you should accept your place as such.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

It drives him up the wall. You know, his father could arrange his marriage to a ton of young rich daughters in Liyue who would be more than happy about it, but he can't get the attention of ONE girl he likes? It's infuriating. And it makes him all the more insistent to have specifically you.

For Xingqiu, it's a mix of both desperation and a pride thing as well. One one hand he desperately does truly want his feelings to be returned, he wants you to love him, he wants the fantasy he has in his head of you two having a long, happy future together. On the other hand, rejection is also a mark on his pride, and that irritates him beyond comprehension.

So don't expect him to ever give up, really. Unlike a lot of loving yans though, he doesn't blame himself, he directs the rejection hurt outward - maybe you're just so spoiled yourself that nothing is good enough for you. Maybe you're just playing hard to get. Maybe you just think constantly turning him down is funny, it's amusing to you, and, well, he doesn't take lightly to you trying to play games with him. So while he'll continue to try and earn your love, don't be surprised if it results in an irritated mood swing every now and then.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

A lack of desire/hesitancy to resort to violence or more morally wayward methods. He stakes a lot of his pride and self-image on being a chivalrous, upright, just person, someone who should exemplify right and punish wrong, and unfortunately for him he's not a delusional and can't convince himself that he's doing the right thing. He wants to be a gentleman, your knight in shining armor, the storybook hero he projects in his head that always comes to save his princess, who in turn is receptive and showers him in praise and affection and gratitude. You're the problem, you see, you're not following through on your role in all this.

As such, he really, really hates having to dirty his hands in any way, or do anything that he knows is wrong and will consequently drag him into guilt. Not that he can't be driven to it, because he certainly can, but if it reaches that point, that means you didn't cooperate with him to begin with, which would have made things so much easier, so he'll definitely rid himself of that guilt by redirecting the blame to you, or deluding himself into some bizarre justification.

Another thing... his family's compliance. Honestly? His dad is far too busy and far too done with Xingqiu's shit to expect any help from him. His son tends to be picky, whiny, and demanding -- now that you're here, he's finally satiated, finally actually paying attention to the important matters his father wants him to be involved with, finally not causing nearly as much trouble now that you're around. You can bet he's more than happy to put in some extra funds and personnel to restrain some random commoner, so long as his son is satisfied. His brother doesn't really agree with it all, but his brother wants this and his father is supporting it, so... his hands are tied. He turns a blind eye. And the staff, the servants? They're getting paid far too much to care, and besides, the family is incredibly influential -- should they get fired, it could smear their reputation. It’s kinda really discouraging, being surrounded by so many people, but none of them willing to help you.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Bounces back and forth. On one hand, he wants to maintain, again, a gentlemanly and sophisticated image, and in his mind, such people don't normally think about such things, don't behave in lewd or degenerate ways. On the other hand, he's a nasty little perv that secretly sinks to the absolute depths of depravity. There's not much he can't get off to. If his poor brother hadn't been so busy being concerned about the martial arts books under his bed, and had dug further, he would have found that those books are actually just a cover-up for a different set of nasty, gross materials he's spent years accumulating -- some of the most vulgar smut you've ever seen, stuff you question how he ever even got ahold of. Surely the book house wouldn't sell this kind of material... it's honestly a mystery how he manages to get so much.

With his first few interactions, he tends to display the former image, but the more time he spends with anyone, the more that inner little pervert side tends to come out. He's definitely one to get touchy, his light grazing little touches become firmer and more daring, his hands always rest just at a point that's right on the boundary of being inappropriate. Sometimes he'll straight-up grope you and pass it off as teasing. He's also like Kaeya in that he intentionally tries to embarrass you by making your mind go to lewd places, making obvious innuendos and euphemisms, then pretending like he doesn't know why you're looking at him like that... oh, is that what you thought he meant? Wow, you must have such a dirty mind, you little pervert.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Something like rape is barbaric! Of course he would never, eeeeever do something so awful, so unbecoming of someone like him. And he really never will. He's another yan that will simply... Secure your consent by whatever means necessary.

In the end he'll most likely guilt trip and gaslight his way into it. I mean, you're staying with him for free, he took you in, he feeds you and clothes you and you can't show one little bit of gratitude? He treats you like a wife and you can't fulfil your end of that role? Don't be selfish. He loves you so much... He'd do anything for you... don't you want him to be happy too?

He'll try different approaches. If seduction doesn't work off the bat, he'll try gaslighting, if that doesn't work, he'll try guilt tripping, if that doesn't work, he'll make up a bizarre lie - he has to have sex or he'll die, somehow! You get the idea. If you really, really, really push it, he may just resort to a vague threat of sorts - nothing too bad or deadly, but hey, it would sure be a shame if this recent market crash affected your family financially... Not that he knows anyone who has power over the local commerce or anything.

With a more timid, soft darling, you're likely to end up essentially... Dubcon'ed. Half-noncon'ed. He just kinda... Slowly goes for it, and at your protests insists no, it's ok, you'll feel good... And a timid darling too afraid to stop him doesn't exactly fight back or resist, so hey, silence is a green light.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Experimentation

As I've said, he's a nasty little perv deep down, and he can get off to, well, a LOT of things. And he loves to try new things out, no matter how weird it may be. He's one you can get into a lot of things involving toys and objects, or physical forms of things applied to the body (think temperature play, hot wax, nipple clamps -- anything that has to do with objects being used on you). Part of the fun of it all is having something new that he's never tried before! Even if it turns out to not be his favorite thing, he'll still enjoy the trying it out, and those things he DOES find himself liking, well, he'll just have to add them to the little mental list of favorites.

And he, honestly, enjoys the little reactions you often have to the notions of this or that -- the shock and sudden fear on your face when he tells you today you'll do this or that, and how you shake your cute little head so rapidly. It's not that bad, he promises, and he's done a lot of research and reading to be sure he does things correctly, so no worries!

Body writing

It's kinda comical because you can't make out a word. With his canonically horrendous handwriting, but fondness for the act of writing, it makes for what essentially looks to you like abstract art on your body -- but just know it's the lewdest, most degrading shit you can think of that he'll get all over your thighs and stomach, marking you as his. If nothing else, he gets off to it, and based on the little things he whispers in your ear, you know it's the same sort of humiliating things. If he takes his time, he can write better, but he gets caught up in the heat of the moment.

Lingerie

He's a fan of lacey, frilly things. And he will definitely invest in as many as he can buy, ornate and intricate things, stockings for your legs that have pretty lace patterns at the top of the thigh, bras and panties that are somehow both lacey and perfectly see-through. He's also a big fan of things that have holes in them for easy access, so you can wear it the whole time. And, if he's feeling meaner, he'll definitely have you walk around in just that for a while -- not out where anyone else in the estate could see you, of course, but in his room with him.

Master/slave

He's not a sadist per se, and doesn't really put you in pain, but he loves your submission. And no better way to exemplify submission than with service. The little bastard already makes you act like a maid outside of bed, but now he likes it even more -- there's a certain rush of power to laying out a command and seeing you follow it. Not to mention the cute look on your warm face as you follow though with the degrading shit. Oh, and you'd better believe he gets humiliating. It's not necessarily degrading in the sense that he says or makes you say bad things about yourself, but rather, just the commands themselves, getting on your hands and knees and crawling over to him, and demanding you slowly strip down. Make it cute, give him a show, you know? He won't be cruel in the things he says about you, yet your pride is still wrecked by the end of it all.

Voyeurism/masturbation instruction

He loves to watch you get off, honestly. It ties into the slave thing to a degree, making you follow every little command, telling you exactly how to touch yourself and move your hands. He'll sigh and tell you no, you're going to fast, you can't do it that fast yet... and if you get too overexcited, he'll just have to make you stop, since you can't seem to listen, and maybe not get to cum until tomorrow, so you can learn to behave better about it next time.

Fluids/Cumplay

He has something of a fixation with all kinds. He loves seeing the trail of saliva from your mouth when you pull off his dick, the way cum drips out of you and runs down your thighs. He also likes seeing it splattered across your face, your chest, in your hair, something about the sight of it nearly has him hard immediately after and ready to go. But he also likes how it will gross you out, leaving you tied up so that you can't wipe it off, are forced to just stay there with it dripping out of your holes and down your skin in a way that makes you shiver. And, really, he loves your fluids too, sweet salty slick that's just so mesmerizing to watch coat his fingers and face. But his favorite thing, probably has to be running his fingers through your own juices and slick, collecting it on his fingers, holding it up to your mouth and telling you to suck them clean. Somehow, it's even hotter when you're licking your own fluids off of his fingers, although you doing so with his is certainly nice too.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’d like an heir one day. He's one to want a kid, maybe two, but not a whole lot. Just enough to have a proper family structure, much like the family he was raised in. It's the proper thing to do, he thinks, a natural part of the social order and continuation of a legacy. As a natural extension of his spoiled brat tendencies, he often doesn't think very responsibly in regards to preventing children, so, lucky for him, that ideal will likely come to fruition eventually, if physically possible.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Absolutely uses overstimulation. Whatever sorts of toys exist in Teyvat, he's rich enough that he can easily obtain them - little things he can attach to you and leave buzzing, or thick plugs and internal toys to stuff you full and leave you there to suffer in stimulation and stretching for hours on end. And he doesn't leave you alone, no, he stays close by, leaving you tied up and blindfolded, the occasionally lazy checkup of "oh, how are you holding up over there? I almost totally forgot you were there!" in a mocking tone while he goes about reading his books or practicing or jerking off to the sight.

Also ruined orgasms. Ugh, he's the worst. Gets you right to your peak, likely also after hours of edging, and then just... stops. Right as you reach the high, stops all motion, leaves you whimpering and sobbing, it's literally painful to actually reach it, and then still have that orgasm taken from you. And he'll be sure to remind you that if you were good, you could experience it in full, he could make you feel so good and let you ride out that high... but so long as you insist on being such a stubborn little princess, unfortunately, he can't just give you that. He hates this too, you know, he says. He'd love nothing more than to share pleasure, but you insist on being difficult.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Legs and thighs. He likes the aesthetics of legs, the softness, the way the flesh feels in his hands. The way touching them can make you jolt, the sensitivity, the way they leave little marks so perfectly if he sucks and bites at the skin. It's just really pretty.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere xingqiu #yandere x y/n #tw: noncon #tw: dark content #tw:shota

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bubblegumbeech · 3 years

Text

My first Phic Phight fic!

For @ecto-american’s prompt

His name was Danny.

That was the first thing he knew for sure was true, when he had first woken up it was what everyone called him, and it fit just fine, wasn’t something off or uncomfortable so he let it settle over him before he tried to speak.

His voice didn’t come at first, and it hurt to try so the nurses made him promise to take it easy for now, to sit back and listen. So he did.

He listened as the people around him spoke at length about how much they missed him, about how they couldn’t wait to get him home again, about how glad they were he’d survived.

The loudest and most talkative of the people that visited him and called him Danny, was a large man in an orange jumpsuit that went on long enthusiastic tangents that Danny had long stopped paying attention to. He was almost always with a smaller, authoritative woman named Maddie, who insisted He call her Mom. They told him they were his parents.

They told him they loved him.

And then they told him everything else.

The first time Danny remembered something it was with excitement, he was still in the hospital room and between the visits from the men in the starched white suits, his parents, and the doctor, he had been wrestling with the feeling that something was missing.

It had only been when Maddie had finally taken off the hood and goggles of her jumpsuit had Danny gotten a flash of familiar red hair and asked, “where’s Jazz?”

His heart buzzed at the question, sure, so sure that it would get answered, that he had remembered something.

But both Jack and Maddie had just looked at him, disappointed, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask again.

Eventually, once the doctor declared him competent and unlikely to slip back into his coma, his parents had taken him home.

There were streamers all over the house and a giant party banner that read “Welcome Back” in thick black lettering and Danny forced out a small smile as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Maddie walked up behind him and he flinched, his body acting before his brain could catch up.

She had frowned at his reaction, and when Danny, stuttering, tried to apologize she said it was okay, and with a tightlipped smile, she pulled him into a hug.

He forced himself to relax, frustrated with himself. This was his mother, there was no reason for his instincts to be so afraid. Jack had joined the hug and eventually Danny found himself relaxing for real, sure maybe getting his memories back was a slow uphill climb, but at least he wouldn’t do it alone.

Eventually his parents let him go and told him he was free to walk around the house and reacquaint himself with it. His room was the first door on the left upstairs, the bathroom was down the hall and the basement, apparently, was off limits.

So Danny went upstairs into his room. It looked something like a teenager’s room he supposed. There were the posters hung haphazardly on the walls and they were torn at the corners as if someone had ripped them all off the walls before hastily taping them back up. The bed was made too, and there was a lot less dust than he was expecting after being gone for a whole month.

In fact, it looked like he’d cleaned and organized the whole room before he’d fallen into his coma and Danny didn’t know why, but that thought set him on edge. Maybe he was just an organized person?

It was just… he didn’t feel very organized.

He kept looking around. There was that feeling that something was missing, something important to him, and he walked over to the nightstand by his bed. Placing a hand on the polished wood Danny fought the flash of a model spaceship that appeared in his memories. It wasn’t here though and Danny frowned. Was that something else he’d thrown away and simply forgotten?

Shaking his head Danny headed back downstairs, maybe he should just ask Jack, er, his dad? He should really get used to calling them mom and dad. But before he headed down he went to the room across from his and knocked.

Maybe he was being foolish, but he had expected someone to answer, had a name even come to mind. When no answer came he opened the door himself only to find a storage room, nothing but shelves and boxes and Danny scolded himself for the painful ache he felt in his heart.

It was another week before Danny had another memory, and just like the last two, it didn’t fit quite right. Like a piece from another puzzle jammed where it shouldn’t fit. So he’d asked Maddie.

“Sam?” she’d said, a carefully blank look on her face, “Oh! I remember Sam, she was an old friend of yours you used to talk about her all the time. Shame she moved away.”

And just like that, he’d had his answer as ill fitting as it was. Sam was a girl he knew that moved away, the memory he’d had, of her crying face screaming at him to stay awake just stay awake damnit, was probably from a long time ago. The pain he felt in his chest -just to the right of his heart- at the thought of her not being near and that he’d probably never see her again? That was nothing important.

It was another couple of weeks of sleeping in that house, waking up and going downstairs to eat with his parents, to chat about memories he didn’t have and tell stories he never resonated with, before he woke up screaming for the first time.

Maddie had instantly run into his room, Jack not far behind and Danny scrambled away from them both. His mind filled with images of painful green light and the ominous glint of red goggles twisting his reflection in their lenses as they looked down on him.

His parents had pushed past the barrier of pillows and blankets he’d made and pulled him into their arms, rocking him and shushing him until eventually he’d tired himself out from crying and fallen asleep again. The nightmares returned.

Eventually Danny stopped asking questions about his memories.

Either they were incomplete, fragments of something real that had been twisted in time, or they were wrong entirely, figments of his own active imagination. He’d never had a sister, they insisted. It was his mother, Maddie that had stayed up late some nights to help him with his homework and bake him safe, edible cookies as a reward. Tucker was a kid he knew at school, yes, but he’d moved away years ago and they hadn’t spoken in person since.

He had blue eyes, when he looked in the mirror, not green.

It was frustrating, being unable to trust himself- his own memories. If it was anything more than broken, incomplete fragments he’d have argued, insisted they were real.

But then again, he also had memories of Maddie leaning over him, scalpel in hand to cut away at his flesh. And he knew that couldn’t be true; the woman that smiled every time he came downstairs, called him sweetie and kissed him on his forehead every night, wasn’t the monster in his dreams. She couldn’t be.

So he ignored them.

He ignored the moments of instinct when Maddie or Jack went for a hug or a kiss and he flinched, ready for an attack. He ignored how he never seemed able to give a straight answer when they asked about his day, even if he hadn’t done anything interesting at all. And he ignored his nightmares, stuffing towels under his doorframe to muffle the sounds of his screams. There was no reason to keep waking up his parents like that.

But no matter how much he ignored, he compartmentalized, or he forced himself to smile, to hug back, and to spend time bonding with his parents, he never felt safe. Maddie insisted that he was, of course she did, this was his home. But even as he smiled and agreed and let her hug him again, he wanted to leave.

This time his dream wasn’t a nightmare. No scary, well lit labs with beakers and glowing buttons, or disgusting, painful flowers shoved into his mouth. Instead there was the ticking of clocks, rhythmic and constant. A gloved hand gently soothed his hair back, and Danny’s fear seemed so far away.

It was the first full night of sleep he’d had since he’d gotten “home”.

That morning he’d asked for an analogue clock. His parents had been confused, but they acquiesced easily and took him to the store to pick one out. The one he’d ended up choosing was a large ornate antique with little clockwork gears and a loud tick. He was excited to put it up in his room, right above his bed.

He slept better after that, and some of the tension that had been building in the house eased.

His dreams were still mostly nightmares, attacks by inhuman ghostly figures were the most prominent. But they didn’t leave the same bitter aftertaste, fear and uncertainty as the ones with the table, the scalpel, and the round, red goggles.

But now they were interspersed with better ones, fuzzy hugs and fields of blinding white, sitting in a garden pruning flowers as a soft, familiar voice gave him instructions, playing video games as the player character, confident and excited with a familiar presence at his back. And his favorite ones, the ones in the clock tower with the hooded figure and his soft smiles. The ones where he felt safest.

The ones that couldn’t be real, not if what his parents told him was true.

The next time they went out as a family after that Danny had wanted to go to a garden, and while at first Maddie was hesitant, Jack had insisted the great outdoors were perfect for helping him recover properly. Danny had been thrilled and hugged both of them in thanks, their answering smiles were soft and Danny had the thought that it had been some time since he’d seen those smiles reach their eyes.

Danny had a video game he apparently liked to play called Doom, and he was pretty good at it, judging by the level of his character. When he tried to message either of the two friends he had on his contact list though, the game glitched and his info got deleted. Frustrated he tried to reboot the system but the game itself had somehow gotten corrupted and there was no hope in recovery.

Just another thing that was apparently important to him that he’d destroyed or couldn’t find.

The worst was the time he woke with Maddie sitting next to him in his bed, she had a troubled look on her face and he didn’t know what it was he’d done wrong. Had he screamed in his sleep without knowing it?

“Danny honey,” she had said, looking over to him but not meeting his eyes, “do you remember what you dreamed about?”

He’d answered no, he hadn’t, which was mostly true. The only thing he really remembered about his dream was the feeling of safety and the ticking of a clock.

It took a month for Danny’s parents to feel comfortable leaving him alone in the house in order to go to work. He watched them walk out the door, fending off forehead kisses and muttered reassurances that they’d be home soon to check on him and that he should call if he needed anything, anything at all.

Once the door clicked shut however, the smile dropped off of Danny’s face and he set his eyes on the one thing he’d wanted… no, needed to do since he had that first nightmare.

He went to the basement.

The feeling of going down the stairs stumbled over a vague, blurry memory and Danny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. This was just to be sure, just to prove to himself that all those dreams, all those nightmares he’d been having since his parents brought him home, were just that, nightmares.

He opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, confused when there was no lock, no resistance at all. Hadn’t they said he was banned from being down here? Why wouldn’t they lock it? Even Bluebeard locked the door his wife wasn’t supposed to enter.

The basement was…

A basement.

There were no spooky ominous beakers of strange and unrecognizable fluids, no haphazard lab equipment lying around without safety devices, nothing sterile or blinking and there was certainly no large metal table to strap someone down on.

It was just a normal basement with boxes and a desk, some chairs, a couple of old pieces of random furniture and Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This meant that Maddie was right, they really were just nightmares, probably some subconscious latent fear of going home with strangers that he couldn’t remember. That was all.

So why did he feel disappointed?

The next week was full of Danny waiting for his parents to leave before exploring the house more thoroughly. More than once he’d gotten caught in a half remembered routine that didn’t actually fit with his surroundings. Like bracing for a fight every time he opened the fridge, or expecting another flight of stairs after the second floor. Once he’d even risked going outside for a walk, trying to find his school based on half remembered directions that only served to get him lost.

It was a new routine that Danny found himself thankful for.

Not that he didn’t love his parents, he did! But for some reason, when they were gone, and it was just him with his space posters and his ornate ticking clock, and the piles of modified schoolwork that was supposed to help him when it was time to reintegrate into school, he felt a lot more relaxed. More carefree.

That was why, when he’d found the picture, it had felt like his world had crashed around him.

His parents had come home to find him sitting in the middle of the basement, tears long dried, and with the picture clutched tight in his hands, crumpled now with how long it had been.

“You lied to me.” he accused once they were within earshot. He didn’t have the energy to speak much louder than a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence nonetheless.

“Danny-boy we can explain-”

“No!” Danny shouted, getting to his feet, “You lied to me .”

Jack flinched back and Maddie stepped in front of him, protective, as if somehow, out of the three of them Danny might be the threat. He growled.

“I trusted you to tell me the truth, I trusted you with my memories, memories that were lost to me . I had a sister! You had a daughter . She existed, she was real, she’s in this photo! Smiling! ” Danny couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, it was all too much. To know that the girl in his shattered memories, the one with the soft hugs and the floral scents, that baked him cookies and held him when he cried at night, was real. And that she was gone, erased by the people he was supposed to be able to trust.

He moved to storm past them, to go upstairs or maybe even outside and look up at the sky and try to make something of the twisting, knotted mess that was his emotions, his mind, his everything right now. But Maddie grabbed his arm before he could, tears spilling from her eyes.

“We didn’t want to hurt you Danny.” she said, voice soft and broken, “we didn’t want to give and then take away.”

She pulled him into a hug and Danny didn’t bother to struggle or try and break out of it, just let her cry into his shoulder as he stood there, waiting for his own tears to dry.

The next day Jack and Maddie left for work with more reluctance, neither one willing to leave Danny on his own again. But worry didn’t pay the bills and whatever it was they were doing at their job, it was clearly important. That was something Danny was starting to remember, all the things that were more important than him.

Danny went to the library this time, determined to start figuring things out on his own. His parents had said that his sister, Jazz, had died in the accident that had put him in a coma. They said they didn’t want to hurt him, or risk him not wanting to recover his memories if they were painful and that grief was difficult to deal with even without the head trauma and emotional conflict.

His parents said a lot of things, Danny was starting to realize. And almost none of it could be trusted to be true.

The first thing he did was look for a death certificate for his sister, Jazz Fenton. After hours of searching, reading every single name that existed in every obituary for this town in the entire month when his parents claimed the accident had happened.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

So next he looked up phone records. Any Tuckers or Samanthas he could find, but he couldn’t remember their last names at all, just what they looked like.

How they had been crying over him.

He didn’t know if he believed that they’d just moved away. Then again, it was becoming increasingly clear that he didn’t know what to believe, if he believed anything at all. By the time he’d gotten home it was late, and his parents were already there.

At first they didn’t believe he was just at the library “trying to catch up on stuff” but they calmed back down once he’d shown them his library card and snapped that if he couldn’t even do that much why did they bother bringing him back from the hospital at all.

Dinner had been a quiet affair.

It took another week of library visits and recurring nightmares of dissection tables and glowing ghostly figures that attacked him before Danny gave up on finding out anything about Sam or Tucker. But he still didn’t stop searching for Jazz.

There was something almost obsessive about his search for her, he just couldn’t let it go. He had to know where she was, and if his parents, against all odds, hadn’t lied to him about that ... Well that was something he’d have to come to terms with when he came to it, not before.

He started scouring the Internet for her name desperate to find something, anything on her. And eventually he did.

There was an old article, from at least half a decade ago, that had her picture under the title “Four Teens go Missing in wake of Fenton Investigation”.

Next to her were two equally familiar pictures. Sam and Tucker… and then Danny himself.

Scrolling, desperate to find something, anything to add up the memories he was getting into a clear picture, he began to read the article.

In wake of the Investigation into the Fenton‘s possible abuse, Danny Fenton (15), his sister Jazz Fenton (17), and two friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley (15), have seemingly disappeared.

The discovery came shortly after Jack and Madeline Fenton were released on parol and allowed to return home to spend time with their children since no physical proof could be found of any alleged wrongdoings.

What could have caused their disappearances remains a mystery. The prevailing theory is that they were involved in a cult that may have demonized the Fenton parents due to their controversial occupation as “ghost hunters”. Another popular theory is that the children fled the results of the case, afraid of the alleged illegal experimentation. Other theories include kidnapping, witness protection, the possibility of murder, and tying up loose ends.

Will we ever discover the truth? It remains to be seen.

Ghost hunters …

Danny felt his stomach drop, a wave of nausea rolled through him and he had to fight off the urge to relive his lunch.

Experimentation?

Nightmares and half remembered memories started clicking into place, finally , and Danny couldn’t stand it. Why were the only answers that made sense the ones that hurt the worst?

Would it have been better if he’d just let it go? If his memories never returned at all? If he just kept living, eating homemade cookies and flinching from hugs until eventually the itch underneath his skin dulled and he could just be happy as he was.

He closed the tab.

There was no one home when he got there, and it gave him the chance to pack what little belongings he had that held any meaning to him at all. The motions were familiar and he had the faintest feeling he had done exactly this before.

Maybe he had.

He’d made it out the front door by the time his parents pulled into the drive.

There was the urge to run, to go back inside and hide and pretend he hadn’t been doing exactly what they caught him doing. But he was tired. He was so tired of feeling wrong and scared and uncertain and never knowing why.

So he held his head up as they got into the car and approached them with their hands raised, cautiously, like he was a wild animal they were afraid of spooking.

Was that what they thought he was?

“Danny, we can talk about this,” Maddie said, beseeching.

He met her eyes with his own. “Will you promise not to lie anymore? I don’t even know how old I am-”

“You’re fifteen son-” Jack interrupted, lying again.

“I was fifteen five years ago!” Danny yelled, his hand tightening into a fist, “I found the article! I read about the case! Five years ago.”

“Danno…”

Oh, he was crying. It was novel almost, Danny had thought he was too tired to cry, that there wasn’t anything more that could hurt him enough to create such a response and he didn’t quite know how to react to it.

He raised his hands awkwardly to scrub the tears away and stepped back, frightened, when Maddie tried to move closer to comfort him.

“Stay back! Stay back…” he looked at his hands, they were young hands, his reflection too, hadn’t changed from the picture in the article at all. Experiments. “What did you do to me?”

“It was an accident.” Jack said, before Maddie stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“We didn’t know Danny. How could we have?” She said, keeping her distance, cautious. “We tried to fix it-”

“Fix what? ” He hissed, “you haven’t told me what happened! You haven’t told me anything!”

“You!” Maddie finally snapped, tears falling heavy down her cheeks. “We were trying to fix you… but it wasn’t working and you just kept getting sicker… weaker… we had to stop.”

It was too much for her, and she turned away, leaning into Jack’s large frame as he comforted her. “We didn’t want to lose you, Danny.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You already did.”

Danny left his parents there, crying on the driveway of a house that could never have been a home. He had a clock tower to find.

#Danny phantom #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2021 #fanfic #my fic #Bee’s writing

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