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bcnigns · 3 months

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( 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 /𝘩𝘦𝘳 ) — 🎬 just announced, 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 has been cast as 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 ( 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐅 ) in the upcoming 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 reboot. the 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘹 year old is trending as people are debating if 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 & 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘤𝘺𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘺 that they are known for is enough to make them as good as the original. a quick google search shows that their fans call them 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, but internet trolls think they’re more 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦. i guess their newest interview for variety where they talk about 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 will let people know them better.

( #𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 )

— ❛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘴. ❜

full name : aurora jeon nickaname(s) : rory birthday : july 3 age : twenty6 gender : cis woman pronouns : she / her orientations : bisexual & biromantic

— ❛ 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. ❜

faceclaim : park sooyoung ( joy ) hair : dark brown, sometimes black eyes : deep brown height : 5'6" piercings : joy canon tattoos : none

— ❛ 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. ❜

positive traits : amiable, gregarious, spontaneous, confident negative traits : insecure, scatter-brained, impressionable mbti : enfp big three : cancer sun, cancer moon, leo rising likes : romcoms, anything sugary, painting, teacup dogs, wired/large headphones dislikes : confrontation, bad manners, driving, horror ( ironic, considering her past project .. )

( #𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇 )

— ❛ 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. ❜

♡ born to a famous father ( face & career claim tbd ), aurora was never a stranger to the realities of hollywood. spending her childhood on movie sets and attending red carpet events, she seems to be the definition of a nepo baby ♡ until, of course, you actually get to know her & you realize that while such an upbringing may have made her more comfortable in those spaces, it didn't guarantee talent — of which she has often wonders if she even has or if she's being given the opportunities unfairly ♡ she got her first role ( cora hale ) when she was still in high school and while not the most memorable character in the series, it was enough to put her on the radar, eventually landing her the series regular role of brooke moon in scream the series (2015-2019) ♡ she's generally a soft-spoken person, not looking to be the biggest star in hollywood or even be a household name, as she would likely still act even if she was only in unknown projects, but she's secretly extremely excited to have been cast as blair & the nerves are really starting to set in ♡ when it comes to relationships, she has .. imposter syndrome & is constantly worried that her partners are getting tired of being with her ( she's working on it ;_; ). loves with all she has even if it's a bad idea, so she's usually the one being broken up with for being too needy ♡ she's really just an anxiety driven individual with an unfortunate need for people to like her ( another topic for her therapist ) & she'll automatically assume she's close friends with anyone she's met for any amount of time

— ❛ 𝘩𝘤 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘱. ❜

♡ hiccups when she cries, is a messy drunk & a lightweight, can't keep track of a single item she owns ( has made many an airtag purchase ), paints for fun and sometimes gifts them to her friends, has a micro teacup maltipoo named 콩이 ( kongi — it means bean lmao ), is an early riser and will likely have finished her entire morning routine and gone on a hot girl walk before 7am, has an insane sweet tooth - 100% eats/orders dessert first, is a firm believer that having eight pillows on her bed is simply cozy and not excessive, cries extremely easily if so if she has to cry for a role then all they have to do is pretend to be a little upset with her and she'll be bawling, cannot hang im so sorry but she is the first to leave a party ( unless enough alcohol is in her system that she's fuzzy around the edges ), is super shy in interviews and has gone on record saying that conan o'brien was the only host she felt 100% comfortable talking to ( she didn't mean to admit as much, but here we are & you know the jimmy's get on her about it every time she's on their shows 🤧 ), hosted snl once and vowed never to do it again because it was the most nervous she's ever been on tv

( #𝐈𝐌𝐃𝐁 )

— ❛ 𝘵𝘷 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴. ❜

♡ gossip girl (upcoming) as blair huang ( blair waldorf ) ♡ scream (2015-2019) as brooke moon ( brooke maddox ) ♡ teen wolf (2013) as cora hale

— ❛ 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴. ❜

♡ do revenge (2022) as erica ♡ booksmart (2019) as hope ♡ set it up (2018) as harper ♡ endless love (2014) as jade butterfield

#( ⌗ 𝐁𝐂𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐒. ) — ❛ 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵. ❜#2000s.intro #imagine being me and thinking i was being so creative making her blair #only to realise ive never had an original thought in my life actually lmfao #embarrassing #also feel free to assume past connections/mssg me if u wanna discuss some possibilities!

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wp100 · 1 year

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i bought 2 cans of mountain dew, the green one and the purple one. i'm going to try them soon

#yes ive NEVER had it. ever.#in my entire life ive only ever drank fizzy drinks like coke fanta pepsi sprite and l&p #mostly coke and sprite tho.#ive been trying a lot of drinks lately hgdhsgdh #esp energy drinks #im not falling into the trap though. it makes my tummy hurt lmao #plus energy drinks are 500mls. unless the ones I like are in smaller cans I'll pass #I like Monster the most so far #but i have yet to trry the other flavours. I only tried the original one lmao #again. i dont wanna fall into the trap #i tried other ones like red bull. not my thing. Blue V is nice. but I havent had the other flavours #i think i sipped a green v over a decade ago and thought it was the grossest thing lol #now im trying all these drinks i never had the chance to try #bc my parents wouldnt want me to have them or wouldnt buy them #im an adult and can buy whatever i want. crazy.

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microwaving-tesilid-argente · 26 days

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#girl i have so many teshes thoughts its INSANE #me starting with haha actually this ship has no basis i just want to Put Tesilid Through It #but over the past few months of brainrotting their dynamic is now like.#what if we were doomed from the start and there was never anything either of us could do to save the other #(not even talking about the regression but rather the stigma bearer thing and how they have no social power)#(but also the regression thing)#what if we loved each other throughout all the lifetimes but there could never be a happy ending. tragedy dogs our footsteps #what if we were 'guy who has a good head on his shoulders and recognises our low social positions and looks out for his friends in similar #predicaments' x 'guy who is way too giving and this is bad bc the world is out to get him and he loves ppl too much to care about #the danger to himself'#what if we were 'guy who is way too giving' x 'guy who wants to protect him but Cant'#doomed ships.....#swings hestio around i like you SO much. i need to put you under a microscope and in a fish tank #(statements that should not ever be viewed by people outside of tumblr)#some of my fic outlines has notes that are like 'wow if they had the transmigrators privilege this wouldnt even have been a problem'#and im suddenly very appreciative of canon #god bless canon tesilid may you be happy. not my fanfic tesilid though im making him miserable #anyway. the more i think about it the more interesting hestio's internal conflict could be #it's about being so acutely aware of how shit their lives already are that he knows having a r/s that is frowned upon would just #make things worse #also i am very much hooked by the fact that like. nowadays i keep seeing ship posts about 'killing myself in front of you to change the #trajectory of your life forever'#for teshes its the opposite. hestio is desperately trying to make sure tesilid doesnt off himself #and also its not hestio dying that changes the trajectory of tesilid's life forever it's hestio confessing #and somehow this inflicts more pain on tesilid in the long run #which is extremely funny bc for all the notes that ive written abt teshes hestio has only confessed like umm. checks notes. 3 times #1. drunk (tesilid is not in the room) 2. the world is ending #like if hestio had managed to take this to the grave like he had originally planned then this could have been avoided #but the tragedy is that tesilid lives thru this multiple times so at least ONE time hestio's going to blab and that forever changes things #crying in fic writing being stupidly hard

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 7 months

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Hallow'seams

A Seams Halloween special oneshot

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: A spicy T

Summary: Joel proves to you that he can be adventurous if he wants to be.

Warnings: Joel wears a slutty Halloween costume, fluff, mentions of drinking, spicy thoughts but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: I was so looking forward to writing this Seams Halloween special that I floated back in the summer. Unfortunately, life™ happened - I've had a very rough month and honestly I didn't think I had it in me to do any writing for the rest of this year, but then this happened! I woke up thinking about Joel wearing a Gladiator costume and couldn't put it down. It's not as long or intricate as my original idea, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. I've missed these two so much!

Thank you for sticking with me and giving me so much love, I really don't deserve you all 🧡 Happy Halloween!

Joel pushes open the door to the High Street Outfitters, one booted foot steps over the threshold -

And he stops and stares.

Pumpkins of all sizes, some more crudely carved than others, seem to occupy every conceivable surface. Black cat and broomstick decals adorn the worn wooden walls, while hand-pulled cotton cobweb the ceilings.

When his feet unstick and move into the empty shop, he nearly topples a huge cauldron of what looks like homemade candy. Steadying it with his hands, he mutters under his breath. 'What the f-'

He would never admit it, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when you emerge from the studio with a dramatic flutter of the curtain divider. 'Oh hey, you're here!'

Stepping towards you, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a hello, and gestures. 'You really went all out, hmm?'

Your grin brims with pride, and he feels his lips stretch into an answering smile as you straighten up some of the costumes on a nearby rack.

'We found a Halloween shop nearby a few years back,' you explain. 'All their stock was still in boxes in the store room, so we took everything and ran with it. It's a lot of work every year, but the kids have so much fun with it, it's definitely worth it.'

Joel hums skeptically. 'Not just the kids have fun, from what I heard.'

You cross your arms and play coy. 'What have you heard?'

'That my brother hosts the rowdiest Halloween party in town for the adults every year, and tonight is their last hurrah before the baby comes.'

You chuckle. 'And I'm guessing you fought the costume and lost?'

'There’s no winnin’ when your sister-in-law plays the pregnancy card,' he grumbles with poorly concealed fondness.

You walk him towards the racks near the cashier. 'Here are the men's costumes. We run a pay what you want system for Halloween rentals, just pop your contribution into that pumpkin on the counter. You better hurry though, things start kicking off around seven tonight.'

Joel combs through the outfits half-heartedly, when a standalone clothes rack on the other side of the room, covered with a black sheet, catches his eye. 'And what's that?'

You hesitate, and stutter, 'Oh, um - you won’t like those.'

Arching an eyebrow, he stares down at you. 'Why is that, sweetheart?'

The endearing way you wring your hands and worry your bottom lip brings him right back to when he first met you. Your shyness has always provoked a reaction from him - an understanding at first, from the introvert in him. Then protectiveness, when he started spending time with you.

And now, knowing you the way he does, with you opening up to him over the past few months, he lets his mouth relax into a half-smirk, one hand curling around your waist to pull you into his side as he teases, 'Use your words, Pin.'

You huff, recognising the playfulness in his body language, but you still struggle to get the words out. 'They’re - um, damnit - they're adventurous.'

He sets his face in a mock stern expression. 'And what, I’m too borin' for them?'

Narrowing your eyes at him, which makes him grin, you deadpan, 'It's just - they're not your thing, ok? They're of the -' you pause, and gesture in air quotes. 'Occupational variety.'

Comprehension dawns on him, and he drawls, 'Ah, you mean slutty costumes.'

He can feel your skin heat at his words as you duck your head, and he teases, voice low and gruff by your ear. 'And will you be wearin' somethin' slutty for me tonight, sweetheart?'

Your breath hitches and your lips part, eyes glassy at the turn of the mood. 'Joel -'

He isn't a particularly spiritual man, but the longer he lives, the more he’s convinced that some people are put on earth for a reason.

And Lucy's raison d'etre is to cockblock him at every turn.

The door bursts open with a brash energy that is uniquely hers (with an uncanny resemblance to Ellie's), and your best friend doesn't skip a beat at the sight of the pair of you canoodling. 'Save the making out for later, Miller. We gotta go get ready Pin, c’mon!'

You hastily press a kiss to his whiskered cheek. 'Pick your costume and lock up behind you, ok? I'll see you in a bit.'

Lucy all buts hauls you out of the shop, throwing over her shoulder. 'See ya later, Miller! You better show up half naked!'

Curiosity getting the better of him, Joel pulls back the sheet from the clothes rack, and his eyebrows reach for his softly graying hairline. Leafing through the options, he pauses somewhere in the middle, and smiles to himself.

He’ll show you adventurous.

Maria and Tommy's Halloween party is easily the most anticipated event in the Jackson social calendar. Illicit incentives often swap hands for a RSVP, with those unfortunate enough to be assigned patrol duties on the night willing to pay handsomely for a swap in shifts.

While the kids are knocked out at home from eating their body weight in sugar, the Tipsy Bison is teeming with townsfolk. The normally dark interiors are decked out floor to ceiling in garish black and orange, as if people wouldn't get the memo.

Joel was apprehensive on his arrival, pausing for a moment outside the double doors of the establishment to steel himself. But as soon as he crosses the threshold into the warm and boisterous bar, so loud that his right ear rings, he realises that his worries are completely unwarranted.

No one even bats an eyelid as he wades through the throngs of partygoers, nodding politely at acquaintances who drunkenly shout his name and raise a pitcher in greeting.

It's pure madness - Halloween stopped existing for him twenty years ago. The last time he went to a Halloween party was their neighbour's barbeque. He still remembers the Gryffindor costume he bought Sarah, and how big she smiled swishing around in her robe, casting gibberish spells on her friends all night.

This, however, is a distinctly grownup affair.

When he put on his costume and stood in front of the mirror an hour ago, he could barely look at his own reflection. But now, compared to others in the room, turns out his choice is almost demure.

He only saw Gladiator once when it came out a couple of years before the outbreak, but he liked it, and when he saw the costume on the rack, he picked it out straight away.

The dark red cape sits on his shoulders and drapes across half of his torso - shirtless, of course - baring his right arm. He's a bit self-conscious about the skirt (he's sure there's a name for it but the packaging didn't shed light on this), which sits mid-thigh, fastened by a belt around his waist. He's even wearing the Roman sandals and leather bracelet, and a plastic sword hangs from his belt - the full monty.

The vain side in him thinks he can pull it off, but more importantly -

He wore it for you.

But you're nowhere to be seen, even after he grabs a beer from the counter, having circled the bar twice. Spotting a lone empty chair at a high table, he decides to perch (pulling down his skirt so his boxers don't show) while he has a drink and looks for you.

His keen eyes scan the room methodically. Sexy witches, slutty lumberjacks, misbehaving firemen, naughty nurses - together with the noise, everyone and everything seems to blur into one, and he almost gives up when something familiar crosses his line of sight.

Joel frowns.

Hold up. That toolbelt looks familiar. His eyes narrow as he squints at the worn faded leather.

It is his toolbelt. The toolbelt that disappeared from his garage workshop a couple of days ago that Ellie swears she knows nothing about. That little shit.

Then his gaze pulls back, like a camera zooming out, and he finds that the toolbelt is sitting on the soft swell of a pair of hips, over short denim cut-offs that he's sure he's seen before, and below a red flannel. His red flannel, knotted at the waist, that he knows you sleep in every night.

His chest rumbles with something primal, and he downs the rest of his beer in one big gulp before slamming the empty pint glass on the table and getting onto his feet.

You don’t see him coming, but you know without turning around the moment a pair of strong hands close over your hips in a possessive grip, pulling you towards the bathroom in the back of the bar.

He knocks a breathless laugh out of you when he pushes you up the closed door, the noise of the party muted by the thick timber as you grin up at him, preening at the way his dark gaze rakes over your costume.

A shiver runs down your spine as your own undoubtedly dilated eyes follow the solid outline of his right arm, which flexes as he rests his palm on the door behind you, then down his broad chest and the soft belly he’s so nonchalantly putting on display.

It’s absurd, you know - it’s just a tacky Halloween costume, but the seams of your eyes prickle as you muse how comfortable he is in his own skin.

'And what exactly are you dressed up as?' he asks, sliding his free hand under the toolbelt to squeeze your ass.

'A slutty contractor,' you answer boldly, dragging your index finger down his bare chest. 'Isn't it obvious?'

'And you thought stealin' my toolbelt for your little costume was a good idea?' he growls.

'Well, I didn't know you'd turn up as a gladiator of all things,' you tease, wrapping your fingers around the hilt of his plastic sword.

It should not make his pulse spike like this.

'Not only that, sweetheart. I'm a slutty gladiator, thank you very much,' he retorts, walking into you to slot his hips flush against yours.

You shoot him a loaded smirk that instantly has his boxers shrink by two sizes. Ripping his cape off his shoulders, you ask cheekily, ‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

Joel doesn't let you finish your sentence, swallowing the rest of it with a kiss so deep that it steals your voice and takes out your knees in one fell swoop.

Grinning at the way you're already bonelessly slumped against him, he winks, nose brushing yours. 'I can think of a few things, sweetheart.'

Note: Thank you for reading! I had so much fun dipping my toe back into the Seams universe, I hope you did too. This is me warming up with a view of returning to writing for the series proper, fingers crossed sometime soon! Comments/reblogs/asks are very much appreciated as always 🧡

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the adorably spooky dividers!

#fuckyeahseams #hallow'seams #seams halloween special #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fluff

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pinkie-pop · 5 months

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"Do Paimons Dream of Floating Sheep?"

Mondstadt: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Based on this

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Paimon! Reader, Yandere Genshin Impact, Aether, Albedo, Eula, Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa, Venti

Word count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Being dragged into the world of your favorite video game is hardly your idea of a relaxing Saturday, and being dragged into the world of your favorite game, taking over the role of mascot even less so. Unfortunately, it seems fate has no interest in what you consider to be a normal day, and it will do anything to replace your idea of normal entirely.

Includes: Blackmail, imprisonment, drugging, injury, kidnapping, nonconsensual kiss, suicide

Note: This is the final installment.

This is only your guess, but it seems the futures that the Archive shows you are only possibilities. It's your own choices that dictate which, if any, become true. In that way, they’re similar to the hangout quests in the original game. Unfortunately, the Archive doesn't tell you what choices you have to make in order to get your desired ending. You flip through more threads of fate.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“It’s quite simple, [Name]. All you have to do is take my hand, and we can put this whole thing behind us.” You look down at Kaeya’s outstretched hand, a bead of sweat rolling down your back. You thought he was your friend.

That was before he had you jailed for false charges. You gaze up at him in resentment, spitting on the hand he offered you.

“Now, now,” he says, wiping his hand with a handkerchief. “There’s no need to throw a temper tantrum. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but can you really blame me for getting a bit impatient? You’ve been playing hard to get for so long now I was really starting to get the impression that you weren’t interested.” It’s amazing just how close to the truth he can get while still being delusional. “Think about it,” he says, turning around and leaving you in your cell. Alone, again.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You take an uncomfortable sip of your tea, not missing the careful way that Lisa examines you as you do. She’s been watching you carefully for a while now. Maybe if you were smarter, you would have asked about it.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. You can already feel the drug take its effects.

The edges of your vision go fuzzy until Lisa is the only thing in focus. You feel your mind floating away as you fawn over her, with her reciprocating just as much. You give yourself to the feeling, loving how you no longer need to think, how you no longer need to focus on anything that wasn’t her.

How could you ever have thought of resisting her? Of trying to run away from her and her loving embrace?

You must have been out of your mind.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The chain clinks rhythmically as Aether tugs you along, his fingers interlaced with yours. Sometimes, you wonder what the point of the bindings are, if he’s just just going to hold your hand anyway, but you dare not voice these thoughts of yours, too afraid of his reaction.

Aether has been…eractic, recently. His mood swings are out of control, and it’s all you can do to avoid setting him off, walking on eggshells like your life depends on it—which it sort of does. He would never hurt you, he says, but the bruises on your arms tell a different story.

He would never hurt you, he says, except for all the times he has.

What a gentleman, right?

•~•~•~•~•~•

Eula doesn’t say anything as she slides a ring onto your finger. An old family heirloom, she had told you earlier. It had just been sitting around, collecting dust, when she found it and thought of you. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a pretty trinket from a friend. That’s all.

She didn’t tell you that the ring had thorns.

They face backward, making the ring easy to slip on but excruciating to take off. A simple sign of her affection for you. Pretty on the outside but suffocating within. Eula was not nearly as subtle as she liked to think, but even so, you play along.

She’s easier to deal with when she’s not being honest.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You wake up with a searing headache. You don’t quite know how you got in this situation, all you remember is taking a midnight stroll, feeling something heavy hit your head, and then, nothing. You’re blindfolded, but you can still tell some things from your other senses. Like how you’re currently tied up on a bed.

You think you’ve been kidnapped. But by who? Who would do such a thing, and why to you? You don’t have money to ransom, you’ve got no grudges with anyone, you don’t have anything that a kidnapper would want. The idea that maybe they’re targeting you to get to Aether crosses your mind, but if that were the case, why would they place you on a bed? Why use silk for your bindings instead of harsh ropes or chains?

It doesn’t make sense.

“Ah, you’re awake.” You perk up immediately. You know that voice, it’s Diluc! Is he here to rescue you? But, wait…what was that he said? ‘You’re awake,’ it’s almost like…he already knew about your situation.

It’s almost like…he was the one who put you in it. But that can’t be right.

Can it?

•~•~•~•~•~•

Your feet ache. A side effect of the surgery, Albedo tells you. You can’t believe him. You said you were leaving to Liyue once, and the next thing you know, he’s put you under anesthesia and severed your Achilles tendons. Maybe you should be more horrified about this, but right now all you can feel is annoyance. Perhaps you’ve already grown used to Albedo and his possessive tendencies.

Perhaps you’re simply banking on your ability to fly. Sure, it’s true that you’ve never flown since that day, but that doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly forgotten how to. It’ll be easy. All you have to do is get over your paralyzing fear of heights, bypass the cabin locks Albedo installed, find an opportunity to get away, survive the sheer cold of Dragonspine, and then you’re home free.

…

Or, maybe you’d be better off adjusting to a life of captivity.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Close your eyes,” Venti says in his usual boyish, cheerful tone. As if the two of you were simply playing. As if he doesn’t have you cornered in an alley, his hands locking yours in place.

You close your eyes. Instantly, you feel his lips on yours, again. His lips move against yours in a careful rhythm, almost like the songs he used to play for you. Peaceful times like that feel so far away. Now, your relationship is coded only in violence, only in him taking, taking what doesn’t belong to him. His grip on your arm tightens as he squeezes, the message clear. You kiss back, disgusted by how easily you give in to his whims.

It takes all the will and self-restraint you have not to try and push him off—you already know such an attempt would fail, anyway. After all, you’re only human. And a human has no chance of winning a fight against a god.

So much for the city of freedom.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Okay, the idea of being in the world of your favorite video game was fun at first, but this is too much. You can't do this. You need a way out.

But…how do you find an exit when you've never even seen the entrance?

You flip through more pages of the Archive. You scroll through information on weapons, characters, and items. You read about local specialties, character ascension materials, and enemy mobs. None of it helps. You find nothing.

You keep searching.

You find nothing.

You look again.

Nothing. Again. Again. Again.

The world seems to fade in and out of existence as you search until it finally melts away completely. Your vision goes fuzzy, with black splotches blocking the light, but only for a moment. When you open your eyes, you realize that you are no longer in the dungeon. You are in an infinite white that stretches out for as far as you can see. The only thing besides you is the Archive.

You look through it for a final time.

You find something. Finally. Finally, you find something. A plain white envelope falls out from between the pages. You aren’t sure how you missed it before.

Carefully, you tear open the envelope with the conveniently provided letter opener and read its contents. You don't like what you find.

Experiment Number 0000,

I hope that this letter finds you well, though I know that it will not have. If you were well, you would never have seen this letter in the first place. If you have found this letter, it means that things have already gone sideways or are about to. I am sure you are reading this hoping for answers. To find this letter is to have already doomed yourself. The moment you opened the book and started reading you tore open the fabrics of reality. Timelines are like strings, and your actions have molded them into a mangled knot. I do not quite know how you have found yourself in such a bizarre situation, only that you have.

I suppose I owe you an explanation, don’t I?

This book—the Archive, as you call it—is not a book at all. It is more like a ledger. What you have found, 0000, is not the future but instead a collection of the past.

This is not your first life.

My colleagues and I have been experimenting with eternal life and reincarnation. We tested on animals first, but nothing can ever truly replace a real, living human. I tried to stop them, believe me, I did. But I am just as powerless in the situation as you are. I could do nothing to stop their cruelty. The only thing I could do—the only thing I can do, is to write this letter, and to hope that it reaches you. Enclosed is a tool that will aid in your escape.

I am sorry, 0000. This will be your last life.

Sincerely,

0001.

As you read through the letter, flashes of memories return to you. You remember events that have never happened in this life. You remember dying, living, killing. You remeber being kidnapped, bludgeoned, abused. You remeber being loved, cared for, and killed. You remeber everything. All these lives that you’ve lived…they must all total to well over a hundred years. You’ve had enough. You’ve lived for far too long and seen far too many things.

You need a way out.

You look down at the letter opener in your hands. No, wait, it’s not a letter opener.

It’s a dagger.

You have no other choice. Anything to escape this hell.

And just like that, you plunge the dagger into your heart.

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#yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #yandere aether #yandere albedo #yandere eula #yandere diluc #yandere kaeya #yandere lisa #yandere venti

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kirawaswrong · 1 year

Text

somewhere in the haze

summary: You made a mistake that nearly cost you your life. Now your boyfriend is pissed at you, and you're not completely sure why. Is there hope for reconciliation?

pairing: chuuya nakahara x female! reader

genre: slight angst, smut

word count: 4k+

warnings: MDNI!! starts angsty but then...., fingering, oral (fem receiving), soft dom chuu [kinda], bratty reader [a bit], aka I finally am dipping my toes into smut, also depictions of stabbing

note: I wrote smut, ya’ll!!! But being me, there is a story too. Dealing with big emotions and all that jazz. I hope you enjoy!

Getting ready for work wasn’t usually an arduous affair. You had it down to a routine, and even made an event of it. While cooking breakfast, you were a celebrity chef. When taking a shower, you’d give the concert of a lifetime. But today, nothing was making it easier. It was your first day back in over a month. It should have been a cause for celebration. But you were in a fight with your boyfriend.

The previous night's events played on repeat in your head while you put your clothes on. You brushed your teeth, and all you could think of was Chuuya's furrowed brow. The fight made you see the past month in a new light. You felt stupid for not realizing his feelings sooner.

You were working on a solo assignment. It was pretty standard, and in fact, one you’d done several times before. It was security for a jewelry store. The store turned a blind eye to the Port Mafia's illegal jewelry ring. In return, sometimes they'd request a member come by and watch over the place.

It was late at night. It seemed like a rare uneventful day was about to pass by. But then a tall, slender man tried to enter the store after hours. You knew you could take him, so you chased him to the roof. Before he could turn, you socked him in the back of the head. He fell immediately, out cold.

You were sure you’d incapacitated him enough to call for someone to assist you in disposing of him. As soon as your back was to him, an arm wrapped around your throat. Pain shocked your lower abdomen; he'd stabbed you. He called you a dumb bitch before removing the knife and throwing you to the ground.

With a shaky hand, you reached for your phone. The warm ooze of your blood made it too difficult to maneuver it to call for help. Your wound went from feverish to frigid, and the edges of the world got a lot fuzzier. As you faded, you thought of the hardships you’d faced and how you finally felt like you belonged somewhere. And now you were gonna die on top of a shitty building.

Your last thoughts were of Chuuya, and how you hoped he wouldn’t have to see your corpse. Then, everything went black.

---

But the Port Mafia had your back. You awoke with a sharp ache in your stomach and a heaviness in your head. Before even blinking your eyes open, you knew you were in the organization’s medical wing.

“You’re awake.”

The voice that spoke was one you knew well but never failed to slice a shiver down your spine.

You forced your eyes open. Mori Ougai stood like a shadow by your bed. His hands clasped behind his back. He held an almost bored expression as if your stabbing was a mild inconvenience to him.

“Hi boss,” you said. You tried to sit up to formally address him but hissed in pain.

“Refrain from unnecessary movements for the time being,” He said. “The blade nicked your appendix, so I took the liberty of removing it for you.”

Wow, a surprise appendectomy. How thoughtful.

“We’d received no communication from you in some time,” Mori said. “So it was clear you were in danger. If you’d lost one more liter of blood, you would be dead. That’s why I started a transfusion.”

You looked down to see an IV in your inner right arm. Blood came from a bag, and you knew better than to question its origins.

This wasn’t the first time you’d woken up in the medical wing, nor would it be the last. But usually, someone else was at your bedside.

“So,” you said, “Where is-?”

“Chuuya will be here shortly,” Mori interrupted. “He wasn’t notified until it was certain whether you would live or die.”

You weren’t surprised. If Chuuya knew the extent of your injuries, he’d tear the world apart to be there. From Mori’s perspective, wherever Chuuya was had more importance than being with you.

“For now, continue to rest,” Mori smiled in a way that was supposed to offer comfort. “If there are no complications, you can go home tomorrow.”

“What about work?” You blurted out.

“We’ll discuss the matter later.”

Mori administered more pain medication and left the room. Before you could think about much else, the drugs knocked you into a hazy sleep. At some point, you swore you heard muffled voices outside the room. Your eyes were too heavy to open, but you felt a warm gloved hand holding your own. You slept deeper after that.

---

The next day, you went home. Naturally, Chuuya took you to his place. Resting was imperative to your recovery, and you had trouble with that sometimes.

Once at the penthouse, Chuuya set you up in the guestroom. When you weren’t recovering from a knife wound and impromptu surgery, you were used to sleeping with him in his bed. You thought that he was afraid of impeding the healing process.

Once you were comfortable in the bed, he told you to stay put.

“If you don’t,” he said, “I’ll use my ability on you.”

His crooked smile and delivery of the threat told you it was a joke. But there wasn’t much joy behind his eyes. You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough.

That set the tone for your stay. You weren’t completely oblivious. Something was wrong with Chuuya. He went through the motions of aiding in your recovery. He helped you bathe, changed your dressings, and made sure you took your medicine. But the other times Chuuya rehabilitated you, he’d be smirking and telling jokes. When you worried, he'd give you soft kisses. This time, he was more…sterile.

You told yourself that it was because of how close to death you were this time. And in a way, you were right.

A week later, you had a partial return to work. Though your wound had superficially healed, internal damage was still possible. So you were stuck doing nothing but paperwork. You fucking hated it. Everyone at the Port Mafia had to deal with papers, but not hour after hour, day after day. You felt like a glorified secretary. You were eager to go on missions again.

When you shared those thoughts with Chuuya, you received a slight nod and silence. It was odd, as your perseverance and enthusiasm were what had attracted him to you in the first place.

A few weeks later, Mori told you that you would be able to return to full-time duties the following day. Though it was exciting, you felt deflated. Chuuya had been so distant, you didn’t want to tell him. He was an executive, so the odds were he already knew.

That night after dinner, he confirmed your suspicions. At the table, you nonchalantly said you were nervous and excited to leave paperwork duty. Chuuya’s expression darkened, and he sighed. You decided it was time to rip off the bandaid.

“That was a pretty heavy sigh.”

He said nothing.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t think you should go back yet,” he said.

It was your turn to sigh. “Look, babe. I know it was a pretty serious injury, but I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not about that. I think we should go over training again.”

“Chuuya, I’ve been in the mafia for almost a year now,” you said. “Training ended a long time ago.”

“Well, maybe you need a refresher course,” he said in a venom-soaked tone.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Everyone knew Chuuya was an explosively angry man. His yelling was nothing to scoff at, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. What most people didn’t know was how terrifying it was when he was quiet.

“I never thought you would be so reckless. Turning your back on an opponent while on a solo mission. Didn’t even call for backup or anything.”

You felt like a stone sank into your stomach. The other shoe dropped. He was…angry at you.

“I tried,” you sputtered. “But the blood was coming out, and I-”

“You should have called for someone as soon as you saw the guy.”

“He was a beanpole,” you said. “I thought I could take him!”

“He might not have been alone. What would you have done then?”

You were at a loss for words. “I just…I-”

“You got cocky,” Chuuya finished. “Which is exactly what I’ve warned you against since day one, haven’t I? Don’t get a big head, and never turn your back on anyone. Especially if you’re alone!”

“So, what, am I the only person who’s ever made a mistake?” You spat back.

“You can’t afford to make mistakes like that,” his voice rose. “You make those mistakes, you die!”

“You think I don’t know that?” You exclaimed. “That’s all I could think about on the roof!”

“Good,” Chuuya said. “Hold onto that feeling. Next time you’re on a mission, you can think of it. Then you'll remember to cover your ass and you won't pull something like that again.”

A tense silence hung over the room. You were both heated and so angry. You knew better than to say anything. Having the last word would be a petty thing to worry about.

But anger made you a petty person.

“Fine,” you said. “I will remember that feeling. When I go out on the field tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffed. “I don’t want you to go back out yet!”

“So sorry, Mr. Nakahara,” your voice dripped with sardonic respect. “I know I made you and the rest of the higher-ups look bad, but I have to get back to doing my job.”

You got up from the table and began to storm from the kitchen. Two steps later, Chuuya’s hand wrapped around your forearm.

“We’re not done talking.”

“I am,” you said.

He turned you around to face him. Anger still filled his eyes, but his jaw wasn’t quite as clenched.

“You can’t just run away from this,” he said. His voice softened to the slightest degree. “I’m not saying this as your superior. As someone who cares about you, I don’t know if you’re ready to go back out there yet. Is that so hard to understand?”

You wanted to agree with him. Fall into his arms, and put the whole mess of a fight behind you. But pride was something you shared with Chuuya.

“I’m going in tomorrow,” you said. “And you won’t stop me.”

After a moment, he let your arm go.

You packed your things and came into the living room with a suitcase. Without a word, Chuuya helped you put everything in his car. Neither of you spoke on the drive. The silence was relentless in the parking lot. When you left the car, he finally spoke.

“Be careful.”

You gave a nod and headed into your building.

---

Which led to your first day back. A day that should have been celebratory, but was now marred with grey.

Besides a few passing remarks from colleagues, no one made a big deal about your recovery or return. It was the mafia. People pulled through from worse injuries all the time.

You had no solo assignments that day, which you were thankful for. Not because of fear, but because it was easier to shut your mind off and focus. You did keep your word and were very careful.

During downtime, the argument swirled around in your head. Chuuya trusted you. He knew that you were well-trained. Why would he say you weren’t ready to go out on your own anymore?

The end of the day came. When you got to your car, he leaned against it with his arms crossed.

You weren’t sure if you felt relieved or annoyed.

“Can we talk?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

He slid into the passenger’s seat with you in the driver’s.

For a moment, he said nothing. Both of you stared forward. You were starting to wonder why the two of you had so many tense silences in cars.

“So,” you said. “You wanted to talk.”

“You didn’t get hurt today,” he said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Good.”

Another silence.

“Look, Chuuya-”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

You turned to him. “Okay?”

“You’re good at your job,” he said, turning to you. “I’d be an idiot not to know that.”

“Then why did you make me feel like I don’t know what I’m doing?” You asked.

He sighed, leaning his head back on the seat. “Babe…You almost died.”

“Yeah, I know that, but–”

“No, you almost died. It scared the hell out of me.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“I know anyone could fuck up and wind up dead,” he continued. “But you’re not just anyone.”

His eyes were on you. He reached over the console to hold one of your hands in both of his.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your resolve melted like a puddle. “Why didn’t you just say this like a month ago?”

He chuckled without humor. “I was afraid I’d blow up at ya.”

“Thank god that didn’t happen,” you deadpanned.

“I am sorry,” he said. “Look, either of us could die any day.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s the truth,” he said, squeezing your hand. “But I need you to do everything you can to keep yourself alive.”

His eyes shone with sincerity, and your lingering anger evaporated.

“Only if you promise to do the same,” you said. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He pulled you across the console and held you against his chest. You embraced each other for what seemed like an eternity before he broke the silence.

“Wanna come to my place tonight?”

---

With the fight resolved and put behind you, it was easy to return to the domesticity you’d both grown accustomed to. Chuuya ordered takeout from one of your favorite restaurants. Throughout the meal, his eyes couldn't stay off of you.

After dinner, you sat on the couch together, barely watching an old sitcom rerun. Your back was against his torso, and his arms wrapped around your waist. You chattered on about your first day back.

“...And then Higuchi kept trying to get Akutagawa’s attention even though I’ve told her a thousand times that he–Chuuya!”

He’d leaned forward to kiss the side of your neck.

“Go ahead,” He murmured against your delicate skin. “I’m listening.”

You made an earnest attempt of continuing your story. Chuuya thwarted it by nibbling and sucking below your ear.

“Y-you’re distracting me,” you fought the urge to moan.

“Am I?” He chuckled.

You gasped as his hands crept down to your thighs, gently pulling them further apart. His dick began to harden against your back.

“I’ve just been thinking, baby,” he murmured. “Between your injury and our fight, there’s a lot of things we haven’t been able to do in a while. Wanna start doing them again tonight?”

You answered with a breathless whimper and he kneaded his fingers on your thighs. His touches crept closer to the heat pooling between your legs.

But then, he stopped his movements and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Only if you want to,” he said. “No pressure, okay?”

You turned your head to smooch his cheek.

“I do want to,” you breathed. “I really want to.”

---

In previous instances of lovemaking, Chuuya could be a bit rough. This benefitted both of you. It helped him work out some of his aggression. And for you? Well, you found it hot.

But tonight, he placed you gently in the middle of the bed. His eyes remained locked with yours as he removed his waistcoat and pants. He joined you on the soft sheets, framing one of your thighs with both of his. He tangled a gloved hand in your hair and then leaned down to kiss you. His lips pressed onto your lips, your heart thunked against your ribs. Warmth bloomed from your chest and spread throughout your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Chuuya rubbed his knee against the heat between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, a smirk across his lips.

“You okay?” He asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah,” you gasped. His knee still rested squarely against your crotch. “I’m very much okay.”

He chuckled. “Tell me if that changes, got it?”

You nodded. Before you could verbally respond, he moved his thumb from your cheek to your lips.

“Would you take this off for me, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth and gingerly bit the tip of the glove. He pulled his hand back, releasing it from the leather.

He took the glove from you, planting a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” you responded, trying to pretend your face wasn’t burning hot.

His next target was your collarbone. You’d have hickeys by morning with the way he sucked and scraped his teeth against the soft expanse of skin. He untucked your shirt, slipping his hand underneath and up your torso. Your nipples responded to his touch from beneath the fabric of your bra.

“We gotta level the playing field, babe,” he playfully admonished against your neck.

“Hmm?”

“I’m practically naked,” he said. “And here you are, still fully clothed. Doesn’t seem fair.”

You snorted. Chuuya wore so many layers of clothing that being in a dress shirt and boxers really was close to nudity for him.

“I see your point,” you said.

You pushed him off, sitting up and pulling your shirt over your head. A smug grin played on your lips when you saw the way he looked at you. Even in your everyday bra, he still made it seem like you wore the most mouthwatering lingerie he’d seen in his life.

“Better?” You asked.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close and kissing you again.

“Almost,” he murmured against your lips.

And with one hand, he unclasped your bra.

“Chuuya!” You laughed out a reprimand. The impressiveness of the act outweighed any embarrassment. Still, you held the garment against your chest.

“What?”

“I’d hardly call this an even playing field,” you said.

“Semantics,” he scoffed, waving a hand. “Now, get your fuckin’ arms outta the way, would ya?��

You playfully rolled your eyes but did as he said, and removed the bra completely.

He laid you back on the bed, hovering over you. Mindfully keeping his weight off of you, he grasped your breasts. His mouth found your right nipple, sucking on it hard while his gloved hand played with the left.

With a moan, your head rolled back onto the pillow. When he switched to the left nipple, you raised up to look at him. He'd closed his eyes, and he seemed to be at peace with everything in the world.

“Enjoying yourself, Chuu?” You teased.

His eyes shot open, and his face rivaled his hair in redness.

“Yeah,” he said after dislodging from your breast. “And I bet I’m not the only one.”

His bare hand traced down your torso and into your pants. He traced a finger against your panties, feeling the soaked-through fabric.

“You’re pretty wet,” he said. “Want me to do something about it?”

“Uh-huh,” you gasped.

“Aw, where’d that smart mouth of yours go, babe?”

You narrowed your eyes, saying nothing.

He chuckled but relented by pushing your panties aside. He slid his finger down your slit before plunging two fingers inside. The fingers crooked inside you in the most delicious way.

“Now, tell me,” he said, continuing to work you from the inside. “Is there anything else you want me to do to you?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

“And, uh,” he stroked your shoulder with a gloved finger. “What exactly would that be?”

You fought to form a sentence. “I think you already know.”

He smirked, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Chuuya,” you whined. “Please.”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Use your words. I’ll take good care of ya if you do.”

The way he was using his damn words–and his fingers–was driving you crazy.

You drew in a shaky breath and looked straight into his eyes.

“I want you to make me cum on your tongue.”

His smirk intensified and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Quit teasing and put your mouth to better use.”

“Hey now,” his tone playfully darkened. He withdrew his fingers from your core and lewdly sucked them dry. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, Chu.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “brat” and sat back on his heels. He removed his other glove, tossing it aside. He peeled off your pants and discarded your underwear.

Your eyes lingered on the ceiling while his gaze raked over your nude body. The intensity of his eyes tracing over every inch of you was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. His thumb smoothed over the raised skin of the new scar that brandished the skin above your right hip.

“Look at me,” he said.

He rewarded you with a lovestruck smile when you did what he said.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, y’know?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s mentioned it from time to time,” you giggled.

“I’ll tell ya every day if I have to.”

He put a pillow beneath your hips to elevate you and then began to settle himself between your legs. He tossed his hair over his shoulder to get it out of his way. His arms wrapped around your legs, and his hands pressed into the soft flesh. He pressed kisses to your inner thigh, inching closer to where you desperately wanted him.

His face was mere centimeters from your center. His blue eyes locked onto your face. He ran his tongue over his top lip.

And then he kissed the other thigh.

“Chuu, come on!” You whined. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

He tsked under his breath. “Be patient.”

“I have been,” you argued.

“You’re gonna get what you want,” he reasoned. “I promised you that, didn’t I?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the pillow.

“Yeah, you did,” You grumbled. “But I thought, you know, it’d be some time tonight and wouldn’t take forever-oh!”

In your exasperation, you failed to notice the devilish look on Chuuya’s face as he dove in to lick your slit firmly. He ended it with a flick to your clit with the tip of his tongue.

When you returned your gaze to him, the sight was almost too much to bare. His eyes danced with gloating. Your thighs framed his handsome face.

The admiration turned into more ecstasy as he continued.

He gave you another unyielding lick and then began to suck on your clit. You moaned shamelessly, burying your hands in his hair. When you tugged at his roots, his groan reverberated into you in the most wonderful way. Spurred on, he shoved two fingers back inside of you.

It was clear you wouldn’t last long. His tongue curled around your clit now, with the tips of his fingers crooking against you from the inside. Your eyes slammed shut and your mouth gaped open. Sparks flew in the darkness of your vision. And before long, you came while crying his name.

His mouth continued to work you through it. On the onset of overstimulation, you whined and pulled his hair harder.

Chuuya pulled away with a lopsided grin. “Tapping out already?”

Too dazed to shoot a quip at him, you nodded with a grin of your own.

He released your legs, paused to gently kiss your scar, and made his way up your body. His lips met yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “Missed this too.”

“Same here,” you murmured.

Though the moment was tender, your heart was still racing. Reuniting with Chuuya made you feel so relieved. And he made you feel safe, loved, and taken care of.

But you couldn’t help but notice how hard his dick was against your thigh.

Your hand reached down and palmed the outside of his boxers, earning a stuttering gasp from him.

“Now we gotta take care of you.”

#chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #mine #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #not sfw

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faeriekit · 7 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (XV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here and this is part fifteen...somehow...

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Author regrets both use of Roman numerals and Old English but you know what? We ballin'. Also Danny woke up! With only some complications! woohoo! 🎉

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny comes in and out of consciousness in bursts.

Wherever he is, it’s not the Guys in White. He rules that out very, very quickly.

For one. The Guys in White would not hire a lady to sit around and mind him constantly. He has— The same few doctors come in and out of green-tinged vision consistently. Their tags are different de-saturated colors, but he can recognize most of them.

And, somehow, the lady is there. If not at his side immediately, at his side quickly enough.

With his space shuttle.

With a grip toy.

With…oatmeal.

The oatmeal is what really clues Danny in that this can’t be the GIW.

The GIW would never waste human food on him. Never. It creates too much of a logistical mess: a paper trail of payments, feeding people that don’t exist; the need for cleanup of bio-waste that no one wants to deal with; the cleaning and sanitizing of utensils, which could easily contaminate a living person.

And yet. There is oatmeal.

Mushy, unappetizing oatmeal.

The lady feeds it to him when she’s around. She spoons it into his mouth, quietly chatting all the while. She could be telling him how she’s going to cut out his organs to be chopped up and mounted on glass slides for investigation for all that Danny knows, but still, very patiently, she spoonfeeds him little mouthfuls of oatmeal.

She waits for him to swallow every time. If he stops eating, she lets him stop.

It’s kind. It’s gentle.

It’s…it’s the nicest thing Danny’s had in a long time.

It’s so nice that he stops being overtly weird when the doctors come in. He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he’s shooting himself in the foot probably.

But…but no one is being mean to him. Everyone is being careful. Gentle.

Quiet. Slow. Obvious.

One of the doctors drops a meal tray once and everyone rushes to quiet it, to check that he’s settled, to…comfort? Him?

The oatmeal tastes bad, by the way. It’s also how he finds out part of his tongue is numb.

Or maybe it tastes bad because some of his tongue is numb.

Either way. Ew. It’s bland and it tastes bad and Danny has to finish all of it, even though he has an IV in him that puts food into him.

His IV itches. He’s sad that he can’t move and can’t protect himself. He’s tired and he’s bored of sitting here. He doesn’t know where he is and no one can tell him because he can’t understand them.

There’s no TV.

There are other concerns to be worried about, but Danny would like a television, please. Something with news on it. Something that could ground him in a location, or a place, or…

The air hisses. For a moment, breathing is going to be easier as the air cycles. It hurts, still, to breathe—the GIW hadn’t thought Danny needed to breathe, so they hadn’t put him back together right. He breathes through cobbled-together organs and raw pink seams, but yet. He breathes.

Danny lays there, and he breathes. He clutches his space shuttle toy between his wrist and his thigh, because he can.

There’s a whisper against the door. The heavy mechanisms of the door clank out of place.

Danny’s eyelids flutter as they fail to either open or close. The green in his vision bunches and falls as they try. The lady must be back.

Surely, enough, she is. Her paper gown is a mint blue today. It matches her mask and her gloves, but not her pinkish-grey shoes. She comes through the door, and—

—there’s something behind her.

It’s. They’re. Humanoid? They’re…green?

Danny stares, his head against the pillow, his eyes wide. They’re. They’re floating.

He can’t stop staring. His eyelids don’t even twitch. The lady walks to his bedside, and the…the other one follows him.

“Wel mette,” the lady greets him again, her fingers on the very corner of his mattress and no further. “Eom hebbjan ure freond.”

Danny has no idea what that means. He stares; he stares at the…their… Is that a ghost? Is a ghost just…walking around??

The—the being has—their head isn’t super. Humanoid. It’s more oval and angular, to be honest. But the rest of them is; their outfit is certainly out of the world Danny has grown up in, and is mostly constructed of straps crossing around the larger shapes of their body. And a…cloak…?

Is this a ghost?? It has to be, right? But a ghost of what??

There’s a sensation. Danny doesn’t have control over his body in the way that he’s used to, but this sensation isn’t aimed at his—it doesn’t—it’s not physical. It’s just a touch. A feeling.

Like he thought. A sensation. But still. Its presence is…Danny’s pretty sure it’s a greeting.

He…he doesn’t greet back. He doesn’t know if this is a friend.

…Lots of ghosts pretend to be something they’re not. He doesn’t know who this ghost is. He doesn’t know who this lady is. His head hurts and it’s hard to think and he knows everyone just wants to hurt him even when they pretend not to. Or they don’t even know it yet.

So he turns his head and pretends he’s dead. (Or. Uh. Dead-er.) Dead things don’t have thoughts, duh. You can’t read mine if I don’t have any!

The ghost drifts closer. Danny can’t move—he can’t run, can barely flinch—but he can feel how taut he gets the closer they get, the further they get into his personal bubble.

The greeting comes again. It’s quieter on the second round. Gentler. The ghost is trying not to scare him, is trying not to hurt him. Just careful, gentle contact.

Danny squeezes his eyes closed. It doesn’t work (whoops) because his eyes don’t close right (he forgot about that) and then his head hurts a lot because he’s working a whole lot of muscles who were not prepared to put in so much effort at the drop of a hat.

The greeting turns a little…melancholy. It matches the tone that the lady takes on when Danny’s breathing stutters and his body screams with exhaustion he can’t shake.

He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to be poked and prodded and then attacked when the ghost realizes Danny’s not Fun the way the ghosts want him to be—willing to play around when people get hurt or ignore the pain around them. Danny just wants to be left alone.

The greeting is gently let go. From the ghost comes a question—something soft. Something celestial. Danny can’t tell the specifics, but there are moons and stars in the question.

…His fingers flex around the plastic shell of his model shuttle. There’s. He’s. Space?

The green ghost turns to the lady. “Læt uns ga an wealc”, they say, in that English Danny doesn’t know and doesn’t understand.

The lady says something back to them. They say something back to the lady. The lady goes to the wall, where there is a phone, and says something.

Danny tenses. This is it. She’s calling in for backup. More people are coming and it’s going to hurt.

The phone call ends. The lady comes back and Danny tenses—

But there’s nowhere to run and his physical body is too weak to hide properly. She reaches his bedside, reaches out her arms, and Danny flinches away.

He can’t shut his eyes. He can’t stop seeing her outstretched arms because he can’t shut his eyes.

“Mæg eom ahebbe eow?”

Danny doesn’t know what that means!!!

The ghost brushes their fingers up against the steel rail of Danny’s cot. There’s an image—of the lady, clear as day, in a red and blue and gold outfit, bridal-carrying someone from building rubble. There’s a prodding at his core that says you, there, in particular.

He’s dumbfounded. Like, to lift? To lift him?

There’s a sense of agreement, and then the image of a cot with wheels. The wheels are the focus of the message.

…They’re asking Danny permission? To go somewhere?

On one hand, no, Danny doesn’t want to be any further complicit into whatever horrible kidnapping scheme this probably is. This place sucks. He doesn’t want to see more of it. This is the second worst kidnapping he’s ever had and he wants no part in it.

On the other hand, however, this place sucks, and getting out of here, even if only temporarily…

Danny licks his lips. There’s craters in the soft tissue. He tastes orange pixie sticks and the sour tang of battery acid.

If Danny is very, very smart. And very, very careful. And very, very quiet… Well. What are the chances they wheel him past the exit on this excursion?

Sure, they’re pretty low. But there’s hope.

Danny hasn’t had hope in ages.

He nods. He hates that he does—his neck jerks upwards, and then he’s sore and tired everywhere and in his head and neck and shoulders, and he’s not going to be able to move much more than that for literal hours (sorry, oatmeal mush), and he’s said yes.

“Þancie eow!” the lady says, and the ghost translates that for him as thank you and then she lifts Danny up off the bed cot he lives on like he’s still a ghost, and not made of heavy, teenage flesh. Wow is she strong. Danny hopes her job isn’t to hurt him. Otherwise he’s going to be a smear of green on the wall and then what would the point of inspecting his insides be??

Danny gets lifted. Danny gets carried.

(It’s not an amazing experience on his aching body. He thinks some of his bruises start to leak ectoplasm in self defense. Her arms are as stiff as rocks.)

Being lifted is also how Danny finds out there’s something caging his legs. They don’t seem to be caged together—they hang individually—but they keep them taut and aligned so that all the pressure of being lifted is on his hips, and not his legs. Considering that Danny’s received pretty medium care for his troubles…that doesn’t bode well for whatever state his legs are in.

Danny gets gently, gently placed down onto a new cot. The side bars are metal, but thinner than on the bed he woke up on.

The world starts to move.

Oh. They’re moving. Danny’s moving.

It’s kind of startling. The world’s been so static and fuzzy for so long, and now he’s bedridden but moving.

The ghost opens the door, and Danny’s still body and the bed follow with it. The lady has to be pushing, then. They go through it and—

—Danny blearily squints. Ow. Bright.

Bright, LED light follows Danny down steel hallways and past strangers in bright outfits, their colors pale and washed out by Danny’s attempts to squeeze green eyelids together and stop seeing everything.

He wants to stop. This is too much. He bites his lip—jaw aching—and grunts—throat tearing—and—

The ghost that keeps trying to talk to him sends some other emotion, and Danny purposefully ignores them. It’s easy enough to block things you don’t want to feel. The green wall of a body floats out in front of him to open another door, and Danny is pushed inside.

The lights are off in here. The tension in Danny’s forehead gets a little quieter. That’s…nice. It makes the window in the room seem bigger and brighter, and—

Danny jerks. His whole body screams at him as he claws against the cot, trying to get closer, closer—

He hurts something in his back. He can tell. There’s something in his hips that’s strained, or possibly fractured, as he climbs across a horizontal surface. The beings around him make worried, scared noises, and that doesn’t matter right up until the bed moves so Danny can push his face right up against the glass.

Because that’s space out there. The stars are out there. And Danny is so, so close to them.

It’s so…

…Danny doesn’t know how much time he loses to starlight before he falls asleep.

“Did you see!” Diana gushes, the windows going by. The cot (and the alien in it) she pushes through the hall, the occasional curious eye turning to them as they go past. “J’onn, did you see, he had glowed! I know we had hoped that he would be receptive, but—“

“Diana,” J’onn murmurs, his voice low. Wonder Woman’s head tilts to find him behind her, and she only slows just enough to not run the cot or its occupant into any unsuspecting superheroes.

The first fear is for the worst scenario. “Did the excursion hurt him?”

The Martian hesitates. “…No,” he says, and nothing more. He drifts forward to the metaphorical prow of their vehicle, and Diana sets her shoulders into generating momentum. J’onn opens doors for them as they pass.

The alien child isn’t awake to consent to be returned to his newly cleaned bed, but Diana feels secure enough returning him to his usual haunt that she proceeds to do so.

Even when physical, he is frighteningly limp in her arms.

She takes care to support his head as she pulls him up to her chest. He is so fragile. When the light comes across his face as he moves, parts of his face are still ominously transparent. Ominously liquid. Ominously green.

Diana should not be able to see the inner airways of his nose, nor the thin, still-healing holes in his skull, or his irises while his eyes try in vain to shut with skin they do not have.

She lays him down. Gently, she tucks him under thin sheets with gloved hands.

J’onn drifts over to her side. His feet haven’t touched the ground—not since he was reminded that visible signs of non-human life might be reassuring to a non-human. “He doesn’t remember us,” he says. Diana hears him.

And then she hears him.

“He what?”

“He has no memory of his time on the base. He has no memory yourself, of our previous communication, of the junior heroes… He has no understanding of the layout of the base, nor of things we had already established: my status as an alien lifeform to Earth and the base’s lunar occupancy. As far as he knows, he woke up here a week and a half ago to strangers having taking up a caretaker’s role, and he doesn’t know why and if we will harm him.”

Diana stills. She…takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” she whispers. And then, louder: “Alright. We can fix this.”

And they will, although it will take time, because even if he doesn’t remember them, Diana knows him—a child with too much fear, who likes to be around others, who occasionally plays around but likes his boundaries respected. A child who put glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

“Oh,” Diana realizes at last, reaching a point J’onn had already understood: “Impulse is going to be so disappointed.”

#Bart guarding his friend's stuff in the other room: I sense something Not Cool :(#Kon: whoah are you psychic?? Can I get a reading??#*they proceed to distract themselves for an hour before remembering the Not Cool Vibe Bart felt*#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover

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