#i mean i did make /so/ many custom tiles for this

[cheollipop]

move

navi | taglist

pairing: pole dancer!choi san x club owner!reader (fem)

w.c.: 3.3k

tags: smut, ft. pimp!woo

song rec: 'move' by taemin

with his toned thighs wrapped around the pole, sweat glistening under the changing lights, you felt the urge to wipe the cocky smirk off the new hire's lips. but little did you know, choi san loved performing for a crowd.

warnings: this —in white— is san's outfit for reference (except tighter, cheaper-looking and with a different chain), mentioned mxm, reader has one drink but everything is consensual, switch!san (shorty give me whip-whiplash), mean!reader, she's a badass though, public sex, unprotected sex (����), san has a nipple piercing, some nipple play (m), multiple orgasms (m), multiple creampies, some edging, overstimulation, a hint of breeding/impreg kink, voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, so much dirty talk, nicknames (sannie, pretty boy; miss, darling), I think that's all (?)

A/N: this is for my lovely, pretty, gorgeous, insanely kind, amazing, genius, and beautiful alyssa (@kitten4sannie) <3 I'm sorry this took over a month to get to ;; I really hope the wait was worth it though!! happy reading~ ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Scrunching your nose at the rancid odour of sewage, your heeled boots clacked against the pavement leading to the guarded club entrance, digging into your coat pocket and fishing out a stack of bills to lay gently in front of the homeless man’s sleeping bag. You passed by him every night, his yellow grin a stark contrast to his surroundings—fetid air driving everyone in the area to hold their breath, disease-ridden rodents and pretentious high school dropouts with one too many stacks of their daddy’s money crawling around in the vicinity.

You walked past the burly guard at the front, watching his ninety-degree bow from the corner of your eye as you stepped into the club. It wasn’t the best area to run such business, but you got enough loyal customers—mostly rich men lying to their wives—to pay the bills. You supposed you should be thankful to your father for that, the wretched bastard leaving his only daughter to run this shithole.

You walked down the short hallway and into wide room, blues and purples illuminating the shiny tile and peeling walls as you carried yourself to the bar near the entrance. The rusted stool creaked as you rested your body weight down on it, ignoring the young bartender as she scrambled to make your usual drink, drops of expensive liquor flying over the bench before she dropped a decorated glass in front of you. Giving her a tight-lipped smile, you wrapped your fingers around the cup and allowed the bitterness to sink into your taste buds.

Sitting sideways at the bar, forearm flat on the surface with the drink loosely held in your hand, you focused your eyes on the man to your left, moving his body around the pole anchored in the middle of the room. Cheap, glittery fabric pressed into the skin of his toned chest, stretching around his biceps until a peak of his warm skin tone shone through the white. His thighs wrapped around the pole, the muscles bulging as he held himself up and rolled his body around the metal rod, a dainty belly chain loose around his narrow waist, head rolled backwards to stretch out the column of his freckled throat. You could tell he was trying to show off his rounded backside, but his movements carried a certain stiffness that made you scoff. The customers spread out on the seats surrounding the stage—a mix of older, unhappily married men, and younger, broke college students who couldn’t afford a fancier club—didn’t seem to mind as much, taking in his lousy attempt of an arch and the prominent bulge pressing against the thin material of his shimmering bottoms, ogling eyes zeroing in on the metal bar piercing his nipple as it occasionally brushed against the pole.

He lowered himself down onto the LED flooring on his tiptoes, maintaining the graceful stance as the song came to an end, feline eyes flitting upwards to bore into yours. He oozed confidence, the air around him almost unbreachable, and for a reason you couldn’t place your finger on, the cocky curl of his lips irked you, your eyebrow twitching in irritation at the shameless show of brashness.

Veiny arms circled your shoulders, a familiar rasp in your ear, “that’s the new hire I was telling you about. Pretty neat, don’t you think?” His dark brown locks tickled your temple, curved nose nuzzling into your hair.

You hummed in agreement, “Mm, good job, Woo. He’s pretty.”

“And tight, ‘tried him out myself,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, proud of his take on a job interview.

You reached back to smack his shoulder, a faint smile on your lips. “He’s a little too confident for someone who can’t even arch properly, though,” you critiqued, narrowing your eyes at the man now bent over in front of the small crowd, thick fingers wrapped around the pole while he attempted to move his stiff muscles.

“He’s not that bad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, tracing over the man’s plump ass with his eyes as he played back the events from the previous night in his mind, the throaty moans and whimpers still fresh in his ears.

“Even you can do a better job than him, and that’s saying a lot.”

Two fingers pinched your upper arm through the blazer covering it, Wooyoung’s unamused huff blowing over the shell of your ear. “If you’re so displeased by his performance, why don’t you teach him how to do it yourself?” He pushed back the image of the man’s narrow waist and puckered hole, replacing it with the memory of the private show you’d put on for him the week before.

While Wooyoung was too busy fighting off the sudden tightness in his pants, you contemplated his words—despite knowing he’d spoken them humorously. Tightening your hand around your drink, you brought it up to your lips and gulped down the rest of it, pushing Wooyoung off you and standing up. He scrambled to find his footing, caught off guard by your brassy stride towards the center of the room, aiming towards the occupied chair right across the stage.

With a hand on the college freshman’s shoulder, you pulled him off the worn-down leather, sitting down in his place and watching him scurry away with a hand halfway down his pants. Redirecting your attention towards the handsome man in front of you, his gaze instantly locked with yours, and something in his eyes gave away that he knew who you were. His hips swayed with more finesse—still not up to your standards—and his expression contorted to mimic a state of ecstasy. He was trying to impress you.

You watched for a few seconds, until he bent down lower, the pathetic arch of his spine pushing the words off your tongue, “Choi San, was it?” your voice cut through the music. “It seems like Wooyoung may have spoken too highly of you. I’m a little disappointed,” you took pleasure in the slow erasure of his cocky smirk, his movements faltering as he took in your words, hints of discontent evident in your tone. “Stand up straight, pretty boy.” You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows over your thighs as you watched him hesitantly part from the pole to straighten up.  A smirk—a sign of power, perhaps—found its way onto your lips, “why don’t you grind on that pole for me? Since you seem so confident in yourself.”

Red tinted the shell of his ears, and you wondered how a few words could have affected a man like him so easily, as though he wasn’t standing in a room full of people ogling at his body, two pieces of glimmering fabric hiding him from their deviant gaze.

You could almost see the thoughts churning in his pretty head, dubiously reaching for the pole once again, standing behind it and beginning his decent into a full squat. Firm muscle bulged out of his thighs, oiled, tan skin reflecting the moving lights shining over his figure, his clothed bulge trapped between the metal and his abdomen. His hands remained above his head as he sunk lower, the cropped material of his shirt riding up to reveal more of his flushed chest. You watched him wordlessly, eying the deliberate brush of his nipple piercing over the pole, a muted ‘clink’ drowned under the music. Your eyes moved back to his face, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyebrows drawn in, and when you trailed down his body, your lips only curled further: his half-hard length pressing against the scratchy fabric, a wet patch spreading through the material and shimmering alongside the glitter. You may be starting to understand Wooyoung’s strange infatuation with the man.

You pushed off the creaky leather, smoothing down your suit before taking a few steps onto the round LED flooring, standing next to the crouched man and watching him twist his head to look up at you.

It was known rule everywhere that the dancers were not to be touched, and you figured your next move would probably be setting a bad example in front of your customers, but your clientele consisted mostly of regulars, people who knew you to be the boss. People who knew you made the rules.

You reached down to grab his face, fingers digging into his jaw and angling it further upwards, “you’re too stiff.” Your lips curved at his attempt at pushing away, nose scrunched up in defiance.

“’m not stiff,” he retorted weakly, words muffled through the tight squeeze of your fingers around his face.

“What’s the matter, Sannie, did Youngie fuck you too hard last night? Can’t even arch your back properly?” You gave his head a firm shake with every rhetorical question, pouting your lips in faux sympathy. His cheeks heated up under your touch, the pretty pink bleeding down his neck and chest as your aired out his nightly endeavors.

“I can arch my back-”

“My club is gonna run out of business if you keep running your mouth instead of doing your job properly, pretty boy. My old man would be rolling in his grave if that ever happened. We don’t want that now, do we?” You watched panic seep into his features when you spoke your next words, “how will you pay off your debt then, hm?”

“I-I’ll learn how to do it, please just-” his fingers release around the pole and wrap around your calves instead, his knees falling to the floor by your feet while he pleaded. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

His touch wasn’t unpleasant, rough fingertips brushing over your clothed skin, squeezing gently while he squirmed under you. Your fingers eased around his jaw but didn’t let go, pleased to have a man of his stature in the palm of your hand, yours to maneuver and handle however you wished. “And what will you do until then? Learning takes time, and we’re short-staffed, you know.”

A dangerous glimmer lit up San’s dark eyes, a sense of danger churning in your gut. Skilled hands slid up your legs, past your knees and thighs to settle on the curve of your hips, nuzzling his face into your palm before speaking. For a reason you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, you allowed him to do as he pleased, as though you suddenly had your own personal, human-sized cat, brimming with affection it didn’t know how to express. Siren eyes blinked up at you, a smile loaded with playfulness and mischief directed at you.

“I’ll just make sure to put on a performance they’ll never forget.”

--

Antsy hands pushed open your unbuttoned blouse to slide over the heated skin, your dress pants tossed and abandoned over the chair you’d been sitting in, lace panties dangling off the ankle resting on San’s shoulder. His glitzy top scratched against your skin, forming a blister you were too busy to care about as San’s body pressed against yours with his belly chain forming indents into your navel, his cock pounding into you to the steady beat of the music blasting through the decrepit speakers, a distant whirring disrupting the audio.

You slapped his hand off your chest, a warning look in your eyes and a pathetically despondent one in his, reaching for your hand and guiding it to his own chest, a silent ‘touch me instead.’ It was fascinating how quickly San’s cocky persona vanished once he got his dick wet, his face contorting—eyebrows furrowed and his eyes lidded—while you pulled on his piercing, rolling his nipple under your thumb and reveling in the tight moans rolling off his tongue.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” he mumbled, readjusting on his knees, the tight material of his bottoms low on his thighs restricting the movement.

“Already?” you teased, sucking in a sudden breath at the new angle, his cock curving into your g-spot through his relentless thrusts, his previous rhythm lost in his overflowing lust. “What a waste of a pretty cock, can’t even last long enough to make me cum.”

You noted the rose bleeding into his ears once again, his hips stuttering and a throaty moan leaving his lips as he emptied inside you, his hot seed spreading warmth through your lower belly. You laughed as he lowered himself onto you, hovering over your torso while he rolled his hips into your cunt, riding out his orgasm with airy moans and tightly-shut eyes. Paper bills fluttered in the air, some sticking to the sweat beaded on San’s back while the majority landed around your tangled bodies.

You were about to get up, words of beration forming on your tongue, but San took a few breaths and drove his cock further into you, grinding his length between your dripping walls until it chubbed up once again. It caught you off guard, his eagerness to perform, to prove himself to you, to fuck you dumb in front of all your customers.

The slow pace he adopted wasn’t enough, but the deliberate drag of his cock over your g-spot nearly sent you spiraling, the leg perched up on his shoulder shaking with every thrust. “Ngh, do you like being watched, pretty boy?”

San’s bashfulness was nowhere to be found, replaced with a pleased smile and a quick nod to his head, “Mm, I do,” his fingers kneaded the flesh of your thigh, his other hand pushing down your right leg to further open you up for him, driving his cock into you twice before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “what about you, Miss? You’re the same, aren’t you? I can feel your cunt squeezing around me every time you look at the perverts watching us.”

Your limbs felt heavy, something in your stomach convulsing at his words. “Watch your mouth-”

Calloused fingers slipped under you to tangle in the hair at your nape, tugging sharply until your neck craned at the force, your next words dying on your tongue as he began pistoning his cock into your needy cunt, a broken cry ripping through your chest as his cockhead pressed into your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You want them to watch how I’m gonna fuck you full? I’ll give you all I have, Miss, every last drop, until you’re all swollen with my cum,” he rambled, soft lips pressed against your temple while he hammered into you, sending you barreling towards the edge.

A tingle spread through your limbs, the edges of your vision darkening, and you prepared to freefall into a numbing orgasm, but San’s hips suddenly slowed to a languid grind, his lips stretching menacingly against your skin.

“No- fuck, I was so close-”

San interrupted your complaints, “tell me you want it.”

Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance. It was as though he was holding your orgasm for ransom. “Don’t be a fucking asshole, I’m still your boss-”

“-and I’m the one fucking you stupid,” he retorted, that vexing smirk on his face once again, and you wanted to punch it away. You’d assume abusing an employee would bring bad rep to your club, though, and you couldn’t afford to lose any customers. So you settled on glaring at him, attempting to roll your hips but huffing when San’s hands anchored you down to the floor.

“C’mon, just say you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want, Miss.” He lowered his voice down to a whisper, “all of it, just for you.”

The deep baritone of his voice, the words flowing smoothly off his tongue, warm hands splayed over your hips, occasionally squeezing at the flesh at the end of every sentence, his musky perfume mixed in with the tangy scent of his sweat engulfing your senses. Your walls pulsed around his cock, sitting  thick and heavy inside you while you squirmed under him, the skin of your cheeks heated under his gaze as he awaited the words he wanted to hear. After a few minutes of his relentless stare-down, cat-like eyes boring into yours with incessant demand, you gave in, muttering the words under your breath and breaking eye contact.

Just when you thought you could breathe again, his deep chuckle echoed in your ear, the pleasant sound preferable over the music playing in the background, but his words sent a wave of cold sweat seeping out of your pores, “No, no. Say it louder for me, darling.”

You huffed in exasperation, the smell of alcohol swimming in the air between you. Shutting your eyes to relieve yourself of the sight of San's sharp jawline and arched eyebrow, you missed the way his gaze flitted upwards to meet with Wooyoung’s—the man now sat in the chair to the left of the stage, palming at the obvious tent in his pants.

San gave a harsh thrust to egg you on, the shot of pleasure shooting up your spine at the gesture enough to push the words off your tongue, “just fucking give me your cum already, ‘want it all inside,” you slurred, voice breathy with hints of desperation.

San didn’t waste any time before picking up his pace, pounding into your heat with urgent want, as though he was a starved man at a banquet. It was as though he’d lit your nerves on fire, the pleasure so intense your mind went numb, nails digging into San’s biceps as he pulled moan after moan out of you. “Hnnngh! L-like that, yeah-”

There was no build-up to your orgasm, and you found yourself tumbling down a steep cliff into a valley of ecstasy, lips forming an ‘o’ while San guided you through it. With your back arched off the ground, your blouse damp and stuck to your slick back, you clung to the fluid drag of San’s throbbing cock between your fluttering walls, the sound of skin-on-skin following the beat vibrating through the speakers.

San’s fingers dented your skin with enough force to promise blossoming bruises, his breath laboured as he began to chase his own high after you’d ridden out yours, fucking into you like a madman, “’m almost there, Miss, ‘gonna make sure you’re nice and full of me,” He groaned near your ear, the sound melting away the tinges of overstimulation jolting you away from him, his tight grip keeping you in place to buck his hips into your used hole. “So full you might get pregnant- ngh!”

Driven to completion by his own words, San’s throaty moans drowned out the melody strumming in the background, spurts of hot cum adding to the white painting your walls as he milked himself of every last drop. It seemed like you were the one who had fucked him stupid, barely-coherent, babbled praise flowing into your ear as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

Your knee dug into your chest, and you stared at the lace still hanging off your ankle where it sat on San’s shoulder, pins and needles pricking at your muscles from the prolonged position. But you didn’t complain, simply basking in the afterglow while San’s chest rose and fell into yours. You could see the flutter of paper bills in your peripherals—more than you’d ever seen before on a slow, Thursday night—barely any of them reaching you as the men tossing them had their dominant hands preoccupied. Your eyes moved sideways, meeting Wooyoung’s, already staring back at you with a knowing smirk on his pouty lips.

Through the thick haze of the orgasm still clouding your mind, your muscles twitching with its remnants as San’s cock spasmed pathetically between your flooded walls, two loads streaming out of your stretched cunt, you realised just how much Choi San enjoyed performing for a crowd.

And just how much you could profit off that.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[felassan]

Ive heard that we'll be able to load our previous dai world state but maybe it said something in a different way and I misunderstood. We get to "make choices" but we can't load it exactly? What does that mean for the inquisitor? (I want to see my little guy lol) or maybe I'm just confused, I'm sorry

hello! ◕‿◕ All good! We will see the Inquisitor in the game. Worldstates will not be loaded directly, as in from save files or The Keep anything. They said that during the character creation process, we will "be able to customize [our] Inquisitor from the last game's story and make a few key decisions that will impact how DA:TV begins". [source, two] There won’t be any way to carry the Inquisitor's appearance 'data' over from DA:I into the game [source: the Discord] (because the tech is too different) so it sounds like it will be a case of re-creating them from scratch in DA:TV's new CC. For the world state, DA:TV will not use the Keep [source]. DA:TV will not read saves from DA:O, DAII or DA:I [source], because the technology is very different and they wanted this to be in the client. How we will 'tell' the game what our choices were will look a little different this time. They said:

"In an interview with IGN, Dragon Age: The Veilguard Game Director Corinne Busche says the ability to import your choices is “fully integrated into the character creator this time around.” “What’s not lost on us is that it’s been 10 years since existing players have played. They might not remember [what they did in previous games],” Busche explains. “They might need that refresher and we don’t want new players to feel like they’re missing out on those decisions. So in the character creator, I like to call it last time on Dragon Age, but you can go into your past adventures and it, actually through tarot cards, tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make.” Busche also confirms that The Veilguard players won’t have to link to their accounts for this option, as you’ll be able to play the game fully offline." [source]

This is just speculation on my part, but what I imagine is like - you know how in the start of DA:I, you select the Inquisitor's race and class from tarot cards? Something like that, but for certain choices we made in our past adventures instead, and for less choices than there are in the Keep (which has sooo many choices and tiles), so maybe mostly just major ones? the way it's described reminds me somewhat of Mass Effect Genesis, only instead of a 'comic' style, it's with tarot cards. (/end speculation ^^) I hope this helped. :>

[tomose]

[Someday, in the Kitchen Where Echoes Smile] Chapter 3 Translation

SNOW: Uh-huh, I see, I see! After taking another glance around, I do find this quite the wonderful restaurant.

RUSTICA: So do I. I love these scale-shaped tiles on the floor. Were these also inspired by Nadi?

NERO: As far as I know…? The landlord decorated the place according to their taste.

This restaurant came fully-furnished including all the kitchenware and dinnerware. It's standard procedure to rent this type of property to non-local chefs looking to open a restaurant.

I had my own set though, so the existing kitchenware here turned into decor.

MITHRA: How come this shelf is empty? Also, this cabinet door just won’t close.

NERO: That’s where I used to put my stuff. As for the door, it’s always been poorly attached; the trick is to lift as you shut it close.

Nero breaks into a soft, bitter smile as if to cover for an old friend’s bad habits. I found that expression endearing which also reminded me of his surprised look earlier.

AKIRA: So that’s why you were surprised when we were standing in front of the restaurant. ‘Cause it used to be yours.

LENNOX: This marks an unexpected homecoming for you, so to speak. What a quirk of fate.

NERO: Pretty much, yeah. Honestly, I was convinced this place was long gone.

RIQUET: Huh? But why?

NERO: Because I was evicted after my customer found out I’m a wizard. In these parts, nearly every place linked to wizards gets demolished.

AKIRA & RIQUET: …What…

Nero explained matter-of-factly that Riquet and I were at a loss for words. In contrast to our reactions, Figaro shrugged his shoulders lightly.

FIGARO: No doubt… You still hear this sort of thing every once in a while, especially in the East. Think of it as an attempt at a purification ritual.

CAIN: In my case, the elderly dignitaries pitched a proposal to tear down the office I used when I was the Knight General, on the grounds that it had been cursed.

That’s what it means to be driven out… You just steel yourself for this kind of thing.

AKIRA: …Oh, Cain…

Cain’s words rung heavy.

Even in a society where wizards are not allowed to become knights, I know many people admire him to this day. But as sociable and well-liked as Cain is, he is still resigned to having the places he’s stayed at destroyed.

It’s easy to forget when I’m with my wizards, but this is the reality of the world we are in.

RUSTICA: Finding your way back to your restaurant must be a miracle then, Nero.

LENNOX: True. Far from getting torn down, someone has been making sure it is well-kept.

NERO: Right? That’s the part I found strange. I mean, did they think I would curse them if they wrecked the place?

Nero nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. Seeing him act like he usually does made my heart ache more.

I wished he didn’t talk about his bitter experience like it was just random gossip. I wished Blue Scales had been different–especially when Nero’s voice sounded eager and unusually elated as he shared his experience in this town.

AKIRA: (…Then again, wishing won’t do anything about the situation…)

MITHRA: Are you people done talking or what? Is the food ready yet?

Mithra’s listless voice snapped me out of my thoughts. There he was making himself at home on a bar stool, legs crossed and chin resting on his palm as if to make his boredom apparent.

Nero let out a wry smile.

NERO: My bad. So what’s the verdict with the anomaly?

FIGARO: I didn’t sense any malice from the echoes, so I’d say this one doesn’t seem that dangerous.

SNOW: As I had proposed the other day, cooking ought to do the trick with this anomaly.

CAIN: Something about satisfying those emotions to sublimate them, right? Can we go ahead with the cooking class then?

NERO: Sure.

SNOW & RUSTICA: Hurray!

CAIN: Good for you, Riquet.

RIQUET: Oh… Yes, of course! Thank you, Nero.

NERO: In that case, we’ll be making apple–

MITHRA: …Hm?

LENNOX: An echo appeared right next to Mithra…

This time, the echo that appeared like fog was an old man with a small pair of glasses on his nose. With a cranky frown, he was staring down at this huge piece of fried meat that reminded me of tonkatsu if it had been pounded flat.

RUSTICA: That…I believe is a schnitzel.

NERO: Yep. I could easily gather the ingredients from the market, so I had served it as the restaurant’s specialty dish.

The old man sliced a huge piece of his schnitzel. With brows furrowed, he heartily stuffed his mouth that was shaped in a frown.

But in a matter of seconds, a sense of satisfaction turned the difficult expression on his face into a relaxed one. He gave a few nods of approval.

SNOW: Why, he makes it look so delicious…

MITHRA: Nero, I'm craving that.

RIQUET: What? But I wanted to bake an apple pie…

NERO: Uhh…

LENNOX: How about we cook a full course, everything from a salad to a dessert?

AKIRA: That would mean learning an entire course’s worth of recipes, right?

LENNOX: Yes. It's how cooking is taught in the South.

FIGARO: What Leno said, plus table setting and other necessary assistance included. This method should satisfy both requests, right?

RIQUET: Oohh…! Nero, what do you think?

NERO: Sure thing. At this point, adding another dish or two barely makes a difference.

RIQUET: Yay!

CAIN: That decides it for our dessert and entrée… All that’s left is the soup and salad, right? Some bread would be nice, too.

NERO: Let’s buy bread instead of making it from scratch. For the salad, it will depend on what’s on the market. And the soup…hm…

RUSTICA: In that case, I suggest we coordinate the menu like you would an outfit.

AKIRA: Coordinate?

RUSTICA: You heard it right. The way Chloe does it, he first picks out several options from the wardrobe then sees which ones go together.

Following that example, the first thing on our list is to buy ingredients of our liking. Then, we will mix and match to create our very own salad and soup.

By we, I mean Nero.

NERO: I figured.

CAIN: In that case, I think we should divvy up who buys what to make Nero’s job later easier. So we’ll have Team Soup, Team Salad, Team Apple Pie, Team Schnitzel, and so on.

SNOW: I see. And among those teams, Team Soup and Team Salad are free to purchase whatever ingredients they want.

CAIN: Yep, that’s the idea! Riquet and I can be Team Apple Pie.

RIQUET: I’m glad to have you, Cain!

After a discussion, teams were formed as follows: Cain and Riquet as Team Apple; Rustica, Figaro, and Lennox as Team Salad; Nero and I as Team Schnitzel and Bread; and lastly, Snow and Mithra as Team Soup.

SNOW: Let’s do this, Mithy. Go North Power!

MITHRA: Huh? No way. Nobody told me we had to cook.

RIQUET: What? It’s in the name–cooking class. How could you have missed that?

MITHRA: You’re supposed to cook in a cooking class?

AKIRA: (So he never understood a single thing…!)

MITHRA: <<Arth–

CAIN: Now hold on a sec, Mithra.

Cain casually puts an arm around Mithra’s shoulder as he was about to summon his spatial portal. Then, he flashes a friendly smile at him like he would to a younger peer.

CAIN: If you leave now, you’ll never get a taste of the schnitzel you requested. You wouldn’t want that, would you?

MITHRA: …Now that you mention it.

CAIN: And hey, I know you grill meat in the courtyard and concoct your own original sauce. You have a real knack for cooking and the experience to boot, you know that?

It’ll be reassuring to know someone of your caliber is in charge of shopping for soup ingredients. Don’t you agree, Master Sage?

AKIRA: Y-You bet I do! Could you do us a favor this time, Mithra?

MITHRA: …

…You really are hopeless without me, huh? Fine, I’ll do you a favor and stay.

AKIRA: Thank you!

SNOW: Thank you, young Cain, dear Sage. You both earned yourselves some spending money.

CAIN: Haha. I appreciate the thought, but you don’t have to.

All right, what are we waiting for? Let’s get shopping!

ALL: Let’s do this!

BUTCHER: Please come again.

SNOW: Thank you, Miss! Bye bye!

…Hmm, each cut of meat was wonderfully fatty; the East sure knows how to raise healthy, well-fed livestock!

MITHRA: Meat, fish, herbs, flowers… Snow, is it just me or are you overshopping?

SNOW: Might as well make some soup with all the ingredients I love, right!

...Hm? Do I spy a spice shop over there? I must take a look.

Feel free to buy whatever you want in your soup, Mithra. I’ll see you later!

MITHRA: Uh-huh. All right.

SNOW: Phew. What a haul…

MITHRA: Snow.

SNOW: Mithra, there you are! That’s a large basket you are carrying; I see you’ve enjoyed your own shopping spree. So what did you buy? Show me.

MITHRA: Here.

SNOW: Huh… HUH!? WHAT IN THE WORLD?!

Some deep violet spice, carnivorous leafy greens…and a bottle of pink, luminescent goop?! And you sure didn’t miss your chocolate treats now, did you?

MITHRA: What’s wrong with that? I’m down for some soup made with goop and chocolate.

SNOW: What wrong, you ask? Everything! You can’t shop to save your damn life, can you?!

MITHRA: Are you serious? You’re the one who told me to buy whatever I wanted.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Part 22 of the poll story, the beginning of part 3!

You return home with a bounty of items for Ralyr’s new abode.  There was a deal on boxes if you bought several at once, and the craft store was selling their older fabrics for cheap so they could replace them with new stock.  With the extra money you didn’t need to spend on those, you could get almost everything from the list you and Ralyr had come up with the night before.  Everything seemed to work out in your favor.  

While wandering the isles for everything you needed, you couldn’t help but peer into shelves and scan the floors for someone like him.  Now that you know beings like Ralyr exist — especially in places as normal as this — it’s hard to ignore it.  Even the little birds outside started to look like they might be partially humanoid.

It’s a strange feeling, like you’ve been let in on a major secret of sorts.  Well, you have.  How many times have you walked right by a satyrian and never knew?  Couldn’t they take the form of a person as well?  What if you knew someone before even Ralyr came along?

By the time you get home, you remember all the questions you’d been meaning to ask Ralyr about his life and friends.  It’s by far your favorite day in a while.  You and him build a little home out of the corner of the living room.  Flattened boxes create platforms from the floor to an area where he’s at your height.  Lengths of yarn drape down from several different tabletops, allowing Ralyr to climb atop any surface.

As you build, both of you trade facts about your lives.  Ralyr tells you about a few of the customs his kind has, as well as the two friends who’d tried to stay with him.  You tell him everything you can recall about how the TV works like he’d wanted, as well as a few human actions that Ralyr knew about but never understood.

After a day of hard work, you decide to finish your work after successfully setting up places for Ralyr to climb onto just about every surface in the little apartment.  The both of you sit down and watch a show that Ralyr had found while you were out — taking a well-deserved break.  He was very excited to show you what he’d seen and his new knowledge of the world where his newfound show took place.  “See, in this world there’s true magic!  But it can only be seen by people who are chosen by a giant otherworldly-looking being that oversees it all and-”  He went on and on.

You didn’t want to break it to him that not only did you already know about it, but it was a children’s show.  However, the longer you watched it, you came to agree that it was surprisingly good for something made for a little kid with about a twenty minute maximum attention span.

Before you know it, you notice the sun beginning to set outside.  “Oh!  It’s already almost six!” you gasp, “I should get us something to eat, hmm?”  Ralyr nods and you reach to pick him up.  He steps away from your hands.  “I’d like to try our new rope system, if that’s alright with you,” he says, gesturing towards the edge of the table where a string of yarn was sealed in place by duct tape.  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen, then,” you reply with a nod.

Of course, you arrive first.  It’s quite a sight watching the little being make his way across the floor on seemingly backwards-bending legs.  He’s still a bit unsteady with his new form, which you suspect is why he decides to ride around on your arm so often.  Tonight he steps across the tile with the very faint tip-tap of talons hitting the floor, then hauls himself up the cord of yarn.  His grasping feet make it easier for him to climb a rope, and he’s atop the counter in no time.

“Ok, now what do you want for dinner?” you simultaneously ask him and muse to yourself.  Opening the small pantry, you peer inside.  “We have.. uhh…”  You go to the fridge next.  “Umm…”  With a sigh, you turn back to Ralyr.  “In my excitement to get your things and help you move in.. I forgot to actually get the normal groceries I always get while I’m out,” you confess sheepishly.  “Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking clearly.”  Most of the time you were thinking about him and the different shapeshifters he’d talked about, actually.

Ralyr taps his clawed foot against the counter in thought.  “What can we do?  Are the stores still open?”  You glance at the clock.  They are, but it’s late and you were already out most of the day.

What will you decide to do?

A) Go get the groceries and leave Ralyr alone again.

B) Screw it, you’ll just get takeout.

C) Getting food will be a tomorrow activity, just eat whatever you have on hand.

D) Tell Ralyr to go steal some food from another apartment for now.

[urbigsockssmell]

Monster - Chapter 2.

Male! Wendigo x Female! Reader

Summary: In your last moments before death, you make a deal with the Devil himself. To provide it with as much food as you can from your butcher job to save your life and the lives of everyone around you. Even if it knows the amount of food you can give it still won't be enough, it goes along with your plan for whatever reason of curiosity it has.

DISCLAIMER!!! YOU CAN ONLY CONTINUE READING THIS BOOK ON WATTPAD AND AO3 UNDER @UrBigSocksSmell AND THE BOOK IS CALLED "Monster" UPDATES WON'T BE HAPPENING HERE ON TUMBLR ONLY THERE!!!

No real trigger warnings here if you dont count paranoia, some form of anxiety atacks mentioned and stalking I suppose.

"No, Mom, boyfriends don't come out of thin air." You scolded her over the phone while bits of bread crumbs spilled from your mouth and onto the already dirty tile floor.

"But what about Charles? He's single, right? Or maybe--" You cut her off, having swallowed the bite of food before she could talk any more nonsense.

"Mom, stop trying to hook me up with Charles. How many times do I have to tell you that he's only just a friend to me?" You were getting severely annoyed and angry at her as so many times you have before when having this sort of conversation.

"Fine, fine, but just know I said that about Martha when we were just friends." She put an emphasis enclosure on her last words and you guessed she did quotation marks as well. You had to roll your eyes in your chair at her comment while taking another bite.

It wasn't uncommon for her to all of a sudden mention a boyfriend when she called you on your lunch break and it was starting to get immensely annoying. You were sitting in your shop, far back where the meat was served and the people couldn't see you, eating a baloney sandwich from the market down the street while talking to your mother over the phone. Today wasn't good but wasn't bad either. It was good on the part of how many few customers there were and that you were finally able to relax from some non-specific person in mind. But it was bad when it came to how boring it was at work and how the outside felt like walking straight into a tornado.

"Now that you mentioned Martha, how is she?" You tried switching up the conversation from that embarrassing topic.

She chuckled before responding and it sent a sort of vibrating sound through the telephone. "She's doing well. She said that there's an action movie she heard about that she'd love to see with you. It was something called like 'Battle of the Manticores' or some shit like that." A light chuckle was heard from you at her cursing.

You got up from your chair, it making a squeaky sound on the floor that you cringed at, and were about to go and throw the plastic the sandwich was wrapped in while still having some food substance in your mouth.

"Y-Y/N?" Her sudden call-out made you perk up while walking and make a light 'mmh' sound for her to continue. "I've, umm, I've h-heard what happened at the town's square..." Her voice was low and nervous and the jittery tone she had before vanished as the tension slowly thickened. You stopped in your tracks and had to swallow down the lump in your throat and not just from the meat and bread that was in your mouth.

It's been a couple of days, maybe about a week since that.. incident. News had spread about it, everyone talked around and even articles were written of it possibly being a serial killer on the loose. It was clearly a cash grab at twisting the frightening truth but there still could've been a possibility. There could even be a possibility of another corpse hiding around yet to be discovered.

You've recovered since then. I mean, it wasn't anything that serious, just a dead scary-looking animal that made people vomit at just the look of it. Instead, everyone including you, was worried about what had caused it and if they posed a threat to the town. Who could've mauled down that corpse in such a disturbing and vicious way? Just a normal animal from the forest everyone's dramatizing to monetize? A psychotic human?..A monster? And if it had done that much bloodthirsty harm to just one animal, possibly and most likely more, what would it do to the entire town?

Nobody knew and it was the cause of all the nightmares you had ever since. Nightmares that made you face death itself. It just didn't help that even outside, in your already sleep-deprecated life, did the presence of death feel real. Even now when you were having a private conversation with your mother did the feeling of watchful white eyes of death on you every second never disappear.

In your desperate attempt to try and forget about it, you never mentioned it once to anyone, and for your mother to suddenly bring it up made every emotion you felt at that moment crawl back and shiver up your spine.

"H-Honey? You still there?" Your mother caught on to how quiet you had become. She could've never known how much all of the color you had on your face drained down and made you pale as a ghost.

"Where did you hear about it?" Your tone only thickened not only the tension but also the fear and worry in your mother.

"A-a friend of mine told me... " You continued walking while holding all your focus on her words and gripping the black Nokia phone tight with both of your hands. "She said that there was an animal eaten alive down at the town's square and that nobody knew where it came from and how it was caused." At the end of her sentence, you were about to throw the peace of plastic in the bin when you realized your coworker had forgotten to throw out the trash. At any different moment in time, you would've rolled your eyes at him in annoyance and groaned out at the newfound chore. This moment was different, it felt... unusual like something wrong was going to happen. It was something you had done so many times before but now that all the fear was back lashing on your trembling bones, it felt like something different had to happen.

"I was wondering what you have to say about it." Your footsteps echoed around the room on the tile floor and made you feel cautious about everything. It was only to go and throw out the trash your forgetful coworker left but now it almost felt.. unsafe.

"I-It was probably nothing. Just some animals killing other animals like nature made it be like." That was true, at least it was the truth you wanted to believe in and have been telling yourself for the entire week.

"You're probably right but.." The breeze of a chilly wind on your face made you feel cold when you opened the door to the back alleyway.

The alleyway was huge, it had graffiti around the brick walls, burned-out cigarettes and syringes probably used for drugs decorating the musty concrete floor. It was a very hidden and creepy place, near Rushell's dark forest, far where the sun didn't hit, and behind all the shops. It just wasn't fun that even within such a closed space, the tornado-like wind still had to torment you. One of the reasons why you didn't like visiting the place was how dark it was. You always feared something being in there, either a creep or something from the forest like a.. monster. There was some form of light, it being the street light towering over you and the various lights from the buildings, but even that didn't help in uncovering the white eyes lurking in the shadows.

"I don't know, I'm just worried about you, honey." You could barely make out her voice from the annoying and loud wind that made your hair run all over the place and roughly hold the Nokia phone with both hands. You opened the green and rusty dumpster as quickly as possible and threw the rubbish directly into it. It smelled horrible when you opened it as if accompanied by all of the cats and raccoons that ran away from the outburst of sound was a terrified skunk. You still felt the feel of how dirty the dumpster was even when you turned around and were ready to go back to where you came from.

"What do you think it is?"

That sudden question from your mother wasn't the only thing that made you pale in your tracks and taste a familiar bitter taste in your mouth.

It was almost nostalgic. To feel the same feeling you felt back then, minutes before, and again now. That same horror in your eyes, that same paleness in your face, and that same shiver hugging your spine. It wasn't anything that bloody and gory looking this time but it almost made you drop your phone into pieces. It was.. inhumane. No human or animal you knew existed could've done the havoc that was caused on the metal door of the butcher shop. There were claw marks ingrained on it and ripping the rusty metal like something was trying to get in. They were huge and reminded you of something only dinosaurs could make, huge as in whatever caused it could grab your entire face in just one of its hands. You feared touching the door handle now, scared of whatever caused it to jump out at you when you opened it. The damage done couldn't have been made by a cat or a raccoon, just the marks alone were twice their size, big, and the being..  could probably chew them up with just one bite... Was it ..trying to get in and eat--

"What do you think it is?" Your mother repeated herself.

It was a pause for a breath of air that felt like it lasted forever when you gathered your thoughts.

"I don't know.."

***

I must announce that this book hit over a 100 reads on Ao3 within A FUCKING WEEK!? I am in shook. W. T. F. Thank you all for reading this book, I am thankful that you clicked on my work out of all the books out there. (Totally didn't steal Chad Chad's outro) Please leave any sort of feedback, as a beginner author it will help me graciously. And please tell me if the build up and paranoia is accecutaed goodly.

I will probably be updating this book on a schedule weekly. It took me a week to write this chapter, with the amount of editing a had to do so I'm thinking of posting a new chapter every Friday or Saturday. I am not that busy at the moment with school and outside activities so it works out perfectly for me. Or I'll make it so I update every ten days like I saw someone posting on Wattpad do I don't know. It's still just an idea and I need to seriously do a lot more research on Wendigos so I can get as accurate as possible.

Have a lovely day, you deserve it because you made mine by just living and reading my display.

[pens-and-paperbacks]

"Nobody wants to work! Everyone is so lazy! No one has any work ethic!"

That's all a lie and I'm sorry you've been made to believe that. The truth is people are applying and many people have great work ethic or can be easily taught but the jobs they're forced into are so trash that if they had the choice, why would they ever actually apply there? Why would they want to work there?

My current workplace, a gas station, is sitting on at least a dozen applications but my boss won't hire any of them because, "they're welfare fodder, they've only kept a job for six months or less." We're finally hiring someone in now because, "they looked put together and have a nice looking car," but only because one of my coworkers is leaving, having out in a notice a month ago which my boss hasn't forgiven her for and is spiteful about. All of this doesn't even touch the HUGE mouse problem we had for MONTHS, the heavily leaking ceiling with a huge hole over its door, or the mold that's just everywhere throughout the fridges and the ceiling tiles. And even THAT doesn't touch on the surprising amount of racist and homophobic comments I hear from customers (or employees/my boss sometimes) here and there.

At another job I worked from the stores opening, through orientation, and watched everyone that had miraculously lasted the first two years leave because two of my managers had an affair, lied about it to everyone, fired someone over seeing their text messages and kept messing up our supply orders. When my actual boss finally stepped in he was so out of touch with what actually needed to be done in the store that it caused worse problems. I also heard at some point, when people had to take on second jobs, that this boss was flat out doing everything he could to get rid of people because, " they were making another job their priority instead of this one."

The second job I had to take during the one mentioned just above (because I was one of those people not getting enough hours) was flat out a horrible, toxic work environment. Everyone had a bad attitude, did not want to be there and even if it seemed like they were having a good day, one wrong work or work slip up made their mood flip on a dime. I had to flat out ask to not be put on the schedule with one of the employees because they were that mean to me, and I can get along with anyone so that's saying something. The labor cost they had was absolutely ridiculous there (meaning they could only keep so many people on at a time to afford being there, possibly only two even during a lunch or dinner rush with a fully packed drive through and lobby) and when one manager decided, "I have to send my help home and work by myself for an hour, otherwise I'm gonna get yelled at about the labor cost," and singlehandedly handled one of those lunch rushes on their own. They were written up for it. They left that morning after signing that paper because, despite not being allowed to be there on your own as an employee, our boss was adamant about labor costs and could have covered for her or not told anyone. If she hadn't have some what she did, she would have actually been yelled at. It was an incredibly disrespectful move done in the name of corporate.

The one job that paid me well did so because they appreciated my work and everyone else kept leaving. I saw three raises in three months because I was essentially THE kitchen manager. That was great. Thing was, even though the people I worked with and for were good to me, it was a bowling alley/restaurant/arcade/bar where you were expected to prep, cook, take reservations, set people up on lanes via computer, serve people if your manager was busy, do light maintenance on the bowling machines and arcade machines, keep up with dishes and get the end of the day cleaning done which sometimes meant vacuuming the carpet across all eighteen lanes of customer seating and cleaning the tables/chairs stationed there too. All of that, despite the raises, was done for minimum wage starting and the place was almost always packed. I'd often get asked to stay because they kept a few employees that while good at their job they just missed shifts constantly because they knew they could, since this job had on-call shifts too. There were nights my husband picked me up that I was so sore and overworked that I would get in the car and just start sobbing. I wouldn't stop for ten minutes or more, either until we were mostly home or we got something to eat since I was normally too hungry to keep crying.

The very first job I ever got was at a pizza place. Over all it was the most laid back, despite being run by one of the Mafia families in town (of which there are a few but tbf they're very low key). The problem there was that the boss was a fucking scumbag who thought that in his case the Mafia status made him a big shot. It didn't. On a side note, his self important scumbag attitude made the other families in the area see him for the joke he was. He would make passes at the waitresses in exchange for streak dinners and money, only ever hire girls who were cute/pretty as waitresses so he could have a chance at doing so with someone cute/pretty. When we had a lot of money coming in he would spend it on improving the bar that was attached to the restaurant, as in getting new flat screen tvs or new glasses, some trivial thing that he didn't actually need. Not the kitchen ware that needed fixing, which at one point caused me to get a third degree burn because someone ended up running into my arm with boiling hot lasagna out of an oven we didn't normally use. There was also a point where I had to deliver a pizza to him, which he ordered drunkenly and over the phone while he was in the bar only twenty feet away, but when I went to deliver it to him and grab a jug of wine I needed for the restaurant, his grandson (very politely) had to stop me from doing so because his grandfather was doing something with a woman in the backroom of the bar in the middle of the day.

Currently, I have to move out of my house and in with friends a state away with my husband because even with two people working nearly 40 hours each at a minimum wage job still isn't enough to live and thrive off of. It's nothing we can make an actual life off of. We have to leave our house behind for a season, get new jobs and save money in this new place, just so we can afford to come back and fix up and sell our house/land. Our combined income is about $30,000 flat, in a small town where everything was just affordable enough to get by. It isn't anymore.

I sent out five job applications in one month only to hear back from one with a no, the others ghosted me completely until just the other day, literally the month after.

"No one wants to work! Everyone is lazy! No one is applying!"

You don't know how bad it is and has been even before COVID. Add inflation onto the long list of fucked up, unprofessional or flat out cruel things that can be done or said in many workplaces, which you have to deal or else your fired, on top a work chore/task sheet that probably keeps you overworked and exhausted the entire week/month/year and I ask you-

Would you want to work?

[companionwolf]

Toy Soldiers Ch 5

The sun is rising, and the Commander is back in the city.

But I’m not alone this time, they think, gingerly brushing a hand against the front pant pocket they’ve tucked Central into as they climb through a broken front window of a shop.The glass cuts at their hands; they pause to wrap them in bandages, breaths heavy beneath the gas mask.

It’s a local grocery store, autumnal leaves blown in and scattered across dirty white tiles. The Commander treads lightly down the aisles, checking dates on cans, pocketing what looks remotely edible.

Does it ever annoy you?

Central’s voice in their head makes them start. “God, don’t scare me like that.” They shake their head, but it’s affectionate. “Anyway, what do you mean, ‘annoy’?”

Having to eat, he elaborates. Drink. Bathe. Relieve yourself. All those human things.

“It can be,” they admit, pawing through long rotted vegetables.

Central is quiet again then, as the Commander shimmies they way back out the broken front window. Then: I wish I could feel those things. Hunger. Cold. Even pain. Maybe I’d feel more like a person.

“Some people have trouble feeling them, and they’re still people,” says the Commander.

Right, but they’re still--

“You might not be human, but you’re a person, regardless of what you experience,” they say. They push open the door of another shop-- a toy shop this time, and their hands run over the stuffed animals, but they don’t actually stop until they reach the dolls.

“See any clothes you like?”

Feels weird to just…take it, Central says.

“I don’t think these ones are alive,” they say. “Are they?”

A sense of a head nodding no.

“I’m gonna take…this, and these, and that,” they say, grabbing a bed sized just bigger than Central, a tiny bookshelf, and a miniature couch, tucking them away into the backpack. “Just let me know if you see anything you want.”

They’re almost out of the doll aisle when Central says-- that one.

“Hm?”

The one with the little robot, he says. She’s alive in there.

The Commander’s gaze drifts to the end of the shelf. In a neat little box is a doll in a silly sci-fi looking uniform, with a little cubic robot miniature, hand painted with the name ROV-R. Her eyes stare up at them, and they give her a little wave, “Hi, there.” They press a hand to the box, but don’t pick up anything. “You’re sure she’s awake?”

I’m positive, Central says.

“OK, she can come home with us,” they say, taking the box in their hands as they sit and pull out a pocket knife. With a few swift cuts they’ve got the box open and gently pull the engineer out, smoothing down her hair. The robot miniature comes out a moment later.

The Commander tries again: “Hello?”

Nhh -- what? Who are--

“I’m your human,” says the Commander. From their pocket, Central laughs. You can’t just declare that, he says,

“But you said that to me,” they answer.

He laughs again. Because you are! But that’s a choice the object makes, not the other way around.

“Ohhh,” says the Commander.

They pull Central from their pocket, hold the two dolls a few inches from each other, looking sort of at each other and sort of at them. “I’m the Commander, and this is Central.”

Hey, Commander, says the engineer. Hi, Central. I’m Shen. The toy pauses. There haven't been many customers here for a long time. Did something happen? I fell asleep after so long…

“Yeah, uh, a lot’s happened,” the Commander says.

Aliens, Central summarizes, and transmits a scowl.

Ah, says Shen. Aliens.

“...Do you know what an alien is?”

I think so, she answers. Space people, right?

The Commander nods. “We’re bringing you back home-- you cool with that?”

Shen considers for a moment. Yeah, she says finally, I’m cool with that.

Later, when they’re leaving a yarn shop, the Commander trips, loses their gas mask in the fall, bashes their face against the concrete. And for just a moment, they forget--

“Shit!”

The sound echoes off the empty buildings, and they realize what they;ve done only after the word has burst from their lips.

To their credit, Central and Shen also yelp, but the zombies can't hear the dolls; it doesn't matter if they scream. The human staggers to their feet, hurriedly picks up and puts the gas mask back on, swallows and tastes blood. There’s rustling in the shadows, and then--

The horde is upon them, and the Commander runs.

They run, cutting through back alleys, clambering over cars, but the swarm behind them just seems to get bigger and bigger, and faster, too. They’re panting beneath the mask, sweat in their eyes, wishing they’d brought a weapon, cursing that they didn’t.

They’ve gotten complacent, relaxed-- too much so, to stop bringing a weapon during these city runs. They have an old gun that they managed to scavenge from somewhere a while ago, but they don’t usually carry it around. They’d gotten so used to not needing one, to being so careful that the zombies never noticed them anyway.

You’re almost there!

How many of these damn things are there?

“Too many,” huffs the Commander from under the mask as they barrel around a corner. The dashers behind them don’t let up, and there's nothing but the side of an apartment ahead of them. They frantically glance up and down at the building, looking for a way out or over or--

Over the fence? offers Central.

“Fuck it, sure,” they say, and heave their way up the chain link, feels the backs of their heels kick against the head of a zombie as they throw themeleves over, landing hard on the pavement.

They lay there for a minute, catching their breath, ignoring Central’s panicked voice in their head.

“Give me a minute,” they manage to pant.

After what feels like an eternity, the Commander hefts to their feet and continues on.

[citree]

Me: I miss doing digital art, but i have all this schoolwork to do... i should really focus on that instead...

Me: How about doing neither and making a Pokemon fan-game instead 

[skysometric]

dev commentary time! as we start going through the remixes it's important to keep in mind how much of a technical marvel these have always been, both in old and new versions of the engine... in ways that frequently made it a headache to work with them.

current versions of the red coins are a fully custom object – collecting one does all of the work behind the scenes to adjust the timer, spawn the flashing time indicator, and count both how many and which ones have been collected. they can be collected in all the ways a regular coin can – such as being bumped from below – and they can also be "precollected" when restarting from a checkpoint. there's even dynamic red coins set up to fly around or fall in from the top of the screen!

new "single-object" red coin on the left, old hacky nonsense on the right.

suffice to say, all of that was practically impossible in old versions of Mari0. the old red coins were a much different beast; they were in fact regular coin tiles with a custom graphic and a region trigger attached to several stage entities that would adjust the timer and track collection. there was no way to make the coins move from their spot, and no way to "precollect" them from checkpoints – meaning no checkpoints in remixes AT ALL.

worse still, those old red coins were very challenging just to add to the level in the first place. let's say i placed one already and i wanted to move it later; there's no way to just "move" the coin and the entities attached, so i'd have to delete it completely and replace each component in the new location.

on top of that, the size of the coin's hitbox is less than one tile, and the region trigger couldn't be made that small in the editor... so when i was ready to "lock in" the red coins, i would open the level in a text editor and manually adjust the size of the region triggers. yes, really. (pictured on the right is how i got "bumping" the coins below the bricks to work – the region trigger extends below the brick!)

the little orange squares over the top of the red coin show the size of the region trigger. it's tiny.

anyway, you get the point by now. the old red coins were inflexible – hard to place, hard to replace, and hard to find good places for. but i was ambitious enough that i did all that work anyway... i finished HALF of the remixes in the old version! and Applesauce Autumn is probably the best of those early attempts, because it has the least changes of them all.

most of what i did to patch up this level (besides smooth out the enemies a bit) was add things that i wanted to do in the original but couldn't, like… pre-placed Koopa shells. can you believe something that simple was impossible in older versions of Mari0???

also pictured is a star that was removed due to being too hard to reach.

adding red coin bits was also a pretty major change – those weren't possible in old versions either. the old red coin location was just floating over these bricks, just out of reach for anything but a running jump. really mean for being the first remix!

there also wasn't a koopa shell here originally. i like how the shell bounces around after it's kicked, meaning the floor here is never truly safe~

finally there's the two coins between the pipes, which had their times adjusted. in the new version, both give 20 time. in the old version, the first gives 30... and the second gives 10, which was purposefully not enough time to reach the next coin.

no old version needed, the difference is just numbers.

why did i do this? i wanted the player to puzzle out why the first one was giving way too much time and the second wasn't giving enough, with the eventual solution being to grab the one on the right first and double back for the one on the left. i wanted the player to discover this early on in the remixes... because i intended to pull a similar stunt in several remixes!!

suffice to say this did NOT survive into the final release. it's purposefully obtuse, it adds nothing to the level, and it's impossible to tell this is happening on your first time through because the coins aren't marked.

a recurring theme throughout these remixes is going to be how much more mean they used to be, because when i first made the remixes, i did not intend for anyone but the most hardcore challengers to tackle them. these weren't supposed to be for casual players; that's what the main levels were for. besides, it's not like i could add checkpoints or anything...

well, thank god i eventually could, because that got me to rethink practically all of the remixes.

Applesauce Autumn (A-1) | Retrush

Welcome back to familiar plains of bricks and pipes... with a seasonal shift! This first Red Coin Remix is crawling with Spinies, all lined up for a good old shell combo. Just watch where you kick those things!

[y0ung-4ever]

Comfort

Pairing: Johnny Depp x reader

Description: You have a tough day at work and Johnny is there to comfort you.

Warnings: Self-doubt, Johnny being the emotional support we all need

Rating: -

Notes: Everyone, it is okay to make mistakes over and over! It always gets worse before it gets better. I promise.

Recently I got a brand new job as a barista at the local coffee shop close to me and Johnny’s apartment. I don’t really need to work, but I wanted to because lately my anxiety has been getting bad. I can always tell because when I’m just sitting around doing nothing or watching a movie or a YouTube video, I’m always shaking my leg or biting my nails. And if it’s not my nails then it’s the inside of my cheek or my lip. And I notice that when I’m on my phone and I see pictures of girls with beautifully done nails and when I look down at mine, they are bitten down and not flattering at all.

So what better way of keeping your mind busy than getting a job!

In all honesty when I was first being trained, it seemed like a whole lot to remember and I was overwhelmed. But I kept telling myself that I was going to get through it. That it was worth it because it was going to help me.

It was a Friday, and it’s one of the busiest days at the coffee shop. I came into work prepared and ready to take on the day. Reassured that all I had to do was prepare the drink the customer wanted and that would be it.

But I guess the day had other plans because it was halfway through my shift and a lot of people started to pile in and order a lot at once. I was freaking out and I made one of the drinks wrong. My coworkers said it was okay to start all over again, so I grabbed another cup and began doing so- when I fumbled and dropped the cup spilling all the coffee everywhere. That caused everyone to stare and that caused me to go into a breakdown. So I ran into the back, took off my apron, and got in my car and drove home. I somehow kept myself from crying on the way home until I walked into our apartment. I let my tears fall and my legs went with them. I was hoping that Johnny was home so that this state of panic I was in would soon be over. But sadly he wasn’t. He was filming today and I forgot that.

After an hour or so of crying on the floor, I picked myself up and went to the bathroom. Starting the water but not getting in. I just wanted to cry until I couldn’t anymore. I just kept looking at myself in the mirror. Calling myself a screw up. I screwed up everything. I’m probably going to get fired now because of what I did. Leaving work in the middle of my shift all because I messed up a drink. I was so stupidly sensitive. Saying all of these things out loud made me realize that it was actually true. Which made me cry even more. And me being overly sensitive and noticing it made me cry even more. I was a mess. How could Johnny love me?

Knock knock

I didn’t even care. He was going to notice the sounds of sobbing over the running water, and he was even going to notice the smudges of mascara on the floor downstairs. He paid attention to all of those details when coming home and knowing something is wrong.

As the door opened I didn’t even look up. I didn’t want to look into those beautiful brown eyes because I knew they were filled with sadness. I knew that they also had a hint of disappointment. Just like mine.

“Honey..”

He ran over to accompany me on the white tiled floor of the bathroom.

He lifted my chin up and I tried so hard not to look into those eyes but it’s like they are magnetic. And as I caved in. As I looked into those orbs of so many feelings. I cried even harder. There wasn’t even a hint of disappointment. It just wasn’t there. I was wrong. But not about me. I was right about everything I said about me.

“Honey, what happened? Shhh..just talk to me, sweetheart. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel the way you are feeling. Just let it all out.”

He was hugging me and rubbing up and down my back. I felt helpless..but also loved. A weird combination really..

“I-I screwed up again, Johnny. Again. I can’t do anything right!”

I screamed and sobbed as I relived those moments at the coffee shop.

He shushed me and wiped my tears away with his thumbs. He turned around and grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed my nose with it.

“My baby. Do you know why you mess up? Why do you make mistakes everyday?”

I kind of look down in disbelief at his words.

“I-I knew y-you were disap-ppointed.”

He shook his head and pinched my arm. He tapped my nose. He ran his fingers through my hair and held my hands. Proving that I was indeed human.

“Because you are a human being. It is in our nature to screw things up. You know what? I have been acting for a long time. And I still mess up alll the time! Hard to believe right? But I do. I mean it could just be because I’m so deviously handsome that I have to make up for my good looks by messing up my lines all the time. Just to balance things out. You know?”

I laughed at his cockiness.

“And if we were all good at everything and never made mistakes then I would seriously be worried about the human race. Like could you imagine everyone being perfect? The world would be so boring and lose all of this colorful diversity! And that would be so…”

“Depressing?”

“Sure! Depressing.”

I stopped crying and looked up at Johnny with a small smile.

“Oh my gosh- I’m sorry I’m going to need to call 911 because your smile is too pure for this world. You are at least going to get life in prison.”

I laughed and jumped into a hug. He laughed with me and we just sat there together. Hugging and enjoying each other.

“Johnny..?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we watch a Disney movie? And eat ice cream?”

“Ohhh, Tangled and Cookies n’ Cream?”

[spinster-sisters]

Criminal. khj

TW: Violence kinda, weapons kinda, illegal stuff obviously, exhibitionism, marking, posesiveness, gang? au? possibly, I honestly dont know what this is.

WC: 6k

I normally dont do summaries but I got a funny one:

You and your boyfriend escape a bank robbery.

-

The toe of your shoe clicks against the marble floor as you tap your foot. Across the room, high up on the wall there is an analog clock ticking down the seconds. It’s getting late, and the bank teller couldn’t be going any slower. Only two people ahead of you now.

You check your phone for the fifth time in the past 10 minutes, no update. Must not be running as late as you thought. You shift your weight to your other foot only to start taping once again. Ok sure, you weren’t late, it doesn’t mean you like how long this damn lady is taking.

The line moves up as the teller begins helping the next person. You attempt to swallow your impatience as best you can, pulling out your phone again to quickly slide between apps, but the longer you stand there the louder the ticking of the clock seems to echo around the room.

Looking away from your device, you take another look around the room. Nothing has changed since you came in. In between the doors and the lines, there was a seating area filled with two uncomfortable-looking couches facing each other and a coffee table between them. There were still 3 tellers sitting at their desks, 10 customers in line counting you. Two in the first line, three in the second, yourself, and two others in the last. About as busy as you would expect at this time of day. But the waiting still sucked.

Finally, you hear the teller ask “is there anything else I can help you with?” And you know that soon it will be your turn at the window. Pulling out your phone again you shoot a quick text.

[ it’s my turn next, hopefully, I’ll be out of here soon ]

1:24pm

Just as the woman in front of you steps away a notification dings on your phone.

[ See you soon ;) ]

1:25pm

You sighed at your boyfriend's message, thinking the winky face was a bit on the nose for your taste. But Hongjoong liked to tease.

Dropping your phone back into your pocket, you look up just as the teller motions you forward. The click of your shoe against the tile seems almost deafening in the quiet room as you step forward, trying to mask the small smile Hongjoong’s message had given you.

“what can I help you with today?” The lady at the counter-question with subdued chirpiness. Clearly, she has had a long day, already ready for it to be over. The thought made you wince.

“Hi, there seems to be a problem with the direct deposit on my account. My last paycheck didn’t go in.” You start, placing both hands on the counter.

The teller nods, with mock understanding, clearly just an impulse for years of customer service. Somewhere outside several car doors slam, but no one inside seems to notice the sound.

“Could I have the number of the account?” The teller asks, placing both hands on the keyboard and frowning at the screen, prepared to type whatever comes out of your mouth. You don’t have time to say it.

All the lights on the monitor suddenly shut off. The woman helping you looks taken aback for a second, looking over to her coworkers only to see them doing the same. The hairs on the back of your neck shoot up as nerves build in your stomach.

The next thing happens so quickly you barely register it. The glass door slides open and a metal canister flies into the room. Acting on instinct your hands fly to your ears, your eyes screwed shut, and you drop to your knees. Even with your ears covered it does little to silence the ear-splitting bang that rips through the room. It sends the rest of the room's inhabitants to the floor seconds after you, either from shock or from the disorienting mix of light and sound that came from the small device.

Flashbang.

Your heart jumps up to your throat. You open your eyes but did not let your hands drop just yet. The ring was still sounding in the room, but the blinding light had gone. Just as the last of the ringing fizzled out the doors slid open again.

A group of masked figures took confident strides into the room. Your eyes searched the street behind them, looking for anyone who might notice what’s going on. There was no one. Your stomach dropped again. The others in the room finally seemed to be regaining their hearing and sight, only to shriek when the men came into view. Swallowing your nerves you do a headcount of the patrons. Three tellers, ten customers including yourself. All adults, no children. That was good, children would cause problems.

After assessing the situation and taking a few deep breaths, you look over to the group of men who were starting to spread out around the room. The more you looked at them the more frightening they appeared. Each of the men were were dressed head to toe in black with a mask covering the bottom half of their faces, but even as you sized them up you avoided looking at their eyes, drawing attention to yourself now would be stupid.

Every one of them carried a gun. But as they fanned out across the room only one had it pointed. The same one that spoke.

“Anyone not on the ground better get that way. We don’t have all day.” The voice that spoke was calm but had a clear edge. The tones meaning ran clear in your ears as much as everyone else’s, calm does not mean forgiving. You kept your head down, trying your best to sink into the shadows trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself, that’s what people always said to do right?

You heard a few thuds as the few people in the room who remained standing dropped to the floor. None of the other patrons or staff said a word. Thank god, fighting would make this much more difficult.

“Great, now I want everyone’s hands on the ground in front of them. Try to call anyone and one of us will put a new hole in your head, so why don’t we make this easy and nobody make a sound.” The voice continued in that same tone. Your eyes shot up to make sure everyone was following orders as you placed your own hands on the cold tile next to your bare knees, they were already getting stiff and you hoped this would be over quickly.

A few of the men began walking through the people on the floor, hands on their guns but not drawn, checking just as you did that everyone was behaving. As one of the taller ones drifted toward your spot you stared at the same tile a few feet ahead of you, matching the other patrons around you.

You heard the heavy thuds of footsteps as they paused in front of you, just for a moment. You felt the gaze burn into the top of your skull as you stared forward, holding your breath.

“You don’t look nearly scared enough.” The new voice spoke, completely nonchalant. The next moment, a heavy leather boot pressed down onto your hand, crushing it against the tile. You winced and let out a small cry as pain shot up your arm. It stung as he dug his foot harder onto your hand. Both hands started to shake as the pain built, the knot that had formed in your chest from the moment the flash-bang fell through the air tightened till your breath became choked and shaky. Suddenly the pressure was gone.

“Much better,” the voice all but giggled before moving on.

You took a heaving breath as soon as the boots left your field of vision. You felt sweat start to form on your brow bone. You looked up again. A few terrified faces of other patrons looked at you with fear, clearly expecting that the man was going to blow your head off.

The man who spoke first stepped forward and motioned to the middle teller who was watching petrified from behind his desk, head barely peeking over the edge.

“You,” he started again, taking long strides across the room, walking within a few feet from you on your right side to the opening that led behind the counter, “Why don’t you show me to the safe?” He asked, voice still disconcertingly cordial. The teller gapped for a moment, and the man tilted his head expectantly. The teller stumbled to his feet, eyes not moving from the shiny gun trained on him. He did little more than gesture vaguely for the man to follow him before they both disappeared behind the doors that lead to the back of the bank, 2 of the other men followed behind him.

The room was stiff with tension. For the patrons at least. All of you seemed to be holding your breath, but the men could not seem calmer. Their postures were relaxed, many of them had their arms crossed over their chest or were leaning against furniture. None of them even had their weapons drawn, but they were still visible. Enough to keep everyone shaking with fear with their heads down. It was bizarre but effective for the time being.

Your head was absolutely swimming. Trying to keep notice of the positions of everyone in the room, taking shooting glances around for a few seconds at a time, checking the faces of your fellow hostages. Everyone knows in situations like this it’s best to just comply, you sure fucking hoped the others knew that as well. You tried to lead by example anyway. And then there were the men. You didn’t dare look any one of them in the eye, knowing what kind of consequences that would bring. But you tried to keep tabs on them. They weren’t moving much in the few minutes since the three men disappeared with the teller, but any slight movement they gave was noteworthy into your mind. You had to keep things under control.

The minutes ticked on in almost complete silence, save for the one man who was humming of all things. How could they possibly be relaxed right now you did not know. The sound was harsh against your ears for how gentle it was, it kept distracting you from your thoughts.

The thought in question was a dangerous one. Your back was beginning to ache from being hunched over and your palms were sweating uncomfortably against the marble. From where you sat against the furthest teller window you were blocked from the direct view of every robber by either furniture or walls. What you wanted to do was risky, any slight movement on their behaves would land you in their line of sight. That was an opportunity for anyone who could take it.

You need to text Hongjoong. He needed to know what was going on. You watched the men carefully for the next few minutes, looking for any sign that they might start looking around, but they all seemed perfectly content in their places. With a shaking hand, you slowly began reaching into your pocket. You managed to pull the device out without anyone noticing, but as you slid it into your lap and under your shirt one of the other patrons saw, and their eyes shot wide open. Shit.

They looked at you with frantic, pleading eyes that screamed call for help. They were looking too obvious. You swallowed and shook your head, trying to get them to look away, but they didn’t.

“Heads down,” a deep voice called. Both you and the other patron snapped your eyes to the floor, but after listening for a few seconds it didn’t sound like anyone was moving toward you. You were still blocked from view. With a shaky breath, you slowly pulled the phone out. Unlocking it silently, you pressed on the messages app.

“Well, what’s this?”

Dread shot through you. The man had reappeared from the back, slinking quietly to your side somehow without you noticing. Your head shot up to look at him as he stood, barely 5 feet away from you staring down at your phone. The entire room's attention was now on you. You felt your blood freeze in your veins as the eyes above the mask narrowed into a glare. You didn’t even move to hide the phone, you didn’t move to do anything. You just sat there, staring dumbly back into his eyes. You heard the distant sounds of fear from the hostages and soft chuckles from the men.

The bag he had slung over his shoulder was tossed to the nearest member of his crew, the two that had followed him into the back of the back reappeared, took one look at the scene, one shaking his head before they both carried on out the door with the three bags.

A hand shot into your hair, grabbing it by the roots and pulling you to your feet. Your scalp burned, the pain was so sharp and sudden your eyes screwed shut and you lost Yoruba balance. Disoriented, you let out a shriek at the pain and if it weren’t for the grip on your head you would have fallen right back down. The phone was ripped from your hand. The man slid his hand from your hair to grasp the back of your neck firmly as he looked over the screen. When your eyes opened he was scrolling through the messages from half a moment before laughing a full and wicked laugh.

“Texting your boyfriend? How cute.” He all but cackled. He observed your face, your eyes hard and pricked with tears, and he giggled again. Shoving your phone into his pocket, he motioned to the others before pulling you towards the door. You stumbled over your legs multiple times, letting out cries and hisses as you went but doing little to resist.

The other hostages, let out distraught sobs but you blocked them out, their sympathy would do nothing for you now.

You were pulled out of the building at the same moment the sound of engines roared to life. In one quick glacé you saw that the street was still deserted.

Your back was slammed against the wall of the bank, just out of view of those inside and the barrel of the man's gun was trained on you. You shut your eyes tight.

You heard a bang. And the wailing cries of the hostages inside.

Then familiar lips crashed onto yours. It wasn’t really a kiss, more of a peck. The man's lips moved against yours for only a few seconds, so little you had no time to react before they were gone.

You opened your eyes. His mask was pulled back up, and he had taken a step back. His gun was already holstered at his side.

You didn’t have to see the bottom half of the man's face to know he was smirking. You pushed yourself off the wall and glared at him. At that moment two cars pulled out of the parking lot, one stopping directly in front of you. With a huff you pushed past the man who you could almost guarantee was still grinning.

Opening the door you slid into the backseat against the far window and crossed your arms over your chest. Seconds later the man got in and closed the door. And you were off.

“Come on your not actually mad are you,” he giggled, pulling down his mask.

“You damn near pulled my hair out Hongjoong! Of course, I’m mad!” You spat. You heard the two in the front seat chuckle.

“Oh don’t think you're off the hook Yunho. What the fuck was that? Since when was breaking my hand apart of the plan?” You hollered, kicking your foot against his seat. This only lead to more giggling. You resiliently stared forward, not looking at to boyfriend. He didn’t seem bothered by this in the slightest. Hongjoong slid across the back seat to wrap an arm over your shoulder that even in your rage you didn’t have the heart to shake off.

“But it’s not like I was lying! You looked way too calm. If any of them had looked at you it would have been obvious something was up.” Yunho defended, gesturing with the hand, not on the steering wheel.

“Come on, darling. You know we have to make it believable. I can’t have my best spy get their cover blown because I’m too gentle with you.” The arm around your shoulder tightened, urging you to look at him. Finally, you turned to him, smiling at you so brightly you’d think you were on a friendly road trip.

“Besides, I thought you liked it when I pulled your hair?” Hongjoong said with a cheeky wink. At that Wooyoung howled with laughter from the front seat. You blushed crimson and promptly reached your foot over to kick his seat as well.

“Oh shut up. You were going overboard and you know it.” You grumbled with much less enthusiasm. Hongjoong smiles softly at your pout before leaning back in his seat, giving you a bit more space. Comfortable silence lasted only a few minutes as you drove on before Hongjoong spoke up again.

“Why did you pull your phone out anyway? That was dumb, even if you are on our side.” He asked, fingers rubbing circles comfortingly against your shoulder. You sighed.

“Because the rest of the boys fucked up.” You replied plainly, but still easing into your boyfriend's touch. Both Yunho and Wooyoung made offended noises from the front seat, but you carried on.

“The way they were positioned was wrong. There were blind spots, several actually. You’re just lucky I was the only person in one. I figured I should let you know in case it became a problem.” You continued.

“Hmm,” Hongjoong muttered. While he heard the sound of your voice, you doubted he was listening, as his hand instead taken to playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Isn’t the whole idea of having someone undercover on the inside, so they can tell us where the blind spots are?” Wooyoung asked from the front seat, still clearly offended at your statement.

“I told Yeosang, it’s not my fault you guys planned to take him in the safe this time instead of keeping him in the lobby like always.”You shot back. But even that was half-hearted. Your body really did ache after being hunched on the hard ground for 10 minutes without moving, and the comforting touch of your boyfriend's hands made you melt into the seat, all the tension and worrying about ways it could go wrong eased off your body in waves.

You all could talk about how it went and what needed to be tweaked next time later, right now you just wanted to rest. Hongjoong pulled you against his chest by your shoulder sensing your quick drop in energy.

Just as you were about to doze off a thought popped into your head.

“Hongjoong?”

You could feel the hum he gave in response against your cheek, telling you to continue.

“Are you sure you should have pretended to shoot me? I mean, best case scenario local police add murder onto our rap list. Worst, they find out you have a man on the inside. Either one is bad.” You murmur into his chest. Your group had never killed before as there had never been any need to, and it wasn’t something that any of you really wanted to do.

“That’s only a problem if they catch us.” He replied. Sounding, as always, perfectly certain of himself.

-

Living like this had its pros and cons, much like anything else. The main con being having to drive long ways away for jobs, just as a way to keep yourself safe. Which sometimes meant pulling over on the side of the road at any ditch or shitty motel for the night before getting back to your homes.

As your vehicles pulled into a run-down motel about a mile off the main highway, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had gone into the lobby parading as drunk college students on a road trip to rent the rooms for the night. Needless to say, it had been a long day, the other boys meandered to their rooms and probably fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillows. But not you.

You had been patiently waiting on the hood of the car you arrived in, for the moment Hongjoong got back. And when he did reappear and the others disappeared, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to go lay down as quickly as they did.

As the crunch of their footsteps on gravel faded till they were indoors, you turned your head upwards to the sky. It was late at night and in the middle of nowhere like this, you could see millions more stars than in your home. Hongjoong kept his place, leaning on the car hood next to where you sat, looking up as well but not at the infinite sky like you. No, he was watching your face.

You don’t know exactly how long you sat there, looking up at the sky but you know your neck had begun to ache when Hongjoong finally pulled himself onto the hood of the car next to you. You naturally came to rest your head on his shoulder, still looking up at the stars, but now in your peripheral vision, you could still see Hongjoong studying your expression carefully.

“Something on your mind?” You ask in a quiet voice, still looking up. Hongjoong stirred, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You tear your gaze from the stars to look at him. The moon cast a pearly light on his face that in your eyes made him glow.

“Sometimes I think I ruined you,” though his words were serious the giggle he gave at the end showed he had no real remorse. You still scoffed.

“I was a criminal long before I meet you Kim Hongjoong, don’t go thinking you

drastically changed the course of my life.” You reply in a dry tone, even if he was joking, it was still a point you wanted to drive home. He had no reason to be guilty with how you turned out, you were probably safer with him and the others than where you were before. He laughed at you again.

Hongjoong laughed at everything. And his laugh was one of the best things about him. Looking at him now, it gets harder and harder to imagine what your life would have been like without him.

“Babe, you were a petty thief, I turned you into a serial bank robber. I consider that pretty drastic.” He shot back, reaching up to pretend to fix your hair.

“If it wasn’t you, it would have been somebody else, and between us? I’m glad it was you.” Your words came out slightly more sentimental than you had anticipated and when Hongjoong fell silent next to you, you promptly blushed and turned back to the stars.

You and Hongjoong very rarely spoke about stuff like this. Even if neither of you would ever admit it, the truth of living life like this is that all it takes is one day, one mistake, for the family you created and the life you live to come crashing down around you. The span of a few minutes could be the difference between running off into the sunset and quite literally never seeing each other again. And after the slight hiccup, you had today that only you had noticed at first, that thought was at the forefront of your mind.

So basically you liked to live in the moment.

It was quiet for a few minutes, him watching you and you watching the sky. There was a very slight breeze in the air, but the summer air was made it more of a gentle cool wind than an uncomfortable chill.

“It’s getting late, you should go to sleep,” Hongjoong muttered. Quieter than his usual quip.

“I slept in the car.” You replied easily. Which was true, and while that nap had been anything but restful with the constant bumps in the road, he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh well, here I was trying to get you in bed but I guess you don’t want to.” He sighed, regaining some of the playfulness from earlier while running a teasing hand up your spine. It gave you shivers, but you had no desire to give in to him so easily.

“Who says we need a bed?” You ask matter of factly. Turning to give him the same wink he had laid on you earlier in the day. Jobs like the one you did today always put you on edge, no matter how many times you did it. Unlike the rest of them, it took you hours to fully relax and admit safety enough to let your guard down. You would never call Hongjoong carefree, but he did have a habit of trying to jump you the moment you were a safe distance away. Hongjoong leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Are you asking me to take you on the hood of this car? Because trust me, darling, I would.” Shivers his your spine once again, but you weren’t quite down bantering yet. You turned your head away from him to look at the beat-up old motel and the deserted parking lot you sat in. Motioning to it all you replied.

“Is this the most romantic place you could find?” You ask, each word oozing with how unimpressed you were by the scenery. At that Hongjoong placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at the millions of shining stars once again. You could feel his next words before they came.

“I don’t know, I think I did a pretty good job.”

It’s true, looking straight up and nowhere else gave the impression that you were sitting on the top of a mountain, the entire world below you and nothing but heaven above. Cheesy, but effective.

Hongjoong accurately assumed your silence meant he had won. Pushing you by your shoulder till your back hit the cool metal, your eyes stayed trained on the sky above. Your legs hung over the front of the car, pushed up only slightly till you lay with most of your body on the hood. Hongjoong’s moonlight face still hung in your peripheral, hanging over you slightly.

You stared straight into the sky as Hongjoong slung his body over yours, trapping your hips to the metal with his own.

“Please tell me you're not going to be super dramatic about this?” You as with your last dreg of defiance. He smirked at you.

“Babe, this is going to be the most dramatic moment of your life.”

And with that, Hongjoong leaned down over you, connecting your lips with a heated kiss. Your arms automatically slung around his neck, pulling him closer. Your breath hitched almost immediately, feeling all strength leave your body as you melted into the kiss. Hongjoong took time to switch between a long slow-paced drag of his lips across yours, to nipping and sucking gently at your bottom lip as he pleased. The air no longer seemed like a necessity, when staying like this forever got more and more appealing.

Running his lips down to your jaw you almost rolled your eyes when you felt Hongjoong suck a rather impressively sized hickey right onto the underside of your jaw. It would perfectly match the fading ones that dotted your collar bones and the base of your neck, though the placement of this one would be much more visible.

Hongjoong’s hand took hold of your waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of your shirt and pushing it to bunch up over your chest, exposing you to the cool night air. He hadn’t removed it completely, but nonetheless he leaned back to admire. The ghost of a smirk wormed its way onto his lips as he ran his soft fingertips along the marks he gave you.

Staring at the ones lower on your stomach, trailing up your body with feather light touches. Your eyes screwed shut when he brushed over the ones on your breast. The bra you had been wearing today was nothing special, if not a little plain, but you could barely stand the heat of his gaze as it traveled up your body along with his hand.

Eventually, he reached the newest addition to the collection of purple splotches on your body. Cupping your cheek with his hand he urged your eyes open.

“I go through all this work to get you out under the stars and here you are with your eyes closed. That’s rude of you.” He stated with an exaggerated frown.

“It’s rude to tease,” you tried to sound as playful as him, but it came out as more of a whine. He giggled at you and carried on.

“I’m not teasing, I’m admiring. Now let me continue or you’ll get nothing.” He replies sternly. The mood suddenly shifting as the sparkle in his eye shifted to a darker hungrier look. You gulped slightly before letting your head fall back against the metal to stare up at the sky again. You felt Hongjoong’s mouth on your body again. His warm lips giving new life to some of the more faded marks on your chest. The cool air suddenly felt incredibly hot as your boyfriend's hands ran up and down your sides, occasionally stopping to squeeze whatever flesh he could grasp. Each time pulled another sound past your lips, although you did your best to muffle them.

“You look so pretty like this baby,” he remarked, barely pulling away, “I want to hear how pretty you sound too.”

It wasn’t spoken like a command, but you took it as one. Letting your mouth hang open in a moan when Hongjoong took one of your breasts in his palm, kneeling it slightly before pulling your bra down just enough to free it. He wasted no time in dragging his tongue over your nipple, then sweeping back down to suck a mark directly on the underside of your boob.

Your legs clenched together as he worked, the small amount of friction it gave in your shorts only served to drive you to more extremes when you rolled your hips against his. You groaned startlingly loud at that, the sensation of his hard dick pressing against your core even through the denim of both your pants pulled wetness from your core quicker than you would ever care to admit.

Hongjoong pulled away with a laugh, sitting up straight to look down at your already keening expression.

“Calm down baby, we have all night. No need to rush.” He chuckled at you. Despite his words, he took almost immediate action, running his hands up your bare thighs till his fingers hook on the waistband of your shorts. He pulled them down, but only just enough. Slipping his hand between your legs to cup your heat, while palming himself over his jeans. You whined again and clamped your legs around his hand, holding it in place. Despite your body’s subconscious efforts, he slid his finger over your cunt through your damp underwear.

Under any other circumstances, it would have been incredibly embarrassing how wet he made you from just touches to your body, but at the moment all you could think about was how desperately you wanted him to continue.

“Your soaking wet already, it feels like cheating with how quickly your body reacts to me.” He mutters, pressing two fingers against your hole, with nothing but a thin scrap of fabric keeping them from pushing inside you.

“Hongjoong, please fuck me. I’m begging you.” You groan, rolling your hips against his hand repeatedly. He broke out in a wide smile.

“I like the sound of you begging. Do it again for me.” He commands, voice laced with honey. You took a shuddering breath, turning your eyes to meet his with a pleading look.

“Please, I need you to fuck me.” You beg with all the desperation you have.

“Oh course baby, all you had to do was ask.” He lilts, tilting his head to the side with a sickly sweet smile.

Hongjoong pulled his hand from your core, which left an unhappy feeling in your stomach. But he used said hand to assist in pulling his dick free of his pants which spurred your legs even further apart. Your hands had been hanging uselessly at your side since this all began but as he leaned over your body once again, staring straight down into your wanton face, your hands flung themselves behind his shoulder to hang off of him.

Hongjoong pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, running it through your folds twice, watching as your face shifted from bliss to desperation each time he almost slipped in. And of course, he laughed. But that was the last bit of torture he gave you before sinking into your cunt.

Your synchronized groans sounded throughout the empty parking lot when he finally filled you to the hilt. And with his own patients starting to run as thin as yours he wasted no time in pulling out and thrusting again.

Your back arched more each time he pushed into you, feeling him stretching your walls and brush against the most sensitive spots inside you made your toes curl. And as he began to build pace his deep pants and groans rang in your ears.

He was doing anything but going fast. Long hard and deep thrusts shook your body in a steady rhythm. Your nails dig into his shoulders through his shirt and your mouth hung open as he fucked into you.

“Come on baby, you're not that far gone already are you?” His voice carried a teasing tone, but his own breath had gone shaky. You both stared into each other’s faces, watching each other’s expressions shift with bliss at every thrust. You were moaning and whining freely now. Words have failed you.

You felt the muscles on Hongjoong’s shoulder strain beneath your fingers, and with your orgasm fast approaching your nails practically clawed down his back. Hongjoong hissed above you, but the action did nothing but spur him on.

“Your gonna cum baby? Gonna cum already on my cock? How desperate you must be, to let a criminal have his way with you like this.” He growled the words down at you. His words shot to your core, making you clench around him, with a whine you forced words past your lips.

“I don’t care, just want you.” The words were barely a whisper. But the effect was the same. With a ringing cry, you came undone underneath him. You shook and threw your head back, staring directly into the stars above you. Your body moved of its own accord, but that was all beyond you. The only thing you could think about was the look on Hongjoong’s stunning face as he came hovering above you.

You both basked in the feeling of waves of pleasure rolling over your bodies. Continuing to grind against each other subconsciously as you rode it out.

The cool air returned with a nip. Hongjoong had all but collapsed above you. As you came back to reality the cold metal of the car suddenly felt so comfortable you could fall asleep right there. You felt your eyes being to drift shut.

“Oh no baby, I’m taking you to bed for real this time.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling himself up to look down at you again. He gave a small smile at your pout.

“Your pretty cute for a dangerous criminal.”

You gathered up the last of your strength to hit him on the shoulder.

-

and this my friends is why I dont make a habit of writing longer things, they just get away from me.

I meant for this to be a short hot sexy lil thing and it turned into this long ass sappy thing

[hajimine]

BETWEEN THE NOTES — SEMI EITA x GN!READER

synopsis: for as long as you can remember, you and Semi Eita have always hated each other—but a couple of tender glances and one too many bottles of beer later, you find out that maybe you were looking at it the wrong way this whole time.

genre: fluff, (kinda) enemies to lovers, musician!au, mutual pining but they’re both idiots, jealousy, etc.

warnings: alcohol + intoxication (nothing bad happens), slight suggestive themes, vulgar language, kinda fast paced?

wc: ~2.5k

to: @archivednikes happy birthday shawdy <3

special thanks to: @rintaroll for beta-ing & telling me a lil bit about how bands work and stuff bc idk shit lol :,)

“Semi, get your ass moving,” you huff. “You’re gonna make me late.”

He gives you a smug look and raises a slitted eyebrow. “Did something crawl up your ass and died? What’s up with you?”

You exhale heavily through your nose and stare at him, unimpressed.

“We gotta catch the afternoon train if you wanna reach the venue in time for our gig. This is a really good opportunity for me, don’t you dare mess it up.” you say, gathering the last of your things for the trip.

There is a tingling sensation crawling down your spine, as if someone is staring at you. You look over your shoulder curiously, opening your mouth to utter another snarky remark to get your partner to stop gawking around and get ready.

But the intensity behind his gaze caught you by surprise.

Those hazel eyes of his—ones that are usually sharp and cold—held a sort of softness in them as he looks at you. When you caught him staring, his gaze did not falter one bit.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from traveling down the perfect slope of his nose, continuing down to his pouty lips.

As much as you hate him, you can’t deny that Semi Eita is an attractive man. Heck, even the word attractive isn’t enough to express how infuriatingly hot he is.

Your gaze stays on his lips for a second too long. Have they always looked this soft and inviting?

The dry cough from the opposite side of the room is the only thing that managed to break you out of this trance. Semi Eita’s trance.

Your manager stands by the door, tapping her foot on the wooden tiles impatiently.

“Now, lovebirds,” she narrows her eyes, “Save the PDA for tonight, yeah? We’ve got a schedule to follow.”

You roll your eyes at her, cheeks uncomfortably warm. And just like that, the strange yet tender moment you shared with Semi dissipated into thin air.

。。。

You don’t know if you should take pity on the gray-haired singer or if you should laugh at him.

Currently, Semi’s head is bowed down in shame as he gets an earful from his manager in the middle of a crowded train.

You see, the four of you should’ve arrived at the venue by now. Both your managers are very strict about schedules, and they planned to arrive at the bar two hours before the agreed time.

Thankfully, his bandmates have been a little more punctual than him and have successfully boarded the 4pm train. But Mr. Popular right here just had to stop every few minutes to take pictures with every single fan he met on the way to the station.

“It’s half past five now,” his manager whisper-shouts, “Do you know what that means?”

Semi tries to give her an awkward smile to calm her down. It doesn’t work.

“It’s rush hour! What if we won’t reach the bar in time? It could ruin both your careers, do you know that?” she glares at Semi once again, but there is less bite in her voice now.

“I’m sorry,” Semi starts, plastering a charming smile on his face, “I only wanted to be nice to the fans. Wouldn’t make too good of an impression if I just ignored them, no?”

His manager sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, exasperated. She motions for Semi to stop talking with a wave of her hand.

The singer grins, and out of the corner of your eyes, you can sense his sharp gaze on you once more.

You try to ignore it.

。。。

When your group reaches the bar, Semi’s bandmates are almost done preparing themselves for the gig.

The bar is dimly lit and cool, the multitudes of warm overhead lighting being the only source of light in the room. It’s not too busy tonight, you observe. Some people still donned their work clothes, perhaps rushing over to the bar right after a long day at work—mingling around with friends to let loose for a little and enjoy themselves.

“Dude, where were you?” Aito asks, eyebrows turned downwards in a frown.

Semi pats the guitarist on the side of his head, “Relax, we’ve got plenty of time to prepare.”

Aito rolls his eyes, completely used to his bandmate’s antics.

“Whatever,” he huffs. “By the way, are we gonna have a little after party later?”

“Uh,” Semi’s eyes flicker towards you for one second, then back to Aito, “I dunno man, might be too tired to get wasted tonight.”

The guitarist narrows his eyes. He didn’t miss the way Semi’s gaze lingered on you.

“Y/N,” Aito smirks. “You coming to the after party?”

You were listening to their conversation this whole time, finding the whole exchange quite amusing.

“Eh, I don’t see why not,” you smile sweetly, “It’s gonna be even better now that this dude isn’t coming anyways.” You pointed your thumb at the vocalist.

From where he’s standing, you hear Semi scoff.

“Y’know what?” he sneers, “On second thought, I am going. How does that make you feel, huh?”

You shrug, feigning indifference.

“I literally do not care.”

“Piss off.”

Aito throws his head back in laughter, shaking his head as he walks away from the scene, muttering about people being too clueless and dense for their own damn good.

You adjusted your equipment bag on your shoulder, exhaling loudly to try and calm your heart down.

。。。

It is in moments like these that you remember why you decided to go forth with this career path, no matter how rocky it may be.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you sing the lyrics of you and Semi’s song; every ounce of the jittery nerves you had just a few moments ago long gone.

There’s nobody else in this world that can ever take your place

Some of the customers are listening intently, others just nodding along to the song, and the rest not even listening at all.

You could hear your heartbeat thumping loudly against your chest, the sweat trickling down your forehead and into your eyes making it harder for you to see the crowd.

And when the day’s all done and dusted, all I ever need is to be in your arms again

You whip your head towards Semi, just like the countless times you rehearsed this song together.

“It shows chemistry,” your manager had said, “play it up for the crowd, will ya?”

The butterflies in your stomach flutters about restlessly when you notice that Semi has been looking at you this whole time.

His eyes—sharp and intense—held your gaze, unabashed. Steady. Sure.

Will you stay tonight? ‘Cause baby you’re all that I need, and you’re all that I want.

And in that moment, with your eyes locked on each other, the world seems to stop.

Nothing else matters, Semi’s lopsided smile says, only you.

。。。

The performance flew by in the blink of an eye, and it’s a little past midnight now. As promised, your managers held a little after party in the shared lounge of your penthouse suite.

It’s not as fancy as it sounds, you smile to yourself. There are suspicious stains on the gray carpet, and the furniture smells vaguely of cigarette smoke and sweat.

Bottles of beers have already littered the floor and glass table, and you haven’t even started drinking.

“Duuuude,” Yuuto slurs, “Why are ya so tense for?”

The bassist points at you and Semi, eyelids drooping as he tries his best to keep them open.

“C’mon guys,” Aito clasps his shoulders and massages them roughly, “Relax a little, we did amazing tonight.”

Semi shrugs his friend’s hands away, annoyed. He snatches an unopened bottle of beer from the cooler and opens the cap with his teeth.

You gulp. He hands you the bottle wordlessly before grabbing another one for himself, chugging it down quickly. You mirror his actions, hoping that the alcohol can dull the annoying fluttering in your stomach that refuses to leave ever since the two of you shared that intimate moment on stage.

For fuck’s sake, what’s going on with me?

Your trick works, in a way. Your stomach feels pleasantly warm now, and your breathing has finally evened out. Another unopened bottle of beer lays invitingly on the couch and you reach for it, opting for a bottle opener instead of doing it like Semi.

“Bro,” Yuuto grins at the singer, drool threatening to leave the corner of his mouth, “Did’ya see that blonde chick in the front row? She was hardcore eye-fucking you dude.”

“Ah,” Semi takes another swig of his beer, a cute flush blossoming in his cheeks.

Wait, what. Cute?

“She gave me her number when we were gathering up our stuff.” He runs his hand through his hair.

“You gonna hit her up or what?” Aito teases, smirking.

The singer shrugs, “Maybe, I dunno.”

Your breath hitches, and Aito’s smirk widens. You raise your eyebrows at him, silently telling him to fuck off.

“Where’s Kai?” you hear Semi ask. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the drummer since after the show was over.

“Oh,” the guitarist laughs, “Fucker left us for some girl he saw in the bar. Might see him tomorrow morning, might not. Who knows?”

The vocalist hums and walks over to where you’re sitting, plopping down on the old couch.

“The managers?” Semi casually drapes his arm on the back of the sofa. You feel yourself tensing as your heart races uncontrollably, and the singer looks over at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

Aito scratches the back of his neck, quickly losing interest in the conversation.

“They decided to sleep in early. Long day, I guess.”

Semi nods and rests his head on the top of the couch, exposing his defined jawline. His eyelashes look so pretty from this angle, they’re long and fluttery and they almost…

Huh?

“Eita, are you gonna hit that blonde girl up or nah?” Aito provokes, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You clench your teeth and reach for yet another bottle—your fourth one this past hour. Or fifth. You don’t bother counting. Semi looks over at you again, but this time his eyes holds a sort of concern in them. You scoff to yourself.

“Uh,” the singer looks at his friend weirdly, “Why are you so insistent on this? I did say maybe didn’t I?”

Aito laughs. You almost recoil in disgust.

“Oh nothing,” he chuckles, “It’s just that she’s really hot and she’s your type so—”

You stand up abruptly, knocking over some empty beer bottles by accident. The regret is immediate. You can feel the acid in your stomach traveling up your esophagus, tickling the back of your throat.

Semi quickly stands up when you clasp a hand over your mouth, trying your best to hold it together.

“Shit,” he mutters, “You okay?”

He rubs tiny circles on the small of your back, an action that’s supposed to be soothing but instead causes tingles to run up and down your spine. You shiver.

Another wave of nausea hits before you could respond, causing your knees to almost give out under you.

“Whoa there, angel,” Semi wraps his arm around your waist, holding you flush to his side to support your weight.

You groan softly as your head spins uncomfortably. Droplets of cold sweat is starting to form on your forehead, adding another layer of discomfort upon you.

“You wanna go to your bedroom?” Semi murmurs close to your ear. You shiver again. At this, Semi thought that you’re freezing so he drapes his leather jacket on your shoulders, holding you close.

You nod weakly as you try to blink the black spots in your vision away.

From somewhere around the room, you hear Aito snicker, “Stay safe!”

You turn your head around to give him a deathly glare, but all you see is a big blob of blurriness.

Dammit.

。。。

Semi takes the key card from your bag and pushes the door open, placing your duffel bag on the floor after

He guides you to the bathroom—with gentleness you rarely see from him—and sets the toilet cover down so you can sit on it while he wets a towel with the running tap water.

“You still feel dizzy?” he asks, voice soft.

You stare at his fingers as he wrings the towel and shakes your head.

Semi holds out the cloth and pats your forehead with it, the coolness allowing you to feel a little more refreshed.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he wipes the back of your neck carefully.

Shit. Has he always been this thoughtful?

You shake your head again, telling him that you just want to go to sleep.

He sighs and gives you a half-smile, holding out his arm to help you to the bed.

Semi still has it in him to give you a little but of privacy as you wiggle out of your tight jeans, looking away until you slip under the covers.

He helps you pull the plush white comforter closer to your chest, tucking you in.

Your mind doesn’t feel as hazy as it was a few hours ago, but the leftover alcohol coursing through your veins gave you a sort of boost to your impulses.

“Eita,” you whisper, reaching out towards the singer, “Stay?”

The singer halts in his steps and turns to look at you.

“Uh, I don’t know Y/N,” he starts, “You’re drunk right now.”

“No I’m not,” you say, steady voice proving your point. “Please?”

Semi glances over at the door and sighs. He chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds before sighing again.

“Okay.”

。。。

You’re struggling to open your eyes when you wake up, the harsh sunlight streaming into the room completely unfiltered.

Drunk you completely forgot to close the blinds, it seems.

You groan audibly, wanting to pull the covers above your head to hide yourself from this cruel world.

You freeze. Why can you feel someone’s soft breaths on the crown of your head?

Nervously, you reach out in front of you, eyes still shut closed. Oh no.

You force your eyes open, grimacing from the sudden brightness. Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. Semi Eita, your supposed nemesis, is sleeping soundly a few inches away from you, arms wrapped around your waist.

What the hell happened last night?

A small squeak leaves your mouth as you fully realize the situation you’re in. The small noise wakes Semi up from his slumber, causing him to slowly open his eyes, squinting at the bright light.

“Morning, angel,” he croaks, voice raspy with sleep.

My god does he look pretty in the morning.

You stay there, frozen and unblinking. All the words at the tip of your tongue seem to disappear from existence.

Semi blinks, sitting up quickly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rubs his eyes vigorously, “I should’ve said no when you asked me to stay. Fuck, you were drunk and I—”

You grab the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, a small smile gracing your lips.

Your thumb grazes Semi’s bottom lip, dragging it down every so slightly before releasing it, enjoying the way he seems to unravel under your touch.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?” you murmur, trying to keep your cool as your heart hammers against your chest loudly.

At this, Semi breaks out of his reverie and laughs, “I thought you’d never ask.”

a/n: if you’ve made it this far, please feel free to let me know what you think about this fic! and please REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED mwah <3

© HAJIMINE — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, or claim any of my works as your own, thank you.

[ponds-of-ink]

Short FNAF 3 AU One-Shot: “Trying to Negotiate”

Got inspired by this reply to one of my posts so much, that I had to write something.

And, to be clear, the name I am using for one of the characters is a code name. It’s not the actual name of said character.

Staticky rambles pierced one of Patty’s eardrums. If she wasn’t driving, then she would have fussed at this surfer man to calm down. Just because she was older than a lot of the staff in this horror attraction did not mean that he could yell so loudly. Not only was it hurting her hearing, but it was also clearly going to ensure him losing his voice for a week. A shame that this had to bother one of the most laidback people she’s ever met.

Thankfully, the sight of her car pulling into the parking lot seemed to calm him down. She waved at the disheveled man before pulling into one of the main empty spaces. Once settled in, she hung up her phone and exited the vehicle. “Nothing’s caught fire, which is a good start,” she noted as she walked up to him. “I guess the only concern now is this whole animatronic business.”

The man nodded rapidly, then pointed to the front of the building. “They’re in the first room to your right,” he explained with a tremor not befitting his casual tone. “I guess you’ll talk to that bot while I get something for Mike?”

“That sounds like a good start,” Patty agreed calmly. “I was a great negotiator, as far as my husband was concerned. I got us out of many... risky situations. I’m sure this is no different. Goodbye for now, Mr. ‘Dude’.”

Confident in her abilities, she strolled to the door and shoved it open. The mustiness of the air made her cough into her sleeve, but no one took advantage of the sound. In fact, whatever noise was there before she arrived plummeted into silence. When she opened her eyes, there was a dark, narrow hall with a wide-open door lighting her way. Her heart thumped. This was just like one of those newer horror movies from the 80s. Which meant, as she got closer to the “danger room”, her internal monologue shifted from rehearsing her ‘let the boy go’ speech to excitedly wondering about what terrifying monster could be lurking behind that opening. The obvious answer was a haunted animatronic, yes, but what kind was it? A custom-made one fit for this attraction? A retrofitted one covered in mold and grime from all the years of entertaining folks both young and old? Or, miracles of miracles, was it a suit she helped tailor for?

The sound of something scraping the linoleum tiles jolted her out of her speculation. Half-thankful for the reminder, she peered into the office. She let out a gasp straight away, alerting the attention of the man crouching on the desk. “Mrs. Thomas, what are you doing here!?” he cried out. “You could get hurt!”

“I appreciate your politeness, Mike, but you can just call me ‘Patty’,” Patty scoffed as she properly entered into the room. “Same goes for your ‘friend’, if he ever decides to join us. Now, how’s about I get you down before you hurt yourself?”

Reluctantly, Mike gave her his arm and gingerly jumps off the table. On instinct, Patty grabbed him tight and spun him back down to earth. Both looked at each other with wide eyes. “Sorry,” Patty apologized simply. “That was a move I learned in my younger years. A bit of choreography from the silver screen.”

Mike opened his mouth to ask something, then stops. He looked past her shoulder. The scraping started again, making his blood run cold. “How’s about we trade stories outside?” he asked her with a wide, shaky grin. “I talk about my night of peril while you regale me with your years of stardom. What could be better than that?”

Patty crossed her arms and turned away. “A chance to talk with this ‘monster’ you’ve been fighting, for one thing,” she huffed. “I drove all this way to see what everyone’s been afraid of, and I’m not going until I do.” She opened one eye, then looked back at Mike. “Not that you don’t matter, of course,” she added sheepishly. “I just mean that, now that I know you’re as safe as you can be—“

Three light taps on the desk alerted both Mike and Patty. Mike put a hand to his face and walked a few steps away while Patty gawked at the source of the noise. A towering, rabbit-like monster of mucky faux-fur and gnarled reddish bits sat in a buckling office chair. Its glowing white eyes met hers, then glanced back at the current state of the chair. Though doing its best to remain intimidating, the nervous posture it took after getting out of that seat was definitely noticeable. Thankfully, it did little to change the fact that this was a marred and “zombified” version of a rabbit she once knew. A very dangerous one when cornered, most likely.

Needless to say, Patty’s heart was thumping. “So, you’re the one who’s been messing with Mike?” she asked, brushing back a strand of loose hair as she stepped forward.

The rabbit tilted its head one way, then the other. Then, its good ear raised along with its eyelids. It nodded rapidly, as if her voice had now fully interested him.

“And you’ve also got a reputation of wrecking cameras and causing havoc, correct?”

The rabbit drew himself up proudly. That was him, all right.

Patty’s face flushed. “W-Well, as much as I’d like to congratulate you for being a very nice addition to the scare factor of this place,” she stammered out, using the other side of the desk for support, “I’m afraid I can’t let you keep toying with this poor boy.”

A roll of the eyes from the rabbit. Oh, please. What could she possibly say to convince him? He was Springtrap! The immortal fusion of man, “rabbit”, and machine! Sure, it hurt to move anything other than his eyes most of the time, but what did that matter? He was free to haunt this place whenever he could! He could even reach over and smack the back of her head to prove himself, if he wanted to! Why, he could—

“..Which is why I’m going to take his place, if the manager will let me.”

Why, he could practically let his soul fly out of this robotic body just to simulate the absolutely overwhelming sensation she just gave him.

Fortunately for him, Mike took the words right out of his mouth. “I’m sorry!?” he exclaimed, thrusting his hands from his head to the ground. “Did you seriously just volunteer to work my shift!?”

Patty shot a stern glare at Mike. “I said exactly what I meant,” she replied solemnly. “Let me put it this way: you get to recover from all the madcap things this rabbit’s done to you, I finally get to experience what it’s like to be in a proper horror movie, and Mr. Bonnie here will get to have a new playmate.”

“His name’s ‘Springtrap’, but that’s besides the point,” Mike grumbled, fighting the urge to ram his head into the nearby wall. “Patty, you have no idea who you’re up against. He can climb through vents that go straight to this office, he can outsmart any trick you try with that audio system, or he could even skip all that and try some new tactic I’m not even aware of!”

“Mr. Schmidt, are you warning me or convincing me even more?” Patty asked in a straightforward tone. “Because it honestly sounds like you’re doing the latter.”

Springtrap, meanwhile, had given up looking intimidating and settled for burying his head in his hands. She did not just imply that she wanted to be plagued by his stupid antics for six hours straight. All while sitting in a chair due to some dumb protocol and repairing the faulty systems, no less. There was no way a woman of her age (along with her gracefully-aged figure and beauty, which he definitely wasn’t afraid of tarnishing) could withstand that for a five nights, let alone full week. It would be downright disgraceful for everyone involved.

However, as his throat dared not let him articulate any of these thoughts, Springtrap just lowered his hands and firmly shook his head.

Patty sighed and lowered her head. “Is there any way I can prove to you that I’m capable?” she asked the rabbit dismally. “Because I’m not going to accept your terms until I know that I’m not cut out for this.”

Springtrap slumped. His ears drooped. Well, she did come this far. And she has stayed in this room for more than a few minutes now. His eyes scanned the room for anything that could be of good use. Out of habit, he scratched the back of his padded head. His eyelids raised. Wait a minute. Of.. course...?

Timidly, he waved his hand in front of Patty’s face. Then, when he had got her attention, he pointed to the side of his head.

“Do you want me to lift that mask up for you?” Patty asked, more curious than anything.

Springtrap nodded hesitantly. This was either going to end with her dying of fright or him actually running away in fear for once. He could feel it. However, as this was the only way to prove her courage, he tried to brush away his fear as he leaned towards her.

Patty returned his anxious movements with a gentle smile. “I’m sure what’s underneath is nothing as bad as some of the effects in that one The Immortal and The Restless special,” she joked as she lightly undid the clasps around the seam of his jaw. “Honestly, what were they—?”

Stunned silence cut her question off. Instead of a metal plate with glass eyes and uneven teeth that was typically under the robot heads, her eyes were met with a more appalling sight. A muddy reddish skull (or was it a death’s head?) with two pale eyes shared the same gaping expression of terror. The eyes darted from her to the surrounding area, as if trying to distract itself from the sheer vulnerability it just put itself in. The hollow yet frantic breathing confirmed this idea, causing Patty to flick the mask back into place. Wordlessly, she redid the clasps and retreated a step.

Springtrap also backed away from the desk. His mind reeled as he turned away from her. How... How was she not dead? Better yet, how was she not running out the door while screaming for dear life? Yes, she clearly had a thrill for anything horrific like vampires or the more traditional ghosts. But he was nothing like that. He was much, much worse.

And yet, there she was. Tiptoeing towards him as if she was the one who scared him and not the other way around. “I should probably leave you here to recover,” he could hear her say gently. “Sorry about being so intrusive, by the by. I had no idea–“

Springtrap put a finger to her lips, then tilted his head towards Mike. Never mind the apologies. It was all his fault anyway.

[intangibly-here]

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames... 

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink. 

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands. 

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist. 

swallowtail. 

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one. 

and well, here he is now. 

chop. chop. 

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is. 

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger. 

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway. 

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?” 

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense. 

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward. 

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance. 

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo. 

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far... 

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb. 

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her. 

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab. 

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?” 

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly. 

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register. 

“come again.”

-

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them. 

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you. 

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own. 

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it. 

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no? 

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully. 

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.) 

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

-

he takes it back. 

he takes it all back. 

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however—  with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls. 

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment. 

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously. 

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance. 

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

-

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house. 

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.) 

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off. 

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait. 

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another. 

right now, he needs you. 

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him. 

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his. 

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)  

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?” 

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

[whump-a-la-mode]

I am once again asking for continuation to hero breaking villain out of prison and comfort for the villain

After so much hurt, I definitely agree that Villain deserves some comfort! I got two requests for this as well.

I might respond to this one from @starnight-whump separately though-- I'm loving writing comfort for our poor Villain! For now, they're getting some much needed physical affection.

This is a continuation from here. Part two is here and part one is here.

CW//Past trauma, medical exams, touch aversion, screaming

It was a horrible decision.

Of course it had been a horrible decision. Going to the prison in the first place had been a horrible decision, so had accepting Leader's offer to 'view' one of their caged up zoo animals. The whole night had been a series of one mistake after another.

And now...

Now Hero stood outside an apartment door, chest fluttering with a mix of nerves and embarrassment, the likes of which they had not felt for a very, very long time. A half-limp body was tucked against their chest, weak hands gripping their shirt like a lifeline. That was the only thing Villain had done for the whole walk here-- held onto Hero's shirt, head buried in their shoulder.

With a nervous flick of their tongue over their lips, Hero reached forth, knocking on the door. Villain shifted and struggled as the extra support was removed, but calmed once more when Hero wrapped their arm back around them.

For a few moments, there was silence.

Silence as dead as that that they had been surrounded by upon escaping the vicinity of the prison. The pregnant pause of indecision.

Of course, it had been Hero's first instinct to head home. To return to their bedroom, return to where they had been before their life had been turned upon its head. There was enough room was Villain, enough food and water, assuming they still understood what those were.

But... That wasn't an option. Leader may have been a monster, but they weren't stupid. Hero's apartment is the first place they would look. If they brought Villain there, they may as well already have been recaptured.

So, Hero had come up with a Plan B.

The doorknob turned, the door nervously being drawn open.

"Hero?"

If they had had the free hand to do so, Hero would have waved, but they didn't want to risk Villain squirming around again.

So, instead, they decided to reply like an awkward idiot.

"Uh, long time no see?"

"Yyyes. Come in, come in. We can't talk out here."

Doctor retreated within their apartment, Hero hot on their heels. The door was quickly closed behind, the nervous doctor securing a number of custom-installed locks upon it.

The smell of the apartment hadn't changed one bit. A fog of heavy nostalgia threatened to take over Hero's brain. How many times had they staggered in here after a battle, before there was an Organization, before there were any real doctors to help? More times than they could count, certainly.

"Sit." Doctor insisted, and Hero certainly wasn't about to refuse. They settled onto a worn, beige sofa, dark spots showing where blood stains refused to be washed out.

Villain gripped Hero's shirt tighter.

"Okay." The doctor took a deep breath before exhaling. There was no frustration in their voice-- there never was-- but nerves made their vocal chords strain just the same. There was warmth in their expression, joy at seeing an old friend, but it was overcast. "Please don't tell me you did something stupid."

"I may have done something stupid."

"Okay. How stupid?" Doctor blinked, not waiting for an answer, before their gaze shifted to Villain. "I assume it has to do with them?"

"Yyyeah."

"What did you do?"

"I may have broken them out of prison."

A pause.

"You broke them out of prison."

"Yeah."

"I was honestly expecting something worse. That's still bad, but... Are you hurt? Are they hurt?"

"I'm fine." Hero shook their head. "As for them, I'm not sure. I haven't looked."

"Then... I mean, I'm glad you're here, but what do you need my help with?"

"I think something is wrong with them."

"Hm." Doctor hummed, gaze turning once more to Villain. "Hey, bud, what's your name?"

Nothing.

"What's your name, bud?"

Villain did not so much as twitch.

"There's something wrong with them." Hero dipped their head.

"Are they asleep?"

"No? Well, I don't think so."

"What exactly is wrong with them?"

Hero bit their lip, hand stroking along Villain's tense back. What was wrong with them? A lot of things, clearly, but what specifically? They didn't seem drugged, and they were clearly conscious, but their behavior was anything but normal.

"Um... Well, they've been locked in a soundless prison cell, alone, for over a year."

"Oh. Oh, shit."

"Which I assume is pretty bad."

"Yes, it's bad. Really, really bad."

Hero's hand stopped mid-stroke, pressing reassuringly into Villain's shoulder.

"Can you help them?" The words came out as a breathless whisper.

"I can try."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Doctor's exam room was probably the last thing anyone would have expected to see in a tiny inner-city apartment.

It wasn't completely sterile, not like one would expect in a real hospital. The carpet had been replaced by tile, but the wallpaper and ceiling remained the same as the rest of the apartment. The metal exam table in the center contained no fancy gadgets, consisting of little more than a stainless steel slab and a pillow wrapped in plastic. At the very least, the cupboards and hanging pieces of medical equipment provided some sense of authenticity to the setup.

"We're going to need to get them onto the table." Doctor nodded, strolling into the room before shutting the door behind themself. "Do you think they can sit up on their own?"

"They were earlier."

"Then put them on the table, please. I'll need to get a better look."

Hero nodded. The limp body they carried did not seem to react to the words. They seemed so comfortable, so desperate to stay in their grasp-- but Doctor knew what they were talking about.

Prying Villain off of their shirt was an effort in and of itself. Once their grip was finally released, they hung in the air like dead weight, allowing themself to be placed on the table without fight. Not that they were aware enough to struggle-- their eyes still sat blank, like staring back at a piece of taxidermy.

"Can you see the problem?" Hero asked impatiently.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... They're acting so weird. There's gotta be something wrong with them, right? Did they hit their head? I don't see a bruise..."

Doctor looked to Hero. Why was there such pity in their gaze?

"Hero..." They exhaled. "Physically, your friend here looks fine. They could benefit from putting on a bit more weight, but otherwise..."

"They're not hurt?"

"No."

"Then..."

"Whatever is going on with them, it's in their mind. Hero, who is this?"

"It was Villain. One of the villains."

"And they were alone for so long."

Hero nodded feebly.

"Is there some kind of... some kind of medicine? Or treatment? To wake them up? To make them themself again?"

"No. No, Hero." A pitied shake of the head. "This isn't sickness. This isn't injury. This is trauma."

"Someone hurt them?"

"The opposite. Being that isolated for that long, it does something to the brain."

"They..."

"This happened slowly." This time, Doctor nodded, as though answering a question Hero hadn't even known they had. "Over months, probably. Solitude and silence, it broke them."

That was what Villain was. Not hurt, not injured, not sick. Broken. The very core of them, shattered into nothing, and without a single wound being inflicted.

They were staring at Hero. Almost. Their eyes were positioned in that direction, but they weren't looking at anything at all. There was simply nothing there.

"Can we fix it?" That was what mattered. Villain had been broken-- were there enough pieces left to put them back together again?

"We can try. But that's not going to be quick. Putting them back together, helping them, it's going to be no quicker a process than that which broke them in the first place. Right now, we need to make sure that, physically, they're okay."

"Mhm." Hero nodded, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in in all its terrible detail. "What first?"

"Medical exam. If no one has looked at them in a year... Well, we need to do that."

"Okay. What then?"

"Then, we give them a bath. And some fresh clothes. They smell terrible. But right now, I need to make sure they're okay. Keep them on the table."

"I don't think they're going anywhere soon."

"Fair." Doctor turned, rolling a metal stand out from the corner, a monitor on its top and a plastic cuff hanging from it. They positioned the blood pressure monitor next to the table, undoing the cuff and holding it in one hand. With the other, they gripped Villain's wrist-

The screaming was somehow louder this time, loud enough to make the doctor leap back in surprise. A moment after they removed their hand, it stopped, leaving Villain sobbing and gasping for breath.

Doctor looked to Hero wordlessly.

"They did that when I first touched them too. I think they're just scared. It's okay, Villain." They tried to coax. "Try again."

The doctor bit their lip, but obliged, moving forward to again place their hand-

It was a more shrill shriek, this time, like that of a dying seal.

"Okay. Okay." Doctor breathed, hands outstretched in a defensive position. "Can.. Will they let you touch them?"

Hero tentatively reached forth, a hand upon Villain's wrist. The only reaction they were met with was that of a slight twitch.

"Well." Doctor muttered. "Then there's only one way we can do this."

"What?"

"You're going to have to play doctor."

"I'm not-"

"I know. I'll guide you through it. Put the blood pressure cuff on."

"Are you sure about this?"

"What matters most is their health. What matters second most is their comfort. If this is the way they want it done, we'll do it."

Hero nodded. "Where does the cuff go?"

"Upper arm. Make sure its tight enough to stay on, but not too tight."

It was just a cuff, right? It couldn't be that hard. They took the blood pressure cuff in hand, wrapping it taut around Villain's upper arm. They twitched, but did not protest.

The machine buzzed, the cuff inflating until the surrounding parts of Villain's skin grew red. Hero felt their heart flutter, as though they should help, before the machine made a satisfied noise and released its hold.

"It's high." Doctor reported. "But within a normal range. They're scared, but not sick."

"What next?"

"Eyes. I can probably do that, it doesn't involve direct touch."

Doctor positioned themself before Villain, a small light in hand. They leaned forward, but did not touch their patient.

The light was raised to Villain's eye. For a moment, they were still, before a whimper tore itself from their throat. They closed their eyes, looking ever so slightly away as they wrapped their arms around themself.

"Hey, hey." Hero didn't even notice that they were shoving the doctor out of the way until they'd already done so. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Villain, it's okay. It's okay. I'm right here."

Villain opened their eyes-- for the first time, they truly opened their eyes. Wide pupils looked at Hero, quivering lips seeming as though they wanted to speak. Instead, Villain raised their arms, weakly grasping for the person before them.

Hero obliged, picking them up with ease and holding them to their chest. They relaxed in a moment.

"Uh, Doctor?" Hero flushed. "Is it okay if they spend the rest of the exam in my lap?"

Doctor bit their lip, but nodded.

"If that's what will make them the most comfortable. Hold them still, let's check their hearing next."

Hero nodded their agreement, turning Villain around so that they faced towards the doctor. With a gentle hand in their hair, they whispered:

"This is only gonna take a minute, I promise. Then you're gonna get a bath and be all warm and clean. Just hold still for me, okay?"

Villain whimpered, and leaned closer to their new caretaker.

[peachy-panic]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 3: “WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

This is the next chronological piece of Do No Harm, continued directly from this chapter.

Tag list: @whumpervescence  @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump

WARNINGS: Medical procedures, referenced/implied noncon, slavery setting, the usual.

The young doctor seems a bit skittish and far less cruel than the other Facility employees, and that comes with the dangerous notion that perhaps he doesn’t plan on hurting him. But that notion requires a naivety of which Jaime is no longer capable. He, of all people, is aware that cruelty can disguise itself in many shapes and sizes. Just because it isn’t obvious doesn’t mean it isn’t there, and that only makes it all the more dangerous.

There’s no use in hoping either way, he decides. Dr. Tate will either hurt him or he won’t, will either touch him or he won’t, and Jaime can’t — won’t — react. He has already made that mistake once today and will certainly pay for it later in ways he doesn’t want to think about now. He would do well to remember that he doesn’t hold any power here. Not in this room, this building, this life. And that, despite any arbitrary written rules, Dr. Tate is free to do as he pleases. 

At least he had removed the restraints from his mouth and wrists. Jaime can console himself with this small mercy. 

Those had always been the worst part of nights with Mr. Torley, on the all-too-frequent occasions he decided to use them. He was clearly very into them, and even more into Jaime’s fear of them. In addition to the claustrophobia they stoked in him, the use of restraints in bed had always felt something like a mockery. What use was it to restrain someone who can’t fight back regardless? The binds on his wrists and ankles were nothing more than accessories. The shackles in his mind did all the work to keep him still. And Mr. Torley knew that.

He does his best not to think about that now. Not to think about Mr. Torley at all, since that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Distantly, he wonders how long the influence of his first Keeper will continue to stain Jaime’s existence beyond the termination of their six-month contract.

Dr. Tate, who has been buried in the cabinets above the sink for several minutes, turns back to him sporting bright-blue gloves that adhere tightly around his slender hands. He meets Jaime’s eyes for half a second before his gaze darts somewhere just to the left of his shoulder. 

“We need to run a couple of tests,” he says in a detached, clinical voice, all notes of lightheartedness from earlier removed. “I’ll need to collect some samples from you.”

Jaime nods once in acknowledgement, squeezing his fingers tightly, unconsciously around the edge of the table. There’s an unnatural pause in his cadence, and Jaime when looks up, he watches a slight twitch of movement in the doctor’s jaw. 

“Please remove your pants and underwear,” Dr. Tate says, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “You can leave them on up to your thighs, if you’d like.”

The slight shift in demeanor sets Jaime on edge, but he doesn’t hesitate at the command, even as a familiar panic claws at the inside of his throat. He drops forward from the table, his legs taking his weight. His thumbs hook the waistband of the thin, cotton pants he had been returned in, and he doesn’t allow himself a moment of hesitation before pushing them unceremoniously off his hips. He takes Dr. Tate up on his merciful offer to keep them partially on his body. The cold, sterile air inside the clinic is sharp against his exposed skin.

Jaime’s eyes find the ceiling as he prepares for the touch he knows is coming. He doesn’t look to see whatever tools and instruments Dr. Tate is laying out on the silver tray beside the exam table. He doesn’t have to. “We need to run a couple of tests.”  Whatever foolish hypotheticals Jaime once held in regards to WRU — what they did and didn’t know about the treatment of their wards — had long been shattered. 

Of course they needed to test him for sexually transmitted diseases. They can’t have a Domestic Companion spreading something to the next paying customer that buys their time and exposing their innocent charade. 

There’s a pause in Dr. Tate’s movement, but Jaime doesn’t look away from his spot on the ceiling tile.

“I’m going to touch you, now.” Dr. Tate’s voice is low and measured. “I need to examine you for bumps or sores, any abnormalities.” He clears his throat. “And I’ll take a swab from your urethra. It might be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt you.” Another pause. “Please, tell me if it does.”

Jaime’s grip on the table tightens, but he otherwise doesn’t react. Distantly, he is grateful for the warning, the bare explanation, mortifying as it is. He knows that the doctors here are not obligated to explain anything to the Companion patients, to seek consent in any form. Their consent was implicitly given in the contracts they signed at intake. He just as easily could have left Jaime gagged and bound to the table and gone about the procedure without so much as a word to him. Jaime is glad he hadn’t. 

Instead, Dr. Tate’s touch is light and professional. His gloved hands don’t linger, they don’t poke and prod to get a reaction from him. It seems, even, that he touches him as little as possible. Almost as if he is as eager to get this over with as Jaime is, which doesn’t feel quite possible. 

The fluorescent strip of light next to his focal point on the ceiling burns at the edge of his vision, but he doesn’t look away, using the mild discomfort as an anchor to hold himself steady. He concentrates on that instead of the gentle touches, gritting his teeth against any traitorous urges his body might provoke. Mr. Torley had loved that about Jaime — his responsiveness to touch — but not as much as he loved using it against him. 

His stomach sours at the memory, fresh humiliation creeping into his cheeks at the idea of something similar happening now. He doesn’t think Dr. Tate would tease him the way his Keeper had, but he still doesn’t relish the idea of becoming physically aroused in front of this young doctor, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than him and, in another life, Jaime might have found pretty. 

The thought is gone almost as soon as it comes, too painful to linger on. The idea of another life. A normal life. A life at all. These are thoughts Jaime is forbidden to have. The phantom sting of an electric shock lights up the column of his throat and Jaime winces.

“Sorry,” Dr. Tate said quickly, misunderstanding the movement and withdrawing his hand. Jaime’s eyes finally fall to his as the doctor takes a step back, inserting the long swab into a glass tube and sealing it with a cap. “The worst part is over.”

Jaime is numb all over, but he nearly laughs. He knows that having stepped foot in this facility again, the “worst part” has not even begun. 

“I’ll need to collect another sample from your mouth,” Dr. Tate continues, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, and Jaime absently wonders why they even bother wasting extra product on the patients here. “And we’ll draw some blood—” 

Something catches his voice mid-sentence and Jaime’s eyes flick up to his again. Dr. Tate looks at him, and then pointedly, hurriedly away. Jaime swears he can see his pale cheeks reddening.

“You can— We’re finished with that part.” He stumbles out. “Feel free to cover yourself up.”

Jaime does as he’s told, finding it somewhere within himself to be grateful that the doctor had kept the procedure professional. He couldn’t say the same thing for every encounter he’d had in the facility clinic before. 

********

Sebastian knows what happens next, and that’s why he finds himself taking his time with the rest of the visit. As soon as he’s completed the mandated intake exam, he is supposed to mark the patient as cleared in his chart and alert the handlers to come collect him. To take him back into the part of the facility where Sebastian has never set foot; the “residential” wing where the unclaimed Companions are housed between contracts. On all the promotional advertisements, it’s depicted as a dormitory-like accommodation. Now that Sebastian knows just how little truth exists behind their lies, he can only imagine it’s nothing of the sort. 

His mind conjures images of iron-barred cells and concrete rooms, of medieval dungeons with chains and darkness and filth. It’s a sensationalized version of what he assumes is probably the truth, but that doesn’t mean the reality is any less horrible. After what he’s seen in his time here and everything he’s heard, he has no doubt that the people who are forced to reside here between Keepers are subject to the company’s own brand of horror. Frankly, he’s in no hurry to turn his patient back over to their hands a moment sooner than he has to.

The boy is silent and entirely pliable throughout the whole exam, allowing himself to be moved when necessary and not so much as flinching when the needles for the blood draw break his skin. Sebastian is glad when the more… invasive parts of the exam are over. The boy had been no less compliant during them, maybe even the opposite, but Sebastian hadn’t missed the subtle changes in his posture, the way the muscles in his hands clenched and released around the edge of the table as he touched him as little as possible. 

He had looked up at the ceiling instead of at the wall behind Sebastian, as he had done previously, and Sebastian had silently prayed that the position wasn’t intended as a way to hold back tears. He doesn’t know how he could live with himself if he made this kid cry.

When the blood has been drawn, the test samples submitted for lab processing, and a full physical performed, Sebastian has run out of ways to delay the inevitable. He closes out of the boy’s patient profile on his screen and turns to him, hands folded professionally in front. 

“I’ll need to alert the handlers that your intake exam is complete,” he told him, probably unnecessarily. He hadn’t looked to see how long he had been in the system, but from his behavior, he assumes it’s been long enough to break his spirit. He probably knows these protocols better than Sebastian ever wants to. “They’ll come and escort you back to the residential quarters.”

110750 nods once without looking at him. “Thank you,” he says flatly. Then, there is a moment of pause before he lifts his eyes and seems to level Sebastian with something more sincere. “Thank you for… for letting me get cleaned up.”

Sebastian feels like shattering into pieces all over the cold linoleum. Instead, he tries for a smile and lands somewhere in the realm of a tight, thin line at his lips. “Sure,” he says, a bit mortified to hear the crack in his voice. 

He watches 110750 take slow, measured breaths as Sebastian makes the call he desperately wishes he didn’t have to make. He tries not to stare as they wait in tense silence for the handlers to arrive. Of course, Sebastian could leave the room if he wants. The intake procedure is done, and so is his minimal obligation to patient care. But something feels wrong about leaving him. More than that, something feels utterly wrong about this boy being taken out of the clinic, away from his line of sight, where he can’t see what will happen next. He only knows it won’t be good. 

A split second before he hears the clinic doors whoosh open, Sebastian steps closer to his patient, lowering his voice to a quick, urgent whisper. “Keep an eye on that broken nose,” he advises. “If you have any trouble breathing as it heals, please don’t hesitate to let your assigned handler know that you need medical attention, okay?”

The boy hitches in a breath but doesn’t respond. Sebastian takes half a step closer. 

“Look, you have a right to medical assistance,” he says, the words feeling like treason on his tongue despite knowing their written truth. “Even here. Even now. You can always come see me here if you need to. They can’t legally prevent you from requesting care. Do you understand?”

Unexpectedly, something dark flashes in the boy’s eyes. Something less like the fear and dread he had witnessed earlier, and something much more akin to anger. Anger at Sebastian?

Before the interaction can go any further, they are interrupted by the unceremonious swing of the exam room door. The same two men who had brought him in - one with a fresh bandage on his face - push their way in, stepping between Sebastian and his patient. 

“Up you go, 7-5-0,” Handler Hernandez barks, and the boy is on his feet before he can finish the command, his hands behind his back, head bowed. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to behave,” the other one - Smith, maybe? - taunts as he sizes him up in a way that makes even Sebastian’s skin crawl. Just as he had prior to the visit, the man shifts his gaze to him, a sneer permanently embedded into his expression. “Does he get a lollipop for good behavior? Maybe a sticker?”

The boy doesn’t look up at him, but Sebastian thinks he sees his throat move. He feels a swell of rage rise into his throat, coming to a boiling point for the second time since he entered the room with this boy, but he swallows it back, keeping as level an expression as he can manage. 

“He was perfectly agreeable,” he responds tightly, refusing to play into whatever mockery he’s initiating. 

Smith answers him with a dismissive snort, turning his attention back to the boy like a predator who just found fresh meat. “What do you say, sweetheart?” He asks, the thick rubber of his boots squeaking against the tile as he takes a step too far into the boy’s personal space. “Think we can go the easy way back, or would you prefer to do things the hard way again?”

The beat of silence in the room is painful as they await his response, which comes eventually in a subdued voice, through slightly gritted teeth and with his eyes on the floor. “The easy way. Sir.”

A snort from Hernandez breaks the tension. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll see about that.”

With that, he is escorted from the room and seems to take with him all the air in Sebastian's lungs. Naively, desperately, he hopes for the briefest moment of eye contact before he’s taken away from him. But his eyes stay downward, even as a large hand curls around his bicep and makes him stumble in his gait as he’s yanked forward. Sebastian watches helplessly as he disappears from sight, one singular thought slicing through his mind on a loop:

Who did this to you?