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fuwahua · 1 month ago

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Day 17 - Raspberries

✮⋆˙ TKTober Day 17 - Raspberries

✮⋆˙ Tags: Yelan/Yanfei (Established relationship), bullying your gf cutely, tummy, raspberries, fluff!

“I love your stomach window.”

“Hm?”

Yelan turns to Yanfei with a raised brow, the fabric of her tunic stretching as she does. The thin black fabric over her stomach creases and straightens, subtly shiny under the sun, and Yanfei sighs. “It’s so sexy when you stretch like that.”

“That’s the point.”

“I love your uniform. I love your job. I love you. Can you hire me?”

Yelan snorts, coming around the breakfast table. She plucks the half-drunken cup of black tea from Yanfei’s hands with ease. “Teyvat to Yanfei—are you awake yet? I told you to get some sleep last night.”

Archons, she knows. It’s not that Yanfei doesn’t want to sleep but rather that she literally can’t these days: after accepting a domestic case that appeared absurdly simple for the client’s proposed payment, she found herself unfolding Pandora’s box. Both sides of the divorce case wanted to claim ownership of an old property they’d inherited from the wife’s side but only after extensive research in the Qixing’s folders had they discovered the house was built on Adepti reserved non-residential land. Then, to add to the complexity, it was never officially claimed by said Adepti, so right now the entire case (and her paycheck!) is on hold until they can determine who it belongs to, if it legally can be claimed by any party.

A nightmare. An honest and true nightmare made worse by the fact that they can’t make any breakthroughs until the Qixing return with official word from the adepti (apparently Yanfei doesn’t count due to conflict of interest) so she was going to get some actual shut eye yesterday, only to get jump scared by her girlfriend sliding in from the bedroom window and occupying her all night instead.

Hey, wait a second.

“You’re the reason I didn’t get any!”

Yelan whistles. Yanfei groans, face falling between her arms on the table. She’s so tired.

“Please tell me the qixing has responded.”

“You’d be the first to know if they did.” Another groan. Her only solace is Yelan’s hand ruffling her hair, stroking the area she likes between her horns before drifting down to pat her back. “Hey, up. It’s breakfast time.”

“Not hungry.”

“Aw, poor baby.” Yelan’s voice is teasing, near. Her arms encircle Yanfei in a half-hug, tugging. “Come on, up. Eat.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“You sure?”

Yanfei yelps as the hands around her waist pinch her without warning, eyes shooting open in alert as sleep leaves her at once. Yelan’s lips meet her ear, the sound of her kiss loud before she purrs. “Because if you don’t eat, you’ll starve. And if you starve, your sexy tummy I love is going to disappear.”

“Hehehey! Yelahahan, stop!”

“Don’t wanna,” Yelan mocks. Yanfei gasps, scrunching up her shoulders as Yelan traps her against the table, tapping along her sides. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of her hands on her scales, oversensitive and exposed under Yelan’s knowing fingers. Her knees jump and bang against it, causing the cutlery to jitter, when Yelan’s nails scratch her hips. “Careful, babe. Don’t want to spill the breakfast I worked so hard on.”

She squeaks as Yanfei’s hands spider up to her underarms before diving further low, sliding under her skirt and scratching her thighs. It’s terrible, maddening, made worse so by the memory of Yelan doing the exact same thing yesterday with very, very different intentions. Yanfei squirms, legs kicking in protest, but Yelan’s weight keeps her rooted to the chair. “AHAHALL YOU DID WHAHAS BUY YOUTIAO!”

“Mm, from your favorite vendor.”

“Leheheht gohoaha—wAH!”

She’d call her the worst if it wasn’t for the shriek she emits as Yanfei’s hands hook under her thighs and pulls her straight out of the seat; her head swings back only to be caught by a gentle hand before she hits the table. Yanfei pants, hair splayed around the countertop, eyes stuck on her ceiling (did she always have that crack there? Was that water damage?) before looking down to Yelan hovering above her hips. She shivers, scotting away, but Yelan’s hands rooted to her hips keeps her from absconding.

“Hehehe… come on,” Yanfei bargains, swallowing as Yelan’s nails tap on her stomach. “Let’s have the youtiao before it gets cold.”

“You can heat it back up again, can’t you?” Yelan coos, nuzzling her stomach. Her blue hair drags along the surface as she moves, spiraling the scales along Yanfei’s ribs and she giggles. “I just want to have a quick snack first.”

“S-snack? No, YelAHAHAHAHAN PLEAHAHAHASE!”

Her horns do bang against the table, the sound loud but no louder than the screech of her laughter as Yelan holds her down, lips vibrating as she blows raspberry after raspberry against her navel. Yanfei shouts, squirming, screaming, her legs kicking wildly in the air as incoherent pleas escape her with every shockwave running through her body, but the mischief glistening in Yelan’s eyes promises no quarter. It tickles so much, a vibration down to her core, and when she tries to beg for a break it dissipates into wild giggles until—

Clang!

Yanfei gasps, jolting, as Yelan’s body flanks her entirely. She’s flush between her body and the table, shivering with residual giggles, as Yelan’s shoulders blanket both sides of her head. A moment passes, then another, and it’s only when it’s clear that no intruder is in the house that Yelan relents with a sigh and pecks her cheek.

“You okay?”

“Yehehe,” she chuckles, leaning up and kissing Yelan on the lips. Her girlfriend smiles into it, the slant of her lips inviting, and she kisses her again. “What was that?”

Yelan snorts. “See for yourself.”

That’s never good. Yelan climbs off her with an outstretched hand before hauling Yanfei upwards against her chest. She points to a metal bowl on the floor, bag of youtiao fallen out of it, and teases. “You knocked that off with your squirming.”

Oops. Did she? Yanfei flushes, trying to picture herself laughing on the table, desperate to escape Yelan’s evil tickly mouth. Yeah, okay, she probably did it. Wait. “Hey! Who’s the reason for my squirming, hm?”

“Guilty as charged,” Yelan says. She bends down to deliver another kiss to Yanfei’s temple, then once more on her horn. Yanfei shifts, pleased, when Yelan pulls her up and delivers another on her lips. If this was the reward for catching guilty criminals, Yanfei would never retire. “Come on, I want breakfast. Someone kept me up all night and now I’m starving.”

Yanfei’s eyes narrow. “What happened to your snack?”

“Wasn’t enough,” Yelan says. “Unless it wants some more?”

She squeaks, ducking away to grab the metal bowl. “Nope! Get the soymilk, will you?”

Yelan’s chuckle echoes in the room, fond, as her hand graces Yanfei’s horns with a gentle tap. Pyro gathers along her fingers and it’s only a minute until the youtiao are crispy once more; she sets them on the table, rearranging the chairs, only to pause at the sound of a hum. She looks up, staring now, as Yelan traverses her kitchen with ease: she could arrange it with her eyes closed by now, familiar, the pop of her cabinets opening matched with the clatter of cups and cutlery, glass seasoning boxes and bamboo mats. Yelan’s hum is low, comfortable, and as she gets on her tip toes to reach the top shelf, her tunic flutters over her stomach.

Yanfei sighs.

“I love your stomach window.”

Yelan laughs. The soymilk spills slightly over the glass cup, and she cleans it with a smile. “I love yours too.”

#genshin impact #tickling #yelan #yanfei #yelan genshin impact #LMAO why is the name like that #tickletober 2024 #my fic #THEYRE FLIRTINGGGGG #Im delulu but protective yelan gf and just as capable but appreciates her badass gf yanfei #yanfei can take any intruder but yelan scooping her up in her arms when there’s a threat? Um yes #ohoho lesbians #im sorry yanfei doesn’t enjoy yelan’s stomach window fully in this but I promise she loves it a lot and it keeps her going at work #yanfei when she has to schedule a 4 hour debrief w a rly annoying client: god im so glad i have a hot gf who will sneak into my bed tonight

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daddyplasmius · 4 months ago

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this is let grief do its work, a fic (currently unedited rip) I started as a kind of sister fic to hand on my stupid heart, another fic I'd written earlier and uh. yeah. you guessed it. haven't finished. I'm working on this on the side, Flying Over the Pit of Death + its sister fic & my original novels being my main focuses right now. I will most likely continue lgdiw sometime in the future, it just isn't my main priority. Like all of my fics, this idea is free for anyone to take & run with. if/when I finish this fic, the edited version will go on ao3. For context: this is just a prologue of sorts, depicting vaguely what is happening on the human side of the Portal the month after the Accident. On Danny's side, he's been chillin' in the Ghost Zone, where he ended up after half-dying, believing he's fully dead (he's not) & only realized he's still alive after it was too late for him to tell everyone what happened cuz like, awkward & embarrassing lol. HOMSH takes place a year later, when things come to a head. I feel it's important to reiterate that, although Danny isn't actually dead, the characters think he is & act accordingly. okay author's infodump note complete, fic under a readmore

“when they first go, let yourself think every selfish, no-good, dirty, angry, filthy, horrible thought. let the waves of anger wash through you. let grief do its work.” ーCaitlyn Siehl; Grief Counseling

On the first day, Sam had thought that, maybe, Danny was just busyーtoo busy to answer their texts, and their calls, and everything else. But then Tucker called her. It was a horrible game of telephone at first. Danny’s parents told Jazz, who told Tucker, who told Sam, and that’s how the communication went for two days until she and Tuck had enough.

They went to FentonWorks, the big, ugly building on the corner of Mockingbird and Cedar, and were surprised to find no one home at all. Not even Jazz. And, for the first time since they’d known the Fentons, the doors were locked. And when they tried to talk to Jazz later, they would find that they’ve officially filed a police report.

ー

Danny Fenton is missing. The last time Sam talked to him she was making fun of him, for being too scared to go check out the Fentons’ new Ghost Portal. She knew he was freaked out by stuff like thatーby ghosts. Now she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see him again.

There’s just no way. He can’t be gone. She literally saw him on Saturday. His empty seat in homeroom on the first day of school is the thing that does it. There’s this gap in the desks where he should be, but he’s not. Like he’s already haunting her.

It makes her sick. Everythingーeverything in her head, everything she knows. Despite what Dash and his asshole friends say, Danny wouldn’t run away. And the longer a person is missing, the more likely it is that they’reー

Sam doesn’t wait for the bell. She leaves Tucker in homeroom, goes straight to the bathroom, and wipes her face down in the sink, water turning black. Suddenly, everything macabre, everything dark and creepyーit just disgusts her.

She goes home early. No one even says anything, not the school, not her parents, not Tucker. Alone in her room, Sam starts to shake. She sobs once, something seething just under her skin. She stalks over to the wall where most of her horror movie posters are taped and starts tearing them down, one by one.

ー

Danny Fenton has been missing for a week, and Tucker, staring at the sweater his best friend forgot at his house, laid across his computer chair, thinks he’s starting to feel it.

Opening his phone, he feels it again. Looking at his texts, he feels it again, and again, and again.

Saturday • 4:47 p.m. Danny Phantom: xD Danny Phantom: not playing tonight, ghost portal opening night 👻 Danny Phantom: can play tmrw tho Too Fine: hell ya txt u then Danny Phantom: 👍 Sunday • 10:20 a.m. Too Fine: yo still up 4 doomed Too Fine: dued Too Fine: dude* Too Fine: you there Sunday • 10:21 a.m. Too Fine: txt me when you wanna play Sunday • 11:58 a.m. Too Fine: you up?

Tucker lets his phone fall on his bed. He doesn’t bother checking in with Sam. She’s been out of school and ignoring him for the last three days. It’s almost been a week sinceー

He gets up and stumbles to his chair. He sits down, careful not to mess up Danny’s NASA hoodie. Tucker turns on his desktop, types in his password, checks his emails. He messes around for as long as he can before he literally cannot take it anymore. He just can’t ignore it.

God. His best friend is gone. Is he coming back? Is heー

It’s like something inside his chest cracks. Without thinking, he pulls the NASA hoodie into his lap, and then over his head. It’s been here too long. It still has that smell of ozone and copper on it, though.

Tucker leans back in his chair and stares at the wall.

ー

Danny was home. That’s the thing. The last time Jazz saw him, he was inside the house, and she never saw him leave. He must have, at some point. She has no idea why, or for what, but he must have. It’s the only rational explanation. Danny left. Something happened. He never came home.

She feels the panic rising, gripping her throat again. She puts the candle down on the bleachers. Wipes her face. Whoever is speaking to the crowd of students holding vigil is a mess of white noise in her ears. It doesn’t help. It should and it doesn’t. A lot of things are the opposite of what Jazz knowsーthought they are.

She almost wishes it had just happened at home, been a little less drawn out.

As soon as it pops into her head, she feels sick, disgusted at herself.

But no one goes missing this long and lives. A very small percentage do. And if it had been some accident in the lab, like she always feared would happen, at least they’d have a body to mourn. At least they would know.

ー

Sam’s parents pretend they aren’t happy. They have to look worried, grieving, because what would the neighbours think if they didn’t? She can see through it, unlike them. They always hated the Fentons. They always hated Danny. They always hated Sam’s fascination with the macabre.

Well. They got what they wanted.

It’s like he’s in everything. She isn’t even looking for him, and he’s still there, still everywhereー

Sam rubs her eyes on her sleeve before she can properly cry. There’s no body. He could still come back. A month is a lot, but he could stillーhe could show up. Someone could find him alive. He could be alive.

Her parents look at her from across the lavish, stupidly large, solid wood table. She should know what type of wood it is but it’s like the information is behind a fogbank. She can see the silhouette. She just can’t make it out. Mom places her cutlery down neatly, dabs her mouth with a cloth napkin, and clears her throat.

“Sammy-kins…” She starts, and the rage inside Sam bubbles up like lava bursting through rock. “There’s been… We…”

She looks to the side for help, from dad. He looks incredibly awkward for a moment before turning to Sam with an expression she hasn’t seen since grandpa died.

“Saman… Sam.” He says, simply, slowly, and the lava in Sam’s gut turns cold, and heavy. “They’ve found evidence that has given them reasons to believe that… your friend is gone.” He’s never spoken this softly. Ever. His voice is barely audible above the blood rushing in her ears. “They’ve called off the search.”

ー

Tucker didn’t expect nightmares. He wakes up and he panic-cries into his pillow and hopes to whatever god or deity is listening that ghosts in dreams aren’t real. He can’t explain the fear. Everything is incredibly normal, more normal than his dreams ever have been, and then Danny walks in.

He would give anything for this to happen, right now, in real life. He’s afraid, though. In his dreams, a sheer terror overcomes him. He can’t get away fast enough. He can still hear his own voice echoing in his head. “You’re dead! You’re dead!”

It’s a wrongness he can’t quite graspーor doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to be afraid of his best friend. Tucker wants him back so badly. But his brain knows the truth, even if Tuck is digging his heels in and refusing to budge.

Someone knocks on his door, and he tenses.

“Tucker, sweetie? It’s…” Mom takes a deep breath. “It’s time to go.”

He grits his teeth and shoves his face into his pillow so hard he can’t get air. He stays like this until he can’t. He gets up.

Tucker walks across the floor like a zombie, barely aware of what he’s even doing. He manages to put on the suit his mom put out for him yesterday, and goes downstairs. He refuses breakfast. The three of themーmom, dad, Tuckerーgo out to the car, and drive to his best friend’s funeral.

ー

Jazz stares at the closed casket. There’s a pair of police officers out of uniform, or maybe detectives, standing in the corner by the photo album laid out on a table looking haunted. Aunt Alicia, uncharacteristically wearing a plain, black dress, sits with mom and dad at the other side of the room. Jazz stares at the casket and she tries to imagine that it’s not empty. That it isn’t making her scream inside with the frustration of it all. Her baby brother is gone. They couldn’t even find him. And probably never will. Because that’s how these things end.

Tucker walks into the room. Dark bags circle his unfocused eyes. His parents are right behind him, his father’s hand on his shoulder. Tucker looks at the casket. He turns away, catching sight of Jazz, and when his parents break off to meet hers, Tucker walks over.

He picks at his sleeves. Says nothing. Jazz tries to pick at the grief counseling she knows she’s studied for fun, but finds herself falling short.

She doesn’t see Sam or Mr. and Mrs. Manson walk in, but suddenly they’re there as well, smiling tightly and giving their condolences to Jazz’s parents. Sam doesn’t walk over. She stands in a corner and stares at a wall with purpose.

Jazz breathes slowly, willing her heart to stop pounding. She counts the stages she can see in front of her.

Too much Acceptance, all from strangers who never even knew him personally. She glances at Dash Baxter, tugging on his tie and looking annoyed. She can feel Anger in her. But also Denial. Bargaining. Depression.

And somehow, Acceptance, too.

They’re not stages. She never really got that before. You feel them all at once, all the time, and they don’t go away. The intensity changes, turning from a background hum to bright bursts of emotion at any little reminder.

She looks at Tucker out of the corner of her eye. She wonders if he’s feeling that way too. Being bombarded by the stages of grief in a way no one prepared them for. Is this why mom and dad never let them get any pets? Besides Danny’s gerbil, which promptly disappeared before she could even get used to the rodent’s smell. What happened to it? Was it rehomed, or is its body still somewhere around the house, unfound, unlooked for?

The stages start over, skipping between Depression, Anger, Denial, the emotions falling over themselves. She wished the cops would leave.

Not soon enough, it’s over. The funeral home employees usher them out, the rooms and halls now empty. The drive home is simultaneously the longest and shortest ever. She stares up at the brick and all she wants to do is sleep. She heads inside intending to do just that.

She takes her shoes off at the door. Mom and dad take off their jacks and move to settle in the living room. Mom is holding a tissue to her eye. Jazz hesitates for just a moment.

Should she do something? She feels like she should do something, anything. She wants to suggest therapy. She’s afraid to open her mouth, though. Jazz can feel the blame on the back of her tongue, ready to spill out. That would be the worst thing for her to do, and she doesn’t know if she has the strength to hold it back, because for fucks sake, if they just watched their children, this wouldn’t have happened.

Jazz turns to the stairs and starts climbing them. She doesn’t get halfway before she’s blinded by drywall dust and knocked off her feet.

#Danny Phantom #Let Grief Do Its Work #i'm surprised the format stayed. i literally just copy pasted the whole thing #me remembering The Gerbil: ohoho yes i can use this for evil purposes #btw this series (extended HOMSH universe) is like. supposed to be funny #but i also was literally so depressed at the time it ended up hella depressing. i don't like. remember anything from that year #HOMSH was a vent fic & then i promptly forgot it existed til i rediscovered it like 4 months later just after the 1st anniversary of. yeah.#i literally have no memory of writing it at all. it was literally like reading someone else's work #i vaguely remember figuring out the panic attack chapter but that's literally it #every time i reread it it's like. an all night affair. i put on Implode Alright by Built by Snow & read it til dawn #& it's funny. but also it's like. yeah. that's uh. that's where my mind was. & it's the only proof i have that i was even alive that year #dont worry i was pulled out of my severe depressive episode a year later when a kitten ran out of the woods & attacked me & stole my hotdog #i still have that half feral kitten. he's a lot bigger now & much more of a baby (only with me apparently though)#he even lets me pick him up without severely injuring me #i should just post HOMSH actually. it's unfinished but like. maybe that'll make me want to #posted this & then immediately got hit with the fanfic author's curse. uh. all my shit might get postponed

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