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puff0o0 · 5 months ago

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You had a crush on Barrage, a big one at that

It was very obvious, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. The way you snuck glances, gushed about his achievements on the field, and the way you got so nervous when he was around which seemed to be all the time as he was everywhere

Gaz and Ghost were the first to notice, given they are the two most observant in the team. Gaz kept pushing you to go for it and so did Ghost, they wanted you to happy afterall!

You didn't know exactly how to go for it since he doesn't seem to talk much and you two weren't exactly friends

Which makes your crush on him even more frustrating

Soap eventually found out about it and tried helping you out by befriending Barrage himself but that didn't really turn out well...

At least you know what his voice sounds like!

This lead to Soap getting the idea of going on a mission with him

It was the only way you could talk to him without feeling too weird afterall

But you would have to wait for the day you even get the chance to go on one with him since it's completely random :(

But Soap was willing to find a way for you

Price also found out about it (he eavesdropped on the conversation you and Soap were having) and he also wanted to help

He didn't bring it up a lot, only mentioning it when he was around and telling you to go for it. Most of the time it was the perfect opportunity but you didn't want to risk embarrassing yourself

Of course, like Ghost, he teased you a bit but nothing compared to the way Gaz was teasing you

Anytime he walked in the room, Gaz was elbowing you to look and chuckling when you averted your eyes the second you noticed him

There was even a time where Gaz called him over for 'help' in hopes that a conversation between the two of you would spark

It did not.

"You have to introduce yourself"

Price said, Gaz nodding as it's what he's he's saying this whole time

"I'm sure he won't yell at you for asking him out and I'm sure he wouldn't reject you. He'd have to be blind and brain dead to do that to someone like you"

Gaz said, trying to boost your confidence so that you would finally go and get to know him

You just stared at them, shaking your head no as you continued cleaning your gun

"Ye aren't gonna get anywhere if he doesn't know ye!"

Soap said with a grin, hoping that the conversation would inspire and push you into making a move

It did not.

All 4 of them could tell how much you really liked this guy and all 4 of them really wanted you to be happy, so they hatched up a plan in their free time

And it worked!

Somehow Ghost managed to pull some strings, getting you and Barrage on a mission together. It was an easy mission too, the ride there would be longer than the actual mission

And yet you just couldn't bring yourself to actually say something

The air felt so awkward

You didn't want to say the wrong thing and get him to dislike you

Crushes were so hard.

but then he spoke, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts

"You've been lookin' at me this whole time. Is there something you want?"

His voice held some irritation to it, which only made you more nervous

Yet you knew you had to say something back and make it good so that you could actually get to know eachother. But what could you say for that to even happen???

"..I want to get to know you"

You immediately started to feel embarrassed from your reply. It shot out quicker than you could stop it

You couldn't see his facial expressions, his mask covering it and only making you more nervous

Is he disgusted? mad? embarrassed?

Then he chuckled a bit, catching you off guard

Now you were REALLY worried

"If you wanted to ask me out you could just ask normally"

You were shocked, pinching your arm to make sure this wasn't some lucid dream

There was a moment of silence between you as you didn't know what to say and he was waiting on a reply from you

"..I want to ask you out then"

You hesitated, mentally slapping yourself for it. You barely- Well, he barely even knows you

He was probably just baiting you so he could reject you

Or at least that's what your mind thought

If only you could see how his eyes lit up behind those glasses, glad that he finally managed to strike a conversation with you

He wasn't the type to be nervous around a crush or beat around the bush

But you were different! You intimidated him with your looks and personality. He assumed you were wayy out of his league, he was sure you wouldn't even give him a second thought if he asked you out

So he ignored you the best he could so the feelings would go away

But it was not easy, not at all

He even caught himself redirecting his usual routes to match up with your schedule so he could see you more

He quickly put a stop to that

Your smile, your laugh, your eyes, your face, it was all too perfect

Everytime he saw your face he could feel his face heating up a little

A moment of silence before he spoke again, facing your direction

"Then it's a date"

#ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ ഒ #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #Barrage x reader #barrage x reader #Barrage x you #barrage x you #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #Cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod fluff #cod x you #cod mw3 #gn reader

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death---dealer · 6 months ago

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Terror. ( Noa x Human!Reader Oneshot. )

Title: Terror. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Rating: T. ( Mentions of violence, death, nightmares. ) Words: 4.5K+ Summary: Noa was a proud Ape. It was surely something he garnered from his parents and he was never one to rely on others to take his burdens and make them their own. But, there has to come a breaking point. ~*Comments, Likes and Reblogs are really appreciated! Thank you! **DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR KINGDOM OF THE PLANET OF THE APES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THANK YOU!

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The vacancy of the bed was almost deafening in nature when you rolled yourself out of unconsciousness. Blurred, your eyes were unable to make out any shapes, any indication of the lonely spot next to you. The way that your hand slid outwards in a bid that maybe he was there, maybe your tired mind was imagining the emptiness, reaching out for the Ape that was always there with you, even when you weren’t aware. Your fingers catapulting against the nature of the animal pelts that you so lovingly embraced on the cold nights that Noa was late to come rest. So very desolate and it felt bitter trying to bargain with yourself why Noa wasn’t there.

Perhaps, you thought in your sleepy slumber and lifted yourself up enough to confirm that the spot next to you was barren, he got up every night and left you. You’d have no premonition regarding; you were often sawing into the throes of sleep and wouldn’t notice him leaving if he did it every night, or at the very least, on a consistent basis. That… Your mind twisted in a boggled way as it was trying to steady itself into a more aware state. That wasn't like Noa at all. In fact, the Chimpanzee was a rather deep sleeper, it took him much to wake up in the morning let alone in the middle of the night, as you suspected from the dim light of the fire buzzing itself into destruction in the corner of the hut.

You groaned softly against the fox pelt that you used as a pillow and found yourself rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling in pensive silence for a few moments. Surely, you could go back to bed and wake up with Noa there. Maybe, this entire thing was a dream and you were stuck in a strange lucid state inside of your own subconscious, able to move your body, able to think, able to comprehend but still in the fantasies that you were blessed with when the sleep was just that satisfying and deep-seated.

Drawing a deep breath in, your eyes stared holes into the shadows along the shafts of the ceiling above you. How they flickered with the dying light of the fire, how they casted and played along themselves. Sleep was grabbing you from the back and trying to pull you back. The shake of the empty spot next to you kept you teetering against the backdrop of falling under.

Sound snapped you out of the delectable sensation of slumber ravishing at your senses. Jumping slightly, your heart raced and raised to rest uncomfortably at the back of your throat. Automatically, in your already vulnerable state of rest, you went straight into a panic. What was the sound? Without Noa there, there was no protection if you were under attack. In your haze, the vibrations of the sound were similar to the way that the boards of your perched nest would resonate when weight was put on it. Mind racing, you shot up in bed and looked out the small window of your shared hut, grasping tightly at an animal pelt and pressing it into your chest. Yeah, that was going to protect you, your mind quipped sarcastically.

There was an illusion of shadows played against your dilated eyes as they were trying eagerly to come into focus and shift so you could see better in the dark. At least… You thought they were just in your mind but they were too consistent with the sound of wood pressuring underweight. There was… Oh no. Tightening your grasp on the animal pelt in front of you, taking the serious notion that it was going to somehow protect you, you crawled on your knees to the edge of the nest and urged your body to stand.

Your feet hit the planks below with a small ‘thud’, your weight unsteady as you rose and shuffled. It was comedic, you would have figured that if someone saw the way you were moving so synthetically, animal pelt in front of your body, your feet vibrating against the floor, your eyes widened with bleak anticipation as you pressed on towards the entrance of the hut, they’d laugh at your lack of confidence and stance.

You were trying to keep the thoughts at bay. There was not someone outside, it was just the wind. On a steady night. Not one leaf shifted or beckoned to fall off with the push of a simple breeze. Swallowing softly, you stared at the entryway. There was either nothing there or you were about to be killed. Take your choice. That was your brain's way of coping with this. Sarcasm. How great. I could die right now from an aggressive Ape outside and all I can think to do is make a joke.

Slipping your hand against the smoothness of the dark cloth that served as a privacy barrier in the entryway, you were fast to move it to the side and step backwards again, almost tumbling as a response to your body jerking so quickly. Okay, so… There was no one coming in, that was good. Drawing a deep breath in, you took the step you had taken backwards and pushed to move forwards. One step turned into two, three, four… Peeping your head out, you were thankful for the lit fire stakes that were situated all around the village that kept you from complete darkness at night. There was no one to the right, that was great. That was the way to enter the nest. Turning your head, you then rigidly pressed your attention to the left where there was a ledge to either sit and take the sun, or to rest when you didn't want to be in the entanglements of the nest.

You were frozen to the ground for a split second peering at the form you had seen. Contemplating going back into the hut was heavy, but then… Narrowing your eyes, you recognized that hunched over body. The way that the spine curved, almost right into itself, the placement of the feet, broad against the paneling of the wood below, the drift of the shoulders. Noa. Your mind felt a strong sense of relief followed by the euphoric nature of your entire body releasing tension. Raising a hand, you placed it against your heart and told it to calm down. With a bit more fever in your gait, you stepped out from the enclosure of your home and pattered silently to the young Ape.

In all other situations, he was always quick to greet by raising his head in acknowledgement, he was always fascinated in the way that you’d maintain eye contact with him, or the beam of a smile you’d greet him with. This…? Your feet came to a solemn stop, right foot behind the left as you hesitated moving forward. He had to know you were there, there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t be able to smell you with his acute senses. There was no way that you were as quiet as you were trying to be.

Something was wrong. Swallowing hard, you looked over him again, more cognizant than you were before at the idea that something was wrong. The hunch of his shoulders… He was closing in on himself, his head resting against his forearms as he had tightly knitted himself into a ball, knees enclosed by his chest. Glancing out, you noted that he was looking at nothing. Or at least, to your eyes, it appeared like it was just empty space he was floating off into. His shoulders were pulling in, almost defensive in nature. You didn't want to disturb him if he was deep in thought - if he didn't want you there. Obviously, he got out of the nest for a reason, your mind was tangling in on itself, having no clue what to do. But, before any rational premises came upon you, you were speaking.

“Noa?”

You could feel it radiating off of him in waves; the intensity of emotions that Noa was uncertain how to cope with. The smothering sensation he found himself in even though your tender voice, calling out to him from the pit of darkness, was a pull out of suffocation. Noa was beyond tired; his body felt like it was going to close in on itself but his mind was running around in circles around the exhaustion. Not even taking a second's worth of energy to look at you which in itself was abhorrent.

The Ape tightened himself at that. He couldn’t untangle himself enough to look at you, his love, his life, his mate. You came to rest next to him, the placement of the animal pelt against your shoulders enticing him momentarily and suddenly all he wanted was to consume you, to be around you in any aspect, in some bid to get himself grounded and back to a sense of belonging and peacefulness. He sighed- Shoulders rising and falling with increased distress. Green eyes were following the dance of the fire stakes of the village. Rushing from one, to the next, to the next, all the way to the most distant stake - barely a simmer in the darkness at the very edge of the Clan.

You were biding your time, Noa knew you enough that out of his peripheral vision he could sense your fingers playing against the animal fur of the pelt that made the journey out, your eyes drifting between the darkened landscape and Noa himself. He could feel your attempts to analyze his face, so painful to him at the moment, it felt like a hot brand was encasing his chest and he was drowning in flames.

To your dismay, Noa kept his chin tilted downwards so you couldn’t see him; the shadows of the fire kept messing with the perception of his expression. Unsettled silence wrapped the two of you into a blanket of mere suffocation. Noa would say something - anything - just to break it but it felt like he couldn’t. The process his mind was going through - piecing one minor detail to another to build a bigger picture took his obsessive personality to the next level until he had built himself a figurative wall between himself and you.

It was a quiet enough night. The tendered horses in the paddock were snorting to your right and you found yourself drawn to look at them, though admittedly, their forms were hard to make out from the distance. This was the first time you had actually seen the entire village from this perspective; sitting outside of the nest on the ledge was not your favorite thing to do. Looking down was enough to cause your stomach to feel unsettled, so you adamantly avoided gazing straight down. Instead, you focused on the horses. On the fires that Noa also found himself entranced by.

“What… is it…” Noa was the first to break the icy wall he had built, your skin prickling at the mere sound of his words. So rough and baritone now, you swore the vibrations were going to pick you up and throw you over the edge. “Called when… the… things you see are not good?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his inquiry, you had no idea how to answer without any more context, “What do you mean?” Your voice was a seering knife to him but he found himself drawn to it and wanted nothing more than for it to pierce his sensitive skin.

“The… things,” Raising his hand, he pressed it to his temple. His fingers were furled in on themselves, rigid and assuming emotions that neither of you were able to read. Noa was shut off to you, and Noa himself? The emotions were unread because he couldn’t comprehend them in their entirety. “The things… When I’m sleeping.”

Dreams, your mouth opened to say that but Noa continued on.

“They are… terrible…” His voice cracked as he came to a tapering stop, not willing to repeat himself. Instead, he looked at you for the first time. It felt shattering to see - The slope of his face falling into a grimace of self-destruction. His mouth laid open, something Noa tended to do when he was deep in thought. The delicate wrinkles under his beautifully speckled eyes, peering so desperately at you for some form of solace, freckles lining along the bridge of his brows, along the fur of his head, down the sides of his face. You thought about them for a moment as you looked at him.

No… Not just at him anymore, you passed that the moment you mated. You were looking inside of him. That was a cue for you and you were rather hasty to lift your hand and lightly place it against his cheek. Noa accepted it - or maybe he just didn't have it in him to move away. Shifting in your spot at how unnerved it felt to have him look at you like that, you listened to him carry on in that sickeningly agony-laid voice as your fingers collapsed against the rougher nature of the skin on his face, tickling themselves along his beard like he always enjoyed.

“They are not good… Scare… ” Noa gasped softly and tilted his head into your open palm. Hold me, he said, hold me and tell me what’s happening to me.

Not dreams, you thought.

Biting your bottom lip, you drew a deep breath into your lungs and savored the feeling of pain at the expansion. You figured it was a better feeling than the answer to the question Noa posed. “You’re having nightmares, Noa… They’re the…. The opposite of a good dream…”

“Nightmares,” Always so prompt to respond when you tell him a new word, you were somewhat relieved that he was still Noa enough to do that, “Why?”

That you had no answer to and the two of you found yourself falling into a rather oppressive silence. Noa had his eyes shut as he pressed his face further into your hand, enjoying the closeness of your scent to his nose. It put him in an eased state despite the disparity happening in his thoughts. In the time it took you to move your other hand upwards to entirely cup his face in your grasp, Noa’s body urged itself out of the tightened form it had been in since he left the nest to be outside in deep contemplation. He opened himself up to you, grazing his hands against the ones you had on his face before pulling you into him. Foreheads touched, eyes shut and Noa’s mouth propped open in a split moment of clarity.

“Always,” Noa broke away from you first, but kept a close distance as you began lightly stroking your thumbs along his lower jaw. He always liked that. “Always about Eagle Clan…” His voice narrowed with increased hopelessness, “Fire… So… So much fire. Thought maybe could warn the Eagle Clan before. Was not fast enough… Stupid Noa.” You could feel his jaw clench under your touch as he tried to reserve himself from flying off the metaphorical handle.

Whatever grasp he had, the only thing that was keeping him from letting go was your presence in front of him. “Was Apes who did this… Terrible…” That was one of his favorite words to describe the destruction of the Village, at least, that’s what he often chose when you two were wrapped in that conversation. Not often, once or twice, and he only ever gave you enough details to piece it together vaguely. Never this clear, never this conscious.

“So… so scared…” Swallowed gently, he laid his hands on your shoulders and with that, you dropped the animal pelt to pool around your waist. He was trembling, you could feel it against your skin, “Tried to save Father… Noa is so weak,” Third-person talking often indicated to you a racing mind, he had no time to put it into the right perspective. He didn't need to; you always understood what he was saying. “Couldn’t…”

This was all new information but it didn't take your mind long to process. Noa was having nightmares about the night when his Village was ransacked, his people taken, with many lost, including his Father Koro. Empathy surged over you and it was abundantly overwhelming as you had to watch as Noa crumbled quite literally in your hands. You rose, now shifting yourself onto your knees as you pulled him to move with you.

The animal pelt was forgotten, falling onto the wooden planks below to be remembered at a later date. He complied hazily to your body’s request, twisting his form with yours so you were on your knees in front of him and Noa was sitting, opening his legs for you to slide between them which you were happy to indulge in. You brought his head in to yours again ;Noa fully expecting you to place your forehead against his own - Always the preferred, always the best way to comfort amongst Apes. He shut his eyes in anticipation.

Nothing came for a minute and when Noa lifted his eyelids to look at you, he found himself under your gaze and unable to break the contact. This all felt incredibly Echo. The position of your bodies, you above him and looking down, Noa complacent. He’d only move if you asked him to. Noa looked from one eye to the other, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something. He could see the tears forming around the corner of your eyes even in this dim lighting. He could feel the touch of your fingers, now tangling into his beard with turmoil. Something snapped -

Noa grasped at you, his long arms entirely bringing your body right against his own. Hard in nature, the gasp you let out fell to echo into the night as you reciprocated and grasped him back in a tight hug, arms tangling themselves along his broad upper half to hold his shoulderblades. Noa could snap you in half, it was a thought that always lingered but now? You wanted nothing more than that. You’d let him if it helped him feel better. Noa could beat you down to the ground, his strong fist against your body, if it would just take away the agony he was clearly grappling with. You were clearly grappling with.

You had no words, nothing you were going to say would help and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t speak. Instead, you brought yourself to a physical response that you knew Noa would see as incredibly ‘Echo’. A hug of empathy. Hugging was common with Apes, you knew but this? The press of your ribcage against his muscular chest, the feeling of his long fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt, face drawing itself into the crook of your neck. You wanted to take Noa down with you to forget the world, to forget the nightmares and responsibilities.

Tucking your legs in, you wrapped them around his thinned waist and pressed into him further in a straddle, almost wanting to crawl inside of his warmth, crawl inside of his mind in some attempt to help him understand the nightmares, understand the feelings and the justifications he had to have them. They did not make him weak, they would always make him stronger, though from the feeble way he was holding you, you had no doubt that he couldn’t see that as an outcome.

“Miss him,” Noa whispered against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. It caused a chill to spiral down your spine and it was quick to rest on your tailbone. Noa had swiftly dropped his hands from their captivity around your upper half to centralize on your lower back, pressing with some strength to keep you near to him. More comfortable for both of you. “Miss him so much… Some… Sometimes… wonder if he would…. He…” He couldn’t say it, bringing one hand up to sign before it resumed its placement on the small of your back.

Proud.

You watched him sign with such misery that it felt like your heart was going to sink to the floor below, the ground and then dig into the Earth itself just so it didn't have to rest in the uncomfortable cocoon of your chest. Moving your hands, you drew upwards and lightly dug them into the brown fur at the back of his neck, petting upwards to embed them around his ears. “We’re all proud Noa.” The young Chimp only shifted at your words, not having it in him to agree or disagree. Your voice shot through him though- he was so close to your neck that it felt like each word you spoke was seeping into every pore of his body. Green eyes even watched as your jugular moved as you verbalized, taking time to admire that, taking time to focus on something that wasn’t antagonistic. “I--- I know your Father would be proud.”

He scoffed at that, “Did not know him.”

You groaned to yourself. Right. Empathy like this was a foreign concept and it often left Noa defensive if you weren’t more careful around it.

“Just one of those Echo things.” It was apparent that Noa wasn’t in the mood to joke and you slapped yourself mentally for even trying. Dropping your shoulders, you craned your head down. Lightly shifting a hand from around his ear, you aided Noa in lifting his head so you could look at him again. Not angry, not jokingly, not empathetic… But as one. One bonded pair.

“But, I know you, Noa…” You could see him swallow, feeling him pushing on your back in a frenzied notion to get you as close as possible, to get you to comfort him further until he felt nothing else. Your hand lifted and you placed it against his bottom lip. You held his entire chin in a pinched grasp. “I know you… How strong you are, how much of a Leader you are everyday…” He snapped his head away from your grasp in a vicious movement to look off in the distance, “Noa, you need to listen to me.”

The scold in your voice made him pause for a second before he looked back at you hesitantly, green eyes no longer accepting like they had been and they were quick to turn defensive. Noa was waiting for you to continue but you found your mouth dry at the pure emotions now collapsing against him. You shut your mouth and swallowed, trying hard to lubricate enough to say something, anything to him, before he shoved you aside to leave. Shoved you aside to cope, shoved you aside forever… Tightening your grasp around his ear, you grappled for a full handful of his mildly-coarse fur, your other hand resuming its position. You grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you, whether he wanted to or not, assuming that if he did not, he’d move to push you off or tell you to stop.

“Look at what you’ve done… You--- You rebuilt. The Clan, the Elders… They’re all so grateful to you, Noa. Look at your Mother.” Noa perked up. “Look at Soona, Anaya… Look at me, Noa.”

That was either a demand or you were just finishing your statement, Noa couldn’t tell but he found himself looking deep into you to the point where it felt like you were unable to catch your breath, unable to reach for anything or anyone else. His fingers were digging roughly into your skin despite the fabric of your shirt being a buffer. Aware of the bruises that were going to be there tomorrow, you drew yourself inwards and placed your forehead against his. “I-I’m sorry… About your Father… About the nightmares… But you can’t do it alone.”

That got him irrationally irritated as he began bargaining inside of his mind, “Do not want to bring you into this,” Noa muttered under his breath and lifted one of his hands to grasp at the back of your head. You were not moving from him anymore, you were keeping your forehead against his, even if it meant that the back of your skull was turned into fine dust from the pressure of his touch. “Can not. Too much pain,” Gasping softly at the feeling of his fingers tangling into your hair, you braced a hand against his chest. “But I can… Can’t stop…” His voice wavered around the edge in crinkled grief, “I want to do this alone, but you…” Noa was searching for any explanation, any formidable thought that his words made any sense but there was none. “I… need…” You.

Noa finally crumpled against you, dropping his head and placing it against the bridge between your breasts. Much like a child to their mother, you grasped around his head and pulled him into you further. Sleep was no longer on the horizon. Your senses were shot, but you were sure when you and Noa ended up back in the nest, sleep would not come easy to either of you and you’d roll into the comfortable silence and intimate nature of how he gazed at you, petting you with his eyes as he’d bring you closer, closer… But for right now, on the ledge outside of the nest you made with him, you didn't feel like moving. You didn't feel like speaking.

You only felt Noa.

#noa x reader #noa #noa pota #noa kotpota #owen teague #noa x human reader #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #pota #pota x reader #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota #emmy writes #fanfiction #fanfic

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ddarker-dreams · 11 months ago

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Epilogue.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency, Blade's love language is committing murder for you. Word count: 1.5k.

Nexus index.

“You went overboard.”

Blade doesn’t respond.

You know he heard you. He’s lucid enough to comprehend your words, but that doesn’t mean he’ll acknowledge them. Not when he’s standing there, parsing through his frenetic thoughts, which must feel more like a distant dream than reality. This is how you’ve come to understand his mara. It’s a capricious affliction, despite how adept you’ve become at soothing it.

This burden isn’t yours alone to bear. Blade has his part to play. He has to at least, on some level, want to ward off the beckoning madness. Your psionic abilities lay in amplifying base desires, not writing over them. Usually, this isn’t a problem. Usually, you both prefer he retains control instead of leaving a trail of contorted corpses in his wake.

Today, however, was decidedly unusual.

The nature of your new ‘work’ invites risk. Danger has never been a stranger to you — there was a reason why leaving the LOTUS-EATER’s premises was discouraged. This daunting acquaintance loves seeking you out. The feeling isn’t mutual, regardless of how successful the attempts are. It’s the aftershocks that you dread most. In the moment, everything happens so fast, there’s no time to be afraid until you reflect on it later.

Nona would tell you that what’s done is done, no point in dwelling on it further.

Lear would suggest you exercise more caution in the future, whilst barely being able to hold back tears of relief that it wasn't worse.

They aren’t here, though, you think. I only have him.

You swivel around on the kitchen island’s barstool to examine Blade like he’s examining you. He’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist as his clothes were dirtied beyond saving. Water trickles down the contours of his scarred, lithe body. The scent of orange and vanilla wafts in the air beside him, courtesy of the safehouse’s shower, no doubt. You prefer that over the metallic miasma which clung to him previously.

His crimson eyes pierce through the dimly lit room. You can’t decipher his expression, nor do you care to. What matters is that he gives some reassurance there won’t be a repeat of today’s incident. Knowing him, however, that’s too much to ask, but you’re starting to wonder if sweet lies are kinder than the truth.

Blade’s predatory gaze pauses at the fresh bruise on your forearm. What he doesn’t reveal outwardly is more than made up for by the sickening wrath his mind emanates. You wince beneath its intensity, a reaction he ignores, surprisingly, as he’s too focused on the hand-shaped indent. It isn’t until you inhale sharply that he snaps out of his reverie and the pressure in the room lessens.

While you rub your aching temples, he approaches, slinking forward like a stray cat. Though he viciously defends you as a guard dog would, you think he shares more similarities with the feline species. He bristles at anyone’s touch but yours, silently stares until you give him attention, and would gladly lay a pile of his kills at your feet, seeking approval for the macabre offering.

There was a time you’d voice this musing to observe his displeasure.

That time has long since passed.

Blade’s calloused fingertips run over the bruise, light enough to spare you any pain.

“Are there more?” he asks.

“I haven’t checked,” you shift back to rid yourself of his touch. His eyebrows pinch together, forming creases. “Is that really all you have to say?”

He’s glowering now. You don’t know what displeases him more — your avoidance of his touch, irate tone, or the condemnation hitherto left unsaid.

“You would’ve had me show mercy to your attackers?”

Blade enunciates the word mercy with every ounce of contempt one would regard their mortal enemy with. Now you’re beginning to better understand why getting him under control was such an ordeal. You encountered every possible resistance when attempting a link with him, a phenomenon you hadn’t experienced since that fateful day in The Lounge’s private room. He was always so receptive to, well, you, oddly pliant to your whims so long as you framed them right.

“You didn’t need to—” your throat goes dry, as the sights, sounds, and smells from earlier resurface, “—Need to…”

Fucking terrify me.

Sometimes, you forget on purpose.

You forget so you can drunkenly ramble anecdotes about your strangest clients over drinks, let him teach you the steps of weapon forging, and not struggle when he pulls you into his chest at night.

You forget so that your resentment can stay suspended in time, never growing past a point that’d suffocate you.

You forget so you can remember how to live.

Streams of sunlight sneak past the room’s blinds. You reach out, as if to catch it, allowing the beam to settle on your hand. The closest star to this planet — Varsig — is named the Spectator. The planet’s earliest inhabitants once thought the giant orb to be a god’s eye. Following their every movement, scrutinizing their every decision.

In the current year of 2157 AE, few still believe this superstition.

You understand where those ancient civilizations were coming from.

Eris’ eternal night hid wrongdoings behind a silvery veil. Stars, however, ensure you witness everything. Every misstep, shame, and regret is crystal clear. There’s no questioning the integrity of what you see. It burrows into your memory where it intends to remain forevermore. You’re reminded again and again that you’re no longer an Exalted Arbiter, but a means to an end for the universe’s most notorious criminal faction.

Either way, it’s a glorified transfer of ownership.

Still. At least then you had Loopy, Nona, Lear—

“You’re thinking about him.”

You freeze upon hearing his gruff accusation. Swiftly, perhaps suspiciously so, you turn the faucet of your thoughts off. Too much slipped through in your carelessness. Blade might not have your level of experience when it comes to decrypting the minds of others, but he’s spent enough time around you to pick up on a few things. The low-level link you share with him goes both ways, as per that miscreant Kafka’s suggestion.

For the most part, it’s an unobtrusive function that’s no more noticeable than one’s breathing. This prevents the continuous uptime from placing heavy strain on you. Identifying fluctuations in Blade’s mara is its main function. However, if you’re not being vigilant, a few segments from your psyche can pass through to him.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

It’s an unconvincing apology.

His mara, previously satiated from its earlier gorging, rouses. It seeks to form a tribunal with you as the defendant. This disease hates you, worships you, and longs to break you so that it might stitch you up and do it all over again.

Blade shakes his head and sighs.

The mara’s deliberation over your sentencing fades, leaving nothing but uncomfortable silence.

He turns around and starts walking away. Your eyes, ever keen in the dark, trace over the scars that cover his back. The off-color testimonies to his many battles have welcomed a newcomer, inducted into the ranks hours prior. The skin is red and angry. His long hair partially covers it — a slash made from the right side of his back to the lower left.

There’s little you know about combat, but from what you can tell, his opponents were skilled. They moved too fast for you to get an accurate count. In the aftermath, the remains were either butchered beyond recognition, or the few intact limbs so spread out, you couldn’t arrive at a number then either. Blade intercepted every shot and stab intended for you. He parried most, yet some slipped through the cracks. Without a second’s hesitation, he’d shield you from the onslaught, unfazed by what must’ve been excruciating pain.

That undying devotion is yours.

He belongs to you, really. Possibly more than you belong to him. This husk of a man who flayed the flesh of your foes and hung them by their entrails. Only the Aeons above know what other desecrations he committed when your consciousness gave out.

Sometimes, you calm the chaos simmering in his veins.

Other times, you raise it to a rapid boil.

“Yingxing.”

His retreating figure stills. Before, holding the memories of who he once was guaranteed he’d succumb to the mara’s influence. It’s less definitive now. There’s an undeniable intimacy to it — speaking a name scratched from history. He isn’t Yingxing anymore, nor can he ever be again. Somewhere, wedged deep into a forgotten crevice of his psyche, a tiny fragment of that splintered identity slumbers.

You rouse it when you think he needs to remember the anguish of losing everything.

“Do you want to be loved by me?”

You’re plenty capable of feeling love.

You love your student, who wrestled with life to reclaim the joy it previously stole. You love your first friend, who didn’t cower away from the unruly girl who decided to change his name on a whim. On some days, you could even love your mother, if your memories deceived you enough.

What about him, whom you might spend centuries beside?

Can loneliness outweigh resentment?

After what feels like multiple lifetimes, he responds.

“Anything’s enough.”

When he leaves, he takes a part of you with him.

…

You rise from your seat.

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

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mikeypubes · 2 months ago

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'*•.¸♡ ishigami senku as a boyfriend ♡¸.•*'

.•° ✿ °•.

SFW

For starters, I will not write anything pre-relationship cause even I don't know how you can get into a relationship with this dude

You'd have to know him for a long ass time, though, because he needs to know you in and out to actually like you

And liking someone and having a relationship are two separate things for Senku

You best start learning how to lucid dream about him giving you affection because he will show affection maybe once a light year

ESPECIALLY not in front of other people

His love language is probably quality time and acts of service (for him, he wants hard labor, and for you, he shows his love by making small things for you)

Sometimes, he can show his love through gift-giving, too

If it's a really emotional moment, he might accept a hug or maybe even a kiss... MAYBE so don't get your hopes up 😍

He won't initiate any "romantic" physical contact, especially hugs, but he'll accept them most of the time, especially if you two are in private

Kisses might be a bit easier for him to give because it's just a light peck and he can go back to his work

That being said, he's surprisingly gentle with you if you two are dating

I've seen so many head canons of him being so... "daddy" guys... he's really not.

Hates cheesy/cliche romantic stuff, and will never try to do them to impress you.

Maybe he'll impress you with a scientific invention but that's about it

The only nicknames you'll get from him are maybe "dumbass" and "idiot" (which goes to show he's not gonna be cheesy)

Okay but he would remember every single detail about you and all the important dates/events

He'll never miss your birthday and he's always gonna get you something nice, like a plushie or a necklace, whatever stuff you're into

He remembers your likes, dislikes, anything about your past, etc.

He really likes having you in his lab and explaining science to you, even if you don't understand jack shit

He has 0.01℅ more patience when it comes to you than with other people 👍

Sometimes he'll pause and think about how illogical he's become

He would never admit it, but he'd genuinely risk his whole life for you

Sorry guys he will not introduce you as his girlfriend

Not because he wants to hide it or anything, he just doesn't go around telling everyone that you're his girlfriend and whatnot

He doesn't tell you anything about his true true feelings (or many personal facts, like his favorite foods, etc.) but after time, you can kinda tell, it's just a thing you two share

You and Gen had to work miracles to figure out his birthday lmfao 💀

So you don't have to tell him how you're feeling, 9 times outta 10, he already knows

Though he thinks it's troublesome, he'll be considerate if some stuff make you jealous or uncomfortable

You're still not exempt from physical labor though so chop chop get to work 👏

Good luck trying to make him jealous though 💀👍

The only semi-particle of jealousy he'd show is slight distrust

Like if a guy was acting too friendly with you, he'd just kinda treat him the way he treated Tsukasa at first

He's not doing it because he's afraid of losing you though LOL

On that note, a big part of a relationship for Senku is trust, so if he's dating you, he trusts you 100% and expects the same from you, so jealousy from your end can sometimes annoy him

He also doesn't get jealous for that same reason (although he's mainly just not a jealous guy)

Since he's not big on physical affection, the first couple of months you guys were dating, you had more than one instance where you seriously thought you hallucinated him accepting your confession

You genuinely doubted he liked you because he NEVER says it

But then, slowly, you came to notice that there's small things he does for you that he doesn't do for other people

For example, he always stands super close to you, or tries his best to explain things simply to you because he loves sharing his hobbies with you, or even listening to you rant about whatever the hell, even though he wouldn't be that tolerant to other people

They're not really "affectionate" things but they became special to you so that's that

Since you two don't show physical affection in front of everyone, no one knew you two were dating until like months later, when you mentioned it casually, and to say they were shocked is an understatement

NSFW

I'm not really gonna get too deep into this because I might do a whole other post for it

But in general, I think Senku would be very casual with the concept of sex

Like you guys would be months into the relationship, maybe even a year, and you still would have no clue if he even wants to do it because he'll never ever bring it up

It's not that big of a deal for him, he can survive without it lmfao

He also hates rushing things when it comes to a serious relationship

He's not dumb, though, he knows that relationships include sex and it's not that he's never thought of it, he just won't openly discuss it with you

Mainly because you two are way too busy

But if it were to happen, it would be one of two cases:

You bring it up and talk to him about it

Or it literally just happens out of nowhere (this being more likely)

So if you two were in a private place, and I guess you were smooching, one thing would lead to another, there would be no words exchanged, just him occasionally making sure you're fine

Also on that note, even though he knows everything about everything, keep in mind he's a teenage boy who's never been in a relationship before, so technically, he knows what to do, but he also doesn't... If that makes sense?

Like he knows it might hurt, so he'll be super slow and he'll make sure you're 100% okay

He doesn't know how to be super intimate, he just knows the technical part of it

Either way, he doesn't have a high libido, so sex isn't a big thing for him, it just comes naturally when you two are in the mood

(PHEW THAT WAS LONG AS SHIT)

°•. ✿ .•°

#dr stone #ishigami senku #dr stone senku #anime #senku ishigami x reader #headcanons #boyfriend #boyfriend headcanons #long ass post #i love senku #hes so perfect #it's 2 am

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peggyao3 · 4 months ago

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Relic - Pt. 6 "Hungry, all the Years"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧༺༻ Dreams are messages from the deep ༺༻✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

A/N: I've always wanted to yell fuck you at the Bene Gesserit, so here's to my own dream🥰 Also, me, who's been in awkward long distance relationships throughout all her teenage years: "Aahh, I knew this knowledge would come in handy someday! 🥹"

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️| Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Wallach IX, one week later

"Kneel."

"Excuse me?" Incredulously, the relic stares into the Reverend Mother's eyes.

The anticipation of this day has left her sick to her stomach, her mind hysterical since she was made aware that Feyd remembers her and wants her. By noon, she will be on a heighliner. (A heighliner! She remembers Feyd's inquiry from their last dream.) And after two days of travel, she will be with him. For the first time ever, she will be truly with him, kiss his sweet lips and be held by him and bawl her eyes out.

This is not how she imagined the hours before her indefinite departure. The reverend mother sits unmoving like a pillar of obsidian in a slant of sunlight, her face hidden beneath black mesh.

"Kneel. This is your final test."

"I'm not part of this order anymore, I won't partake in any tests."

"That is not up for you to decide."

"I will not kneel."

"Do as I say!"

Without a power of will, she falls on her knees, ears ringing, jaws slackening. No hatred has ever burned colder than the rancor she holds in the pit of her stomach right now. From the corner of her eye, she perceives a flash of metal slipping from the reverend mother's robes.

"I hold at your neck the Gom Jabbar. A poisoned needle. The slightest prick, and you will die."

The wayward woman holds the violence of a lifetime on war-riddled Old Earth in her eyes when she inhales, the rise of her shoulders bringing her neck dangerously close to the poison tip.

"Why?"

"That needn't interest you." She has not been and will not be informed about the breeding program, or else, they fear, she might abandon her precious Feyd-Rautha rather quickly. Their union must be under the dangerous premise of love. And yet, the test must be conducted. Most likely it will even make her desire Feyd-Rautha more and let Giedi Prime be more bearable. That and the fact that the sisterhood has purposely been withholding the yearning transmissions from the na-Baron. The relic is ready to do just about anything to get to the man of her delusions.

"Put your right hand in the box. If you pull it out, you die."

"What's in there?" She grates out, peering into the black maw of the unremarkable metal box.

"Pain," Mohiam replies monotonously, having grown almost bored of the ever same test throughout the decades. Of course, the woman will pass. Patiently, the Reverend Mother waits for her to relent, because of course she will. It is a tiresome game. The needle at her neck remains unwavering.

She is thinking, of course, she could risk death out of spite, but she refuses to die before taking Feyd in her arms. So, she places her hand in the box and earns her place on the chess board as a fully carved figurine.

The box is empty. She moves her fingers around and is soon plagued by a phantom sting which swiftly develops into pricking needles. She lets out a grunt and the sensation becomes a slow cutting, like knives probing into her palms and fingers. Her face twitches, brows furrowing, sweat beading on her upper lip as her body goes rigid, fighting against the urge to pull back. A thousand knives now cut into her palm, ravaging the soft flesh and tearing it to shreds. She screams.

"Quiet."

"Fuck you!" She spits, having already concluded that not the box causes the pain, but an unspoken presence of the Reverend Mother's voice does, explicitly addressing her pain receptors in an increasing onslaught. To know that nothing is in the box doesn't make the pain any less real, nor the nauseating truth that she is being tortured at the whim of a person.

So, she sobs like an animal while enduring the cruel test, scorched, flesh-stripped fingers quivering against the cool metal. She will live to hold Feyd in her arms and she will live to burn down this universe with its thinly veiled slavery and misogyny. On Earth, at least everyone had been equally miserable.

The Reverend Mother conceals her dislike of the unpleasant sounds under her veil, noting how petty it is of the woman to torture her ears in revenge. She is a clever thing.

"You may remove your hand."

She does at an instant, hurtling backwards and standing tall, nostrils flaring as she regards the seated reverend mother. The neurobiologists from Magellan II would have had the time of their lives, dissecting the old woman's brain to decipher the voice. To imagine Mohiam without her ominous headgear on a dissecting table brings the relic an indecent burst of glee through her tormented nerves.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" She spits.

"Not at all. I'd prefer if you used your voice in a different, more useful way. But at least now we know that you are human." The reverend mother pats the box once.

"Oh." She speaks with pure disdain. "A generous conclusion."

"And you may board the heighliner to Giedi Prime. Feyd-Rautha will await you."

"Yes, I will. And yes, he will!" To think that she's had more agency in a dream than in this new world is revolting.

"Pack your things."

"I want my necklace and I want my Sarcophagus. Don't you even think about denying me that wish," she bristles. "I am a human and I've been one even before your inhuman test. These things are of sentimental value and they belong to me. Give them to me!"

"This attitude won't get you far on Giedi Prime," Mohiam drones monotonously, hands folded in her lap with annoying calmness. Under other circumstances, she would have never let a pupil of hers enter a battlefield as harsh as Giedi Prime so unprepared, but if one can believe the fierce messages from Feyd-Rautha to Wallach IX, she will be protected enough.

"I'm human," the relic rages on. "But you and your pseudo-religious cult, you are not human. You are even worse."

Everything will be better once she is on Giedi Prime.

Giedi Prime, Day 1

For the past few days, Feyd has done nothing but counting down the seconds to this precise moment. But as soon as the shuttle from the heighliner comes sweeping down through the blanket of clouds, hammering anxiety punches against his insides so hard, he feels sick to his stomach. His pulse races against the high neck of his uniform and dizziness forces him to fight for every breath.

He has been walking through a nightmare for two years and the past week has been the awakening. Like a sleeper aware of his own dream, he had screamed, kicked, killed to free himself from the shackles of his nightmare.

When he first heard the rumors, he had cried for three hours in the solitude of his quarters, then plunged his blade into his own thigh to snap himself out of it. There had been real fear in his uncle's eyes when Feyd confronted him, declaring that the relic is his and he will kill every servant, every guard, until he has her, and himself if he cannot have her.

Luckily, the Baron and the Bene Gesserit have been unexpectedly forthcoming.

So, after waking up, here comes reality. Sweet and frightening and lurid.

Feyd's heart clamors so loudly, he thinks he's going to die.

Wind whips around the landing pad and through his clothes when the shuttle touches down 200 meters away and hot exhaust gasses are released from the valves with a hiss. He almost jumps but forces his posture into a rigid lock, feet set shoulder-width apart.

The ramp drops with a mechanical buzzing and Feyd's stomach drops with it. Suddenly, he viscerally wishes he had more time and could prolong the anticipation, the preparation, the hiding. He hasn't prepared himself at all for her arrival, he now realizes, hasn't even considered what to say, how to greet her in front of three battalions of soldiers and generals. What will she think of him when she sees him for the first time in the flesh? Will she be disappoin- Oh God, there she is.

That must be her. Is that her? It's her!

After half a dozen staff, a figure exits the ship, clutching her little coffer so tightly in front of her hips, like it's the only thing of identity she has in the entire universe.

As she slowly walks, her gaze swivels across the mass of bald heads, identical like an army of clones, unmoving, devoid of color and every sense of individuality. She jumps fiercely when the black and white mass suddenly bellows and a thousand pairs of arms fly up, hands clutched over bald heads.

Seeing the troops (all men) lined up in formation, saluting fiercely, a glacial shiver rolls down her spine, reminding her viciously of one of the darkest chapters of Earth.

She swallows her fear. The first impression isn't that important. This world will have its good sides and Feyd will show them to her. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. She believes now that he could have rescued her off every planet in this world.

Yearningly, her gaze bounces from head to head. She had thought she would recognize him immediately and is terribly ashamed when she doesn't. At least, her frantic overwhelm distracts her from the roiling of her stomach. She thought she was going to throw up from anxiety on the shuttle, and she would have, had they not ushered her down the ramp immediately after landing.

Cool metal brushes comfortingly against the space between her breasts. Around her neck she wears a slender cord of silver links with a slim cuboid for a pendant, about the size of the first phalanx of a thumb.

She is being led down a corridor of saluting men, all grim faces, and wind whips around the long gown she was advised to wear. If only she had decided to wear something she feels more confident in. She's meticulously prepared what to say to him for the past days, arranging every word in her head to perfection, but now she can't remember a single word of Galach for the life of her– There he is!

There he is. There he is. There he is!

At the end of the corridor stands Feyd-Rautha in formal military livery, blocky shapes hiding all the softness of his body, only his face betrays him, full lips exactly how she remembers them, soft cheeks dented by the hollow below his cheek bones, gently curved jaws and blue eyes hidden beneath the shadows cast by thick brow bones. He looks like a frightened animal to her, throat bobbing repeatedly with dry swallows.

The deafening roar of salutes dies down to a distant buzzing as she walks through a tunnel towards him, steps quickening, vision blurring. She tries to smile and her cheeks feel awkward doing it, she doesn't know where to look. Feyd doesn't smile back, but his head tilts backwards, jaws flexing as if he's holding back either tears or words.

She cannot hug him in front of all the generals, Feyd thinks. I will break down if she does.

Without thinking, she runs the final meters and hugs him in front of all the generals, arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders, sobbing into the collar of his suit. "Hello." Her accent is thick and lovely.

"Hello."

Feyd knew he would break down. His chin quivers uncontrollably, jaws so tight that he thinks the tendons in his neck might snap any second. He exhales a harsh breath, arms wrapping around her waist, leeching the warmth of her body that sinks through the layers of dress and suit.

Feyd holds her, holds her so tight and her flesh, skin and bones are actually real, her beating heart is real, her soft voice is real. She is real.

"You're here," he whispers almost inaudibly into her ear, face lowered to press against the side of her head, chin hidden in her shoulder.

She cries like she's not ashamed of crying, nodding fiercely, and each nod is an apology and a promise to never leave him again.

Feyd wants to tell her how much he's missed her, how much his soul has craved hers every waking and sleeping hour of every day, how he's been split apart and nothing in the world could soothe him. But he cannot, not now, because they are not dreaming and he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

"Not now-" he pleads and tries to stop her when her face slips in front of his, her cheeks painted with glittering tears, but her mouth is on his before he can finish, kissing him with salt-wet lips, hands clinging to the nape of his neck.

Of course, he kisses her back. Luckily, his longing is so all-consuming that he kisses her like he wants to crawl into her flesh, so he will never be alone again. With both hands splayed across her cheeks and ears, claiming his woman, none of his people will perceive him as weak.

The soldiers and generals don't know the pair's story, but they salute for their na-Baron, because they know the relic from Old Earth is now property of House Harkonnen.

In a world devoid of color, she would have expected the interior to be vibrant and bright to make up for the lack of it under the sun, but every hallway they have traversed has been even bleaker than the outside, like being swallowed by the underworld, if the underworld was made of concrete and plastic.

The throne room is no different. Curved pillars curl up to the tall ceiling, black within black illuminated by bluish glow provided by floating lights (glowglobes!) Feyd and her and a small entourage of guards and servants are gathered here and she stands in the very front, having refused to let go of her coffer when a servant had demurely offered their hand. She hopes her Sarcophagus is being handled with care.

Feyd is one step behind her and from her peripheral vision, she sees him rigid as a board.

Like instructed, she bows before the Baron Harkonnen, determined not to show any judgment for his harrowing appearance, like gluttony personified with sly, glittering eyes nearly hidden behind folds of fat.

"The relic from Old Earth…" The Baron rumbles and she sees that as her signal to straighten herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she says and Feyd's jaw twitches.

"A pleasure?" The Baron chuckles. "Old earth must have been terrible then."

What is she supposed to say to that? Sweaty palms clutch the handle of her coffer and her gaze is momentarily drawn to a movement in the corner of the room behind the Baron's floating chair.

Nebulous eyes blink at her from the shadows, hidden in darkness, but she can tell it is a thing with too many legs. (Or are they arms?) Eight of them, and they unfurl grotesquely, glossy skin shimmering like jet black rubber. The pair of white eyes seems to be looking directly at her and this thing will haunt her nightmares, although it appears almost tame next to the faceless legions that had welcomed her at the landing pad.

The Baron speaks again, forcing her attention back to him. "I've only allowed this union because my dear Feyd has been in such a somber mood as of late, he has been such unpleasant company."

The thing in the back stirs and wildly scuttles and she realizes they're not arms or legs, they are arm-legs with hand-feet attached to them. Feyd inhales sharply behind her, just loud enough for her to hear. The arachnid creature halts and blinks and then decides to abandon its advance and return to the shadows.

"I understand," she says, determined to hide the fact that she doesn't.

The Baron takes a slow drag from his hookah and reclines, looking at her like she is nothing more than a pesky, necessary evil.

Feyd walks at the side of his woman, feeling lighter the further they get away from the Baron, though his breathing is still that of an animal in distress. He walks stiffly (actually, he prowls), overseeing the entire entourage. His right hand hovers over the blade he carries at the hip under his suit jacket, ready to slay anyone who dares to come near her.

Something terrible has been irking him but he refuses to think about it.

Meanwhile his woman's eyes are all over the bulky, coffin shaped container that is being carried to her new chambers by ten servants, following every step with anxious concentration. She wants to jump forward and help carry it, if only to place a protective hand on her sarcophagus, but she remains at Feyd's side, intimidated by the ten men who kindly do her heavy lifting.

"This is my wing," Feyd quietly explains as they step out of the third elevator. They must be quite at the top of the pyramid shaped building by now. She nods, quite relieved that she will be living close to Feyd. "My suite is right next door."

The corridor is black and austere, walls made of bulky, thick plastic panels, intersected every now and then by slender windows that give way to the view of grey citiscape and factories as far as the eye can see. 'It's not that different from home', she tries to keep the creeping, crawling dread at bay.

The ten helpers turn into a room which opens to Feyd's hand tapping a panel on the wall.

"Over there, right in the sun is perfect, please. Thank you! Oh- Careful please!"

With a loud clang the cryo pod is set on the ground in a patch of color-stealing sunlight that slants through the window. The helpers say nothing, merely salute and scurry away in a tight line when Feyd jerks his head. "Thank you!" She calls after them again.

That is one less worry. Exhaling loudly, she sits down right on top of the sarcophagus, unbothered for now by the monochromatic light. Under the confines of her gown, she has been shaking the entire time. The door whirrs shut and they are alone. Finally alone. Feyd stands in front of her, hands clutched in front of his pelvis.

"You don't need to say thank you to the slaves."

"The…? Oh." The corners of her mouth twitch downwards and she draws up her shoulders, pulling her little coffer in her lap.

What a horrible place to be. The only women she has seen so far haven't even looked at her, standing behind the Baron with their faces turned to the ground.

What a horrible place to be a woman.

"Do you know who that man was, in the audience chamber?" Feyd cannot keep himself from asking any longer. She saw his uncle. Knows what he did to him. Somehow, his own shame weighs a millionfold now and Feyd wants to crawl out of his own skin, so she won't have to touch the same body his uncle has touched.

Her attention snaps back to Feyd. "What?" She is briefly perplexed. "You mean… The Baron?"

"Yes. You know that's my uncle I've told you about, right? My uncle is the Baron."

She sits dumbstruck on her cryo pod, frozen before heat fills her face and bile gathers in her throat. She has never been so ashamed in her entire life.

"Oh shit, I-, I assumed the Baron is your father, because of the last name." Feyd had never mentioned his uncle's rank, nor had the Bene Gesserit deemed it necessary to inform her about their family relations. And why would they, assuming the relic is well-informed about the man from her dreams. "I'm so sorry, oh God- Feyd…"

Feyd is so stupidly relieved, he could cry. Looking to the side, he blinks the tears away, fighting the urge to sink his blade into his own flesh to stop the onslaught on his eyes.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," she mumbles again and abandons her coffer and sarcophagus to wrap her arms around Feyd's middle without thinking about it too long. "Please forgive me."

Perhaps the reverend mother was right. Perhaps she is of lesser intelligence for favoring science over politics. After learning that her Feyd lives now, she had meant to study House Harkonnen until her departure, but had gotten lost in the physics of the three-dimensional incarnation of the Holtzman Effect which allows to fold space at the quantum level and enables faster-than-light travel with the aid of human computers.

Feyd's arms curl tightly around her back, nose buried in her shoulder, pressing her against his earthly prison so she can deliver him from evil.. How stupid he was to bring her here into the devil's den, where she is the easiest target one could possibly make.

"Nothing to forgive…" He wants to call her his darling, his beloved, and even more importantly finally verbally declare his love for her that's been like a wild, scared animal sitting in a cage all the years, but a heavy shyness ties his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Without the protection of the cage, what if this animal will be slain? What if it will slay itself?

I had been hungry, all the Years – My Noon had Come – to dine – I trembling drew the Table near – And touched the Curious Wine … - I had been hungry, all the Years by Emily Dickinson, 1891

A/N: Feyd: I've literally never had a loving interaction irl in my entire life and I'm terrified, but this is my woman🥺

FMC: I'm literally on a black and white planet full of space Nazis, my man is one of them and I'm terrified, but this is my man🥺

TAG LIST: @welliah, @nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @charmingballoon, @sebastianswallows, @minedofmoria, @flower-frog (I'm so sowwy, the tags are broken and I don't know how to fix them ;-;)

Do let me know if u want me to tag u 👉👈

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lookinghalfacorpse · 6 months ago

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long overdue cdream seizure drabble for @icecreamvi. dream is finally healthy enough to fight again, but seizures still hit at inopportune times.

/dsmp /rp

It was good to see Dream fighting again.

In all fairness, this fight in particular was a bit annoying. Technoblade and Dream were on their way back home after some errands when they were ambushed in the forest. Techno learned over the years that people who got lost in that enchanted forest, designed by the Goddess of Death to disorient and confuse, grew desperate quickly. They were little more than petty thieves, but even stray dogs are dangerous when they're hungry.

And their archer was infuriating.

Dream raised his shield a bit above his head, stopping an arrow before it landed in Techno's shoulderblade. With his shield occupied, Dream held his opponent at bay while blocking with his axe. "You couldn't afford to watch your back a bit more?" He joked.

"Eh," Techno replied. He was more interested in tossing one of the swordsmen into a tree. Humans are too easy to throw around.

Dream wasn't anywhere close to his former strength, but he could hold his own in battle, and he still overpowered most opponents. It was impressive to watch. He was quick and clever, and he knew how to use his bodyweight as a source of power, even after all the weight he lost. He was quick to disarm the swordsman that opposed him, and while the poor soul scrambled back to his feet and scanned around him for options, Dream stepped forward and smoothly raised his axe above his head--

--when suddenly his shoulder shuddered, and the axe dropped to the snow.

Dream gasped as air was forced out of his lungs, a hand raising to his chest in panic. Techno was familiar with the warning signs of a seizure. He's helped Dream endure countless seizures, both in the Vault and outside of it. He heard the creak of the archer's bow and bolted over to Dream just in time to guard him from an arrow. Instead of landing in Dream's skull, it sunk deep into Techno's mid-back.

Techno tried not to react to the sting. "Hey, Dream--"

Dream made a pained sound as the seizure took hold, his knees giving out and his shoulders spasming. His right shoulder twisted backwards while the left trembled uncontrollably. He fell fully into Techno's arms, his moans giving way to silence as he ran out of breath.

A second arrow hit Techno's shoulder. A third near the base of his neck. The swordsman, seeing his opening, lunged towards his blade.

They needed to run.

Techno gathered Dream's body in his arms and sprinted for the forest. With any luck, its disorienting effects could lend them an advantage. Dream's hands clawed into the fabric of his shirt, pulling it at odd, uncomfortable angles. Techno had to keep adjusting his grip as the young man squirmed and seized, desperate not to hold him too tightly and risk hurting him.

As soon as he couldn't hear arrows fly anymore, Techno ducked behind a large tree and set Dream on the ground, hunching his body protectively over him. If that damn archer found them again, he'd see nothing but piglin.

"Breathe through it," Techno instructed, his own breath heavy from the exertion.

Dream met his eyes. Sometimes he seemed lucid throughout the seizure while other times he seemed more unconscious. This time, his gaze was watery and heartbroken, but intelligent. "Te-- Tech-- Tech--"

"I said breathe, not talk, nerd." Techno placed a hand on Dream's shoulder, rubbing along the fabric of his jacket slowly. "Relax."

Fully encompassed by Technoblade's body, half-buried in snow, and surrendering to a seizure, Dream looked so small.

"You're--bleeding--" Dream coughed, his voice strained as his jaw tightened.

"And you're seizin'. I'd say we're both doin' pretty great."

"I'm--"

"Dream. Hush."

"I'm--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorr--"

Techno bowed his head until their foreheads touched, letting his eyes fall closed. They'd ride this out together, like they always did.

"--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

#drabbles #dreblr #rivalsduo #rivalsblr #techno taking arrows for his friends is special to me

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travelingthief · 1 year ago

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Hermes Offerings and Devotions

Offerings

Keys

Dice

Playing cards

Coins

Rocks/pebbles

Playing jacks (UPG)

Bouncy balls (UPG)

Lucky charms (Cereal)

Rabbit's foot

Horse shoe

Magic 8 ball

Coffee

Energy drinks

Herms

Road trip snacks (I like Hostess donuts)

Airplanes/trains/cars imagery

Foreign/new foods

Trail mix

Peanut m&ms (UPG)

Turtles

Lyres/string instruments

Sandals/shoes/running shoes

Journals

Camping gear

Survival gear, like multitools, fire starters, first aid kits etc.

Pens/pencils

Small (stolen) trinkets

Language dictionaries

Work out gear

Panpipes

Postcards

Letters

Mail

Stamps

Envelopes

Zodiac signs

Sheep/goats

Car parts

Backpacks/drawstring bags/bags

Crocos

Sticks

Saffron

Sticks

Board games (UPG)

Dominos (UPG)

Pick up sticks (UPG)

Books

Cups

Scales

Dream journals

Graveyard dirt

Cookie fortunes

Foreign money

$2 Bills

Dollar coins

Marbles

Travel souvenirs

Bikes/skateboards/skate

Old licenses/IDs

Sport trophies/jerseys/jackets/gear

Wings/feathers

Letters/numbers

Video games

Magic kits

Oranges/Lemons (UPG)

Devotional Acts

Write letters

Go for walks

Run

Road trips

Learn about alchemy, astrology, lucid dreaming/astral travel, astronomy, etc.

Learn basic car maintenance (change a tire, jump a car, change air filter, check oil etc.)

Give money/socks/cigarettes/water/food to panhandlers

Go talk to a panhandler and keep them company for a bit. I usually smoke a cigarette with them (only time I smoke) and just chat.

Pranks

Public speaking

Tip well

Stargazing

Geocaching

Learn new language

Learn ASL

Work out

Drive safely and predictably

Use your blinker fools

Bike/skate

Clean your car

Make a travel altar

Get a passport

Travel

Practice keyboarding

Have a penpal

Train your voice

Magic tricks

Check your mail/email regularly

Low risk gambling, like lotto tickets

Riskier gambling if you're mindful of it

Make sigils

Have a race

Play a tag

Be nice to wait staff

Play sports

Make maps of trails near you

Make maps of whatever you want

Play uke/string instruments

Make herms

Carpool

Uphold confidentiality

Coin tricks

Be a reliable worker

Thrifting/yard saling

Dumpster diving

Making trades and barters

Help look for missing people/pets

#hermes #i wanted to make another one because my last one isn't quite my style anymore #hermes worship #hermes offering #hellenic polytheism #helpol #hellenic pantheon #greek gods #paganism #pagan #hellenic gods #hellenic paganism #witchblr #hermes devotion #hermes deity

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theminecraftbee · 10 months ago

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Joel stares at the ceiling. It’s sure a hospital ceiling alright. Grey tiles, fluorescent lights, a steady beep in the background. Great. He’s in the hospital his first day in town. He’s sure that bodes well for the future of his time in Hermiton, truly. What had he been saying to himself before he arrived? That he just had to survive one more year of high school and then he could go be a hermit in the woods or at least pass his exams to get that architecture degree he used to dream about.

“Oh, you’re awake! You’re the last to wake up. It’s just exhaustion, don’t worry. That always happens the first few times you summon your Persona. Your body gets used to it and stops trying to force you into the ground the moment you enter Real Space again eventually.”

He tries very hard not to groan out loud. If he doesn’t move or make any noise, maybe the weird guy won’t notice he’s awake. Maybe he’ll go away and like, whatever adult in town is currently supposed to be in charge of him will show up and sign some paperwork and Joel can leave.

There’s a long, awkward silence.

“You know, I can tell you’re awake. I already said so,” the stranger says.

“Shut up, I’m trying to make you go away,” Joel says.

The stranger snorts. “What, you don’t want information on your two friends you apparently risked your life to save?”

Joel… would kind of like that information, actually, but he’s not just going to say so.

“It’s not like I know them. I’ve been here five days. Idiot,” Joel says.

“I don’t know. Seems a lot like you know them,” the stranger says. “You’ll probably get to know them even more soon, after we do an assessment to make sure it’s safe for you all to enter Altered Space. It’s just been me and Scar for so long, I didn’t think other Persona users would ever show up!”

“What,” Joel says. “I don’t believe in Personas. They’re stupid. I was lucid dreaming. This is stupid.”

“Can’t you still hear yours? I think I’d go insane if I stopped.”

Yes.

“No.”

“Well then, maybe you’re the weak one. A strong Persona user would definitely still hear their Persona,” the stranger says, and look man, Joel doesn’t want to be doing this, but he can’t let ‘maybe you’re the weak one’ stand. It’s a matter of honor. Of pride.

“No, buzz off. I’m the strong one. I didn’t just awaken Pygmalion, I kicked ass using Pygmalion. Stupid Skizz and Impulse passed out immediately. And I was the only one who knew how to get to Skizz so, so, screw you, I’m super strong with your fake brain ghost thing.”

The stranger is quiet for a long moment. “Did you say you knew how to get to Skizz?”

“Yeah you just follow the evil butterflies. You should know, since you’re crazy,” Joel says.

“Oh my god,” the stranger says. “Oh my god. This changes everything.”

Something sinks in Joel’s stomach. “Wait, what does that—”

“I have to go tell Mr. Hills. Meet us when you get out of here, a doctor should let you out once you’re awake! But I have to tell him! Being able to preemptively find entrances to Altered Space! Fighting off a shadow and rescuing people your first time summoning a Persona! Me and Scar won’t have to be alone anymore!”

“No, I, uh, was lying, stop that,” Joel says unconvincingly.

“See you!” the stranger says.

“You forgot to tell me what happened to Skizz,” Joel says, finally sitting up to try to stop the stranger, but it’s too late. He’s already gone. Joel stares blankly after the space where he’d once been.

“You also forgot to tell me your name, you moron,” Joel says weakly.

He buries his head in his hands, breathes, and calls the nurse. If his strange classmate isn’t going to tell him what’s actually happening, then Joel’s going to find out for himself.

(Power throbs beneath a scar on his hand. A voice whispers agreeing remarks in the back of his head. He has way too many aches and pangs for last night—or, well, however many nights ago it was now—to be fake. But for now, he just wants to know Skizz is okay and go back to his stupid apartment and pretend none of this happened. Is that too much to ask?)

#smallishsona au #a bee fic #joel smallishbeans #grian #(not named but he’s the other persona user here)#I have decided I am going to write various ficlets for this au. click on the au tag to go find the first few posts if you’re confused.#let’s get this thing started with: joel wakes up in the hospital after his first battle and IMMEDIATELY regrets everything

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pretzel-box · 2 months ago

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Tags: Established Relationship, Slight Fluff, Domestic Life Style, Hallucinations, Lucid Dreaming, Paranoia and Angst. Also a tiny bit of violence.

Words: 2,6k

The smell of freshly prepared pancakes wafted through the house, mingling with the divine aroma of coffee and blueberry muffins. It was breakfast time—the most important meal of the day, essential for keeping the mind sharp and the body energized.

This was one of the rare occasions Sebastian experienced such a meal, seated at a fine mahogany table set with golden cutlery and a plate of his own. He squeezed himself into the cramped living space, just large enough to fit him halfway comfortably, though his tail still extended into the living room. The golden utensils felt weightless in his hand, the fork seeming almost comically small as he picked it up. He paused, glancing up.

The clock with its silvery frame, hanging on the wall, ticked softly, showing 11:11 AM. A bit late for breakfast, Sebastian thought.

Then you stepped into the kitchen, wearing a comfortable ocean-blue apron with a bird pattern on the front. You held a small kitchen knife between your fingers, ready to slice the fresh vegetables you must have just picked up.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you hummed, your voice so sweet it almost rivaled the sugar-coated food on the table.

He could swear, his heart just skipped a beat. It was followed by a kiss on his neck, right between his shoulder.

It only took three things: breakfast, the small comforts scattered around the room, and you, to remind him that he was safe now—living in your home until you both could afford something bigger. Somehow, you two always managed.

The radio crackled to life, filling the space with soft background noise, just like you always preferred during breakfast.

And then, you ate together.

The morning sun streamed through the windows as you shared a quiet breakfast. Sebastian ate slowly, savoring each bite, though still not entirely used to the normalcy of it all. You chatted between bites, your laughter occasionally filling the air, though he remained mostly quiet, content just listening to your voice.

After breakfast, the day unfolded in its familiar routine. Sebastian took to the chores without needing to be asked. He collected the dishes and brought them to the sink, the sound of running water filling the kitchen as he carefully scrubbed each plate and cup. His hands moved methodically, enjoying the repetition of the task. There was something satisfying about watching the bubbles form and then disappear, the dishes gleaming clean beneath his fingers.

Once the dishes were done, he moved to sweep and mop the floor, his tail brushing softly against the corners of the room as he worked. It was something he excelled at—cleaning. Each stroke of the mop was deliberate, leaving the floor spotless and gleaming under the light. He took his time, making sure no spot was missed. The rhythm of his movements was almost therapeutic, grounding him in the routine you had created together.

While you kept him from venturing outside due to the risk of running into too many people, Sebastian didn’t mind. He found comfort in the quiet tasks around the house, feeling useful in a way that kept him from thinking too much. Watering the plants was next. He carried the small watering can through the house, carefully tending to each plant you had nurtured. He had learned their schedules—when each one needed a bit more or less water, and which ones preferred more sunlight. The leaves glistened with droplets by the time he finished, the greenery adding life to the small space.

Meanwhile, you busied yourself with tasks outside. From the window, he could see you trimming the bushes with a precision that matched his own care inside. The flowers you had planted were in full bloom, their vibrant colors adding a lively contrast to the house's neutral tones. He watched as you watered them, your apron fluttering lightly in the breeze, your movements as fluid as his own.

You hung laundry out to dry, each piece flapping gently in the wind. Occasionally, you'd glance back toward the window, offering him a soft smile, which he always returned with a quiet nod. He knew you handled the outside tasks because it was easier that way, avoiding the complications of him being seen. And though he longed to be outside with you, to feel the sun on his skin, he understood. It was safer this way, and he was grateful for the life you had created together, even if it was within the confines of your small home.

By the time you returned from shopping, arms full of groceries, Sebastian had already finished his tasks for the day. The house was spotless, the plants were watered, and everything felt in order. You gave him a playful look, shaking your head as he reached out to help with the bags.

“I’ve got it,” you said with a grin, though he still managed to take a few from your hands. Together, you put away the groceries, slipping back into the easy rhythm you had both grown accustomed to, a dance of quiet understanding.

Though your space was small, and the outside world seemed just out of reach, there was a sense of peace here. You two managed. You always did.

Then you two would sleep, only to wake up for the next day.

Sebastian rubbed his eyes, still groggy, but the enticing smell of fresh pancakes, his favorite blend of coffee, and blueberry muffins quickly pulled him from sleep. A smile crept onto his face as he peeked into the kitchen, his heart light at the sight of the familiar setup. Though you weren’t in sight yet, his attention was drawn to his seat at the table, where golden cutlery and his own plate waited for him. The clock on the wall ticked softly, showing 11:11, the rhythmic sound almost lulling him into a daydream.

Just then, you appeared, breaking the spell. You walked into the kitchen with a soft smile, wearing that blue apron with little birds, carrying a basket full of fresh fruits. The sight of you always made him feel at home, a reminder of the routine you'd built together. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, you always said, and adding healthy fruits made it all the better.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted sweetly, your voice as warm as the smell of pancakes in the air. Then his kiss followed, placed on his skin between the neck and the shoulder. After that, you moved with practiced ease, grabbing a kitchen knife and quickly slicing the fruits into neat pieces, your hands steady as you filled a bowl with the colorful mixture.

You placed the bowl in front of Sebastian, the freshly cut fruit adding to the already enticing spread on the table. He mumbled a quiet thank you, still a little sleepy but content. As you turned to flick on the radio, the soft hum of music filled the room, adding that comforting background noise you always preferred during meals.

After breakfast, the day moved into its usual rhythm. Sebastian quietly took to his chores, starting with the dishes. As he reached for the sponge, he noticed the water was cold, the warmth from earlier long gone. He frowned slightly but didn’t complain, plunging his hands into the chilly water, the suds forming weakly as he scrubbed each plate. His fingers worked with precision, despite the cold bite of the water, and the familiar routine grounded him.

Once the dishes were neatly stacked to dry, he moved to the floors. There were wet spots scattered around the house, remnants of water splashes and humidity. He picked up the mop and began moving it across the floor, the soft swish of the mop head the only sound breaking the quiet. The floor seemed more slippery today, perhaps from the condensation that clung to the windows or the moisture that had snuck in overnight. Sebastian worked with steady focus, making sure each corner was spotless, soaking up every last drop of water before it could cause any accidents.

As he mopped away the dampness, he glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of you outside, tending to the garden. The sound of the radio played faintly in the background, still giving the house that soft, comforting hum. You were hanging laundry now, the colorful clothes flapping gently in the breeze. You looked peaceful, and even from inside, Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Once the floor was dry and gleaming, Sebastian set the mop aside. He wiped his hands on a nearby towel, satisfied with the way the house was starting to feel in order again. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was something he could do to help. He couldn’t go outside like you did—too many people, too many risks—but here, within these four walls, he could contribute. And that was enough for now.

The day had slipped by quickly, leaving Sebastian to drift into sleep beside you, only to be gently pulled from his dreams the next morning by the familiar scent of freshly prepared pancakes and coffee. And then, that unmistakable divine aroma of blueberry muffins. It never failed to get him out of bed.

In an instant, he found himself moving toward the kitchen, eyes lighting up as he admired the spread of food on the table. Right there, next to his plate, the golden cutlery gleamed in the soft morning light. Breakfast was easily one of his favorite parts of the day—not just for the food, but for the way it filled him with energy and set the tone for the rest of the day. More than anything, it was because he got to share that peaceful moment with you.

The clock on the wall showed 11:11, ticking softly in the background. The rhythmic sound was almost hypnotic, but before he could fall into another daydream, you entered the room. You wore your usual blue apron with the birds, a familiar sight that always brought a sense of comfort. This time, you held a basket full of fresh meat, setting it down near the kitchen knife.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you greeted with a soft smile, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his skin. It was the kind of gentle affection that made his mornings brighter. "I picked up some meat for lunch—it was on sale."

Before sitting down, you walked over and turned on the radio, filling the room with a soothing background melody. With the quiet music accompanying your soft conversation, the two of you sat down to eat. You shared small talk, laughter filling the space as naturally as the morning sunlight.

When breakfast ended, it was time to tackle the day’s tasks once again, but those moments spent together over the meal made everything else feel lighter, even the inevitable chores that followed.

After breakfast, Sebastian moved to the kitchen to start his usual chores. The house was quiet except for the low hum of the radio in the background. He turned on the faucet to wash the dishes, expecting the familiar warmth, but the water was cold again, colder than it should be. His fingers tingled as he scrubbed the plates, the icy water making the task feel more tedious than usual. He couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the rhythm of cleaning.

Once the dishes were done, he grabbed the mop and made his way around the house. His eyes caught something unusual—dark red liquid pooled in scattered patches across the floor, smeared slightly as though it had been dragged by something. His heart skipped a beat, but he told himself it was probably nothing. Maybe it was just juice, or some spilled wine from the night before, though neither of you had drunk anything like that recently.

He moved quickly, mopping away the dark stains, but the uneasy feeling clung to him, growing heavier with each stroke of the mop. The house felt darker than usual. The curtains were all drawn, casting deep shadows across the room. He hesitated for a moment before stepping toward the nearest window. The thick fabric of the curtains felt unnaturally heavy as he pulled them open.

Instead of the familiar view of the garden outside, Sebastian was met with a scene that made his blood run cold. On the other side of the glass was a dimly lit hall, stretching far into the distance, filled with looming submarines and figures in hazmat suits. The people moved methodically, their faces obscured by the opaque visors of their suits. They didn’t seem to notice him, but the sight alone was enough to make his heart race.

For a moment, Sebastian stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t his home. Panic welled up inside him, and without thinking, he quickly let go of the curtains, letting them fall back into place. He turned around, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Sebastian’s head shot up, startled. His gaze locked onto you standing at the entrance to the kitchen. You were wearing that familiar blue apron, but something was wrong. The little birds that used to adorn it were gone, replaced by the stark, cold logo of Urbanshade sitting squarely on your chest. In your hand, you wielded a kitchen knife, casually slicing through a lump of white flesh.

“Breakfast is ready, and you're just standing there... Still spooked by a nightmare?” you asked, your tone sweet but unnervingly calm.

His heart pounded in his chest as he moved closer to you, his feet almost betraying him, as if they were drawn forward by some invisible force. You gently pulled him into the kitchen, guiding him to his usual seat. The cutlery was silver this time, not gold like it had been before, but it still rested beside his plate, polished and perfect. The table was covered in food that smelled familiar and warm—pancakes, coffee, blueberry muffins—but the air felt off.

You sat down across from him after turning on the radio, filling the silence with faint static. His eyes flicked to the clock. 11:11. A bit late for breakfast, isn't it?

He reached for a muffin, the warmth of the room doing little to calm the eerie chill that crept up his spine. Lifting it to his mouth, he took a bite, expecting the comforting taste of blueberries. Instead, his mouth filled with something cold, tasteless, and wrong. The texture wasn’t soft or sweet, but rubbery.

He glanced down in horror. The muffin was gone. In its place was the same lump of white flesh you had been cutting earlier. Panic surged through him, and he gagged, dropping it instantly. Without thinking, he jumped up, rushing to the sink, bile rising in his throat.

“Not tasty?” Your voice was right behind him now, soft and teasing. “I baked them with love. Or maybe you're just upset I haven’t given you your good morning kiss?”

His hands gripped the edge of the sink as he fought to steady his breathing. He could hear your footsteps, soft but deliberate. Before he could react, you were behind him, leaning in. Your fingers slid through his hair, your touch cold, freezing even. Your lips brushed against the back of his neck, sending a shiver through his entire body.

Then, without warning, you sank your teeth into his flesh.

Sebastian jolted awake, his body trembling. He wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. He was lying on a bed of wet, glowing moss, his breath ragged as he blinked, trying to get his bearings. The familiar, sterile walls of that cursed underwater facility surrounded him. His hand instinctively went to his neck, feeling the tender, raw spot where the teeth had sunk in, the memory of the pain still fresh.

In the distance, he heard footsteps—a wall dweller, scurrying away from him, the sound echoing through the halls. He sat up, the realization sinking in. Had that thing really taken a bite out of him?

Sebastian took a mental note. Staying in the moss for too long wasn’t healthy.

#sebastian solace #roblox pressure #pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure x reader

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chiliyue-archived · 1 year ago

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Self care

↬dressing his wounds/scars

includes; dazai x gn!reader

entry; ❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

[Event Navi | M.list] | [Bsd M.List] ♡

dazai wanted to chagrin.

the scars littering his arms gawk back at him tauntingly, provoking a surge of memories to consume him in a numbing pulp. but it was hard to remain wrap in his own demons, not when he felt compelled to copy the smile plaster on your lips. it was the very one he came to be smitten over.

you were seated in his lap, the bathroom too tiny to accommodate the pair of you but he hardly seemed dejected by it. if anything, a grin began to play on his lips when you held onto his shoulders for support, shifting until you got a good angle to work with. " hold still."

he nods, waiting patiently as you brush your lips on his nose and reel away. he stops the urge to bring you back, finding content in just having you close with a hand settling on your back.

he does revel at the glances you steal from him - attention divided between dressing the molded wounds and risking a look. he relishes in the way you display a lift in your lips whenever you catch his familiar brown orbs - only for him to poke your cheeks before you could stray too far from your adjective. and when you went to brush aside the loose hairs that tickle your forehead, his hand was already in the process of tucking it behind your ear for you. his fingers linger a second longer each time - reluctance growing like a tide before holding onto your shoulder.

" my own personal nurse," he sighs, leaning close enough to press his lips on some part of you. the laugh you sent him was infectious.

he found it terribly even cuter, however, how your face became scrunched up as you handle the materials with foucs or when the putrid waft of antiseptic permeated your cramped bathroom. he was sure to kiss the pinched area whenever he saw the crease form, brightening in how it disappears. but internally he prays this wasn't the work of a lucid dream.

the hands on his face tell him otherwise, your thumb trailing the apples of his cheeks and reminding him that you're right there with him.

it was almost easy to forget how vulnerable he was setting himself up to be. almost.

" i'm gonna start."

the grin that found itself on his lips when you first cuddled up nearly fades as soon as you start fiddling with the gauze in your fingers, peeling back his shield and revealing flesh that has been long voided of light. it was instead replace with an anticipatory flutter in his heart, trompering in his sternum as though ero's own blessing was bestowed upon him in that moment.

" does this hurt?" he watched as you carefully ran your fingers over the scars - almost ghostly in its approach.

"it doesn't," he admitted.

"perfect."

and for the first time in so long, skin that has been starved of human touch became filled with vitality again. he wanted to shudder at the exposure, and he felt as though your reassuring rubs were the only thing keeping him from running away. he was so accustomed to patching himself up that it almost felt unreal to how welcoming your touch was.

even when he supposedly got use to it, he still has to suppress the urge to recoil when you feather against him for nth time, shivers riveting along with his spine and eyes squeezing shut.

your hands were so much softer than his, he mentally notes. he couldn't help but be mildly entranced when you handle the material with a steadiness unmatched to his own. you were treating him far better than he has ever and will presumably ever treat himself.

" you're getting distracted." he remarks with a poke to your forehead when he catches you staring again. it was futile to resist the twitch in his mouth that when you bat your eyelashes at him, an unsullied face gleaming unapologetically.

"sorry, you're just handsome." he swallows the lump in his throat but he was powerless to subdue the warmth that flickers in his chest cavity, meandering to the other cold parts in his body.

a form of silence furnishes the bathroom as you coil the new gauze around his arms, mindful to not produce any discomfort. it takes everything in his willpower to not shake when you lean down to capture the covered area in a kiss.

"do you find me handsome with these scars?"

dazai finds himself sucking in a breath when you smile against his second skin. "even more so."

"not many would agree with you."

he blinks when you suddenly shift the limb in your hands, sparing only a quick glance at him as you shuffle closer. and you really surprised him this time. very quickly, his pensive gaze dissipates with a shiver trembling along his body, fingers flexing in your grasp when you capture his knuckles this time in a kiss.

he swore he felt the breath in his throat was about to squeeze away, brain too hazy to recognize anything else. his stupor was accentuated when you blinked at him, irses meeting his own through your eyelashes.

" they're wrong."

"you're so certain?" you nod, moving to kiss the corner of his mouth.

in an effort to garner control the situation, he hand slips to clasp your chin gently, maneuvering your head until your lips met. you savor the way his breath prickles your lower lip, something akin to a breathy hum emulating from him. it's timbre ricochet along from the chaste kiss, jolting your nerves.

you're too engrossed in the exchange to notice the way his fingers weaved into your palm properly, exposed wrist meeting yours. he lets out a sigh as he felt the pulse echo against his, rhythm growing in sync to each other perpetually.

when he withdrew, he didn't let you get too far, a hand resting on your nape and keeping in proximity. his pinky and thumb played with baby hairs, lazy motions in contrast to his palpitating nerves. he was close enough to rest his forehead on yours, eyes peering down to watch you dress the rest of him.

"now, just relax and let me take care of you. okay?"

"okay." you saw him smile in the corner of your eyes, paired with a squeeze of your hand. you couldn't help but reciprocate the same gesture, and once again, the same tickling came to fill his barren husk. he smiles, reaching out to sweep your loose strands aside when it came to sweep over your eyes again but he stills when you capture the limb in your hand. he blinks hard as you adjoin it to your lips, placing a butterfly kiss on each pad.

"you have the most beautiful hands and fingers." he freezes knowing if he wasn't cautious he could reach the cusp of breaking down at any moment. "i could hold your hands forever."

as though proving your point you offer him a tight squeeze - but inwardly the squeezing of his chest was far more pronounce.

he attempts to collect himself with an exaggerated breath. "you're too good for me," he whispers. "i might get addicted to this."

your lips brush on his forehead and he almost shakes, unable to do nothing more than recline into you until it was just impossible.

"good" you hum. "you're also very pretty."

for the first time since he entered the bathroom, a swatch of red began to streak his cheeks. it certainly felt inevitable now with your ceasless antics, not that he didn't complain - the guilty and almost shaky grin that came to his lips was telling of that. notably; it was absent of the mischievous gleam that commonly orbits him; instead, it spoke both of his gratitude and effervescent affections that brew rampant the more you indulge him.

dazai allows his head to fall forward; forehead meeting your collarbone. his fanning breath reminds you of his presence, even when he grows silent as you curl the bandges into its proper orientation. he angles his head just enough for his ear to rest right over your chest.

you could barely hear the words that left him, voice just loud enough to cut the calming ambiance. "you're pretty too."

the thrum of your heart echoing in his lobe, pair with the heedful glides of your hands reaches a form of pinnacle for him; weighing him down to the city of yokohama, in your shared tiny cramp bathroom and encompassing care, covering him with a duvet so thick he could feel his eyes grow heavy.

but he wonders if you knew just how heavy his heart was for you.

this was really out of my comfort zone and style but I really like it :) giving all lowercase a try ! i like how causal it feels

anyways, i have a lot of dazai works brewing (and some tecchou :>)

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandis

be added or removed here ♡

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd scenarios #bsd fluff #dazai fluff #osamu dazai x reader #dazai imagines #bsd imagines #dazai x you #bsd x you

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