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generalsmemories · 11 months

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How do I tell my husband he got scammed into buying a lion?

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ summary: during one autumn afternoon you're suddenly faced with another one of your husband's impulsive purchases. only that this time it's a living being.

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, humor, might be a bit ooc

✧ a/n: hello there hsr fandom! i have unfortunately lost the battle against myself on making another sideblog for jing yuan, the man who has singlehandedly occupied my mind since his first appearance in the beta. i do hope that this will actually appear in the tags, but every infomation you would need if you want to request something is all up on the blog if you so wish! i hope we can have a pleasant time together !!

also this is not beta-read, we die like how fast my resolve to not create a jing yuan blog died.

Being the spouse of the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu comes with it's share of benefits and disadvantages. For one you're regarded at a higher position than most of it's citizens, often being stopped on the side of the road when taking a walk to exchange numerous pleasantries with merchants from outside of Xianzhou, various store owners or cloud knights on duty.

Another factor is shouldering the burden your husband has on his shoulder, an oath you had taken yourself the day you accepted Jing Yuan's nth proposal. You considered that a fair trade with his vast knowledge and insight into a possible future and doing everything behind the scene to avoid colliding headfirst into said problem. A feat that attracted you towards the general in the first place, minus his dashing looks of course.

The biggest disadvantage of publicly announcing that you were indeed the Arbiter-General's significant other was doing everything within your power to not throw your husband's famous title away for a newer, more terrible one. (more utc!)

Because as you see him walking up the steps of the Seat of Divine Foresight, your gaze is not locked with your husband's smiling face, rather it's fixated on the small being he has cradled in his arms. The soft smile you had quickly spreading into a more nervous and confused smile as you glance over at Qingzu, the counselor looking at you with just as much confusion.

How in the world did you manage to leave him alone out in the market area for an hour and he comes back with a lion cub?

"[Name], darling! Look at this grimalkin that a merchant had!"

A what now?

"... A grimalkin, you say?" Every book that has recorded history had specified that the grimalkin species had gone extinct, and you were well aware that your husband knew this fact. And yet here you were, faced with his smile directed down towards what you can clearly tell is a lion cub, his thumb pressing down at its paws affectionately.

You're starting to think that Yanqing's impulsive purchases with his sword collection aligns with your own husband's impulsiveness.

Coughing loudly into your hand, you take a deep breath before descending down the stairs to be on the same level as Jing Yuan, peering down onto the cub's face. It was indeed cute, and judging by how enamored Jing Yuan is, you can clearly tell that it's small stature is what attracted him to it in the first place.

Oh he's going to be crushed when it grows up, "It's adorable, Jing Yuan," you settle on saying, waving a finger over the lion's grimalkin face, the animal lifting its paws to try to grab it. You shoot a look towards Qingzu, a silent command for her to look into which outer merchant was now scamming people into buying literal lions. The counselor quickly excusing herself to look into the matter immediately, Jing Yuan only giving her a smile and a wave of his hand as she scurries down the stairs.

"Right? I decided to name it Mimi," he muses, and your heart breaks a tiny bit for him, but there are more pressing matters at hand than the fact that your husband once again got scammed because he was most likely bored out of his mind.

You would rather that the Xianzhou citizens know him as "The Dozing General" instead of the general that gets scammed a few times too many. How does one even go on about trying to tell their husband that the grimalkin in his arms is actually a lion?

"A fitting name indeed," you mutter, raising a hand to caress Jing Yuan's cheek, a simple gesture to make the general direct his attention to you. However, you could still see that his guard was slightly up with you. You only chuckle at that, leaning in to slide your lips over his own, Jing Yuan wasting no time to press back.

Another well hidden secret reserved for the walls of the Divine Foresight is the fact your husband is incredibly weak for his own spouse.

"... Want to tell me how much you paid for Mimi, dear?" you ask in a whisper when your lips part, thumb caressing over the mole under his eye.

Jing Yuan merely smiles, twisting his head to press his lips against your hand instead, "It was from my personal wallet, dear. Please don't fret over the small details."

"Darling, I hope you're aware that the small details would be the necessary funding for accomodation, toys and food, right?" you say with a chuckle, your husband freezing with his ministrations upon remembering that fact.

Oh well, you want to see how long it takes before your husband comes to realization that it's a lion. You just have to be extra vigilant towards the numerous fundings in the meantime.

While scrolling through your schedule for the next morning, your phone dings with a message from Qingzu. You quickly look down at Mimi whose resting on your belly and then at Jing Yuan whose sleeping self is still snoring away by your shoulder before letting out a small sigh in relief that the loud noise didn't awake any of them.

Qingzu:

Do I even have a say in this?

Was the message sent by Qingzu, attatched to it is a picture taken of what you can only presume is one of Jing Yuan's "diaries". The contents of it making you let out a low laugh, the shaking making said man beside you grumble before pressing his face into your neck.

Attatched image:

"Eventually, I paid hefty sum for the grimalkin, named it "Mimi", and took it home. Only that I'm too busy with official business and have little time to take care of Mimi. After thinking it over, chores like feeding it and changing its water should also be entrusted to Qingzu. I do wonder why [Name] looked so distraught when they first saw Mimi though. Maybe they didn't think I would favor the petite and small animals instead of the usual large and strong ones?"

[Name]:

So Qingzu, do you have an idea what the easiest way to tell someone they got scammed is?

Qingzu:

That is the role of the spouse, not the counselor.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #star rail x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

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justporo · 7 months

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Hello! Very sorry if your post was rhetorical, but you asked for Astarion fluff and I had an idea. Since he's a canonical cay person, I like to think that a druid Tav would enjoy wildshifting into a cat and lounging in his lap, either acting as a heat source or letting him run his fingers through their fur when he's nervous or upset.

Anon, thank you so much. I immediately had a scene in my head and this was a true delight to write.

So now that I'm already crying from replying to that other Anon message (not their fault ofc), let's return to our regularly scheduled fluff, eh?

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You, Druid this time) Wordcount: 1,8k

Cats with Benefits

Sometimes it got all too much. Those were usually the moments you used your wild-shape abilities to shift into a cat and strolled off into the forest to have some moments of peace and quiet.

Today had been an especially exhausting day – the party had been fighting and bickering trying to figure out how to get through the Mountain Pass. The way was always steep and only loosely fixed, so you only made very slow progress and all of you were already completely exhausted came noon. So, you had decided that you’d take an additional rest midday when the sun was high and hot, adding to your already physically demanding hike.

You had put down your pack, went a few yards into the nearby patch of trees you had stopped at today to use their generous shade, and shifted into your usual form of a fluffy black cat and started to stroll around the small patch of forest. For some time you just wandered over fallen trees or through the underbrush, enjoying how differently it was to experience nature from the perspective of a feline creature. You loved it – it was almost like meditation for you.

The others didn’t know you wandered off like this sometimes. Or at least they hadn’t mentioned it. They wouldn’t leave without you and so far, you’d always gotten back to them in time. And as of late tension was high enough that everyone was pretty much occupied with just themselves, so they didn’t miss you.

After some time, you found a nice big rock in the sun on a clearing in the woods. Perfect for a cat to lounge on and take a nap. You jumped up, allowed yourself a long full body stretch and a big yawn and then rolled up into a ball of fur to enjoy the sun and some time alone.

As you laid there, your thoughts started to wander. You thought about your companions. You liked them, each and every one of them. Naturally, some more than others but you respected them all. But the path through the Mountain Pass had been a strain on all of you. And it really hadn’t helped that today everyone had just seemed on edge from the very first step on out.

Specifically, Astarion had been incredibly annoying today. Not being able to stop complaining about everything. Always replying with a sarcastic remark. To be honest, your relationship with him was probably the hardest and most formal of all thus far.

You had already realised that his flirty and sassy behaviour obviously were his coping mechanism for something deeply troubling, but by the Gods, it seemed he could never shut up. He was hand full at the best of times. Your furry ears started to twitch and the tip of your tail zig-zagged just thinking about it.

You tried to clear your mind then after your thoughts kept spiraling, hoping to relax enough that you could actually sleep a little.

But only shortly after your peace was broken.

“Well hello, who are you my beauty? A descendant of a mighty mountain lion? Rawr.”

No, it couldn’t be… The damned vampire had found you.

Of course he didn’t know it was you, but…

You opened one eye lazily and saw Astarion lean down to you, reaching out one hand to stroke you. Your jaws opened and you could already feel the hiss inside you rising to the top, but oh.

His touch was so gentle. His fingers softly stroked from the top of your head down your feline neck and back and you couldn’t resist leaning into his hand when he started again from the top.

“Someone likes that, hmm?”, Astarion said softly while petting what he received only as a wild but friendly cat.

Shifting into an animal also meant adapting some of their unique abilities and habits, so you couldn’t help when your feline body responded to the gentle touches by purring.

The vampire was positively intrigued when he heard that. As you opened your other eye you could see his big smile – a genuine one. You had never seen him smile like that. “Seems like someone’s just as touch-starved and desperate for some comfort as me”, he whispered while continuing his pets. That made your ears perk up and you immediately felt for the pale elf. Questions filled your mind about his unknowing revelation.

But you had barely any time to ponder them because suddenly the vampire scooped you up into his arms and sat down in front of the boulder you had laid down on. You yelped – or rather meowed at the sudden change of position.

Astarion moved carefully with your cat self in his arms until he was laying in the grass, legs angled, and you snuggled up against his chest. Since he had donned his armour and was only in his camp clothes you could feel his body, beneath your own.

This was incredibly weird and would probably end up with an awkward revelation but – you couldn’t deny that it was also very delightful.

“We can be cuddle buddies, my beauty, at least for an afternoon. So we can both get some much needed affection, hm?”, Astarion whispered to you. His red eyes looked so sad saying that. Whatever you had started to think about to get out of this situation evaporated. Suddenly, you only wanted to keep him company – it seemed he desperately needed it.

And the way he unknowingly had started opening up to you: it was a good albeit saddening look on him. You wanted to provide some comfort it that was what he seeked.

Also, it felt incredibly good to lay there on your new vampiric stone, soaking up the sun together while Astarion carefully continued petting you: scratching behind your ears, stroking down your back with both hands, even when he tickled one of your paws with a single finger. And you couldn’t stop purring. That bastard knew exactly what to do to keep the purrs coming.

Then after a while he just laid there with you, hands on your soft and shiny fur. He sighed: “I wish I could take you with me. You seem to like me. At least more than my other companions.”

Your ears perked up again, you looked at him but he had his eyes closed, head lolled back to enjoy the warming sunlight.

“Especially, Tav”, Astarion continued with another sigh “I wish I knew a way how to change that.”

That was it. You couldn’t in good faith continue to lay there with him as he offered up his innermost feelings. You got up and jumped off the vampire’s chest who got up on his elbows looking sad by your departure. You sat there and shortly pondered if you should just leave, keeping your secret. But you couldn’t, you needed him to know – and also have some words with him.

You changed back into your humanoid form, making Astarion scurry back from you, eyes wide with shock.

“Hi Astarion”, you whispered as you knelt beside him.

“You – what? How? Oh, I knew your eyes looked familiar!” His voice rose several octaves and you kept silent as his mood changed from shock to anger – but he stayed where he was.

“What the fuck was that about? Trying to spy on me?”, he hissed at you. Excuse him? He invaded your privacy. “I was here first, you bastard!”, you spat back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“And you didn’t think to reveal yourself before I proceeded to make you fucking purr?” “How when you didn’t leave me anytime in between petting me and lifting me up? I only wanted to be alone!”, you screamed back.

That made Astarion’s shoulders slump a little, some of his softer side returned. “I’m sorry”, he said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry”, you replied and looked down at your knees while pressing the balls of your head against your forehead “I should have said something way earlier.”

You looked up at him: “But then you sounded so sad and I… didn’t want you to be sad so I let it happen and it was kinda nice... I’m sorry, I invaded your privacy like this, Astarion. I’ll just leave and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

You saw the surprise on the vampire’s face who remained silent. So, you moved to get up, but Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist. “No, please. Stay… It was nice”, he confessed and looked into your eyes. The look he gave you was almost pleading.

The urge to move in and hug him overcame you, so you acted upon it – you had already laid on his chest, hadn’t you? How much worse could this make it?

You moved in and wrapped your arms around him – surprising the yelping vampire so much that he fell onto his back again. You were scared that you had crossed yet another line but to your own surprise you felt his arms wrap around you in return slowly.

And so you hugged him long and tightly. He was tense at first, but you felt him relax after some time. He even started to stroke your back again. You squeezed him and held onto him trying to offer him as much comfort and affection you could muster.

“For the record, I do like you, Astarion. You’re just annoying sometimes. But so can the others be, and I too”, you spoke into his chest, squeezing him yet harder. “And if… if you need someone to maybe talk to or hug you or just, you know, lounge in the sun… I can also change back into a cat, if you want me to. I could be your cat with benefits so to speak”, you brabbled into his shirt before you got too shy to make the offer. Your words were muffled but you hoped he heard you.

He did and the vampire chuckled softly. “That sounds… nice. Thank you. I may take you up on that if you promise you will keep this our little secret”, he answered hesitantly. You lifted your head from his shirt but not letting him go. “Would you like me to change back into a cat?”, you asked him and blushed as you realised what kind of weird deal you had just made with the vampire.

“No, Tav, not this time. This… this is very nice too”, Astarion replied and gave you another – the second this afternoon! – genuine smile. And this time it felt even better, knowing it was actually meant for you. You smiled back and placed your head on his chest again. Astarion’s hands kept softly wandering over your back as you kept holding him.

This is where you comfortably remained until it was time to get back to camp. But you were both sure it wouldn’t be the last opportunity to enjoy a nice cuddle in the afternoon sun.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #poro answers #poro writes #cats #again

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belphegorey · 7 days

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⌜sapphires, mammon⌟ his little human looked so pretty in gold ships ⎯⎯ mammon x fem!reader tropes ⎯⎯ vaginal sex, blushing mammon, dick piercing, scenting, size kink, praise, marking, pact marks, lots of greed

Gold. It dropped down your skin in silken cloth, caressing your body in the thin layer and making you shimmer. Necklaces and bracelets glittered like the finest of treasure on your body. Earrings dangled with more carats than anyone could afford.

The tantalising speck in your eye reflected the same ore. Your wicked smirk taunted him in more and more of the golden decadence you were encased in. The finest of prizes. The treasure all pirates would hunt for, the gift all people would die for, the only thing Mammon would kill for.

Rings hung on your fingers. Rubies, emeralds and diamonds galore. The jewel within the golden earrings, he realised, were perfect sapphires. His chest grew tight as they glittered under the chandeliers. “ Your eyes ,” you had whispered them on your first day in the Devildom, just after Mammon had given you his completely grand tour of the House of Lamentation, “ they’re so blue .”

Mammon could still recall his scoff. You had been so strange. Sure, he had only listened to you for an hour by that point, but he had decided you were not worth his valuable time. Most of his mind had been occupied by whether or not his stocks had lowered during the day. “ They are not blue ,” it had felt like an insult to him at the time. He hadn’t even acknowledged the sheer intrigue upon your beautifully shining face — whereas it was all Mammon could think of now, “ they are like… sapphires. Sapphires and gold. ”

You had nodded with a faint little smile. It was the first smile he had seen of yours. Mammon could describe each expression on your face, and the variety of your grins in great detail, but that one was the most valuable in his mind. Rare, special, and one you had shown him first. “ Sapphires and gold .” Yet again, his mind was occupied with profit, including whether or not he could find a way to sell you as an experiment to Solomon, but even then Mammon had felt pride seeing your soft expression just for him. The first time he had felt something positive toward you, a blissful premonition of your shared future. “ A beautiful combination .”

His tongue tied into knots. It was the worst torture he could have ever endured. Any punishment from Lucifer paled in comparison as he watched you descend into the room with the same small smile on your face. His skin burned hot and the rings around his fingers, one of which you had given him as a gift, did nothing to cool his fire. All his brothers stood around him, watching and praising your every movement, he was sure that Beelzebub had slipped drool onto the floor beneath them. Mammon scrunched his nose to ignore the stabbing in his spine.

His. It was what fuelled him. Greed was what flowed in his veins and blossomed in his throat. You were his. You dressed up in the finest of materials for him . You wore sapphire earrings for him . The little smile on your face was only for him . His brothers were not who you were looking for. They were not the ones who protected you and listened to your every story.

“You look darling, my love,” Asmo moved forward in a movement similar to that of a dance. His steps were delicate and smooth as he whisked you away from Mammon’s eyes. You had gone with him like a true ballerina, performing with your typical delicateness and respect. Mammon was sure that he could hear the growing orchestra of the human ballet play out in his head. Did that make him Hilarion to your Gisele? His fingers twitched as he noticed Diavolo and Barabatos greet you with smiles.

Everyone was watching you. Had you been anyone else Mammon would say it was because of the scarcity in your outfit. He knew better. You were the treasure that sparkled in eyes. No jewel, no car, not even his precious Goldie, were comparable to you. You were his human. He was your demon. Your first demon.

Mammon would not allow himself to just watch you be flaunted by his brother. He jumped to action, the orchestra in his mind crescendoed to a glorious triumph, and Mammon made his way across the room. Your golden dress and the sparkling smile guided him forward, the itching in his back of wins that threatened to burst through fuelled him further. Your eyes, lit brighter than the chandeliers above you, found him and your smile returned. Big, toothy, mischevious. The hand weighed down in glorious rings ran softly against your hip, the jewels catching the light gloriously.

Temptress. You were no worse than one of Asmodeus’ succubi. Mammon loved it. Your tantalising gaze licked at his greedy veins and pressed him to act further. To let loose. To properly remind everyone who you were meant for.

“I’m glad you could make it, Mammon!” Diavolo’s regular grin greeted him while Barbotos stood to his left, arms folded in the usual servant manner. Both of them stared into his body, Mammon could feel the eyes as they fell to the flood of green surging off his soulless body. He attempted a smile to placate the royal before him, but your sparkling person kept poking at the corner of his eye. It felt just wrong to look away from you, especially when the hungry gaze of all the higher demons in the Devildom were staring right at you. “Lucifer had said you would be working tonight.”

He had never been so lucky in his life. It was his own curse to step with misfortune haunting his shadow. His modelling job would always run overtime and Mammon would be left hanging from the roof tied in electric cables as punishment for his tardiness. But not that day. Not only did it finish early, a feat in itself, but Mammon was allowed to witness you in all golden glory. “I was gonna, yeah, but we finished early so i’m able to come and celebrate ya.”

He felt your hand before he properly realised you had moved to stand right beside him. Your touch was feathery, slowly running across his back to tug on the belt loop along his hip. The fire beneath his skin was red hot, your touch was the ice he needed to cool down. A shudder ran down Mammon’s spine as you leaned into him, he felt the fire rise on his cheeks at the stance. So blatant, so obvious, it showed that he was dangled on your arm. Him. No one else.

“But,” you sighed and finished your demonus with a low gaze on the floor. One of the fingers you had caught around his belt loop reached for his hand, linking his finger to yours. His lips were sealed tight as the blushed tortured his physique, “it is a shame but I need to steal Mammon for the night. You won’t mind if we leave a bit early, right?”

Diavolo waved off your worry with a hearty grin, moving with your lie though Mammon (and he was sure you as well) knew that he caught your lie easily. “So long as you come over for afternoon tea with Barbatos and I this week, it will be fine.”

“Of course,” you grinned with a wickedness he could only compared to Satan, though that in itself was like a cat. Your chest pressed into his arm as your grin only grew further. “Should I bring over some cakes?”

It was Barbatos who answered the question; with only a simple shake of his head. “That is unnecessary. I will make sure to prepare both yours and the Young Lord’s favourites for our tea.”

“Delightful! I’ll see you both then,” you bid them both a sweet goodbye with a wave of your fingers. Mammon felt himself stuck in a frozen manner as you pulled him away to the door of the castle. All he could register was the cooling touch of your hand holding his own and the sparkling treasure gracing your body.

Mammon was not one for sharing. He never shared his favourite meals. He never shared his time with you. And he certainly did not share his possessions. The gold bars he kept hidden in his safe, the necklaces and bracelets he never intended to wear and Goldie herself were only meant for him. Yet, he needed to see you dressed in his finest possessions.

It sounded glorious. His bed covered in cash and jewels, with his most important treasure laid in the centre, covered in the jewellery he hoarded and nothing else. Just waiting for him to touch. Begging for him. Needing him.

Your visage for the night’s gala was just a little treat for the reality of his dream.

“Where are ya takin’ me?” He tugged on your joined hands in resistance and grimaced as the collar of his suit choked on him. Mammon wanted nothing more than to follow your every step, but his own attitude had to intervene. The door of the castle opened and granted Mammon a warm breeze through the Devildom night. The moons were tall in the dark sky, shining bright enough to make your jewellery glitter. “Lucifer is gonna punish us. Nah, he is gonna punish me and then say I took ya myself.”

You giggled and he felt his tongue tie together. He loved that noise, more than when the slots would make that fantastic winning chime. “I just had a thought,” you stopped walking and turned around to smile at him. His hand was still caught in yours, and you pulled him in so that your chest pressed together. “Everyone is with Diavolo, so we have the house to ourselves…”

Evil temptress. You were pure evil! Mammon groaned and hid behind his free hand, the blush burning red on his cheeks. “You can’t say that kinda stuff,” he whined into his palm, and your resounding giggle only made him whine louder. It was wicked and you knew it! Maybe you really were part succubi. “It’ll gimme ideas.”

You moved his hand from his face, lips dangerously close to touching him. Mammon was frozen once again. Does he do it. Does he grant himself the kiss he had dreamed of? He needed it, more than he needed the newest 666 Lexura (on Lucifer’s dime) but he couldn’t if you weren’t wanting it. Mammon would wait for an eternity for you. “And if I want you to have those ideas?”

From then on, it was Mammon who led you to the House of Lamentation. The searing burn of his skin was nothing to the icy touch you offered, he needed it all over his body. Your hand was tightly gripped in the veiny grasp of his fist, but you no made no cries.

There was only gleeful laughter as you ran along beside him. Mammon didn’t allow himself the pleasure of moaning over your beautiful laugh, not when he knew what was awaiting him inside the large doors it the house. As much as he did love your laugh, he was just dying to hear your moans instead.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you look so determined,” you whispered it into his ears as he fumbled with the handles of the front door. Stupid faulty lock. Stupid prank from Belphegor to annoy Lucifer. Your lips were inches from his ear, more teasing speech sounding like the song of sirens to lure him in, “want me that bad?”

No speaking. If he spoke Mammon knew he would mess everything up and wake up from the dream he had to have been having. Instead he successfully pushed the front door open and whisked you away to his bedroom. Where you belonged.

It all just felt so right having you inside his space. Your scent has gotten so faint over the days it had been since your movie night together. The aura you held, so mischevious in its purity, tainted by his pact. He could see the black blemish along your soul all around you, burned by the mark along your sternum.

And yet, it just fuelled him so much more. It was all his. You were his. You were dressed up all for him, ready to be coated in his treasure, and smiling at him in wait for his next step. You stood in front of his bed, fingers trailing down the golden dress you tortured him with. It would be so easy to push you back onto the mattress and ravage you as he had desired for far too long.

Mammon was sure that his breathing was ragged and shallow, he must have resembled a monster. His hair was messed from his own awkward hands as he tried to stay calm and the tingling of his wings still taunted his back in wait. One more step and the control over himself would combust.

He was always weak when it came to you.

“Mammon,” you whispered his name like it were a crime. So soft spoken, not wanting to break the bubble. Your mischief, the teasing, it had gone. All that stood left before him was the radiating greed from your form, drowning his mind in the finest of liquor, “I need you.”

Snap . He heard the crack of his wings hitting the air before Mammon properly felt them extend from his back. They tore through the suit he wore as he pounced on you, your back falling to the mattress under his body.

You were so small. He was not the largest demon, but there was something in the sheer difference in your frames. Your face was cast in his shadow, your alluring eyes large as you stared up at him. There was no fear when his claw tore through the front of your dress.

Instead, there was a bright smile, the one he loved, when you realised what he was doing. “Yours, Mammon,” your hands found his hair and the horns protruding from them, pushing your chest closer to his face. The torn gold along your chest had revealed your glorious body to him, but most importantly, the mark that made you his.

“Mine,” the word was like a growl on his tongue as he watched the mark. It glowed in his presence, even more of the glorious gold that he loved. “Had to watch ya be shown off. I felt sick watchin’ but I couldn’t look away from ya, Treasure.”

You lifted a leg around his hips to press yourself against his erection. Mammon felt his cheeks go red from the shame but your shaky moan at the touch melted it away. His greedy little human, it felt amazing to know he was not the only one desperate. “Did I look pretty for you?”

“So so pretty,” he pushed up the skirt of your dress, letting the long material bunch at your waist. He wouldn’t let you take it off, maybe not for a long time. His colour was just too beautiful on you. “Gonna need you to wear this every day.”

You shuddered against him as Mammon ran a long finger along your cunt. No underwear. He had always heard Asmo talk about how you couldn’t wear panties with some clothes, but he just thought it was a lie. And yet, you were on display for him just like that. “That may be hard since you tore the front,”

“Ain’t no one else seeing you in this.” No. No, he couldn’t be having that. Even if you were in an outfit that covered all your skin under hundreds of layers, Mammon would still prefer it for his eyes alone. The wet heat on his fingers made his head spin in horny glee, the sweet smell of you making his eyes roll. “Just for me from now on. Got it? Me.”

You pushed against his seeking hand, rubbing more of your slick onto his palm. His erection throbbed in his pants. He needed to feel you. Feel all of you. “I sound like a doll then.”

His wings flapped and Mammon bit his lip. Doll. That worked. He rather liked it. “My doll, though, not my brothers,” he dug his head into the crook of your neck. Your smell was so strong, it streamed from every pore in your skin, he felt intoxicated. The growing lust, the overwhelming greed, even the licks of pride that often made his face scrunch were delicious from you. “Need ya really bad, human.”

You stroked his hair and rolled your hips against him. “Then, have me,”

The soft words had spurred action within you both. Mammon had gone into his back while you adjusted yourself to straddle him, his erection flush against his toned chest and leanings beads of white. Your eyes never strayed from his dick, he felt like glowing under your approving gaze.

“You have piercings?” Mammon nodded with a smirk, shining from the wetness he could feel growing on his thighs. You liked it. He should have known you would.

Your hand gently went to grasp his cock, thumb running along the golden piercing beneath the head. His moaned through his teeth at your curious touch. You did it again, gauging his reaction and milking another bead of precum from his slit.

Mammon noticed the bite of your lip, the slow grinding of your hips and the flooding lust in the air. He wanted to show off for you, tease you, and simultaneously ask if you wanted him to get more. “I really like it,” you eventually said, rubbing your palm against him as you lifted yourself into the air.

He dug his fingers into the mattress beneath him. It was happening. The thing he had craved. Something Mammon would have sold all his belongings for. You. He got to have you!

You aligned his dick with your entrance, whimpering as he entered. Your golden dress had fallen down and hid the act from his eyes, which may be a good thing because Mammon knew he would never be able to tear his eyes from it. He groaned as you slid down the shaft, taking more and more of him in such a slow movement that it felt torturous.

Until, he was completely in you, pushing you and stretching you out. He could feel your cunt tight and warm around him, throbbing in need for only his touch. Your face was scrunched in desire as your lip wobbled. His little human. All full.

“Doing so well, Treasure,” he moaned the praise into the air, his hand right on your hip. The glow of his pact mark fuelled the flames inside his body, only triumphed as your tits slipped from the torn dress. Mammon couldn’t help himself. “My human. Lookin’ all pretty for me,” he continued to whispered all the praise he had ever thought of when it came to you, moving himself up and closer to your chest.

When his mouth kissed the skin around your breast, your body shook as you moaned. He graced his fangs to see your reaction — it was just as needy as the last. You began to move on his dick, bouncing up and down while you pulled on his hair.

More marks. He wanted to leave enough marks on you that no one would dare go near you. Mammon squeezed his hand in your waist as he bit gently on your chest, and to his surprise you giggled through your shaky moan. “Am I your property now, Mammon?”

“Not property,” he was quick to dismiss that. You were his, but not an object. You were his favourite treasure, someone to worship. “You’re mine though. Don’t ya forget that or else.”

Your movements were that of a succubi. You’d managed to get him nice and deep inside you, threatening his control over just filling you up with his cum each time, then pulling him out so just his tip would kiss your opening.

And yet, your face was angelic and oh so sweet. Mammon was enamoured. “I won’t ever forget,” he couldn’t help but nuzzle into your neck again. It felt so safe. Mammon kissed your neck as he moved his other hand to your hip, moving your body with your bouncing, adding just the slightest bit more speed.

His favourite doll. His sapphire and his gold. His.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me! mammon #om! mammon #shall we date mammon #obey me smut #obey me! smut #obey me! shall we date smut #obey me! mammon smut #mammon smut #mammon obey me #mammon obey me smut #om!swd smut #om!swd mammon #om! smut #om! mammon smut #⌜writing⌟

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idontgiveashitabouttourneys · 1 year

Text

Brought to a Halt

Warnings: masturbation, voyeurism, slight dubcon maybe

Notes: My first Aemond fic. English is not my first language.

You are Prince Aemond’s chamber maid, assigned to clean his rooms in the mornings. His and Princess Helaena’s are the only chambers you take care of as part of your cleaning duties, and you thank the Gods for your work placements each time you hear stories about Prince Aegon’s treatment of the women in his service. It too suits you just fine that you hardly ever see Prince Aemond, as he rises early to catch an hour or two of training alone on the grounds below, so you rarely meet, and if you do, while in his chambers, he’s curt and politely dismissive, paying you no mind at all.

It was snowing heavily that day and the previous day’s rain flood had turned to ice, making the courtyard unfit for training even for the most stubborn and capable of knights. As you gathered your buckets and rags and made your way towards His Highness’ chambers, yourself trying not to slip on the damp and frosty halls leading up to the farthest, more isolated part of the Keep, you found your heart rate quickening, your breaths more shallow - and you knew the strain of the effort was not to blame, yet all the same you could not wrap your head around the reason why the prospect of possibly bumping into the Prince for once was making you so nervous.

Reaching the familiar door, you set down your bearings, tapping your knuckles on the wood, gently at first and more forcefully a second time, as you heard no noise or any semblance of a response in return. Hand on the door knob, you decided to push in, praying to the Seven that this silence meant the Prince was as such otherwise occupied, and that you will be spared from having to face him.

Occupied he was, alright, you would eventually figure out, as you entered the dark but airy rooms he inhabited. Taking in your surroundings, you noticed the open windows, the noise of the biting cold winds hardly covering the ruckus of the snow plowers working outside, eyes finally settling on the figure writhing in the bed. He didn’t hear me knock, you finally registered, feeling obscene as you took him in. There he laid, silver white hair all splayed out on fine cotton garbed pillows, chest bare and muscled arms working away underneath the covers. You promptly turned red at the recognition of his actions, letting out a loud yelp which proceeded to awake the Prince from his reverie.

His closed eye had sparked open at the intrusion. His hands stopped in their pace, as his head snapped towards you, the heat on his face, once proclaiming his arousal, now darkened into a brighter red - shame, anger, you couldn’t tell, yet at the instant his eye had met yours, you rapidly turned your back to him, kicking a bucket in the process and dropping on your knees in expectation of your punishment.

You could feel hot tears starting to pour from their ducts, as your whole body felt on fire despite the chilling temperature in the room. You wanted to apologize, to explain yourself, yet the words died in your throat, never making it past your lips, let alone into the Prince’s ears. Eventually, you heard him let out a loud sigh followed by the smacking noise of his feet descending on the cold stones covering the floors. “Get up,” you heard him utter, surprised at the softness in his voice, as you bid his command.

With your back still at him, you gave it another go at explaining yourself, the tears on your cheeks and the shakiness in your voice betraying your otherwise convincing words. “Forgive me, my Prince, I did knock… twice actually, but, but… you see, I expected the silence, and, and, and… I wanted to get on with my duties, my Prince, I am terribly sorry for my intrusion. It is most unbecoming of me to witness such, such… such…” the words dying, yet again, in your mouth, as you did not even know how to speak of such matters, much less so, in front of a member of the royal family.

“Turn around,” you heard him say next, this time more forcefully, after a long silence in which you stewed in your own shame and fear. Facing him again, you tried to look him in his eye, and his eye alone, yet your gaze inadvertently shifted as you became so aware of his naked form, completely on display before you. You gulped slowly, making sure to keep your expression placid and disinterested. He is toying with me, just like Aegon does with his maids. It must run in the family, you thought.

Previously seated on the edge of the bed, Prince Aemond was now standing, in all his might and making his way towards you. With his feet firmly planted on the ground, each step he took was slow and languid, a predator coming to inspect its cornered prey. You abandoned all attempts to look him in his face, just as he had abandoned any semblance of modesty, his long taut legs drawing your attention, even more so than his now, only half-hard cock.

He came so close to your figure, you swore you could have grabbed him with just a slight lift of your hand, the proximity both frightening and exciting in a manner which you could not understand. Prince Aemond was inspecting your face, his eye moving across your own, down to your lips, around your hair, finally down to whatever hint of breasts you had in your drab uniform. You closed your eyes shut as you felt him inch his way towards your neck, dropping your head towards the ground. His whispers just below your ear were preceded by a groan. “Mmm,” the noise he made flipped your stomach in a familiar, but rarely fulfilled sensation. “You found yourself in quite a situation I fear. You see, I truly did not appreciate you barging in like this, forcing me to stop like that, and well… I suppose, if I can’t take out my release in fighting today, I must find some other way, don’t you think?” You opened your eyes at that, contemplating whether you should nod, drop on your knees in forgiveness again, or wait for his next move.

Seeing his fully hard again cock left you little time to think, as you felt him press into your side, just enough to make its presence known. With your mouth agape, you raised your head to stare into his face. I will not show fear, you thought again, suddenly noticing for the first time that morning that he was not wearing his eye patch. As you studied the sapphire placed in lieu of his eye, you began to see him as he was. You cocked your head to one side, your scrutiny of him evident, as you too made note of his luscious locks, parted lips and strong nose. Even in this moment of terror, you were forcefully overcome by the glaring and imposing beauty of your Prince.

It was his turn to feel overwhelmed by your stare, as he took a few steps back, the touch of his manhood on you evidenced only by a small wet spot left on your work apron. He was looking at you with a curious glaze in his eye now, as he made his way towards the chair beside his bed. You shamelessly peered at his tight buttocks for a few seconds, letting out a small exhale as you understood the Prince was preparing to put on his breeches, discarded on the backrest sometime during the previous night.

Without turning to face you and grace you with another glimpse of his member, he spoke again, in probably the most assertive manner yet that morning. “Do not fret. I am not my brother, I do not take pleasure in having my way with plain little scullery maids, but mark my words if you interrupt me ever again, you will have wished I was as considerate as my brother when I am done with you.”

He looked at you once over his shoulder, his fingers fumbling to tie his breeches. You held his gaze strong, and nodded once, not profusely and apologetically as you might have just mere minutes ago, but with a certainty that suggested you understood his words very well.

“I’ll leave you to your work.” he finally muttered, pulling his white chemise and his black boots on, avoiding your gaze as he made his leave, shutting the door purposely on his way out.

You were left stunned and shaken to your core, as it took you some good ten minutes to compose yourself enough to start your duties. Your work took twice as long, as the pressure in your lower belly made you dizzy and warm, no possibility of release apparent as you bent down to clean the window sills, knelt on the cold stones to scrub the dirt, and caressed the cotton sheets as you made your Prince’s bed. It took a lot of strength to not bend down and smell the comforter, yet you ultimately gave in and planted your face in the exact spot that just mere moments ago covered such delectable gratification.

You pulled yourself out of your daze quickly enough after that. You forget yourself, you thought, he is the Prince, I am but a servant. You gave a final once over to the room, deciding that everything was in order and staggered your way towards Princess Helaena’s rooms.

Later that evening, before taking your supper, you headed to the Grand Sept. You lit a candle, you prayed to the Seven. You asked for a harsher winter. You ignored the fluid pooling in your small clothes. You asked for icier grounds. You asked for another morning with your Prince.

Note: again, this is my first Aemond fic and among the first fics I’ve ever published. I would love some thoughts &/or advice ♥️

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine

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bubblefina · 1 year

Text

Dad Scaramouche? just some post reuniting stuff

No Puppet Strings Attached Scaramouche specifically

I’ve been thinking about this before I even finished writing the final part of the story-

Didn’t feel like I could include it at the very end cause it just didn’t fit, but how could I not include it at all!

Here’s some of my brainrot about it-

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

- yknow after hundreds of years being a cold hearted harbinger, I think he’d walk the line of being somewhat of an ass to his kids, but eventually warming up to them

- The way I imagine it, you and scara have two twin daughters. They look so similar to him...actually they look more similar to the raiden shogun if I’m being honest

- through a really long discourse, the twins ended up being named Makoto and Ei 🤩

- he really REALLY hates the names

- but how can he say no to his cute little wife that he’s been in love with for so long?

- Both you and scara still live in Sumeru, occasionally venturing out to neighboring countries for the festivals and such

- favorite by far has to be lantern right. the twins love seeing the lanterns go in the sky :(( so cute

- when they turned 5, both of you made the decision to visit Inazuma. It’s been way too long since the both of you went back (well for you at least *cough delusion factory cough*)

- head to liyue to catch a ride on Beidou’s boat

- Uncle Kazuha is there too!! How much joy you felt to know that he was your descendent, and that the blood line continued with him

- Kazuha loves the twins too, keeping them entertained while parents get some much needed alone time

- playing tunes on a leaf, he’s never had an audience that asked for an encore like this

- the amount of people that had to do a double take when the four of you stepped off the boat

- “why do these little girls look so much like the shogun?” blah blah blah

- continued until you got to the tenshukaku, where even Kujou Sara was in shock to see it

- after centuries apart, mother and son finally reunite (he’s not the most happy about it)

- Raiden Ei is pretty awkward too, ngl both of them barely spoke, it was just you carrying on the conversation

- when it was finally time to introduce your kids, Raiden’s expression immedietly softened when she heard the names

- she didn’t speak much, but it was written all over her face that she was so happy

- even happier when both of them ran to her and hugged her legs, calling her different variations of grandmother

- she kneels down and pats their heads 😩 😩 offers them dangos!!

- scara was about to pull out a heavy NO, but you managed to keep him quiet

- Raiden Ei and the girls bond really well, and as much as Scara hates it...he wants his girls to be happy. To have the life that he always dreamed of having, and he was willing to give up whatever to make it happen

- While the girls were occupied with activities at the Tenshukaku, both you and scara venture to tatarasuna

- walking around, remembering all of the happy times before everything fell apart. it felt bittersweet to be back here. it was around night time when the both of you were about to return, but Scaramouche had another thing in mind

- he guided you a little far away from what used to be the village, you recognized the path

- just in the middle of the wooded area, there stood a single bloom blossom amongst a patch of grass

- he confesses that he planted it years ago when he visited inazuma for the first time since he joined the fatui. it seems as though it culviated itself and kept itself alive all this time. Still glowing alone, through all of the darkness.

- everyone else may be gone, but the both of you started a new chapter with each other. Both Makoto and Ei would carry it on, tatarasuna will never truly die

- If only Niwa, Katsuragi, Miyo and the others could see the both of you now, how you started a family. They’re watching up from above somewhere, and that’s all that matters.

#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #dad!scaramouche #gutted me writing that last bit cause i miss niWA!!

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pxnsneverland · 1 year

Text

Beauty and the Boss | austin!elvis x oc (part 9)

plot summary: Laura Jean Walker is the daughter to Louisiana’s most powerful mafia boss, but to her, he’s just her jail warden. When she sneaks out to the Louisiana Hayride with her friend she sees Elvis Presley perform and instantly knows something is special about this boy. Especially when he saves her from being assaulted by a townie. She thinks she’s on cloud 9 until she gets kidnapped in the middle of the night by the Memphis Mafia led by Elvis himself. Will Laura Jean try to free herself or will something hold her back from finding her way home?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 1845

warnings/notes: Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since I posted a part, but I finally got some time today :)

Chapter 9

The funeral of Gladys passed in a blur, and before we knew it, the wake was upon us. A steady stream of visitors flowed in and out of the house, all eager to pay their respects to the departed soul lying in the casket. It was a somber sight, made all the more poignant by the fact that it now occupied the very spot where Elvis's grand piano once stood. Beyond the threshold, amidst the ebb and flow of visitors, a throng of journalists and the flicker of camera bulbs stood poised, anticipating Elvis' emergence and any utterance he might offer. The dogs were ravenous, and they seemed intent on exploiting his grief. In the interim, Elvis had not crossed my path since our return from the church. He vanished up the stairs, never to return. I empathized with the agony he was experiencing and yearned to offer solace with my words. However, I was aware that words would be futile in this situation. The death of my mother continued to linger in my mind even after all these years, and it was not an unexpected heart attack like Ms. Gladys.

Perched upon the plush velvet carpeting of the steps, I observed the bustling crowd from a safe vantage point. I was disinclined to respond to inquiries or receive expressions of sympathy that were rightfully intended for Elvis. The memory of Mama's funeral flooded back to me, overwhelming my senses. Hollow utterances emanating from individuals who lacked sincerity in their speech. It was precisely the phrase one utters to console those who have suffered the loss of a cherished person. Their assistance fell short of your expectations. With a firm grasp on the hem of my black dress, I attempted to free myself from the labyrinth of my own thoughts. I found myself being pulled into a recollection that I had no desire to revisit. I felt a sense of gratitude as Colonel descended the stairs, his expression conveying more than just dissatisfaction.

The Colonel grumbled, “He won’t come out of that closet.” Though he averted his gaze, I sensed that his words were directed towards me. He leaned against the wall adjacent to my position. “There are some fine folks from the press waiting outside. A few questions, pictures, and they will leave us alone.”

With a cool gaze, I observed him closely, and his subtle response indicated that he was aware of my piercing stare. “You want him to go talk to the reporters? After his Mama just died? The person he was closest to in the world?”

“I know, I know.” The insincere tone of his voice sent shivers down my spine. “He trusted her like nobody else, and now she’s gone and who does he have now?” He finally looked at me.

“You’ve picked the wrong person for an ally, Colonel. I ain’t forcin’ him to go talk to nobody.”

“No, no. That’s not…that’s not what I meant. I care about my boy whether you believe that or not, Ms. Walker. I tried talking to him but it’s really not my place. You, however, have his heart perhaps just as much as his dear Mama did. He trusts you. Despite our differences, you and I, we have one thing in common. We want what is best for that boy. And today, you are what is best.”

The art of deception is often employed by conmen, who skillfully blend elements of truth with their own ulterior motives. The art of perception was a skill passed on by my father, and it allowed me to easily discern the true intentions of the Colonel. Perhaps his interest in Elvis was genuine, but it was overshadowed by his preoccupation with his own celebrity and public persona. As the reporters continued to exploit Elvis's sorrow, the Colonel's pockets grew increasingly lined with cash. Despite the presence of the man standing next to me, my adoration for Elvis remained paramount. I rose to my feet, delicately smoothing out the fabric of my skirt.

“I’m not makin’ him come down if he don’t want to,” I declared, preceding my ascent up the stairs towards the room that was once occupied by Gladys.

Not a single thing had been disturbed since her passing. The room appeared to be suspended in time, a poignant tribute to a person who would never again occupy its space. The faint sound of Elvis's subdued weeping emanated from the depths of her closet. I advanced cautiously, mindful of the potential for startling him. My trepidation stemmed from a fear that he might bolt from my presence, much like a skittish cat. The door of the closet was slightly ajar, allowing a breath of fresh air to seep through. With a hesitant hand, I gradually pushed the closet door ajar. Inside, I was met with a heart-wrenching sight - Elvis was seated on the floor, his thin frame huddled amidst his Mama's dresses. Tears streamed down his face, his sobs wracking his entire body with each passing moment. He stole a quick glance in my direction before turning away, pressing his cheek against the soft fabric of a dress.

I lowered myself onto the ground, maintaining a safe distance from him, as I positioned myself directly in front of him. “Hi, baby.”

“She’s gone…”

“I know. But all your friends and family…they’re wonderin’ where you are.”

A deep sob escaped his lips. “I can’t go out there, Laura Jean. I can’t. I just want to stay in here forever.” Tears streamed down his face as he buried it into the soft fabric of the dress's skirt.

My heart shattered into even smaller pieces for him than it had for myself when I experienced the same misfortune. With a deep breath, I closed the distance between us and enveloped him in a warm embrace, my arms encircling his broad shoulders. He maintained his grip on the garments, yet refrained from deterring me. “I know how you feel. When my Mama died, all I wanted to do was crawl into the ground with her. I felt like my whole world was in pieces and the person who usually picked them up wasn’t there anymore.” I gently massaged his back. “No one could ever replace her. Why, Ms. Gladys was a one-of-a-kind woman who raised a one-of-a-kind son. I wish I could be half as strong as she was some day.”

Elvis buried his head in my shoulder and embraced me with such force that it became difficult to catch my breath. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without her. She was everythin’. All this…all this was for her.”

My fingers glided through his hair. “You cry now. You cry your little heart out for as long as you need to. And day by day, you just keep on movin’, keep on livin’. Cause that’s what your Mama would have wanted. For you to live your life as fully and as happily as you can.” I gently pressed my lips against his forehead. “And I’ll be here for you, too. Whenever you need me. I’ll work and I’ll worry in your Mama’s place. Okay?” With a nod, he buried his face deeper into my shoulder. To hold him felt like I was holding a baby who was twice my size. Gradually, I rose to my feet, pulling him up alongside me until we were both standing upright. With a gentle touch, I wiped away the tears that had gathered on his face, my fingers softly caressing his cheek. “Now we’re gonna go downstairs and you’re gonna go say goodbye to your Mama.”

With a sniffle, Elvis enfolded me in a warm embrace, pressing my head against his chest. He clasped my head firmly, as if he feared that I might vanish into thin air. All the while, I listened intently to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. “I ain’t never gonna let anyone take you away from me, you hear? Not your Daddy, not the Colonel, no one. I don’t care about money or stupid mafia business. I just care about you.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I vowed.

With tears streaming down his face, he whispered, “I love you, Laura Jean.”

“I love you too.” I grasped his hand firmly and led him out of the bedroom, descending the stairs in unison. Silence fell over the room as Elvis made his way towards the open casket of Gladys. No expense had been spared for her funeral, from the casket to the flower arrangements and every detail in between. As I gazed upon her, she appeared serene and undisturbed, nestled within the soft and luxurious velvet that lined the interior of the casket. Elvis gazed intently at her, his grip on my hand unyielding. He parted his lips, as if to utter words to her, but they were abruptly stifled by a wrenching sob. I rested my head upon his shoulder.

The Colonel shuffled up behind us and placed a hand on Elvis's shoulder. “I can’t even begin to understand what you are going through, my boy. But you have comforted your friend and your family. You need to go comfort your fans too, hmm? They are worried about you. And if you don’t go do that all that your mama sacrificed for you will be for nothing.”

The desire to expel acid from my mouth consumed me. Using Elvis at this time? How could he? He was in no position to have a conversation with anyone. He needed the freedom to simply exist as a young man who had suffered the loss of his mother, rather than being burdened with the weighty expectations of embodying the iconic figure of Elvis Presley. In spite of my innermost insults directed towards Colonel Parker, Elvis gravitated towards him and sought solace in his embrace, shedding tears upon his shoulder. I yearned to persuade him that the presence of the elderly gentleman was superfluous. The Colonel hesitantly rubbed Elvis's back.

“You stay with my through thick and thin, okay?” he asked, his eyes searching for reassurance. Elvis expressed, “You’re like a father to me.”

My eyes locked onto the Colonel's, and he met my gaze with a smug expression that made me itch to wipe it off his face. Despite my constant challenges, he relished the sense of power he wielded over Elvis. I persisted in my efforts to liberate Elvis from the clutches of the snowman, refusing to give up until my mission was accomplished. As Elvis withdrew, the Colonel offered a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Just a few questions and some photos and we will be done.”

“C-Can Laura Jean come with me?” Elvis sniffled.

The Colonel's gaze met mine, but I refused to back down, my expression daring him to confront me. I was determined not to leave Elvis, even if he forbade my presence. He let out a deep sigh and replied, “Of course. You need her now.”

With a nod, I followed Elvis as he led me through the throng of microphones and cameras outside.

Stay tuned for part 10!! Click HERE to view!

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wolveria · 1 year

Text

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 22

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “It’s not my job to care. I joined Dr. Puli’s program because I was fascinated with sentient SCPs. Like you.”

AO3

Waking the next morning feeling somewhat refreshed, you found what little normality you could by showering and eating breakfast. 049 again politely occupied himself while you were naked, and the irony didn’t escape you how the SCP treated you more like a person than your former colleagues did. You hadn’t caught sight of another human being since coming to stay with 049, and you were starting to prefer it.

Unfortunately, your wish was not granted, and a squad of five guards entered the containment cell, ordering you and 049 into the center of the room.

The SCP sized them up with narrow eyes, fully aware of his faculties as no lavender descended from the ceiling. But when the squadron leader ordered you to stand next to 049 and grab his hand, and it was clear you weren’t going to be separated, he simply glared at them rather than appeared as if he was going to start removing limbs.

The guards held their rifles at 049, not you, and looked like they were ready to shoot him at any moment, so you obeyed without questioning it. You stood next to the tall SCP and grabbed his hand in yours, holding on tight in case the guards changed their minds about keeping you together.

You were given no time to reflect on the comforting weight of 049’s fingers curling around yours; a guard came forward and tied your wrists and hands together with a strong, thin cord of rope, tying it off. The lead guard commanded you to follow his squad, and it took you a belated moment to realize you were both leaving 049’s containment cell.

With each step, the tension in you heightened—you were able to imagine all too clearly the kind of nasty, barbaric tests the Site Director had waiting for the two of you. Your anxiety increased at the familiar signs on the wall: you were heading to a medical bay.

049 tightened his grip on your hand and pulled you in closer. Your breath caught in your throat, but then you were in the medical wing, too distracted and confused by the change. The last time you’d been here, most of it had been blocked off by curtains, but now it was an open room with every bed filled. Some were in oxygen chambers, some even unconscious, but all of them seemed to be in an advanced stage of intensive care.

“Glad you could stop playing house long enough to join us.”

Your stomach dropped. Even 049’s hand twitched around yours as the Site Director moved into view. He stood a safe distance away, always keeping at least two guards between him and the SCP, but he didn’t seem too concerned by the lack of lavender sedatives.

“I’m sure you can guess what is required of this test,” Leahy said without preamble. “Go to each and touch them. Slowly. Cause any trouble and you will be subdued.”

049’s glare was as piercing as a steel-tipped arrow.

“You needn’t tell me what the patients require, sir. They will receive the proper healing, and not due to your coercion. I know you find this difficult to believe, but I, as a doctor, have dedicated several lifetimes to—”

“You can cure the patients, or you can run your mouth,” Leahy said in a bored tone. “Your choice. Just know if you continue to delay, I’ll activate your collar myself. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure.”

“I have little doubt,” 049 muttered.

“What was that?”

You placed yourself in front of 049, effectively breaking their glaring contest, and lightly tugged on the SCP’s hand as you stared up at him.

“Please, can we just… do this?”

049 dropped his gaze to yours, all the annoyance and anger fading from his grey eyes.

“As you wish.”

The SCP led you toward the first bed, and to your relief, Leahy didn’t seem interested in following and goading him. Something strange and light floated in your stomach as 049 lead you to each bedside by the hand, reaching out and curing each patient. Their expressions would light up at the effects of the touch, though for some it would turn to fear when they focused on the SCP’s beaked face.

One woman attempted to thank you, and you said, “049 is the one who healed you.”

She looked at the tall SCP, her face tight with nervousness, but she gathered her courage to thank him.

049 didn’t respond immediately, as if the gesture had been unexpected.

“It was, as they say… a group effort. But your gratitude is appreciated.”

After that, 049 seemed to be less burdened, lighter on his feet, and unbothered by the stares and fearful expressions he still sometimes gathered. But the further down the medical bay the two of you went, the more attention patients focused on him when they realized what he was doing. The overall fear faded from their expressions, and more of them thanked 049, which left the SCP either flustered or speechless each time.

Your heart ached at the implications, that he was unaccustomed to gratitude, at least, gratitude like this. 049 was especially lost after one of the patients, an older man who had been on his literal deathbed, shook 049’s hand vigorously before the guards encouraged them to separate.

The SCP continued to remain quiet, lost in his thoughts. You couldn’t move your tied hand except to shift your fingers until they were closely entwined with 049’s, slotting between them.

049 looked at your joined hands, and then up at you, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable.

As you moved on, you noticed the guards weren’t as close to the pair of you as before. You might not find a better time to freely talk to the SCP, especially while out of the containment chamber.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you said under your breath, just loud enough to reach him. “About me being a doctor, because you think I… care about people.”

There were perhaps more important things to talk about in a rare moment of not being under surveillance, but this particular topic nagged at you, burrowing into your side like a thorn. Maybe if you came clean with the SCP, he would realize you weren’t as worthy of his respect. Because his opinion of you mattered, and you didn’t want him believing you were something you weren’t.

049 glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You disagree.”

Swallowing, you took strength from the way your fingers curled together. Maybe you would only be gripping hands if it was at gunpoint, but you couldn’t deny it gave you comfort.

“It’s not my job to care,” you said, low and quiet. “I joined Dr. Puli’s program because I was fascinated with sentient SCPs. Like you.”

049 said nothing, and you waited for him to cure the next patient before speaking again, both of you naturally slowing your pace to extend the conversation. You were halfway through the medbay now.

“There was nothing altruistic about it. I obtained the position I did because I’m exceptionally good at compartmentalizing. I can put the horror away in a box and choose not to look at them, because if I do… everything will unravel. I would unravel. I’m the exact opposite of everything you described.”

Your tone was still quiet, but bitterness dripped from your words like venom. Harshness that was solely aimed at yourself. Not even the Site Director could be blamed for the things you’d done in the name of the Foundation.

049 took a moment to respond, thinking over your words with care. You weren’t used to that from anyone else.

“Then, perhaps it’s fortunate you no longer retain your old position. Perhaps, you have found a new calling. One better suited to your skills and temperament.”

“My new calling as a prisoner of the Foundation? I sure hope not.”

“You twist my words, dear one,” 049 said with a cool look. “I simply meant that perhaps you were meant to be a healer, rather than a jailer.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected term of endearment.

“I…”

You never had the chance to finish your thought; the guards had finally caught on to your private conversation.

“Face forward. Don’t talk,” one of them snapped. He prodded 049 in the back with the butt of his rifle, for no other reason than because he could.

049 stumbled but otherwise caught his balance quickly. He shot a sideways glare that only you could see, and you didn’t envy the security team if the SCP ever got free of his chains.

Free of his chains… It was strange but before now, you hadn’t really thought about what would happen should that occur. Security breaches were rare at this facility, the sections separated by vast catwalks to keep them contained and isolated should one fail. But the idea of 049 free and wandering the facility was terrifying. You didn’t know if the strange, calming effect you had on him would keep him from trying to “cure” as many people as possible.

Then again, as long as you were touching 049, he could only heal with his touch, unless he decided to go straight for violence instead. It reminded you of the guard 049 had apparently killed. Louis Salazar. You still hadn’t received any satisfactory answers on what happened there.

Maybe you should have asked about that then having 049 assure you that you weren’t a monster for working for the Foundation.

Frustration at yourself wasn’t going to do any good. You followed along beside 049, unable to speak to him and offer anything besides a hand around his. You were going to miss this, having an excuse for comforting contact. Did 049 feel something similar? Did he even care about such things?

Honestly, you hoped whatever 049 was, he wasn’t a social creature. Living hundreds of years without being able to touch another living being without killing them… it was a kind of torment you couldn’t imagine.

Or, well, perhaps you could, if you survived long enough in this place.

After the last patient was cured, the medical bay was rather chaotic, nurses and doctors rushing back and forth as those who were in their last moments of life suddenly having renewed vigor and health. It would have been wonderful to see any other moment, but you and 049 were ushered back to the containment cell without fanfare.

Still, as far as experiments went, that was definitely at the top of the list. If only more of them were like that. Maybe if you were lucky, there would be.

Next Chapter

#scp 049 #scp 049 x reader #scp 049 fanfiction #scp fanfiction #scp foundation #the raven's hymn #wolveria writes

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sylouz · 8 days

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Safe

Tighnari x Cyno

Word count: 2k

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Chapter 1 of ?

A/N: Posting this here. it's also on my AO3 Here

Summary:

Tighnari was awoken by a loud thud just outside his front door, followed by a weak knock, so light that if Tighnari’s hearing had been any less than what it was, he may have missed it. He peeled the sheets off of his legs and pulled a blanket over his shoulders as he ambled his way from his bedroom to his front door. He listened for just a moment for any sounds that would indicate danger on the other side of the door. When none came, he wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled the door open.

Standing in front of him, swaying slightly from side to side, dried rust colored patches over his arms and chest, was Cyno. Tighnari managed to lurch forward just in time to catch him before he collapsed onto the ground. Cyno was heavy and warm in his arms, his breathing shallow and quick.

*****

Or: Author is just winging it and seeing what happens

Tighnari wasn’t someone who would say he made friends easily. Sure he was “popular” amongst the other students and staff of the Akademiya, but he would never go so far as to call any of those people his friend. They were more colleagues or acquaintances who viewed that they could achieve something through Tighnari. Not a single one of them was really interested in Tighnari as a person, only his mind. Which was fine. Tighnari wasn’t a particularly social individual, his species as a whole remaining relatively solitary outside of their family units. In fact, Tighnari was the only descendant of the Valuka Shuna to attend the Akademiya in nearly twice as many years as his own age, and in the entire history of the Akademiya there had only been 4 total alumni who shared his same fox features. Intelligence ran within his blood, sociability however, did not.

So color Tighnari shocked when not only did he manage to make a genuine friend whilst attending school, but also that person was none other than the most feared symbol to academics everywhere, the one and only General Mahamatra himself.

Cyno.

While they had met in less than… savory circumstances, with Tighnari coming under investigation for Academic Corruption, those charges had been quickly dissolved and Tighnari had somehow managed to impress the general enough to convince him to stay close. Not that Tighnari minded, while Cyno’s sense of humor took some… adjusting to on Tighnari’s part, he found it far from unbearable. It was more endearing than anything.

Tighnari often found his thoughts drifting to Cyno, whether he was conducting an experiment that would benefit from Cyno’s electro capabilities, or he was building a new TCG deck, a game that Cyno himself had gotten Tighnari into. It had been several weeks since he’d last seen that familiar silver hair and red eyes. Cyno had apparently been sent away into the desert on an assignment that required the utmost secrecy, the only information Tighnari had been allowed to know before Cyno’s departure being that it took place deep in the desert.

Tighnari knew Cyno was well equipped for the desert, more than well equipped. There quite possibly wasn’t a single other person that could traverse that unforgiving terrain quite as well as Cyno could, definitely not Tighnari, who’d surely collapse from heat stroke within the hour. However, despite this, Tighnari couldn’t help but worry. He knew Cyno couldn’t share much while he was in the field, though while they’d only been close for less than a year, Tighnari was accustomed to receiving at least one letter telling him that Cyno was in fact still alive and hadn’t perished to the sands. He’d received nothing this time around, and it had already been three weeks. Tighnari had even made sure to check the little mailbox outside his door everyday and still, nothing.

The likelihood of something happening to Cyno was low, but never zero, and that was what made him nervous. Tighnari had tried to occupy himself the best he could these past few weeks, paying special attention to his studies, spending more time in Pardis Dhyai conducting research, but he’d be lying if he said his thoughts were perfectly organized. What if this was the assignment Cyno never came home from. He’d grown so used to having Cyno around, so fond of his ill timed jokes and peculiar mannerisms.

Tighnari groaned, resting his head in his hands for just a moment while he listened to other students and researchers chatter around him. Pardis Dhyai was particularly occupied today, and Tighnari figured it would be a good distraction, but he’d been here for three hours and the amount of progress he’d made within his own research was negligible at best. He glared at the decaying flower in front of him, as if it was the sole cause of all of his problems. Cyno sure would be getting a stern talking to when he got back about worrying him. Tighnari sighed, reaching back and pulling his long hair into a loose ponytail as he resumed his work. He’d be damned if he let some scattered thoughts disrupt him to this degree.

When Tighnari lifted his eyes again, the air was quiet and the moon shone high in the sky, bathing the room in calm blue light. He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he’d hardly recognized the passage of time. It seemed as if he was the only remaining student within the building. Tighnari sighed. He hadn’t gotten the progress he’d wanted, but it was better than nothing. Cyno always told him to be less harsh on himself, and he was really trying to. He made quick work of packing up his work space and making his leisurely exit from the research building.

It was a twenty minute walk from Pardis Dhyai to his own home, and that walk unfortunately gave him plenty of time to overthink. Maybe he should send a letter of his own. No he couldn’t do that, he had no idea where Cyno was, this wasn’t Monstadt, he couldn’t just toss the letter into the sky and hope the wind took it where it needed to go. Would Tighnari even be told if something happened to Cyno. The Akademiya definitely wouldn’t view him as any important person in regards to the General Mahamatra and his whereabouts, they weren’t family, they weren’t married, as far as the Akademiya was concerned he would have no right to know. The idea of never knowing what happened to Cyno sent a shiver down Tighnari’s spine and he found himself tightening his grip on the strap of his bag. Cyno was fine. He had to be. He was just busy and hadn’t had time to write. In fact he probably knew exactly how worried Tighnari must be and was probably planning his apology now. Yeah, exactly. At least that’s what Tighnari told himself to make himself feel better.

Before he knew it, Tighnari was walking up the short steps to his front door. He tiredly turned his key in the lock and opened the door with a squeak. The house was dark, just as he’d left it. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he realized just how close his bed was. He paused in his tracks to his bedroom. He needed to clean up before bed. It had been particularly warm today and he felt far too sticky to just curl up under his sheets. He dropped his bag by the door and found his way through the dark to his bathroom, where he set to drawing a bath. He’d done all of his hair and fur care yesterday, so he pulled up his long hair into a bun just behind his ears.

He looked at himself in the mirror after his Akademiya robes had fallen to the floor along with any remainder of his clothing. His neck and shoulders, normally pale, were a light shade of cherry from the heat. Curse his low constitution. There was no way he’d survive in the desert like Cyno did. Cyno was truly magnificent, taking to that kind of environment like it was nothing. He could face anything and come away from it unfazed, though Tighnari did remember when there had been a mild cold snap that had blown across Sumeru, and Cyno didn’t seem nearly as unfazed then. Tighnari had never seen him wear so much clothing, whereas Tighnari was perfectly comfortable. He supposed everyone had their weaknesses. During that cold snap Cyno had spent a significant amount of time at Tighnari’s house, and he’d been borderline cuddly, sticking close to Tighnari the entire time, using the dense fur of his tail as a means to stay warm. Tighnari chuckled at the memory, a special warmth blooming in his chest that only the General Mahamatra seemed capable of creating. He really hoped Cyno was okay, and that he’d be home soon.

*****

“Cyno?!” His eyes scanned over Cyno’s body rapidly, looking for any signs of injury. When he found none, he sighed in relief. Cyno was here, alive and seemingly uninjured, however, saying he was okay was a bit more of a stretch than Tighnari was willing to make at the moment. “Cyno, are you okay?”

“Tired.” Was all the response Tighnari got before he helped Cyno through the doorway and into the house, letting him lean on him as he shut the door and led him to the bathroom. He didn’t have to guess as to what the rust colored staining on Cyno’s skin was. He didn’t even have time to feel grateful that Cyno was home and alive as he opened cabinets, pulling out washcloths and soap, and then venturing into his own bedroom and grabbing a shirt and pair of shorts from his wardrobe.

Lucky for Tighnari, Cyno’s usual wardrobe left most of his body exposed already, so really it was just a matter of cleaning him up. He turned on the faucet in the tub and soaked the cloth in his hand, draping it over the side of the tub as he turned his attention back to Cyno. He instructed him to sit down against the bath, which he did with no fuss. Tighnari kneeled down in front of him. Cyno looked exhausted, dark circles prominent under his eyes, and his face appeared pale compared to his usual copper tone. His hair was haggard and messy, no doubt full of tangles and knots that Tighnari would have to get out.

First, Tighnari helped get Cyno’s bracers off of his arms so he could wipe away the dried blood from his arms and hands. His skin was dry, not unlike it would be after weeks in the desert, but Tighnari still found himself concerned for his friend's health anyway.

“Hey Nari,” Cyno started, his voice hoarse and quiet. “I’d tell you a joke about clothes, but it hasn’t really cotton yet.”

He’s fine, Tighnari concluded.

“What happened out there, Cyno?” Tighnari started working on the other arm, any traces of drowsiness forgotten in favor of focusing a hundred percent of his attention on the man in front of him.

“An unexpected… development.” Tighnari figured that was the extent of the explanation he was going to get, at least until Cyno deemed it was okay to tell him more.

“Well, I’d hate to see the other guy,” He tapped the black fabric of his upper armor. “Off.”

Cyno pulled his back away from the tub and allowed Tighnari to divest him of his upper coverings. “Guys. Plural.” Under the black fabric, was an angry bruise that was already turning yellow around the edges. Cyno hissed when Tighnari pressed the warm washcloth to it.

“Sorry.”

“I feel like a proper bath would be much more effective.” Cyno suggested, and Tighnari considered it.

“I don’t trust you to not drown yourself in this state.” Cyno was clearly exhausted, far more than he’d ever seen him in the past. He wasn’t comfortable leaving him on his own in a tub of water.

“Then supervise.” With that Cyno made to stand, pushing his weight up from the side of the tub. Tighnari could feel the blush on his cheeks, before staunch irritation formed in his chest at his own reaction. Cyno was already unclipping his belt when Tighnari turned to face him again, to which he immediately turned away and focused on turning on the faucet again, letting the tub fill up with water. He made sure to add plenty of soap to the water, filling it with bubbles to ensure there was no chance of Tighnari accidentally seeing something he wasn’t supposed to, not that Cyno seemed particularly shy. Not that he had a reason to feel shy, not with a body like that, one that was on display at all hours. It had been more than one time that Tighnari had caught himself staring for a bit too long, but what was he supposed to do, ignore it? Probably. But he was only so strong a man and Cyno was… Cyno.

By the time Tighnari had pulled himself from his thoughts, Cyno was already descending into the water, covered up to his chest with bubbles. Tighnari busied himself with collecting Cyno’s discarded clothing and putting it in a pile ready to be washed while Cyno dunked his head under the water, emerging seemingly much more awake, though the circles under his eyes were still equally as dark, if not darker.

Cyno pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, a rare moment where Tighnari could see his whole face, pristine and handsome, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. However, when Cyno showed significant struggle in trying to detangle his own hair, he was spurred back into action.

“Stay put.” He said as he retreated into his bedroom again, returning with a comb and a vile of hair oil. He usually used it for his tail, to detangle any knots that formed in the fine fur, but it would work just as well in trying to rid Cyno’s hair of the numerous tight knots that had formed in it over the past three weeks. Tighnari returned to the side of the tub, kneeling beside Cyno as he shooed his hands away from his hair so he could take over.

“I thought you were just going to supervise so I didn’t die?” Cyno pointed out, and Tighnari heard the slight chuckle in his voice.

“You’re helpless with selfcare.” Was all he answered with as he gathered all of Cyno’s dense hair in his hands, pouring a small amount of the oil on the ends, lathering them before gently combing them through, working from the bottom to the top. Cyno’s hair was thick and full, more akin to a white mane than anything else. He took his time carding his fingers through it, enjoying the way the oil made it slick as it slipped between his fingers. With a few more comb throughs, Tighnari was sufficiently satisfied with his work and instructed Cyno to tilt his head back so he could rinse and wash it. Cyno did as he was told with a satisfied hum. Tighnari lathered his hair thoroughly with soap, massaging it down to the scalp before rinsing it out again, performing that same action one more time before he deemed Cyno’s hair properly clean.

He gathered up the washcloth and soap, thrusting them into Cyno’s hands before standing. “The rest is up to you, I trust you not to die.” With that, Tighnari gave one more glance at his friend before he exited the bathroom, leaving the door slightly cracked so he could hear if Cyno needed him, before he went to make some tea in the kitchen. It was then and only then, that he allowed himself to take a breath. Cyno was safe, he was fine and he was home. Though worry still clung Tighnari’s insides like smoke. He’d never seen Cyno in this state. He was usually so infallible, so perfect, to see him so disheveled, so beaten and exhausted, to see him collapse like he did, it made Tighnari curious about just how many other times it’s happened and he just hadn’t been the one to see it. How many times had Cyno had to pick himself up alone? Drag himself inside, into a cold dark home, no one there to care for him. The thought made Tighnair shutter. He wanted to be there for Cyno, be the one Cyno could go to when he needed help, when he needed to pause, even if just for a moment. He supposed that’s what linked him and Cyno better than anything else, they both understood what it was like to be alone, although, while Tighnari was designed for it, he didn’t think Cyno was the same, Cyno had grown to accept it, he wasn’t born to thrive in it.

The sharp whistle of the tea kettle ripped Tighnari out of his thoughts. He shook his head before opening a cabinet above his head and pulling down two cups. If there was anything disrupting the peace in Cyno’s mind, he hoped the tea would settle it, even if just for the night.

#genshin impact #cynari #cyno x tighnari #tighnari #cyno #genshin cyno #genshin tighnari #fanfic

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shychick-52 · 7 months

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Fanfic - Fenro Week 2023

Here is my contribution for Day 2 (Family, Healing/Beginnings, Future) of @fenroweek2023.

It is a direct sequel to my story from last year's Fenro Week, Thank You, taking place immediately where that left off. Doesn't yet have a title XD

Gizmoduck didn’t have the strength in him to rise or open his eyes, let alone continue to fight. Both he and the armor fared poorly after his battle with 2-BO. He didn’t think either of them would survive another attack.

Out of all the opponents he faced, the little robot boy proved his most formidable and dangerous.

As Gizmoduck lay on the pavement in the damaged suit, vulnerable without his helmet- which had been discarded by 2-BO, now cracked and useless beside him (fortunately, Inspector Tezuka had managed to temporarily taser him before he could harm his exposed head or face)- he could feel 2-BO’s shadow suddenly creep over him, blocking out the sun as he loomed high, poised to strike the finishing blow.

No. It can’t end like this. M’ma… Huey… Gyro… all my friends. I’m sorry. I failed everybody.

But then something else moved in directly above him. A voice. Gyro’s voice… unusually earnest and pleading.

“2-BO! You are not evil! You are good!”

To Fenton’s absolute horror, the sound of 2-BO’s rocket thrusters became increasingly audible. He forced open his eyes-

Gyro boldly stood on the hovering platform that had been occupied by Akita only moments ago, standing between the fallen hero and 2-BO, the latter swooping down like a bird of prey upon his victim. And with 2-BO, Fenton’s heart also plummeted.

A million things exploded through his mind at once.

G-Gyro? You…? NO! What are you doing? You’ll be killed!

Blathering blatherskite, I’ve never felt more useless! He willed everything he had to get up and get Gyro out of there, but to no avail.

What even made him change his mind about 2-BO? And I’ve never heard him sound like that before!

He’s… risking his life to s-save me…?

“You’re more than your programming!” Gyro continued to cry out in a desperate bid to get through to his invention, with even more emotion.

Fenton was barely aware of Huey’s presence, tightly gripping the right shoulder of the Gizmoduck armor as he likewise observed the terrifying turn of events.

And yet, an ounce of hope remained. A tiny spark, awaiting the perseverant fanning into a flame.

“Come on, Boyd,” Huey whispered, confirming he felt it too.

Gyro… 2-BO…

The remaining seconds ticked by as if in slow-motion, with no change, almost tauntingly. Fenton was just about to yell out to Gyro to get out of the way, to save himself, when his lanky mentor yelled, voice hitching, “YOU ARE A DEFINITELY. REAL. BOY!”

2-BO dove straight for Gyro’s outstretched arms-

A collective gasp burst out of Fenton, Huey, and also Tezuka, where she held the handcuffed Akita.

-And smashed into him with his ready fist.

The horrified, pained screeches of the little audience seemed to rock the street, a sonic-boom briefly shooting along the wind before it altogether dropped (leaving behind the remnants of an echo), just like-

“GYRO!”

“NO!”

The platform descended, presenting them with the crumpled, bloody form of their friend.

2-BO, meanwhile, was nowhere in sight. He had apparently blasted off elsewhere. But even though the rest of the city was doomed, all Fenton could think about was Gyro.

“Dr. Gearloose?” Huey wept, kneeling over him.

He carefully examined his vitals, before hoarsely exclaiming “He��s- he’s g-gone!”

The ever-loyal Lil Bulb slowly emerged from the inside pocket of Gyro’s vest, collapsing on his inventor’s unmoving chest in a pool of crimson. Half his bulb was completely cracked, broken, exposing the dented filament. His limbs were a mangled mess, right leg and left arm uselessly dangling by thread-like wiring. A slow, disjointed series of buzzes and whirrrrs rose.

Fenton wrestled his way out of the armor, crawling to Gyro’s side. “Oh, Dr. Gearloose… Gyro. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry,” he whispered, shaking with the fervency of his own sobs, which surpassed even Huey’s. He gingerly cradled his upper body to him, stroking his matted, stained feathers. He looked so small in Fenton’s lap, and his glasses and hat were lost, making him look twice as vulnerable.

With Akita safely locked in the Inspector’s car, she too approached the scene. Her countenance was a mix of grim, furious, and forlorn as she removed her hat, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched.

Every one of Gyro’s organs and ribs had to be shattered. As it was, both arms were bent and twisted in gruesomely unnatural positions. And only then did Fenton catch the edge of naked bone stabbing clean through the right elbow.

Fighting the mounting tsunami of nausea, he quickly ordered Huey not to look.

It didn’t deter Fenton from his unexplainable burning need to hold Gyro close as though he might never let go, to protect him. An unstoppable torrent of hot, thick tears gushed down his face, splashing onto Gyro’s.

He was overcome with the most disconcerting sensation of detachment from reality, from time, from his own body, leaving him wracked with the agony of a gaping, hollowed-out cavity in his own chest where a crushing heaviness took residence.

Minutes later, the reverberating blast of plasma fire in their direct vicinity was all but lost on Fenton like background din.

What immediately followed without a beat- Gyro disintegrating into literal nothingness- was not.

The windows to Fenton’s soul snapped, stretched to their capacity. He could see his own tears being flung away, tiny crystal-like fragments, again in almost slow-motion. It was a wonder his mind was in any condition to process this unspeakable new development. A raw, unearthly scream wrenched from his throat as he stared at the empty space in his arms where he could still perfectly see Gyro.

He forced himself to face the direction of the onslaught. The Moonlander general stood mere feet away, smoking blaster in hand. He wore a smile colder than any new Ice Age he once tried to usher in over Earth.

“That one,” Lunaris said, “was not a clone.”

The laughter of Akita sounded in the distance, high and cruel.

***

Fenton gave a violent jolt, unceremoniously dumped into a strange new realm of awareness.

He choked harsh, frenzied gulps of breath in and out as he hugged himself in practically a death-grip. His sights erratically pinballed.

Finally, his focus returned, allowing him to calm down and retrieve his bearings. He was on the Sunchaser/Cloudslayer (piloted by Lil Bulb) with Gyro, Huey, and 2-B- Boyd, bound for home after their adventure in Tokyolk.

An adventure that resulted in Gyro confronting his and Boyd’s connected pasts, learning the incredible truth behind them, confronting his cruel old mentor, emotionally reconciling and embracing his long-lost ‘child’- not his greatest failure after all, but rather his greatest achievement- and acknowledging and promoting Fenton (even though his new status was only honorary, since he hadn’t earned his doctorate yet, the gesture from Gyro was genuine and meant the world to Fenton). And it looked like- at least, Fenton dearly hoped- the beginning of a real friendship between him and Gyro.

Fenton made his gaze deeply drink in the sight of his friends, including Boyd. Gyro was safe, and all of them were still sound asleep. Gyro sat to the right of him, followed by Boyd, then Huey.

But his chance to sink into a much-needed sigh of relief was short-lived. To his alarm, Gyro began to release loud, broken whimpers; writhing, his entire face contorted in agony.

“Gyro?” Fenton whispered, tentatively touching his shoulder. Should he wake him or leave him be? His first instinct was the former, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if being suddenly woken would be a shock to his system in the state he was already in.

Only three undecided seconds went by when Gyro’s nightmare spat him out first, gasping and trembling like Fenton had.

“Dr. Gearloose!” Keeping his voice low, Fenton gently pulled Gyro against him, cocooning him in a protective embrace that reminded him of the dream. He rubbed circles against his back, fleetingly wondering if he would think Fenton was taking advantage of his grudging acceptance of being hugged earlier (he did say it was a “just-for-today thing”, but still).

Finally, he could feel Gyro’s heart- pressed against his own- begin to slow down, resuming a normal rhythm, his breaths coming in like the softening laps of the tide after a great wave.

“Are you all right?” Fenton asked. He eased himself off Gyro, still tightly watching him.

And that’s when he saw the tears staining Gyro’s face. How hadn’t he noticed them right away? And that’s when he saw the tears staining Gyro’s face, glistening in a patch of moonlight. How hadn’t he noticed them right away? The fresh remainder pooled in the corners of Gyro's eyes, before escaping and chasing each other down.

But that wasn’t the most surprising thing. It was the way Gyro stared right back at him in what could only be described as a cocktail of leftover terror and sheer relief. Though not exactly the kind of relief one normally feels at realizing what they experienced was just a dream, because his gaze was distinctly focused. There was something more there.

Gyro exhaled tremulously, pressing his fingers against his temple.

“Dr. Gearloose? I don’t mean to pry, but do you want to talk about it? I don’t know what you dreamt about, but I think I understand how you’re feeling right now. Believe it or not, I just had a nightmare myself.”

“…You did?” Gyro quietly asked with a slight frown. It was difficult to read his reaction. Curious? Surprised? Concerned…?

Fenton nodded. “It was the most realistic, terrifying one I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some pretty intense ones. Anyway, I’m sorry, Dr. Gearloose- I don’t mean to make it all about me. But I understand if you don’t want to-”

“Do… um, you want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t believe it. Gyro was offering to listen? And what was more, he sounded genuine. This was the man who had little patience for simple conversation! When he gave Fenton his promotion, he told him that he was going to treat him with respect and support from now on, but he wasn’t expecting such a milestone so soon.

Fenton was touched. In his already emotional state, it was difficult to keep from crying.

But… was he comfortable sharing this nightmare with Gyro- would Gyro even be comfortable hearing about it- since it concerned him, not to mention its intensity?

“You don’t have to, of course,” Gyro added a touch awkwardly, seeing his hesitation, “but I-”

“It was about you.”

An incoherent noise of disbelief tumbled out of the other scientist.

After a quick glance at the still sleeping kids (as Boyd’s sleep-mode worked similarly to a person’s, he could be awakened by external stimuli), Fenton told Gyro everything. Once he started, he found the words just poured out, unable to stop even if he really wanted to.

Including describing what his death did to him.

Only when he nearly finished did he realize Gyro looked like a course of electricity had coursed through his veins and left him stunned.

Fenton concluded, biting his lip, “I truly felt like nothing would ever be ok again.”

“I- but- you-” whispered Gyro.

“Gyro?”

“I… had the same dream, minus the Moonlander. Only, you were the one 2-B- I mean, Boyd attacked. I was too late to move in, it all happened so fast. One minute, I spotted you injured on the ground from your fight with him, then-”

He swallowed, paling. “It was- it was the most- I was too blathering late! I always knew I should have gone above Scrooge’s head and scrapped the armor a long time ago, or even refused to make the new model for you in the first place! If you hadn’t stolen the original- if I’d never even developed Project Blatherskite- you would’ve still been alive! Do you have any idea how difficult it was finding you unconscious in the old prototype armor before I fired you for being a reckless danger to yourself and others? Or what it was like when I heard you were hospitalized after your temporary gig as Waddleduck, you noble, self-sacrificing idiot? Or every single time you have to leave the lab to go Gizmoducking and I’m left wondering if you’re going to return in one piece, or at all?”

Gyro…

Gyro breathed heavily. “I always knew Gizmoduck would end in another 'Tokyolk incident', only it wasn’t only my reputation I was terrified of losing all over again,” he said. Some of the vehemency of his tirade had dissipated, but the earnestness remained. “I was so conflicted about how much like my former self you w- are.”

Fenton caught how he hastily corrected himself there, as though he still had one foot stuck in the dream.

“I liked and hated that. I… I know it’s no excuse, but maybe part of the reason I was so tough on you was because- well, as cliché as it sounds, I truly always did believe in you both as a scientist and a hero- but also because, at the same time, I wanted to squash that naivete and bright-eyed over-optimism before it ended up destroying you like it did to me or literally. And it isn’t easy for me to admit, but I was wrong, Dr. Inter- Fenton. The truth is,” he murmured, “I never saw just how much I cared about you until the minute I spotted you helpless on the ground today, about to be attacked by poor, corrupted Boyd.”

That was exactly what gave Fenton the same revelation before he and Gyro fell asleep earlier. But to hear Gyro actually tell him that...

“You risked your life to save me,” Fenton said for the second time since they'd been on the plane back home. He gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “I really won't ever forget that. And I care about you too, Gyro, very much." Maybe it was redundant to say so after already explaining the impact his own dream had on him, but it seemed necessary.

The ghost of a smile crossed Gyro’s face.

“You know,” said Fenton thoughtfully, “I’ve always considered you, me, Lil Bulb, Manny, even Huey- and now Boyd- a family. Team Science. And after everything that’s happened today, I can safely say I feel that way even more strongly.”

“I can live with that,” Gyro replied, the smile returning in the form of a good-natured smirk as he rolled his eyes. “And we all may be misfits, but, well, you’re my misfits.”

#fenro week 2023 #fenro #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell cabrera #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #fanfic

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zhongli-whore · 2 years

Text

Kaeya x Reader x Diluc smut

CW: use of the word "whore" and "slut". Threesome, cunnilingus.

Disclaimer: this is not a Kaeluc fic.

You had been 'seeing' the Cavalry Captain for upwards of 6 months by now; he'd never made it official, preferring to keep his personal relationships out of the public eye. You weren't sure if his reason for doing so pertained to his line of work-- which you were certain did not presently involve cavalry whatsoever-- or perhaps it was due to the fact that he of all people was somehow embarrassed. He was always like that; so taciturn on what information he would divulge during idle conversations with anyone other than you. At the end of the day though, you were the one he'd come home to; you were the one who could make him moan aloud in pure ecstasy-- almost loud enough that the whole of mondstadt could hear as he made love to you in the comfort of your home.

Today however, he was acting odd; unusually agitated-- no, not agitated.. Excited? He took every opportunity to whisper dirty sentences into your ear, so vulgar it caused your entire face to envelope in unrelenting heat that would simmer no matter how hard you tried to play it off. The way he'd 'innocently' brush against your back with his bulge pressed against you as he was just 'trying to get by' while you were between the bookshelves in the Favonia Library.

-----

"You know.." Kaeya started as he mindlessly flipped through the pages of a book he'd picked up off of a distant shelf, "This Library used to be a bath house belonging to the Lawrence Clan.. That was until many centuries ago during the founding of the Knights, Dawn Knight Ragvindr overturned it and re-purposed it into a Library. It's not the Library we see today though; unfortunately the original burned down in the tragedy of the 'Great Fire of Fall Equinox', and had to be completely rebuilt."

You chuckled to yourself, then turned to him and smiled, "You sure know a lot, I really would have never guessed." You kneeled down to set the pile of books you'd been sorting for Lisa on the ground.

He smirked and set the book that had been occupying him back on the shelf. "It truly is fascinating, is it not? To think that our Diluc is a descendant of that very Ragvindr."

You looked up at him, puzzled momentarily as you try to decipher why exactly he decided to bring this up; he never did anything without having a motive for doing so. You stood back up on your feet and brushed the nonexistent dust off your knees; there was no place for dust in the Library as long as Noelle had anything to say about it, but the action was subconscious.

"It's funny you mention Diluc actually; when's the next time he's supposed to come back to town? I heard he was away talking to investors from Liyue." You ask, eyeing him for clues as to what he was thinking.

"Hmm.." He hummed gently. You saw a moment's hesitation in his eyes before he answered; it was subtle, and to most would have gone completely unnoticed, but you saw it. "I don't know when he will be back.. He's always so secretive, never tells me anything. He could have died weeks ago and I'd be none the wiser!" He cracked, laughing at his own jokes in a way you could only describe as strangely alluring.

You clicked your tongue at him, amused at his claim because you knew it was so completely far from the truth; he may not show it, but you knew that on some level he still cared deeply for Diluc and his well being. You sorted through the pile and set the books in their corresponding sections on the shelf; any slip-ups and Lisa would have your head for it.

"What say you we pay a visit to the winery tonight? Adelinde has always greeted me with great hospitality, and after all these years Diluc has never unfurnished my old room." He asks you as he held his chin in his thumb and index fingers.

"Diluc isn't even back yet, are you sure he wouldn't mind? I'd hate to intrude, much less accidentally offend him." You reply with doubt in your voice.

"Nonsense! Diluc seems to have taken quite a liking to you. He's nicer to you than he is to me. If I didn't know better, I'd say he wanted you for himself.." Kaeya raised his visible eyebrow in a feigned expression of surprise, despite having been the one to propose the idea in the first place.

"Kaeya.." you say sheepishly as you look to the floor. You felt thankful that the Library was closed to visitors today due to the fact it was being organised under your supervision. If anyone were to hear even a word of what had just been said, it would be the hot topic in all of Mondstadt-- word would likely even reach the ladies in the church.

"Well, what do you say? Care to join me this evening?" His question was posed as an invitation, to which he knew you were inclined to say yes.

"If you're sure it will be alright, I'll accompany you.. I've been meaning to stop by and say hello to Adelinde for a while anyways." You cringed at yourself because you knew that last bit was just you rationalising your decision aloud. What made it worse is you knew Kaeya was aware of it too.

"Excellent! Then it's a plan." Kaeya clapped his hands together and smiled softly, "Let's finish up your business here, and we'll make our way to the Winery before dusk."

-----

The vinyards of the winery always smelled so pleasant, and the scent was strangely reminiscent of simpler times. Having been close with Adelinde and her family since childhood, you'd come to see her on many occasions while she was on duty retaining the manor. She was a funny woman; always very secretive as to the entirety of what her job entailed, but you hardly paid it any mind. She did not ever seem to have a worry on her mind, and her put together attitude had a way of setting a troubled mind at ease.

You walked up the steps to the manor and were greeted by none other than Adelinde herself.

"Maste- I mean.. forgive me-- sir Kaeya, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Adelinde asks him as he she bowed in respect.

"No need to be so formal, Adelinde. I'm just here to pay a visit for nostalgia sake. You wouldn't mind if I stayed the night, would you?" Kaeya queried confidently.

Adelinde pondered the question before promptly agreeing to his request, "This isn't the first time you have lodged here, I'm sure Master Diluc would not greatly mind." Adelinde turned her attention to you, "Hello dear! I haven't seen you in quite some time, are you accompanying sir Kaeya this evening as well? I can prepare a separate room for you if you'd lik-"

"There's no need, but thank you for the offer." Kaeya politely interrupted. Adelinde did not appear phased by it and simply nodded understandingly, seemingly already aware of your relationship despite you never having told her directly. Perhaps Kaeya was right; maybe Diluc did harbour some kind of interest in you, so much so that he'd confided in Adelinde?

You shook the thought from your mind and proceeded to make small talk with her; you always enjoyed conversation with her, and she always had the best outlook on nearly every issue she was presented with. She escorted you both inside and did her best to make you both feel comfortable. Everything was normal; you ate dinner, talked with the staff about various things, and even helped with mundane tasks when time would allow for it. There was nothing unusual, nothing at all.

Until evening hit, and Kaeya escorted you to his room.

"After you~" he gestured to the door he was holding open chivalrously. You giggled and did a curtsy, which gained a chuckle from him. He followed behind you and shut the door swiftly, startling you as to how sudden it was. When he turned around to face you, he eyed you hungrily like a starved beast, his mouth upturned into a mischievous grin.

"I'm going to fuck you." He stated very matter-of-factly. He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, and he undressed you through his gaze. It was hard to ignore the tent that you could see was quickly growing in his tight pants. He reached down and palmed himself, letting out a quiet moan from the slight friction it caused. Your mouth opened slightly, and your eyes fluttered involuntarily while you imagined all the dirty things he was about to do to you.

He stepped closer to you and took your face in his hand, leaning in slowly to kiss you. His breath fanned over your lips for a few seconds before he pressed his mouth to yours.

"Mmm" he panted as he parted from you briefly, "you are so intoxicating.. No wonder Diluc can never keep his eyes off of you. But it doesn't matter what he does, you're mine." He stated, quickly latching himself back onto you before you could protest his statement. He traced his tongue along your lower lip and pushed gently, gaining access to you and drawing ever closer to his secret lover. He kissed you passionately; it was gentle at first, but it quickly became intense. He made no effort to be quiet as he indulged in your taste. He pressed himself against your leg; you could feel how hard he was and you shuddered in anticipation for when it would inevitably be buried deep inside you.

You leaned into him as you made out; his hands that were wrapped around your waist coyly trailed down your hips. He cupped one hand on the round of your ass and squeezed it firmly, earning a pleasured yelp from you. You could feel him smirking against your lips, and he took it as incentive to do it once more. His other hand found its way to your eager cunt. The way your shuddered when his hand pressed gently against it. His thumb found its way to your clit, while his middle and index prodded teasingly at your entrance despite you still being clothed. You yearned for him to be inside you.

He removed his lips from yours, and peppered kisses down your face, to your jaw, and finally stopping at your neck. He waited there for what felt like an agonising amount of time. His hot breath lingered above your skin, sending chills down your spine. The hand that fondled your ass trailed it's way up your stomach and to your breasts. He'd hardly even touched you yet and you were already turning your head to the side, inviting him to delight in your neck with his tongue. He rubbed the under side of your breast tenderly with his thumb; he followed along the curvature of your breasts until met with your nipple. Ghosting above it gently with his thumb and barely applying pressure, he rubbed it in rhythmic circles. He relished in the way it hardened under his doting touch. He took it between his two fingers and pinched it gingerly. The subtle stimulation he was giving you as he rubbed your clit through your pants was enough to make you mewl.

"There's no need to be quiet; If I make you feel good, don't hold back." He said lowly while still drifting above your neck. He could feel your pussy pulse as he said this, which told him exactly what he needed to know. You were fine with being heard. He pressed his tongue to your collar bone and licked up to your ear, biting softly on the lobe. All you could hear was his panting and your heart thumping madly in your chest. He licked carefully before settling at the spot he knew drove you mad. He knew he'd found it once you leaned into his touch shamelessly. He kissed the spot you adored so greatly with astounding diligence. He was so good at focusing on your stimulation while simultaneously pleasuring you with his fingers.

"Ka-KAEYA!" You yelped when he bit down, almost certain he'd drawn a little blood.

He growled to himself, "I love it when you scream my name like that for everyone to hear. It turns me on knowing I can make such a sweet little thing like you a desperate whore in seconds." He teased before continuing his attack on your freshly bruised neck. You couldn't contain yourself any longer, wildly moaning his name and bucking your hips against his hand, grappling for more friction.

"Tsk tsk… So impatient." He scoffed, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were hazy and cheeks so warm they radiated heat. "Such a slut, and all for me. I'd love to watch Diluc fuck you, knowing that he could never have you the way that I do." You bit your lip and rolled your eyes back at his words. He laughed, "You'd like that, huh? To get fucked by Diluc as I watched? Such a whore. Who knew you were into such dirty things?" He pulled your pants down to you ankles and slipped his long fingers past your panties; you were so wet that they'd become translucent in areas.

His fingers worked to your entrance where your excitement pooled. He got his fingers wet and slowly dragged them back up to your clit, pressing softly and rubbing slow circles against it.

He removed himself from you and you whined slightly from the loss of his touch. "Sit on the bed." He demanded. You did as you were told and sat down at the edge of the mattress. "Now lie back and close your eyes." You obeyed his orders.

You felt his finger hook on the waistband of your panties and gently pull them down. He looked in awe of you for a few moments, as if you were a luxurious meal that had taken hours to prepare. "Delicious~" he spat against your clit, his word vibrated against you, causing you to wrap your legs around his head. You tried so desperately to pull him closer, to get him to eat you out sooner. He flicked his tongue against your sensitive bud and indulged in the way your whole body shook from how over stimulating it felt. You grew impatient and grabbed a fistful of his dark blue hair and pressed him into you. He wrapped his lips against your clit and pushed his tongue in it a few times before switching tactics. One of his hands went to your entrance and pushed in slowly. His other hand found its way back to your breasts once more and played with them. You leaned up slightly to watch him as he ate you out so longingly. His visible eye was shut closed and he hummed happily as he lapped up your arousal. He pressed his tongue flat against your clit and swirled it in every direction until he found the rhythm that made your back arch in pleasure. His fingers that had been lying dormant in your wet hole began to thrust in and out. You threw your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but he swiftly pulled your arm back down and held your hand firmly against the sheets.

He released himself from you for a moment, "Moan for me, don't hold back." He warned. You loved it when he got like this; he was so imposing and threatening and it never failed to make you crumble. You threw your head back and moaned so loudly it almost drowned out the wet noises of Kaeya lapping up your cunt.

Unbeknownst to you, Kaeya heard the faint voice of an unexpected visitor. He narrowed in to listen to what was being said.

"She's here? With Kaeya? Adelinde, are they in his room?" It was Diluc's voice resounding through the main hall.

"Yes, Master. I hope you do not mind that I allowed them to stay here." Adelinde replied courteously.

"Ah, it's no bother. I'm not concerned about her, it's Kaeya I worry about. Thank you Adelinde; you are dismissed for the evening." Her faint footsteps could be heard departing from the main hall, as a heavier set of steps approached the bedroom door.

You were too busy becoming dumb on his fingers and moaning wildly to hear, but Kaeya heard it and decided to take that opportunity to slam his fingers into you at an inhumanly fast pace.

"Kaeya! KAEYA! haah~ right there! Oh! By th Archons! Ahh~" you screamed as he continued to perform the most assiduous cunnilingus of your life.

Kaeya heard the footsteps cease at the door. He knew Diluc was outside listening to everything that transpired in the confines of the thin walls. Just as you were about to cum on his hands, Kaeya pulled out suddenly and propped himself up away from your soaking pussy. It nearly startled you and you sat up to see if something was wrong. All you were greeted with was his usual cocky smirk as he stared directly into your eyes.

"Diluc, is that you I hear? Don't be a stranger in your own home, why don't you come in and say hello?" Your eyes widened as Kaeya said this and you tried to hide your face out of sheer humiliation.

His question was met with silence, and the timid clearing of Dilucs throat.

"Well? Are you coming in or not?" Kaeya asked once more.

Finally the door creaked open and Diluc's tall frame became visible to you from your spot on the bed. He surveyed the situation before him with eyes wider than you'd ever seen before; you were convinced it was impossible to fluster Diluc, but it turns out you were wrong. Kaeya was still between your legs and you were weakly leaning back on your elbows. You avoided eye contact with the redhead simply out of fear; fear he would become angry any moment about what was transpiring in his own home. Your eyes couldn't help but wander though, and you found them settling on the large mound in his pants.

"K-kaeya what is going on?" He asked turning his body in hopes it would hide the 'problem' that had just formed.

"We're just having a little fun; this poor thing has been so horny since we arrived earlier this evening. Would you care to help me take care of her?" Kaeya could be so evil. His words were dripping with lust. If Diluc didn't know any better, he'd think Kaeya was trying to trap him.

Diluc gulped and took a step forward, shutting the door behind him. If you were in your right mind you'd protest Kaeya's proposition. But you weren't in your right mind, and you wanted Diluc so badly it ached. You loved Kaeya of course, but you couldn't help the lust that overwhelmed you in this moment. It didn't help that Kaeya was the one instigating this entire thing in the first place. Kaeya stood up and approached diluc, whispering something in his ear that you couldn't quite make out. Diluc's mouth formed into an 'o' shape at whatever Kaeya had just told him, and he began removing his gloves. He swallowed hard and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to you and putting his hand on your thigh. You look at him with glossy eyes, and back at Kaeya for approval. Kaeya simply winked at you and sat back in the chair that was facing the bed.

You didn't even exchange a word with Diluc, there was no need to. His lips found yours, and you found yourself melting into his touch. Diluc supported your lower back with his strong arm and he kneaded the your thigh with his palm. Your own hand reached to grab his dick through his pants, which surprised him for a moment and caused him to buffer slightly. His hand snaked it's way under your shirt and began to lift it up over your head. He stared in astonishment of the beautiful tits before him, his mouth was nearly watering at the sight. He had a feral look in his eye and his mouth went to cling to your nipple like a magnet. He licked and sucked at it relentlessly, you moaned from his ministrations. Out of curiosity you looked over to Kaeya to see what he was doing, only to discover that he'd freed his cock from his pants, and was fucking his fist while he watched Diluc indulge in your body. You felt heat rush to your core and moaned gently. Seeing Kaeya's dick only made you crave more, and you shuffled carelessly to unzip Diluc's cock from its own confines. He decided to help you and kicked the pants off the rest of the way to some forgotten corner of the room.

Wow. His dick was incredible. It was so thick, and it took everything in your power not to try and ride it right then and there. Diluc continued sucking on your tit, and brought his hand to play with your pussy.

"So wet.." he remarked as he brought his finger drenched in you to his tongue. You couldn't take it anymore. You pushed him against the mattress, swung your legs to either side of his hips, and straddled him. His cock sprung up and rested against your stomach. You wrapped your hand around it and pumped it a few times, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. You lifted yourself up and positioned it so the tip was right at your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and slammed down on his dick. He let out the most desperate moan you'd ever heard from any man you'd slept with before. He brought his hands to grip onto your hips, and he aided you in riding on him. He hoisted you up and pushed you back down so hard you swore you were seeing stars. The slapping of your skin against each other filled the room and your moaning became erratic.

Kaeya enjoyed the show and pleasured himself furiously; he found it hard to find gratification from just his hand alone most times, but this time he was so aroused he found no trouble bringing himself to the edge. To see Diluc losing his mind over the woman whose heart belonged to him set off a spark or burning lust he never knew could burn so intensely. He spread the precum that leaked from him around dick and continued to stroke himself, gripping the armchair slightly to brace himself. The wet sounds of your pussy as it wrapped around Diluc's cock and enveloped him was like a potent spell to Kaeya. The slaps resonated in the room, echoed in his ears, and sent him wild. He pushed himself to the brink of ecstasy before stopping himself despite his vision becoming blurry. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, and thought it was about time he joined in.

Diluc couldn't even think straight, he was drunk on your pussy and couldn't get enough. His thrusts were sloppy and untimed. He recalled all the nights he'd gotten off on the idea of you on top of him just like this, all while he was in the comfort of his own room with no one to pry into his deepest thoughts. He thought he'd done a good job concealing his desire, but unsurprisingly Kaeya saw right through him just as he always did. The way you shined so radiantly above him; you were like a goddess-- a goddess being subdued with the pleasure his dick provided with every deep thrust, and every moment your hips met his. Kaeya approached from behind and kneeled on the bed behind you, embracing you with your back to his chest. Unlike Diluc, Kaeya was completely naked. He started to lick and suck at the back of your neck like he had been before, just to send you over the edge.

"What say we switch up the position a bit, huh Diluc?" Kaeya asked as he jerked himself off against your back. Diluc grunted in agreement and helped to lift you off of him. He sat up at the end of the bed, and Kaeya helped to sit you on his lap. Kaeya made sure you were facing his position and he knelt to the floor. Diluc positioned both his hands under your knees to hold up your legs, and re-entered you swiftly. You shouted out at the sudden feeling of bring filled again without warning. While you were disoriented Kaeya took it upon himself to go back your eating you out. He devoured you, feeling how you tensed each time diluc thrust into your throbbing hole. He loved to look up at you while he sucked on your clit, just to see your cute expressions at the feeling of being pleasured by two men at once.

"What a whore.." He whispered against you. His hands went to the backs of your thighs to push them back even further. Diluc-- as if in sync-- aided him in this. You were a blabbering mess, hardly even able to form a coherent sentence as the two men gratified you with such care and passion.

Diluc was becoming sloppy, he was panting against your neck and grunting intensely. You could've sworn you heard him growl from time to time as well. "Haah~ ungh- I'm about to.."

Kaeya picks up on the hint. "Darling, do you want him to cum inside of you?" Kaeya asked you, reaching to grab your hand and giving it an assuring squeeze. You nod your head frantically, gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles became flushed.

Kaeya decides to take it upon himself to fuck his fist for a few seconds longer because he knew he was also close. He didn't stop attacking your clit with his warm tongue. Diluc slammed into you in a frenzy, so desperate to cum in you that his eyes rolled back into his head. With a few messy thrusts, you felt warmth flood your pussy, and his release leaked out from your entrance. Kaeya kept licking your clit until he felt that familiar spasm that told him that you'd came.

He pulled back and wiped his chin, admiring the combined mess of your cum, Diluc's cum, and his saliva. Your tongue was sticking out of your open mouth and you gasped for air. A few more strokes and Kaeya also came all over your stomach.

Diluc collapsed backwards and you rolled over off of him. Diluc's chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to catch his breath. You looked so exhausted that you could fall asleep any second, so Kaeya laid down next to you on the bed and kissed you lovingly.

"What a good girl you are~"

#diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader smut #kaeya x reader smut #kaeya x reader x diluc smut #diluc x reader x kaeya smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #kaeya #diluc

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madmarchhare · 4 months

Text

The Monk and the Traveller Ch.9

This is not specifically chapter 9, as it covers content between Snippet 1[4] and Snippet 2[1], containing part of the start of the latter snippet. I hope you all enjoy it regardless!

He woke up before dawn the next day, already having pull on his robes by the time the lukewarm reds of dawn both illuminated his room and cast it in shadow. He thumbed over the most recent letter from his sister, the sweat on his palms making the hastily scribbled characters wobble underneath his fingers. He folded it up again, his mouth dry, his panic resting in his neck, making it hard to breathe. He ran his hands through his short hair before fixing his hat on his head and grabbing his staff muttering prayers that only occasionally occupied any words in reality. He steadied himself as he descended the stairs, having settled his nerves as he came into the lobby.

“Namusan…[1]” he muttered, finishing his erratic prayer.

“Eh, what’s that?” Wanima enquired from the counter, holding her kiseru in one hand. Cherry gave a start, not having expected anyone to be up at this time, but quickly righted himself.

“Oh, just a prayer,” he replied, his voice wandering somewhat as he spoke. She regarded him blankly for a moment, not saying anything in response.

“…How was your room then?” she asked, not looking up from a ledger into which she made quick adjustments and calculations.

“It was fine, thank you, Wanima-San,” Cherry responded genially, putting on a warm smile. Wanima herself glanced up at the monk and gave a quick nod.

“I’m glad you enjoy your stay. Please come again if your in the area,” she declared, putting on a sultry tone. Cherry just nodded.

“I’m sure I will, good day, and give my thanks to your younger brother,” he bade her as he walked out, the woman mumbling an affirmation in response. Cherry marched through the awakening town, occasionally receiving a groggy nod from fishermen or eager civil servants as he began his advance to Akita. He was going there for one simple reason. Money. The simple thrust of his drive at that moment was to get money. So, he was going to the city, were he was most likely to find someone to donate to his cause. He needed a lot, and he needed it quickly. So he was rushing, desperate to not be late, nor be waylaid by anything or anyone.

Collier first came to mind.

But he didn’t see him. After leaving the town Cherry dashed to the city, foraging berries and the like for food until he reached Akita.

He reached the city around midday, the paved streets alive with people, near entirely in western dress. He stuck out like a sore thumb, a few young children, led by the hand by their mothers, pointing him out to the latter with expressions of fascination or humour. As he walked, eyes-scatter through the city, he balked for a while before, in a last desperate attempt after having wrung his panic addled brain for ways to earn the money he needed, he snatched the hat from his own head. He held it in one hand, the dull peak balanced in his palm, and thrust it out ahead of him, a desperate expression on his face.

He muttered pleas to people as they passed, a nervous smile half-cocked on his face. Babbling out thanks and prayers to whoever handed him whatever paltry change they dropped into it. From nervous clerks and office workers who wanted the benefit of karma, the sympathy and faith of old men, the kindness of widows and mothers or the unthinking mercy of children with unspent pocket money. He spent the day doing it, shifting between the various streets to try and get more and to avoid the police. As the day crept into the late summer evening his hat was heavy with bills and coins of a myriad of colours and shapes. But it wasn’t enough. It was no where near enough. He didn’t forsake the kindness he had received. He wouldn’t. As he wandered, a group of teens, a few years younger then Cherry and dressed in school uniforms followed after him. They watched Cherry, listening to the clink of the monk’s earnings of the day with a youthful hunger and mischief.

The five of them exchanged a look, coming up with their plan silently, wicked smiles falling upon their faces. They surrounded the monk, Cherry noticing his sudden entrapment and glancing up at the boys, the tallest one and likely the leader stood in front of the him with a malicious smile. “Hello, Bonsō[2]-San,” he rumbled out, his low voice drenched in the arrogance of assumed strength, “what have you got there?” he asked, looking down at the pile of cash in the monk’s hat.

Cherry bristled slightly, already sensing the threat, “donations,” he answered succinctly, darting his eyes in search of a policeman. The boys all grinned like hyenas at the collected prize before them, the widest smile worn by their leader.

“Really now?” the leader purred out in mock astonishment, leaning down over the money to be eye-level with the monk. “But, don’t you think that money might be better spent on poor, destitute, souls like us than adding another layer of glitz on some gaudy old temple,” he finished, speaking softly as he looked Cherry in the eyes. A vein popped on Cherry’s brow as his mouth twisted into a snarl.

“If you want some money why don’t you scrounge for it in the gutter that birthed you!” Cherry roared into the man’s face, fury burning in his eyes as he glowered at the smirking man. The leader gave a light laugh in response, staring the smaller man in the eyes as his friends grabbed him. One wrenched his staff from his hand as the others grabbed him by from under the arms.

“Oi, hey, what are you doing?!” Cherry snapped, gripping onto his hat for dear life, a few coins scattering out onto the pavement from the struggle. The leader stepped forward calmly as Cherry shouted, the others laughing heartily at the display. He gripped the hat and tried wrenching it from his grip, but failing to initially. He struggled for a moment, the fifth man gripping on Cherry’s arm to try and pry it off, failing. Finally the leader lifted his leg and pressed his foot on Cherry’s chest, using him to push off of until the hat and the cash it contained was pried from his grip.

“Here, we go…” the leader purred, a mirthful expression on his face. “Thank you for your charity Bonsō-San!” he called mockingly, Cherry still thrashing in the grip of two of the men while the other three leered at him.

“Give that back you bastard!” Cherry roared, struggling against his captors, who were struggling to hold the writhing man.

The leader gave a laugh on, a haughty expression his face as the other two by his side chortled to themselves. “Don’t you know you can’t take back a donation Ji-San? I guess praying didn’t help your memory,” he retorted in a sadistic tone, his lackeys laughing heartily at his joke.

“Give it back!” Cherry roared in return, repeating it over and over until the boys seemed to become disinterred in their game.

“Ahh, this is boring now. Bachi, nock him out and lets go,” the leader instructed to the one holding Cherry under the arms. Bachi nodded, loosening his hold slightly.

“I said-!” Cherry roared, freeing an arm and thrusting it into his robes to grab his tantō, as he kicked off Bachi, the boy heaving as the breath was nocked out of him. The others turned back, their faces twisted into ones of relish at the fight or angry at the retaliation, but quickly fell into nervousness or terror. “Drop It!”

Cherry gripped the knife with one hand, facing them off in an awkward stance. But he glared at them like a rabid alley cat, his eyes erratic and smouldering with an unanswered fury that seemed to twitch at the tip of his blade. Their cocky façades waivered as they looked at the hornets nest they had poked, face twisted like a mad tiger while dressed in the clothes of a pacifist. The two by the leader seemed to motion for Bachi to grab Cherry or to nock him out, the young man, now on his back, sprawled on the floor and staring up nervously at the monk glanced between the two with a refusing expression. He was shaking his head to the other two when Cherry span his head to look at him, which broke the boy’s last shred of honour to the other thieves, scrambling to his feet and dashing away, the boy who had grabbed Cherry’s staff flinging it away and rushing after his friend both wearing petrified expressions.

Cherry glared back at the remaining three, taking a step forward on the paved street as the other two sheared up close to their leader, he himself getting more and more nervous at the sight of the knife in the hands of the mad monk ahead of him. He held firm for a moment, a nervous frown creeping across his face before he finally tossed the hat back to the monk. “Fuck it! This change isn’t worth getting stabbed!” he called, trying to cover his fear with his usual smarm and not quite succeeding. He ran, both of his lackeys turning to run after him.

“Ah, Alreo wait for us!”

“Don’t leave us behind you fucker!”

Cherry was left alone in the street, huffing and puffing, red in the face from his struggling. He glared around with an unspent anger breathing hard until he began to calm down. He placed the tantō back into its sheath and tucked it back into his robes, grabbing his staff before walking over to where his hat had been tossed. It had upended itself in the air, tossing out the money onto the ground. Bills and coins were scattered about, some sat in half-evaporated puddles. Cherry got onto his knees and began collecting the money back into his hat, the straw paddy-hat now crooked from being tugged on. He did it silently, face forced into a resolute grimace, tired eyes counting back up what still counted as legal tender.

Most of it was still fine, Cherry deciding that a few damp notes would still pass. He sent it all off to his sister, not leaving a single coin for himself despite the disturbed looks from the clerks. He walked out of the post office into the night, strangled of its calming darkness by street lamps and glowing shops and houses. He wandered through the thriving night, tired, dragging himself forward until he found a random bench to sit on. He lowered himself onto the seat and pulled his hat down over his eyes, gripping his staff with both hands as he placed it between his legs. He fell asleep shortly after, gripping his khakkhara even as he slept.

He repeated the routine for three days, each time mailing the money all away, bar from pittance he kept to buy a meal. He was thankfully saved of another incident, avoiding the police as well. But, it wasn’t enough, not nearly. He felt the irritated glares of passers by, upset by his pleas for assistance and the guilt they felt blister their spirit as they walked by. What little weight he had began to fall of him, his face marked by exhaustion and exposure, even in the late summer.

He offered his services wherever he could, granting prayers and mock funerals for whatever change could be offered, loathing himself for debasing his faith for the soulless coins. But he had to, he would do it. He would do it. He would get enough…

He was nearing his limit, wracking his brain for ways to make money, even as he fell to pieces under his own drive. “Ah, Cherry!” the jovial voice of Collier called out, instantly rubbing the monk the wrong way. Cherry looked over to the Englishman approaching him with a smile, “how are yo….” He faltered as he inspected the Cherry’s face, his own expression twitching into a look of, at least to Cherry, uncharacteristic concern. “My dear fellow, are you alright? What happened?” he whispered, his tone disturbed, a worried expression on his face as he came close to the other man.

Cherry balked, attempting to force out a convincing assertion that he was alright… but he couldn’t manage it. He was the first one to ask him if he was alright, and he wasn’t-even he couldn’t manage that lie. “No, I’m… No I’m having a bit of trouble with something,” he responded weakly, laughing as he did, at a loss on how else to say it. Collier stood there, silently, waiting for Cherry to continue. “Ah, snff, uh… You remember I mentioned the leader of my temple?”

“The one who changed to a more Shinto style?”

“Yes, him. Well, in truth, he’s my father,” he admitted, seemingly ashamed to. “He’s in charge of the temple still. I’m second to him, in regard to the amount of authority in the temple and my sister works there as well,” he babbled, struggling to reach the point of his response. “I received a letter from her a while ago, saying how the temple was short of money and that Chichi-Ue[3],” he corrected himself, “the Jūji[4] took some bad loans and the temple might be shuttered if we don’t get enough and-” he paused as he looked up at the sky, contemplating the possibility and just freezing a petrified look on his face. “I don’t have any ideas, I’ve just been begging on the streets!” he laughed out in a melancholy tone, running his hand through his hair.

Cherry fell silent after that, breathing silently as he faced away from Collier, the taller man regarding him with a sympathetic look.

“Hah,” Cherry sighed, pulling his hand down over his face, drained, staring ahead at nothing with a half-cocked smile born from despair. “I don’t suppose your going to some big party filled with people who might want to donate to a temple are you?” Cherry asked sarcastically, letting his rhetorical question hang in the air as he turned his head to the man with a tired, Cheshire cat smile.

“Actually,” Collier began in a consolidating voice, stepping closer to the man, Cherry giving a start in surprise, “that was the plan,” he finished, a slight sing song tone coming on his voice as he observed Cherry. “They offered me a plus one, but I didn’t have much use for it. I’m sure you would be welcome.”

Cherry looked up at him with invigorated eyes, mouth slightly agape as he tried to search for words for thanks. “I insist you don’t thank me,” Collier declared as he gripped Cherry by the shoulder leading him forward, forcing the smaller man to match his wide gait, his usually silent steps announced by steel Blakey’s on a pair of red brogues, clacking on the paved street. He was silent as he led the monk through the streets, dressed in a brownish polo coat, long black trousers, shadow-striped with a burnt orange colour and a tall stovepipe hat, wrapped with black silk puggaree just above the rim. His beard was trimmed, a tall white standing collar on his neck, a deep gold-amber cravat wrapped around it, pinned with a tiger’s eye broach. He brought Cherry to a multi-story building and turned to him.

“Please wait here for a moment,” he requested off-handily, going into the building and rushing up the stairs, his clacking footsteps echoing out into the street where Cherry stood. The building didn’t look like it would be a venue for a fancy party, more resembling a hotel. A good one, no doubt, but still a hotel. After a moment, Collier came clattering back down the stairs, Cherry seeing him waltz through the lobby with some bundle of cloth in his arms. He stepped out, followed by a man who seemed to be the chamberlain of the building. “Hand me your robe quickly,” gesturing to Cherry’s kāṣāya as he sorted out the bundle of cloth in his arms, now clearly a single breasted jacket with un-notched lapels, purplish-black in colour.

“What?” Cherry balked, clutching at his robe, “why?!”

“You’re going to a formal party, I’d let you go in as you were normally, but you’ve been sleeping in that outside for a couple of days at least,” Collier quipped, making the smaller man flinch at the observation. I’ll let you keep everything bar the um, kesa[5], the outer robe? Yes that’s right. Unfortunately, this is the only thing I have that’s close to your size, bar from a coolie coat,” Collier continued, Cherry confirming he used the correct term as Collier hurried him to remove it and thrust him into the jacket. It fit, but badly, hanging loose on Cherry’s narrow frame, made worse by his recent hunger. Nevertheless, it would do.

“Right,” he declared, thrusting the robe into the arms of the chamberlain, who looked utterly befuddled in response, “please take those up to my room Ichito-San.”

“Wha-sir!” Ichito began but was silenced by a look from Collier, and turned to carry out the instruction.

“Ah! I have things in that, don’t loose them!” Cherry burst out hurriedly, still shaken from the sudden developments.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” Collier assured, adjusting the coat on Cherry so that it fit a bit better, the purplish crotch-length coat meeting well with Cherry’s white kimono and purple hakama. He inspected him with a scrutinising gaze, his mouth open slightly as he did. “Alright, that should do. Allon![6]” Collier asserted, pointing forward into the sky as he marched forward, Cherry hurrying after him, though struggling to keep pace. Collier brought him to a large thoroughfare near the centre of town, coming onto a street across from an elegant building, three stories tall and glowing with light as the sound of music and revelry drifted out of it like sweet scents from a bakers. Collier checked the street was clear then began to cross, Cherry following after him. He stared up at the building, both nervous and exited at the prospect that he could get the money he needed.

As they approached the entrance the doorman looked over to them, dressed in a pressed blue uniform, brass buttons adorning his bellboy jacket. He looked at Collier with a natural expression that quickly fell into distain and suspicion when he saw Cherry. Collier showed him proof he had been invited, the man reading it quickly and nodding him through.

“Thank you,” Collier said before steeping forward to enter, Cherry moving to follow him. But the bellboy stopped him, standing in his way.

“I don’t believe you are invited, okyaku-sama[7],” he announced, sneering down at Cherry. The monk wore an incensed expression in response, beginning to respond when Collier beat him too it.

“He’s with me,” Collier declared brusquely, lingering in the doorframe.

“Really now Ue-Sama[8]-” the bellboy began in a disbelieving tone.

“Must I repeat myself?” Collier interrupted flatly, looking down at the man. The bellboy regarded him for a moment, then looked away from his eyes.

“Very well, I apologize for stopping you Ue-Sama, enjoy your evening,” he said to Cherry, hiding his aggravation well. He stepped to the side and allowed Cherry to pace through, glaring at him as he went past. Collier led cherry up a set of stair until they came to a small room with a few other people, handing their coats and hats to various members of staff.

“You go on through, I’ll be with you in a moment. Schmooze as you please,” Collier instructed Cherry, removing his hat and handing it to a young boy, smiling at him warmly.

“Right,” Cherry replied, following the other guests through a wide set of black-wood doors. The room swelled with music, accompanied by dissonant conversations and chatter. There were tables of food, waiters patrolling the room carrying filled champagne glasses and oeuvres. He glanced around somewhat nervously, feeling out of place surrounded by well dressed civic officials, businessmen, aristocrats and military men. A couple approached him, arm in arm, the wife shorter than her husband by just a hairs breadth, both wearing fine clothes.

“Good evening,” the husband greeted Cherry politely.

“Ah, Good evening,” Cherry responded, bowing slightly as he placed his hands together in a prayer, surprising the two slightly.

“Are you enjoying the event so far?” the husband asked, attempting to strike up a conversation, curious about the man.

“I’ve unfortunately only just arrived, though it seems fantastical from what I’ve seen so far,” Cherry responded, letting his gaze wander as he spoke.

“That’s good, oh, allow me to introduce myself, Yotorama Insko. I run a few theatres and the like in the prefecture,” he introduced, smiling widely as he did, half intending to boast along with greeting Cherry. “This is my wife, Ofui,” he added, gesturing to her, the woman smiling and bowing to Cherry, which he reciprocated.

“Nekomata Sakuranbou,” Cherry replied nervously, faltering for a moment, at a total loss for what to say. The couple stared at him for a moment before Cherry decided to go with the first thing he said, “I am here representing my temple, as I am the second highest ranking priest. We have unfortunately encountered some poor fiscal fortune recently, and I came to seek donations from those here,” Cherry explained, putting on a grand tone, smiling a cat-like grin at the pair.

Ofui seemed to perk up slightly at the mention of the temple, looking at Cherry with a curious expression. “A temple? Which one may I ask?” she inquired, her tone curious while her husband looked slightly caught out.

“Unfortunately I doubt you would know of it, Yotorama-Sama. It’s a somewhat secluded place near Yamagata,” Cherry replied simply, a note of embarrassment twisting into pride as he mentioned his temple.

“Yamagata? That’s rather far for a party,” Insko remarked, Ofui nodding in agreement taking on a dubious expression, though still clearly curious.

“I was, and still am in truth, on an asceitic journey when I received word about the state of our finances. I have been attempting to raise funds since,” Cherry answered, neglecting the detail of his begging for change.

“Still, it is a ways to travel…” Insko put to Cherry regarding the monk properly for the first time, taking stock of his dress and how weather worn it was. Bar from the jacket of course.

“What is your temple like then?” Ofui began, her husband snapping around to look at her with an unnerved expression.

“Oh, it’s reasonably large, it was built into the mountain range centuries ago. The forest that surrounds it is beautiful-” Cherry continued, unconsciously talking up the home of his childhood, but was interrupted by Ofui’s husband.

“Ah! Dear, the general is here, we should go say hello,” he declared, pulling his wife away her curiosity breaking into clear agitation at the interruption, glaring at her husband though he ignored it, a petrified look on his face. “It was lovely to meet you Nekomata-San! I wish you luck!” he called back, leaving Cherry slightly bewildered. As he stood there a servant came past offering a glass of champagne, which Cherry nervously took, more for appearances than anything, thanking the man and receiving a neutral nod in return. He wandered through the party after that, greeting everyone who would give him a moment, snatching them into a conversation. He smiled and smoothed over greetings, letting his words drip with nectar as he spoke. A few seemed interested, offering to pay him for private exorcisms and the like… But most simply offered him pitying looks and their good wishes. He didn’t press them, not wanting to push his fortunes while he was alone. The worst were the ones who either ignored him outright, or who regarded his faith with disdain or disinterest.

[1] Japanese Buddhist prayer.

[2] Japanese term for a monk or priest

[3] A respectful way of saying father, the ‘Ue’ honorific literally meaning above

[4] A Japanese term for the abbot of a large Buddhist temple/monastery. Other variations include jūjishoku or jūshoku and occasionally jishu

[5] The outer robe of a Buddhist monk’s robes[Kāṣāya], usually black.

[6] French, meaning ‘Let’s go’.

[7] Used to refer to someone whose name is unknown in a respectful way. Though here, it is used insultingly.

[8] A formal way of addressing a customer or client whose name is unknown.

#original writing #creative writing #writing #historical fiction #fiction #HMAD

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gothicprep · 6 months

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a clip of hasan piker and ethan klein debating the phrase "from the river to the sea" has gotten a lot of social media attention today. to summarize: ethan is expressing discomfort with it, hasan uses the example of black lives matter for whose word you should take when deducing what a slogan means. they're talking past one another because ethan, not to knock him, isn't articulating his point very well.

two millionaires fighting is inconsequential, sure, but i do think this is a good jumping off point for me to think out loud about language as it relates to this particular conflict. specifically where it concerns lack of distinction and its omnipresence here.

(i'm also open to changing my mind here if you think my analysis is off or i made a big omission. let me know if i did.)

to begin on the other side of the coin, when someone tells you that they are a zionist, that can mean one of a few things. the three examples i'll give range from the least to most extreme. the first is that there should be a jewish homeland somewhere (fun fact: the initial proposition for this was uganda. isn't that something?). the second is that there should be a jewish homeland in the levant specifically. the third is that there should be jewish political dominance over that whole geographic area, which can't happen without ethnic cleansing.

as much as i think the person who's conveying example one is wrong – any nation state that privileges a particular group is in direct conflict with democracy and is destined to descend into a right wing ethnonationalist hellhole which is exactly what happened with israel – it's, iunno. tepid. meanwhile, the person who's conveying example three is a fucking lunatic that i don't want to be in the same room as.

"from the river to the sea" unfortunately occupies a similar space in the discussion. usually when i see people say this, i assume they mean they're in favor of a pluralistic single state solution, or that their ideal outcome is one of the more maximalist right to return propositions. but just as above, there are some people who say it to mean "ethnic cleanse them right back".

there's also a location element to this. jewish nationalism and dyed in the wool antisemitism are a bit anomalous in the anglosphere, but the same cannot be said for other parts of the world. i often wonder if the tepid zionist would adjust their perspective if they came into direct contact with how batshit fucking insane west bank settlers are. likewise, i wonder if hasan types would re-orient their messaging a bit if they really sat with how deep antisemitism runs for some people.

but anyway, when you realize that the demarcation between moderate and extreme is blurry, it begins to click how you end up with "glass gaza" freaks at vigils for civilian hostages and "fuck the jews" chants at palestinian solidarity marches. shared language and lack of distinction. it's like the inverse of a dogwhistle or something.

and while i can't read his mind, i get the sense this is what ethan was trying to highlight here.

um, like i said, i'm open to being wrong about this, but this is my semi-educated observation.

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jerzwriter · 1 year

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A New Start

Book: Open Heart (End of Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan)

Rating: Teen

Category: One-shot AU / Angst

Summary: Kaycee’s time in Boston is coming to an end, and she’s grateful that her goodbyes are now behind her. But fate had other plans….

Words: 2200

A/N: Based on this ask for MC falling in love with LI, but it never rose to that level for LI. They said to pick the pairing, so I’m doing one for each of my three. This is number one; the oehter two will be up soon. Hey, we need some angst. 😊

@choices-november2022 – Day 26 – Change is good

Ethan x Kaycee Masterlist Full Masterlist

Summer always arrived late in Boston. At times it felt like season had descended on everyone, but still not here. Even so, this year was exceptional, and Kaycee was convinced it was never going to show. So when she woke this morning to a warm breeze unlike any she had felt in nearly half a year, she had to laugh at the irony. Of course, it would be today.

Edenbrook. Boston. Completing her residency under the Ethan Ramsey. It was all a lifelong dream that fate conspired into reality. But fate had a peculiar sense of humor, and its plans for Kaycee weren’t always pure. A tumultuous, almost career-ending intern year and her first year of residency, where “almost ended” took on an entirely different, harrowing meaning. Still, she had gained so much during her three years in Boston. She learned, grew, and was ready to be the best doctor she could be… but not without scars.

Sienna bounced through Derry’s front door, her ever-pleasant smile lighting up her face, and Kaycee let out a breath she was unaware she had been holding. Her best friend was just what she needed. They very thing to help occupy her overactive mind on her last day in the city, and Sienna wouldn’t let her make any stupid mistakes, or would she?

Lunch was delicious if barely eaten. Reminiscing, sharing some laughs, and even a few tears proved more important. But Kaycee didn’t mind. Her rumbling belly could be satisfied on the plane, but only Sienna could nourish her heart and her soul in this way. Her time in Boston had gifted her one more thing: a soul mate. Perhaps not in the form of true love but in a best friend. For all the jokes fate liked to play, Kaycee was eternally grateful it had brought them together.

The bond between the two “dolphins” was undeniable. They could read each other’s minds, and Sienna was doing that now. As engaged as Kaycee was in the conversation, her eyes rarely left the window overlooking Boston Commons. The lovely weather brought everyone out, and the park was full. Full of young children playing under their parent's careful watch. Full of co-workers laughing over a picnic. Then there were the lovers, strolling hand in and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Yes, it was filled with many things today, but most of all, it was filled with bittersweet memories.

“Have you said goodbye to him yet?” Sienna whispered, bringing her friend’s full attention back to her.

She considered playing coy, but that would be futile. Unwilling to look Sienna in the eyes, she focused on her fidgeting hands and tried to rid her voice of emotion when she finally spoke.

“My last day at Edenbrook was yesterday. Everything is done but the flight to Chicago. So, yeah, we said goodbye.”

“I didn’t mean at work. I thought maybe a more private goodbye would be beneficial. You know, for closure.”

Kaycee began to chuckle, but not in a way that elicited joy, and Sienna wondered if she shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.

“I don’t think it’s necessary. Ethan and I… we’ve shared many goodbyes over the past three years. What difference will one more make?”

“It would make a difference… because this time, it’s for good.”

“Well, be that as it may. A car is scheduled to pick me up in less than twenty minutes, and my time here is done. Whatever goodbyes he and I shared in the past, well, we’ll need to make do with them.”

Sienna’s eyes went wide, and it appeared fate had one more trick up its sleeve before it allowed Kaycee to board that plane. It was delivered in the unmistakable six-foot-three frame filling the entranceway to Derry’s. Although Sienna viewed this as a sign, her loyalty was always to Kayce, and if she didn’t want to speak with him again, she’d see to it that she didn’t have to.

“Kaycee,” she whispered. “You won’t believe who just walked in. If you’d like me to distract him so you can make an exit, I will.”

Kaycee looked to the door, then looked back to Sienna with frustration. “Si, you didn’t tell him we were….”

“Hey! I had nothing to do with this. You chose the location, and it’s not as if he doesn’t come here every day.”

“Yeah,” Kaycee swallowed, “probably stupid on my part.”

With that, Ethan’s head turned, his sapphire blue eyes met hers, and the slightest hint of a smile was on his face as he offered a gentle wave.

“Last chance,” Sienna said as he walked their way. “I’ll get rid of him if you want.”

“You know what, maybe this is the universe telling me we need that final goodbye after all.”

Sienna smiled tenderly as she hugged her dear friend tight.

“I’m going to miss you so much. You’re going to call me the second you land?”

“Not a second later,” Kaycee smiled. “And you’ll be coming out for the weekend in two weeks.”

“Look out, Chicago!” Sienna beamed. After exchanging pleasantries with Ethan, she slipped away, almost grateful to avoid what would have been a painful goodbye. But what Sienna avoided was delivered to Kaycee in spades. Because standing before her was the man who had changed her life in more ways than one. The man she always admired, and the one with whom she had fallen desperately in love… if only he had felt the same way in return.

“Ethan,” she grinned, though it never met her eyes. “What brings you here?”

“Considering how many coffee runs we made together, I think you know the answer to that,” he smiled. “If you were avoiding me, there were better places.”

“Hmmm. And if you were looking for me, you’d know exactly where to go.”

Ethan gulped, looking painfully awkward. She’d seen the look before. He may have exuded sheer confidence, to the point of arrogance at work, but personal matters were another issue. She motioned toward Sienna’s now empty seat to put him at ease at her own expense. Another thing had become commonplace during their time together. When he eagerly complied, she sat back down in her seat.

“Did you come here on purpose?” Kayce asked so softly her voice was almost inaudible.

“I… I was hoping I’d get the chance to see you before you left.”

“Why,” she asked, taking a drink from her glass. “We said goodbye at the hospital, and surely most residents don’t get this attention.”

“You’re not most residents.”

“I know,” she swallowed, forcing her eyes to stay on his. “I was much more foolish than most.”

“Foolish? As an intern, you cured Naveen when no one else could. You were the youngest fellow ever accepted on the diagnostic team. You excelled to the point that the top five hospitals in the nation were vying for you the moment you aced the boards. I wouldn’t define that as foolish.”

“That’s an impressive resume,” she smirked. “But you know damn well what I mean. Please, don’t play coy.”

Squirming in his seat, he sighed uncomfortably before leaning in closer to her.

“That’s… kind of why I came looking for you. I didn’t want you to leave before I had the chance to apologize. I….”

“Ethan, stop,” she interrupted. “You’ve apologized countless times before, and I don’t want to revisit it. You were clear from the start. I’m the one who went and caught feelings, and you’re not responsible for that. No one other than Sienna knew about us, and she’ll take it to the grave. So your secret is safe, your reputation is intact, and I’ll survive. So… you’re absolved."

“You know it isn’t that simple. This isn’t about me, my guilt, or fears about our reputations… this is about my regret….”

Kaycee shook her head with a rueful chuckle. “Please, don’t tell me you went out of your way to find me just to say that you regret whatever it was that we shared.”

“On the contrary,” he sighed. “Just because I wasn’t in it for the long haul, doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me… that you weren’t important to me. I want you to know that you’ll always have a special place in my heart, and I will forever regret hurting yours.”

“You did,” her voice quivered as she bit into her lower lip. “It wasn’t your fault in the beginning. I just wish you would have backed away when you knew I felt more. I tried to stay away from you, Ethan; I really did… but I… I just couldn’t. I foolishly kept hoping you’d eventually want what I did, and… in the end, I just hurt myself.”

“What’s done is done, and I know this doesn’t matter now, but I was hoping that eventually, I would feel more, want more… I wasn’t using you, Kaycee. I was trying to….”

“I know,” she smiled. “I know.”

An awkward silence fell between them. There was so much to say, yet it had all been said before.

“You’re going to take Chicago by storm,” he smiled. “I mean it.”

“Oh, you better believe I am,” she grinned. “You better watch your ass, Ramsey. I’m coming for your crown."

"I sure hope you do."

They started at each other, perhaps a moment too long, yet neither wanted to be the first to look away.

“Do you think… no,” he stopped.

“No. What?”

“Do you think that we could… be friends?”

“No,” she answered quickly and with such confidence that it took him aback.

“Oh, that’s fine, I….”

“At least not now,” she continued. “Ethan, my heart doesn’t have an off switch; getting over you will take some time. But don’t you worry. One day, I will find the man or woman I’m meant to be with. The one who will love me every bit as much as I love them, and when that day comes… maybe we can try. But until then, I’m afraid my mind would keep trying to turn you into that man, which won’t help either of us.”

“I hope you find them,” he spoke as a sad look washed over him. “And when you do, I’ll be happy to tell them just how lucky they are. You deserve all the happiness, Rookie.”

Smiling bravely, Kaycee stifled a sob and reached over the table to cup his cheek in her hand, surprised when he leaned into it.

“I hope you find that too, Ethan.”

“Me,” he chuckled, “Nah, if I was….”

“Ethan. Our work is wonderful, but there is so much more to life. Please, let yourself be open to it."

"Hmmm," he hummed. “Yet our work doesn’t leave me sitting in a coffee shop, feeling as lousy as I do right now.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “but has it ever made you feel as good as you did during the times we shared together? You deserve more, Ethan.”

A loud vibration interrupted the tender moment, and Kaycee picked up her phone.

“That’s my Uber driver. He’ll be here in five minutes. I should start heading out.”

He stood up after she did and offered to help with her bags.

“It’s only two,” she insisted. “I’ll be dragging them all over Logan and O’Hare until I get to my new place.”

“You’re going to put Northwestern on the map.”

“It’s already on the map,” she smiled. “I’m just going to make it rank higher than Edenbrook.”

“I’m going to miss you, Kaycee,” he choked.

“I know,” she smiled. “Take care, Ethan. I know this isn’t goodbye.”

“Ethan!” A gentleman called from across the way.

“Oh, Dr. Tanaka, I was just….”

“Dr. MacClennan,” Dr. Tanaka continued. “I see you’re on your way, the very best of luck to you!”

“Thank you. Now I really do have to….”

“Are you sure I can’t walk you out?” Ethan asked.

“I’m good. Plus, it looks like Dr. Tanaka wanted to speak with you.”

“I would like to discuss the Hartford case.”

“Yes,” Ethan said, motioning toward the table, “then, by all means.”

Dr. Tanaka began discussing the case details as soon as he took his seat, but Ethan’s eyes were fixed on the same window Kaycee stared out of before. He watched as she placed her luggage into the trunk and slid into the back seat.

She promised herself she wouldn’t look back, but after securing her seatbelt, she looked out the window to see Derry’s one last time and found Ethan’s eyes glued on her. It felt like slow motion as she raised her hand and gave one final wave. He nodded in her direction. A smile so difficult to describe on his lips. Marked with sadness and regret, yet so much pride.

“So, do you think that would be the best approach?” Dr. Tanaka asked.

“Oh,” Ethan replied, turning back to him. “I’m still of the belief that if we delay the surgery, we may find that he could spontaneously heal. So I’d suggest….”

“So, headed to Logan?” The driver asked. “Business or pleasure?”

Kaycee turned her head away from the window and met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Neither,” she smiled. “It’s a brand new start.”

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