Norae was always... resistant to having a doll. Her covenmates tell her about theirs like they're little slave-things, always wandering around your house and doing things you should be doing on your own. It's creepy, and (she would never say this out loud) enabling laziness.
But as her power grows, so does her manor. She begins noticing hallways stretching out longer than they once did, with protrusions shaped like doorknobs emerging from the walls. There's already a set of stairs leading uselessly into the ceiling, no doubt where the second story will begin to grow.
The effort she put into keeping things in order used to be paltry for a witch as powerful as her, but she's starting to get annoyed by the distractions. She is growing tired of pruning new furniture like weeds.
She knows nothing of clockwork, and she never developed her skills in magical dollcraft for obvious reasons. But she will sometimes catch sight of a stray, trying to find purpose in picking the wild berries just beyond her yard. She wonders if she'll be helpful enough, before quietly correcting herself and wondering if it will be helpful enough.
She told her coven how she was thinking about leaving a sort of trap for it, a cup of tea under a cardboard box held up with a stick, only half serious. Regardless, they told her that dolls are much more trusting and docile than she was assuming, and that she simply needed to approach and talk to it.
She waited with a book, just on the edges of her property. The wide brim of her hat helped block the glare of the sun as she'd occasionally look off through the trees. Soon, it came walking past her unceremoniously, seeming as if it's trying to ignore her. It's walking to the bush. There's already a few ripe berries piled neatly in its hand.
It was made with porcelain, with a more tattered version of the maid dress they all seem to wear, walking with just as much rigidity and poise. But this is the first doll she's seen with a wind-up key. It slowly turned just a few degrees for every moment that passed. She could see a little rope tied to one of the sides, presumably so that one could wind it on her own.
"Excuse me? ...Doll?" Just as she starts speaking, it perks up, looking ready to leap into action. "Y... yes, Miss?" Its voice is timid, but eager.
"Would you like to, uh..." She hesitates for a moment, feeling ridiculous. This is the first time she's had to say something like this out loud. "Belong to me? I have tea."
It gasps. "Yes! Oh, yes, thank you Miss!" She runs up to the witch as if to give her a hug, only to skitter to a last-second stop just in front of her and give a polite bow, with proper curtsy.
"Right. Um, follow me, then." She closes her book and begins walking back to her door, her movements awkward as the doll followed close behind. She can't stop looking back at it, at its bizarrely serene face and excited steps. "So, do you have a name?"
"This one's old witch called it Lullaby, Miss!" It seems so happy to say.
"That's... still your name then, I think."
"Yay! Thank you Miss!"
. . . . .
Colloquially, the word "doll" is often used to describe any construct that obeys a witch, with considerable variation thereupon. Perhaps the most infamous among these variants in classification is the combat doll. These ones can often be identified by their more metallic exterior, such that they can easily be confused for androids at first glance, but there also exists combat dolls that
"Excuse this one, Miss?" the thing knocks at the door to the witch's study. It lingers in the doorway, not wanting to intrude further.
Norae tries to stifle a sigh of annoyance as she turns away from her book. "Yes, Lullaby?" She just noticed that her its hair just a little dishevelled from working, but it's not nearly as matted and gnarled as it was earlier today. She's glad it looks so much more... healthy.
"This one has finished sweeping the first floor, Miss!" The doll smiled, clearly proud of herself. The witch is caught in her own head for only a moment, ruminating on owning someone... something so close to a human. "What would you like it to do next?"
"You..." it takes her a moment to stifle her shock. She's read enough to know that such a task is to be expected from dolls, but it still seemed to work so hard so fast. "Then you've completed your chores. Treat yourself to some tea." She tells it matter-of-factly and turns back to her book, trying to match the professionalism of her literature.
"But, Miss!" The doll says. Norae turns back, and sees the doll has a very human, very concerned look. "This one has barely worked today! Would you like it to scrub the floors as well? Or organize your bookshelf? It can cook for you, Miss!"
"Hey, calm down, it's alright." The doll's owner tries to sound reassuring, as one would to a friend. "I don't know how your last witch did it, but I don't want to overwork you. Do you like to read? I have a library."
The doll tried to swallow its apprehensive look. "This one will read for you, Miss." It nods dutifully and runs along.
That... went well, she thinks. She understands that dolls are... eager, to a certain degree, but she's sincere about not wanting to exhaust the poor girl thing. She also thinks about her own autonomy, and how listless she'd feel if left without her own chores.
. . . . .
Norae lets out a bored sigh as she watched the vegetables sizzle in their pan. She tries to stir them around, spreading them evenly in the oil, but it's more to entertain herself than to properly cook.
She hears Lullaby quickly, yet still with a polite reservation, hurry up the stairs.
"Miss!" It calls out, drowning out its footsteps before it turns the corner. As it emerges into the kitchen, it looks... mortified. "It's so sorry, let this one, good dolls should-"
"Lullaby, it's okay!" She holds the frying pan up, higher than the doll can reach. "You don't have to do everything for me just because you're a doll."
"But, Miss, this one wants to!" It looks desperate and pleading. "Please, Miss, you've been so nice, and this-"
"Hey, calm down, there's no need for that." Norae tries to sound reassuring. She sets the pan down and turns to give Lullaby her full attention, kneeling to match her its eye level and placing a hand on its shoulder. "I know you want to help, but I enjoy being able to take care of myself, too. You already do plenty, and you should be proud of that."
The doll trembles, only as much as its docility will allow. "Yes Miss, Thank you Miss." After a quick bow, it gets out of Miss's way, leaving her to return to her monotonous stove-watching.
Lullaby takes a seat on Miss's couch. eyes forward and hands on its lap. It's so comfortable, the soft cushioning much more enveloping that the stumps it was used to sitting on. It tries to find a place to rest its eyes. On Miss's roaring fire, magically permeating a tender warmth through the room? On the door to the maid's quarters, where Miss had cleaned it and told it all it had to know? On Miss's beautiful and intricate grandfather clock, which it is letting collect a thin layer of dust?
It shouldn't cry. Miss is being nice, after all.
. . . . .
The doll shakes itself from a stupor. It wasn't still; there was no comfort in its emptiness, just effortful restraint fading into a half-present miasma.
Norae gestures for it to face away, gently guiding its shoulders to face where she sat on the couch. "Lean forward, please."
"It's okay, Miss." The doll sounded groggy, words tumbling heavily out of its mouth. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
The witch leaned to the side, showing the sympathetic look she had on her face. "Why wouldn't I wind you up? It's no trouble at all, and... I can't just let you pass out."
Lullaby slowly, heavily, shook its head. It wanted to be polite, to word itself delicately and reserve itself, but its clockwork was moving too slowly to stop it before it spoke. "No, please. It's a bother. This one doesn't do enough, it's not worth it."
Miss places a hand on its shoulder. "Oh, Lullaby, no, that's not true at all. You do just as much as you need to."
"It's not enough." The doll rested its elbows on its knees, leaning forward and cupping its face in its hands. "Miss is so nice, and this one just... takes it all in without giving enough back. It feels so useless, and pathetic, and... i-it just wants to be helpful." Its voice falters just at the end, hitching into a repressed sob.
Norae felt a pang in her heart that deepened with every word. Of course, she's been such an idiot. She feels like a bum when she doesn't keep herself busy, how would a being purpose-made to be helpful feel? It finally dawns on her, what the extent of a doll's inhumanity means.
"I'm so sorry, I... had no idea you felt that way." There's a sincere sorrow in her voice, the doll hearing Miss's confidence drop for the first time. "I never meant to hurt you, I just didn't want to be too hard on you."
She placed a hand on her doll's back, careful to leave room for its key to turn. "From now on, you get to do whatever you like. Cooking, cleaning, anything. I might still make you take some breaks so I can do something myself, but I'll never leave you with nothing to do."
Lullaby slowly, hopefully, lifts its head to look at Miss. "This one doesn't want to make you do anything you don't want, Miss, it can-"
"Lullaby, if you do everything you can to never feel like this again, you'll make me the happiest witch in the world." She put on a reassuring smile.
Norae didn't have time to see the grin widening on her doll's face before it latched on for a hug. All it could say was thank you as its tears left wet marks on the witch's dress.
"I'm just happy that you're happy." Miss hugged back, making the doll feel more loved than it could remember. "Now let's get you wound up, you've got some dishes to do."
@tallmatcha kindly tagged me.
@no-braincells-inc @nullcanary @fenharael @scrawnytreedemon and anyone else on here who may have a WIP they wanna share :)
here is something from my singular attempt at a more light hearted fic.
“Would you like to tell me why you felt the need to break Head Preceptor Callium’s nose just outside my class where all of my students could see it?” Rogier was truly at a loss. D had been many things, but rash wasn’t typically one of them. Perhaps he could stand to be a bit more thoughtful or nuanced sometimes, but he’d never been prone to such violent outbursts before.
Maybe things had changed in the years they’d been apart. Well, of course they’d changed. Change was the only constant, after all. Evidence of that was glowering at him from behind a featureless golden mask made to appear as if it were peering out from the gaping maw of a lion. Silver and gold replaced by the red and gold of the New Order. “I found him disagreeable,” D answered.
Rogier waited for elaboration. None came. He pressed his lips together and kept his face passive enough, even if he wanted to shout at this idiot for the scene he’d caused. Half a lecture wasted quelling the wounded pride (and face) of one ex-lover, wrangling the stoic fury of the other. He almost wished Radahn had never given up his stranglehold on the stars so that fate would stop fucking with him. Of all the preceptors for D to run into in the hour or two he was here!
Maybe it was a tad self-involved to assume that he had been the reason for D punching the other man in the face, but with so little data, Rogier could hardly begin to extrapolate. The only point of commonality between the two was himself, but how likely was it that they’d spoken of him in such a brief space of time?
He changed tactics, hoping to put D at ease and draw something approaching an explanation out. He’d have to give it to the provost before long anyway. Callium would surely twist this into being his fault somehow, after all, and he would need to be prepared with a defense.
With his most condescending smile, he eyed the red feathery thing on D’s helm. “Nice plume, by the by.”
D was still rigid, and had not taken more than two steps into the room. “So I have been told.”
Rogier let the smile soften up, something more friendly. “The students have been tracking your company’s progress since you left Leyndell. They’re thrilled to see Knights of the Order in person. You could be very popular here, you know.”
Nothing for a moment. Then, “We don’t need to speak.”
Why be precise when you can just obliterate everything at once? Such was D, Hunter of Tact, quarry ever out of reach. Rogier kept the smile but what had he been expecting? That D would see him and change his mind about everything? Sit down for a friendly chat over tea? Maybe even sweep him in close and touch his cheek tenderly like he used to? By every star in the sky, he was delusional. It’d been five years! Why couldn’t he let this damned thing die? “That makes for a very boring wait, and you’re the one who disrupted my class and caused me to have to endure it. So, you will have to deal with some discomfort of your own.” Rogier dropped into his chair and sank low, legs splayed like a child having a minor fit. The toes of his boots were peeking out the other side of the desk.
D said nothing still, and stood at attention like a soldier waiting for an order from his superior. He looked imbalanced and strange without the bust at his chest. Rogier tilted his head and let his eyes wander around his office. This was becoming painful. Had been painful for years, really. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, and tried again. “How do you find Leyndell?” he asked, eyes on the ceiling.
“Pleasant.”
Had he ever had a single conversation with this man? Ever?
But that was just it, he supposed. He’d had far too many. The well was dry but he kept stubbornly sending a bucket down expecting to get anything back but bones and dust. Knowing this, he threw the bucket again anyway, because he had never been good at knowing when to quit. “How is Devin?”
“Why do you continue to speak?” D asked before Rogier even finished the question.
“It is entirely normal to make conversation-”
“I don’t want to talk with you,” D reiterated.
“You punched. The Head Preceptor. Of my house. In the face,” Rogier said like he was speaking to an idiot. Because he was! What’d D think would happen if he did something like that in Raya Lucaria? That he’d just continue on his merry way without having a little talk about it first? Rogier shoved himself to his feet and closed most of the distance between them, leaving D at arms’ length. From here he could see the pale eyes behind the mask and they were as angry as they had always looked. He could imaginethe scowl that was permanently carved on D’s mouth, as if everything he beheld was an affront to him, personally. “Do you have so little to say for yourself, Knight of the New Order, for surely this conduct does not reflect highly on your station?”
“Do you so enjoy lecturing you do it in your leisure time, too?” D muttered.
“Oh, leisure, you say? You think I enjoy this?”
“The way cats enjoy mice.”
“I had no intention of making this any more difficult than it needed to be-”
“Stop bloody lying for half a second of your miserable life,” D snapped.
Rogier clenched his teeth. “I am not lying. You aren’t worth the effort it takes.”
D’s eyes were furious. But he spat, “He’s sullying your name to strangers.”
The dizzying pace of their conversation suddenly ground to a halt. Rogier’s mind was reeling from the whiplash and he squinted at D in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“The man I punched,” D said. “He implied-” D stopped and shifted his weight but kept his shoulders squared and his head high. “Unsavory behavior. On your part. To get where you are.”
Rogier stared at him, and was it suddenly quite warm in here? Was the world on fire, actually? Why was his face so hot? And oh but he was a wretch, truly pathetic, that someone defending him set his heart aflutter like a dying autumn leaf tossed to the uncaring breeze. It wasn’t that he was so incapable and helpless. He was born to nobility, of course he was used to politicking. And of course an academic life must be drenched in those politics he so despised. And of course he managed to tangle himself in them in the most foolhardy manner possible by spurning the head of his department. The idea of the faculty knowing anything about his personal life had mortified him to begin with, but he should have considered that before sleeping with and then violently severing all ties with his bloody boss.
But impulse control was something D had always had an iron grip on and Rogier could never grasp. So when he surged forward and shoved up that golden mask to capture the mouth behind it with his own, D was likely too startled to know what to do. And it was terribly immature, and brash, and stupid, and everything that Rogier did wrong on a regular basis yet somehow never learned from. D’s mouth was soft and warm and responsive, even if the rest of him was less so, still too stunned to react. This was senseless, a dog chasing its tail, a child babbling incoherently, moths chasing flames instead of moonlight, it was-
A knock at the door and the provost announced his arrival. Rogier drew away sharply and D was staring at him in shock, expression not unlike those of his students who panicked when called upon precisely because Rogier knew they had not been listening. It didn’t matter in the end. D would leave on his assignment, and Rogier would remain here at the Academy, and they could go back to studiously forgetting that the other one even existed. With that in mind, he allowed himself to admit, “I did lie.” He pulled D’s mask back down over his stunned face and held it by the chin. “I hate your plume.”
He turned to the door and set his features back to something pleasant and agreeable, but also adequately chastened and humbled, since the provost was bound to be terribly irritated that he even needed to have this meeting. Rogier greeted him with utmost professionalism as he opened the door to allow the venerable old man inside. His expression was distinctly displeased and he nodded a curt greeting as he swept in.
“I’ll make this brief,” the provost said, not even deigning to take a seat. D stood rigid and tense. “Your conduct with Head Preceptor Callium was most unbecoming, and it is only the seal of the Elden Lord upon your missive which has kept me from having you thrown from the Academy gates by a pair of knights.”
D bit out a quick apology, perfunctory and meaningless.
The old man sighed dismissively. “Fortunately, Callium’s nose will mend, but I am afraid lost trust takes a bit more time, which is not anything you have the luxury of since he was to set out for Leyndell with the others in a week’s time. I am sure your superiors will be thrilled to learn that, and so I’ll leave the reprimands to their capable hands, as my time is too precious for that. Our arrangement called for ten spellblades, and you have, whether knowingly or not, eliminated one of them from service by your own hand and so I have had to call for another.”
Oh. That certainly complicated this situation. D was going to have this unlucky sod as a living reminder of his brash and uncharacteristic behavior, which was likely to result in a black mark on his record upon his return to the Capital. Rogier pitied whatever fool they’d send in Callium’s place.
“Preceptor Rogier, I’m sending you in Callium’s place. Your courses will be divided among the faculty, so don’t worry over that.” Oh yes. That’s what he was worried about, wasn’t it? The lectures and poorly written essays he’d miss out on grading, not the dragon-sized elephant in the room that his miraculously stupid mouth kissed back into being. “You may wish to consult with each other about what preparations you ought to be making for this assignment. But do remember you are a representative of an esteemed Academy...not some ruffian out for a game of fisticuffs.” The last was aimed at D, who was undoubtedly as blindsided as Rogier and so totally oblivious.
Rogier smiled and graciously accepted the provost’s decision, all the while screaming internally and damning the stars for drawing the path of greatest resistance through the heavens the day he was born.
Like I said this was written in like August or so, therefore it’s not my best work but I hope it’s enjoyable. And if you’re good I can give you part 2, which is infinitely spicier.
additional : dirty talk, mlm, kinda forced voyeurism, like really really filthy talk - I don’t fuck around (its a pun, get it?)
“Do you want to watch?” His pink tongue licked supple lips as a devious grin split across his face.
Villain had bound his enemy for the second time ever, and it was getting to him more than the first time, seeing Hero so… helpless, vulnerable. Not to mention Hero was ridiculously attractive, not even arguably. It was a statement of fact, and the criminal couldn’t cage his desires this time.
A chill ran down the hero’s spine as his enemy asked the perverse question. All he could do was look away, a furious blush plastered onto his face, heat creeping it’s way up his back to the nape of his neck and engulfing his face. He could say no, he SHOULD say no, he should tell Villain to stop. But, fuck, he wanted this too. Had for a long time, and how dare he say no when his beautiful enemy was there with a noticeable tent in his slacks, begging to be let out.
Hero felt all his hair stand on edge as the villain spoke again, slow and gruff; “Doesn’t matter, I want you to watch.” Villain tilted the hero’s cold chin with a warm finger to look him in the eye. That dashing smile didn’t fade, and Hero audibly swallowed a lump that was sitting in his throat.
This is not how their normal banter went, Hero could have drummed up a comeback in a literal second at any other time. With the filthy ideas swimming in his head there were no words to be found, only sounds and compromising positions of them both.
“So shy?” Villain teased, gripping his captive’s neck and pushing him into the closest wall, cold and concrete. The only thing grounding Hero to this moment instead of their soul ascending. Even if Hero could go anywhere he was sure he wouldn’t want to.
Hero cleared his throat, trying desperately to not sound like a teenager with their voice cracks, “What do you want me to do?” It came out breathier than he’d expected.
“Talk dirty to me, dollface?” Villain smiled, it was hardly a request, more like a command. Of course getting him off had to do with talking, he never did shut up, and Hero found himself wondering just how vocal Villain would be during this endeavor. The criminal looked as if he didn’t fully expect the restrained enemy to follow through.
Nonetheless Hero opened his mouth, “You should just take a picture of me like this and hang it on your bedroom ceiling so you can get off to me whenever you’d like. I’d sit nice and pretty for you, baby.”
“Starting off with a classic huh? ‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer’?’ Is that all ya got?” Villain chuckled, obviously taunting his enemy to go further.
Hero flipped his bottom lip out in a fake pout, “What, you don’t like what you see? Maybe if I bent over for you and spread my legs niiiiice and wide…” He drew out. Gods, what was he even saying, what was he even doing? He had no idea what was happening and yet he knew exactly.
Villain let out a breathy sigh, “Fuck, I can’t control myself around you, and you’re pushing your luck with this teasing.” His hand drifted down, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pants, forcing a quiet moan out. Immediately going to bite his lip to stifle any other sounds that threatened to slip.
Hero’s breath quickened as he watched, he knew he wasn’t supposed to stop yet though, “What, can’t handle not having your hands down your pants?” Voice trying to sound as teasing as possible.
The criminal grinned wide, showing their pearly teeth off, “Let me show you how well I can handle myself, huh?” He reached a hand inside his slacks, stroking himself slowly. His breathing hitched, filling the air around him with soft whimpers and whines.
"How often do you think about me when you touch yourself?" The hero asked breathlessly, swallowing another lump stuck in his throat.
"Far too often for this to not have happened sooner." Villain growled, picking up speed.
"Do you imagine me fucking you? Or is it you fucking me?" The hero asked, genuine interest taking his tone.
The villain whimpered and the sound did unspeakable things to his enemy’s imagination.
"Ah, both. And the thought of your hot wet throat taking my dick. God, just imagining the sounds you would make, drives me wild." The last part of the sentence shifting into something of a snarl, as though he resented Hero.
Hero continued, "Do you imagine your jizz on my face? Matting my hair? Staining my clothes? Leaking down the sides of my mouth?" Mouth so dry that his voice had become nothing but gravel.
"Mmm~" Villain’s body shuddered at the images being implanted in his head, "I wanna make you taste me." His fist increased it’s pace.
Hero almost felt powerful even while restrained like this. It was powerful to be desired, to be imagined, to be causing this much pleasure to their nemesis with only their voice. Now was the time to get a little more aggressive. "I wonder what you taste like, Villain… I bet you taste like goddamn candy. How hard do you come when you think about fucking me? Huh, baby?” The hero sounded stern, even harsh, demanding the question to be answered.
Villain’s face was beautifully twisted with desire as he began, “Hero-”
With his name, Hero took the reins, “Do you scream my name? Do you beg and plead for me? Do you ask to cum inside me?”
The villain moaned high as he removed his hands from his trousers and unzipped, letting his dick spring out into his hand where he continued to stroke himself, now in full view of his nemesis who gawked unabashedly. Hero couldn’t breathe, the air was stolen from his lungs and he couldn’t even complain. Looking over his enemy with nothing but deep, dark lust in his eyes.
Villain noticed the gaze and immediately gained back confidence, or more specifically arrogance. He smiled slightly, “Impressed? Didn’t think someone this sexy could also have a big dick? I’m the full package, honey. Y’know, I wonder what it would look like shoved in your mouth. You’ll have to beg for that, though. And you will beg.”
The criminal spit on his hand to create more lubricant other than the precome that dripped from his cockhead. The situation in the hero’s jeans tightened, he looked away from the villain who in turn stepped closer. “Ooooh, love.” The villain whined, his face so close to his nemesis’, his fiery breath hot on his enemy’s skin. Hero whined as he stood frozen, his face was enflamed with pure lust.
Villain arched his back as his hand picked up it’s pace, he was almost leaning on his enemy now, his eyes closed tight. The heat from their bodies tangled together in the air, sucking the oxygen from both parties. Hero couldn’t look away as the villain stroked himself in front of him, his own breath beginning to pick up.
Want filled Hero to the brim. He craved to be free, to be able to kiss him, to touch him, to make him scream his name, make him cum.
Hero’s eyes wandered down, watching intently as the villain fucked into his fist, and dammit, Hero was nearly drooling.
Villain slowed down slightly and opened his eyes to see the hero’s desperate face as he watched his ministrations. The criminal smugly grinned through his pleasure as he realized just how terribly his foe wanted him. The ego boost was more than enough to spur him into a spiral of desire.
Villain took his free hand and cupped Hero’s jaw, forcing his head up, their eyes meeting. “Eyes ah- up here, love.” The villain teased in a low growl as his hand slid around the hero’s throat threatening to cut off the airway, their lips mere inches from one another.
“Please. Want- you-” Hero murmured. He moaned as he felt the grip around his neck tighten, choking his words short. He wanted to break free of his confines more than anything in the world. His soul would be sold, humanity forgotten, any worldly possessions tossed aside just to get his hands on the villain in front of him.
Villain ran his thumb over the head of his cock, forcing a moan from deep within him, picking up his pace. His hand repeated the motions, driving him closer, the look in his hero’s eyes was one of pure desire, it only made him want to go faster.
“He- Hero.” He stammered out in a moan, voice dripping with salacity.
Just as the hero was about to try and speak again his nemesis tightened the grip on his throat, forcing his head into a higher position, having to look slightly down on the beautifully undone villain.
His enemy choking him in time with the strokes, Hero rolled his eyes back into his skull, enjoying the sensations and rolling his hips to get any sort of friction. Villain pressed his chest against the captive, his breath hot on the neck of his nemesis who choked on a whine in response.
The villain loosened his stranglehold on the other man just enough to kiss him, his hand furiously sliding up and down his cock, hips canting. Their kiss electrified the air around them, the villain keened into his enemy’s mouth as his hips began to stutter.
His eyes rolled back as he deepened the kiss with a fierce passion, nearly screaming into Hero’s mouth as he came, his thick cum landing on both of them, his hand holding tighter around the neck of his nemesis as he released stream after stream.
The hero couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped him as he felt all these stimulants at once, he hummed as he felt his foe slow down, finally stopping his motions, but keeping his lips tightly locked on him.
They explored each other’s hot mouths, tongues colliding and sliding around one another. It was heated and needy, filled with their years of yearning. The hand around Hero's neck snaked up and tangled deep in his locks as they passionately made out.
Suddenly the villain pulled away, shoving a cum drenched finger in the hero’s face, “Lick.” He commanded, and the hero complied, happily lapping up the salty nectar from his foe’s hand.
“Good boy.” Villain teased, sucking the remaining jizz off of his fingers, and crashing their lips for another sweet kiss.
The villain pulled away with a smirk and in a sultry tone demanded, “Like goddamn candy, huh? Stay here, I'll be back.” And with one more peck on the lips his nemesis went to walk away, losing the heat they had built up together.
Hero stood there for a moment, alone, and in shock, catching his breath. Had that really just happened? The taste on his lips told him it did. The rope burn, he got when he had struggled to get out, still hurt. This had to be real, but... Was he going to come back and torture him like that again? Hero couldn’t let that happen, he had to get out of his restraints.
Summary: Dwight finds himself hiding in a locker. Everyone else is dead, he hasn't seen the killer once, and there's this all encompassing darkness that shows up now and then, but at least all the generators are done. Alone in that locker, or so he thinks, Dwight indulges in making it some quality alone time by imagining a salacious time with David, Jeff, and Kate. It ends up feeling more real than he ever could have hoped for.
Rating: Explicit [For Smut!]
Warnings: [For Smut!], Dubious Consent
Excerpt:
Dwight’s eyes shot open as he screamed and came, cum filling David’s hole. At the same time, he could feel Kate squirting onto his face and Jeff cumming deep inside him. What he wouldn't give for this to be real, to be able to see it. Alas, there was only darkness. Slowly, as he came down from the high of his climax, the darkness slowly seeped away into nothing, allowing light to filter through the slits in the locker.
Post-nut clarity, Dwight could tell he was a mess. His hole was a mess, it felt sore, in a good kinda way though, but also kinda gross and sticky. Cum covered his dick and his other hand. He came so hard and came so much that a lot got on his face and some also got on his body. Dwight just pulled up his pants, wiped his hands on them, and used his shirt to wipe off the rest of the cum on his body.
“Not like this shirt’s clean.” he reasoned with himself. At least the cum would be a lot less noticeable than blood and god knows what else is staining it.
With his pants back up, belt tightened around his waist, shirt buttoned back up, and tie tied, Dwight dared to exit the locker. The darkness was gone, and he hadn’t heard the killer in forever, so he assumed it was relatively safe. As he carefully made his way towards the gate, he heard the sound of the hatch. Dwight made a run for it, and jumped it with a giddy smile on his face. He survived!
I survived!
AO3 Link
Darkness, complete and utter darkness. It was darker than the darkest Fog, a pitch black nightfall. The killer, which had yet to be seen by him, took the time to utterly decimate his friends. Methodically, it kept the other three injured until the darkness came. Dwight noticed, and wondered why him? Why was it always him? It was obviously saving him for last, and it was gonna do something terrible with him. He was just at least glad that meant his friends wouldn't have to suffer like he would.
Ace went down and was sacrificed just before Dwight finished the last generator. The light of the generator was almost drowned out by the darkness that befell him. Dwight decided that the best course of action was to wait out the darkness by hiding in a locker. The thing could have the hatch, Dwight was willing to take his chances spending time opening a gate.
This locker was towards the corner of the map, and near the gate. As soon as the darkness was over and he heard a heartbeat pass, he'd get out, work on it a little, get back in the locker, wait for the heartbeat, get out, finish opening the gate, and escape.
Yeah, that's a solid plan. Dwight thought to himself. It was also one he devised himself years ago and was shared with to all survivors. At least, it probably was years ago.
As Dwight apprehensively waited in the locker, the darkness seemed to seep into the locker itself. Honestly, it scared him. So, he closed his eyes, and tried to think about his favorite things, happy thoughts.
How did that one song go? Whiskers on kittens. Yeah, those are cute. So cute! Uhh… what's the next part? Raindrops on roses? Yup, that's it. That's a pretty sight.
Though, roses brought to mind David's tattoo. Oh, how often Dwight wished to kiss it and make sweet sweet love with that man. Tattoos also reminded him of Kate. So pretty and kind, he often also wondered what other sorts of music she'd make in the bed. And then there was also Jeff. So beefy, a nice and hairy body, some tattoos, an attractive scar, he'd like to have a rough fuck with some cuddling after with him. … Dwight realized he may have a type, or at the very least a thing for tattoos, but he didn't mind.
He felt kinda bad thinking about them like that, but he stopped feeling so bad quick enough. In this hell, he'll take any pleasure he can get. He knows it's a comically bad idea to… blow off some steam, while he's in a trial and in a locker.
A locker isn't one of the worst places to do this. Dwight rationalized. There were worse places, like on a hill or in the corn fields. And besides he has time to kill.
With that settled, Dwight let his mind wander to that better place. It began with Kate feeling him up, hands crawling up his torso and rubbing his chest. Dwight mimicked the motion with his own hands. He imagined David on his knees, looking up at him and worshipping his cock through the fabric and slowly and salaciously undoing his belt and lowering his pants and underwear. Behind him, Jeff was grinding against his ass, teasing it with his tantalizing cock, and leaving hickies along the tender skin of his neck and shoulders.
God, it felt so real! He could practically hear them moaning in ecstasy already too. He wanted more so badly now. Dwight opened an eye to see nothing but the darkness. He had some time still. He closed his eye again and went to unbutton his pants and lower them, but found that they were already pulled down to his knees. Dwight hummed in surprise. He supposed he was really into that little fantasy and had unconsciously done it without even noticing. He figured he may as well unbutton his shirt then. It was getting kinda hot in the locker.
“Now, where was I?” he quietly wondered. “Oh, right.” he said as he remembered.
David on his cock, Kate feeling him up, and Jeff getting ready to wreck his hole. Dwight just knew he had a thick cock. He could feel it sliding between his cheeks and teasing his tight and hungry hole. Jeff continued planting kisses that were somehow both rough and gentle on his neck and shoulders. He also knew David probably sucked at sucking dick, but this was his fantasy, so David was a pro cock sucker. He was slurping on it, making the lewdest sounds and knew when to deepthroat it, when to use his tongue, and when to use his hand. God, Dwight would kill for this to be real.
And meanwhile, Kate caressed his chest, his nipples, his face with her hands and lips. Maybe that’s where the gentle kisses were coming from. She guided Dwight’s face into her supple breasts, David getting the funny yet erotic idea to let Dwight tit fuck his plump and slightly hairy chest at the same time. Breasts, Dwight loved them so much. How he wished this wasn’t a very realistic feeling fantasy and was instead the real thing. It felt so good to have his face buried in Kate’s chest, so soft and warm and erotic. She guided his hands down her body, past her stomach, past her waist, all the way down to someplace special. She had such smooth skin, a bit hairy down there, Dwight imagined she was the kind of woman to shave frequently. Gently, Dwight slid his fingers into her, feeling for her clit. He knew he found it when he heard the sound of a shocked yet pleased gasp. Dwight smiled as Jeff tilted his head back and kissed him lovingly as he pleasured her pussy.
Despite this being a fantasy, Dwight felt greedy for wanting more. The feeling soon dissipated. He wanted the feeling of Jeff in him now. He took his free hand, slicked up his fingers with some saliva, and teased the entrance of his hole. First, one finger. It entered with some resistance. It was a good thing he bit his nails when he was nervous, and he was almost always nervous. A good thing for Kate too, he remembered. Slowly, he put in a second, trying to focus on stretching his hold despite the various… distractions, his mind was conjuring up in the dark heat of the locker. He had no idea his mind could create such a realistic sensation, but he wasn’t gonna question it. He also thinks he remembers reading somewhere that the mind is capable of such things. Dwight doesn’t ponder on that any longer though. Right now, its Dwight Time!
After scissoring his hole open, Dwight pushed in a third that slid in much more easily. He imagined it was Jeff’s thick cock finally entering him, the large man letting out a satisfied groan as Dwight's hole enveloped his dick. Dwight’s fingers are thicker than he remembered, but he chalks it up to his stimulated imagination. It felt so good to have his hole stretched open though. On the flip side, David decided he wanted more as well. Dwight felt the tip of his dick tease the scrapper’s hole before slowly entering it. Dwight moaned, soon finding himself moaning into Kate’s slick and delicious cunt. David’s whole was so warm and velvety, Dwight could barely contain himself. All attempts at trying to keep quiet in case the killer came ceased as soon as he hit his prostate. Dwight yelped, his face getting buried deeper into Kate as she practically rode his face.
What was that thing Jake always said? Save a horse, ride a cowboy? Yeah, that was it. Dwight supposed he was a cowboy then, and Kate surely an experienced rider. She knew just what to do to get the most pleasure out of Dwight’s mouth, but it helped that Dwight knew a trick or two as well. David riding his dick also felt like heaven. He didn’t even need to pump his hips since Jeff was fucking him so hard. Every time Jeff thrusted into him, he thrusted into David who moaned and screamed in pleasure each time, his hard cock also slapping against Dwight’s stomach as he bounced up and down, leaving a small pool of precum in his happy trail. What Dwight wouldn't give to hear them all scream his name in ecstasy and I'm breathy moans. He swore he almost could hear it.
Dwight! Dwight! Dwight! Fuck me harder! More! RIght there! You make me feel so good! Dwight! Dwight!
Dwight’s eyes shot open as he screamed and came, cum filling David’s hole. At the same time, he could feel Kate squirting onto his face and Jeff cumming deep inside him. What he wouldn't give for this to be real, to be able to see it. Alas, there was only darkness. Slowly, as he came down from the high of his climax, the darkness slowly seeped away into nothing, allowing light to filter through the slits in the locker.
Post-nut clarity, Dwight could tell he was a mess. His hole was a mess, it felt sore, in a good kinda way though, but also kinda gross and sticky. Cum covered his dick and his other hand. He came so hard and came so much that a lot got on his face and some also got on his body. Dwight just pulled up his pants, wiped his hands on them, and used his shirt to wipe off the rest of the cum on his body.
“Not like this shirt’s clean.” he reasoned with himself. At least the cum would be a lot less noticeable than blood and god knows what else is staining it.
With his pants back up, belt tightened around his waist, shirt buttoned back up, and tie tied, Dwight dared to exit the locker. The darkness was gone, and he hadn’t heard the killer in forever, so he assumed it was relatively safe. As he carefully made his way towards the gate, he heard the sound of the hatch. Dwight made a run for it, and jumped it with a giddy smile on his face. He survived!
I survived!
As he descended into the sparkly darkness, his eyes caught a glimpse of a mass of darkness by a locker, grotesque flesh emerging from it. Dwight decided that it was a trick of his imagination. He didn’t wanna think about it, so he wouldn't.
“No shadowy mass is gonna ruin my great day!” Dwight affirmed as he pulled himself out of the hatch to an empty campfire.
“Or my name’s Henry! And it’s not.” he finished as he sat down and adjusted his glasses. He looked around, finding nothing but the burning fire. Just him, all alone… There was only one thing to do.
“Welp, round two then, I guess.” he shrugged, and undid his belt and lowered his pants. What to imagine this time?
hi there! bio anon here, wanted to post a thing i made in the mcyt g/t discord here. it was initially just a little prompt but it ended up spiraling out of control ;P this is about 1 parts noms story to 3 parts legend myth, because i haven’t any idea how to write noms without plot ;P
(thanks again for letting me submit this to you!!)
content warnings for: soft vore, fearplay, major injury (not delved into at all), blood (also not delved into much)
The sea is vast and unforgiving. It holds no master, it does not bargain or hold grudges, it simply takes and gifts as it pleases, a bringer of life and freedom and of death and deep crushing depths all at once. It is unknowable to mortal minds.
It can also, on occasion, be extremely stupid in its decision making.
The sea god, in the form of a vast whale shark, had been gliding through his domain with a peaceful certainty of his power. The sun beat down upon his vast spotted back, glittering the stripes of gold and emerald that signified his divinity along his fins. The vast open ocean was where he was most powerful, most tricky to deal with. Along the calmer coral reefs and kelp forests and shallow shores of his domain there was the certainty of land beneath you, even if it was buried under the ocean tides. In the open ocean you were a puppet to the playing tides, the world went on endlessly beneath and above you, and if you were in danger there was nothing you could do but plead to the ocean for a mercy that he never felt too inclined to give.
The sea god had been making his way, with the endless patience of the filter feeder he was taking the form of, towards a tiny wooden boat bobbing like a toy atop his ocean. It was always fun to snap up a couple of mortals from their refuges at the surface, to remind them that their fear of the sea is not unfounded. It was a little surprising though that there was one all of the way out here - the main village trade routes generally kept to the shorelines in fear of his capricious nature. This mortal was either very brave or very lost.
It didn’t matter. The sea god swam languidly towards the tiny toy contraption, and however many creatures were inside of it.
He shifted into a sea serpent’s shape as he got closer, allowing the mortal the dubious honor of seeing its own doom approaching in the form of almost a kilometer long stretch of scales and fins, far more vast than even the greatest of the sea god’s creatures.
The psychic scent of a mortal in a deep panic, of a fearful and desperate prayer being sent out, made him grin. Then the sea god surfaced in a blast of surf and, in one bite, entrapped the boat and crushed the wooden frame like it was little more than a splinter. The sea god sank below the waves that were pushed up by his arrival, descending into the depths to play with this mortal.
The first thing he did was shrink down from his vast form into something a little more manageable. The scent of fear and terror and faster prayers (too late little mortal. You are in my domain now) made him decide on something that would tease even more terror from it. He chose an enormous shark, one with rows and rows of teeth that oh-so-carefully shredded the boat further, releasing the mortal from it and spitting out the remains of the pathetic ship.
It flailed in his mouth, and he could feel the texture of feathers and wings. Perhaps the mortal had been bringing birds with it. Feathery little ground-fowl that were so beneath him he could hardly feel their presence. He amused himself in the mortal’s pathetic struggles for a moment longer, before opening his mouth and gulping in an enormous swallow of sea water that washed the mortal down into his gullet. It continued to struggle all the while, and he was starting to really like it’s fear. Just the tiniest hint of useless hope in the center of it to make it persist even when the mortal was all but dead.
He swam for a long while in the indigo blue deep sea, indulging in the feeling of struggle and burning land-based life in the middle of his domain. But… hm, he could go more with this. The mortal had remained remarkably resilient and active in its useless hope, and he wanted to see if he couldn’t tease out any more reactions from it before it eventually perished.
He started slowly, shrinking from the enormous shark into a massive tuna fish with scales lined in emerald, and felt with it the movements of the mortal get arrested in his stomach. The once large space it had been flailing in had decreased dramatically, and he could tell it was nervous about that.
Then he shrank further, into an oarfish with trailing fins of gold glitter. Its long snake-like body compressed the mortal further, and it had started struggling again for a different reason than before. The sea god whipped around joyously at the feeling, spurring from his erratic movements another wave of fear.
Finally, the sea god shrank further still into the form of an elder guardian, its spiny scales shivering and clicking as the size of the mortal within him pushed out against the organs that crowded close around it. He lazily made his way back to the surface, the warm sun once again comforting on his back. He was done with this mortal, and the way it curled up tight within him was satisfying enough that he desired nothing more from it. Soon he would let it die, or descend further into the depths and allow the ocean to crush it more thoroughly than any animal’s stomach could.
It was there, lying at the surface of the open ocean, shivering alabaster scales as the mortal seemingly never ran out of energy to push on the god around it, that the sea god was interrupted.
And lo, the sky ripped asunder and the heavens fell and in their wake the Goddess of the Continuation After stepped upon the ocean god’s calm sea, shepherded not by her faithful acolyte.
And She said unto the ocean god -
“Release him from your grasp, he is not yours to take.”
And the ocean god smiled and transformed into an enormous dragonfish, and spoke to Her on the sea breeze.
“Deaths at sea are my domain, dear sister goddess. I do not tell you who not to take on land or sky, you should not insult me to insist you take from my oceans too.”
And She said in return, “that is my messenger and lover, my Angel who harkens my power. I demand his safe return to me.”
And the ocean god said - “wait shit really?”
If he weren’t so caught up in playing with the mortal in such a way, the sea god supposed he would have realized that the feathers that had tickled his mouth had continued to persist, pressed up against a wall of his stomach. Not a simple ground bird’s plumage, but a vast creature’s wingspan. Wings fit for an angel.
It (he? The god supposed he would need to no longer think of it as a simple mortal) had renewed its struggles with more vigor than even before, hearing its Lady’s voice.
Despite the sea god’s surprise and Her demands, he felt anger build in him. The angel had been foolish enough to travel his seas, he should accept the risks that are brought with it. She had allowed her attendant worshipper to leave Her all-seeing sight - clearly She didn’t care about it that much. Gods can be territorial over what they own, and clearly this was just a case of the sea god taking a toy that She decided She still wanted.
And so, in his infinite wisdom, the sea god bared jagged glass teeth at the Goddess of What Comes After and refused to relinquish the angel to Her.
“I am fond of Your angel now. He has travelled with me to the depths of the ocean, and witnessed my power and myriad of beautiful creatures. I think I would like to keep him, dear sister.”
The Goddess raised Her wings of ebony and jet, and scavenging carrion birds that did not belong in the domain of the open ocean fled from Her and trailed into the sky. She said to the sea god -
“Do not become a fool, brother god. You will let my Angel go, or I may tear him from your gut. I will scatter your blood to all of the oceans of the world, and let your own creations feast upon you as you have feasted upon what is Mine.”
The sea god dropped his guise of the beasts of the sea, and in the form of a man wrought in gold and emerald he rose from the waters to stand before the Lady of the Lost. The two mighty gods clashed, tearing the sea and sky with their battle as the Goddess seeked to take back what was Her’s and the sea god desired to keep what he had claimed.
Their struggle only ended when the Angel, fearful and hurt by the pain his Lady had received in the fight and the harm that had come to himself from within the sea god, cried out. The Goddess of the Unforgiving Conclusion drew up a vast sword of midnight and tore the sea god open from the back.
From the god’s divine blood, the Angel emerged unharmed from his Goddess’ attack, and fled from the grasp of the wounded sea god into the great swarm of carrion birds that circled above.
The Goddess cast the sea god into the dark depths of the ocean, and wiped her sword of deep black clean. Where the droplets of divine blood hit the earth, all over the world, lay the tiniest portion of the sea god’s power in totems of gold and emerald. Where it hit the sea great pyramids of prismarine grew around it to celebrate its power. Now with his power broken into a thousand pieces, the sea god fled into the depths of the ocean, and he knew himself to be foolish for having tried to fight Her.
He never was quite the same from that day forward. The sea, his domain, was never fully his anymore. The wound along his back, struck to slice his gut open and release the mortal, never truly healed and even in the many shapes of the creatures of the sea it was still visible as a deep black scar.
In penitence for his childish stupidity he stepped up onto the shores that he had so despised for so long and, in the form of both a shark and a man, he tried to learn about the mortals that lived outside of his open ocean waters for the first time.
He had been foolish, and as such he didn’t deserve to rule the seas he had before. Perhaps though, one day, he can regain this title. Perhaps he could be reborn into this role, if the Lady so permits.
If the Angel forgives him, he may find his way back to the sea again.
.
.
.
AAAAAAAAAAAA *stimming on my desk* THIS IS SO COOL???? BIO, THIS IS AWESOME OIHUGYUFT I’M HONORED TO POST IT HERE 🤩 HOW?? DO YOU WRITE SUCH MASTERPIECES???? THIS IS SUCH AN AMAZING ORIGIN MYTH FOR TOTEMS AND OCEAN MONUMENTS AND FOOLISH!!! I will be thinking about this for days. Incredible uwu Thank you so much for blessing us all ohuigyuty GAh THIS MAKES ME HAPPY!!
Happy Pride Month everyone! Whether you queer or questioning, closeted or out, I am so proud of you, you are valid and perfect! Remember that you never have to come out if you don’t want to. You’re not lying to anyone if you don’t. You don’t owe them to come out. Only do it if you want to. Also remember that labels can stay forever or can change and both is perfectly normal. You're fantastic the way you are. <3
So, I managed to write a pride fic for the first day of pride month! yay me. I hope you like it :)
Thank you for the idea @moonofthenight
Characters by @lumosinlove
When Pascal came into their living room it had never looked more colourful, but it had also not looked this messy in a long time. There was tape on all four sides of the table, paper and little paper cut outs all over the floor and in the middle of everything, all his four children, looking like deer in the headlights.
“What happened?”, he asked slowly. There would be a reasonable explanation for all of this, he was sure. Celeste had probably helped and they would clean everything back up in no time, leaving no trace of a mess before the team came over for dinner tonight.
Adele shuffled over looking at the floor. “Um,” she stared before glazing back at her siblings, who nodded at her encouragingly. “So, we decided to make some things for the others. You know, since you’re having that Pride Party tonight? We thought we’d make little gifts for the team.”
Oh, Pascal’s heart was already a puddle. “You-”, he stared, but couldn’t continue. He had questioned a lot if he should have raised his children differently, more open to the rainbow or attractions and genders (or lack thereof) that was out there, but this made him feel like he and Celeste had at least done some things right.
Pascal only realised he hadn’t properly said anything yet when Katie rushed towards him, hugging his hip. “Please don’t be mad. I promise, we’ll clean it all up. Mama said she’d help us!”, the big eyes of his youngest daughter stared up at him, guilty, but hopeful.
“I’m not mad, mon chou.”, picking her up, he turned towards the other three, still standing in front of him. “Not at any of you. This is an incredible idea! The team will love them. Thank you so much, it’s really thoughtful.” Leaning down, he placed a kiss on each of his childrens’ foreheads, including Katie’s before setting her down to get back to the others. Celeste walked through the door the next moment, flowers of all colours in her hand.
“You found our little pride squad then?”she asked, walking past him and into the kitchen, probably to cut off the ends of the stems. “Don’t worry, I’ll help them clean up and we’ll be done before any of your teammates even leave their houses.”
His wife knew him too well. He hated when other people visited them and their house was messy. Of course there had been times where he couldn’t really keep it clean with four toddlers running around, but he still always tried and his family knew that and helped him. It wasn’t really that it bothered him that visitors could see that they were possibly not clean people, it was just the principle. He thought it should that they were prepared and anticipated someone’s visit. He never wanted them to think it was a bad time to visit because he would eventually excuse the mess. He always wanted everyone to feel welcome.
And that’s what tonight would be about. Making his team feel always welcomed and loved and accepted.
Celeste returned back to their dining room without the flowers, kissing Pacal’s cheek and then turning towards their children. “Did you show him what you made already?” they shook their heads but quickly climbed up onto chairs and sorted through the things they had made. “They’re all really cute, I already saw some of them.” Celeste whispered giddily into his ear, as excitement bloomed in his chest and they walked over to look at the crafts.
“Here!” Katie waved a piece of paper in the air and Pascal walked around the table to look at what she had made. SHe beamed up at him as she explained, “This is for Tremzy! And Harzy and Knutty! It’s a card and I drew Lo, Leo and Finn on the front, see!” The man took the card in his hands. There were three stick figures on it, the smallest with brown hair, the next one with bright red hair and the last, taller than the other with yellow hair. In the back there were blue, red and black dots. “Why did you use those colours, ma petite?” He did have an idea, but with the many coloured pens on the table it could have just been a coincidence.
He could see Katie look over to Adele and Marc, before her eyes met his again. “Del and Marc said that those are the colours when you have more than one love and Logan has Finn and Leo, so they said I should use those. They look good together right?” Pascal could see that he wasn’t the only one close to tears after glazing over at Celeste smiling brightly. “Yes, Katie, it looks beautiful. Lo, Leo and Finn will love it! Adele, Marc, thank you for helping your sister. I know that this will mean a lot to Logan.” then as if he couldn’t help but to add, “I’m also very proud of you for looking up pride flag colours. I’m really happy you're informing yourself about these topics. They’re important.”
They all smiled at him. Pascal went over to Louis next. “I made two! This one is a card for Olli and Del and Marc also helped me with colours, so it's black, grey, white and this really nice purple that Katie gave me. It didn’t really match the photo, but I liked it better than the really dark one. Do you think he’ll mind?” The fact that his youngest son actually looked concerned staring down at his work had a tear spilling over. He let out a wet chuckle. “Non, je pense qu’il va l'adorer, c’est parfait. For who is the green one?” Louis pulled it out from under his other one and now Pascal could see it was not just green. There were black, grey, white and purple stripes on it too. “It’s for Reg! See, it’s got these stripes and then I drew this heart above it, cause even though he doesn’t want a boyfriend like Siri, he still gets all the love he needs from me and Siri and you and Re and the rest of the team!” Celeste came over and placed a kiss on his cheek, “He loves you too, mon lapinou. They look amazing.”
He walked over to his older son, he didn’t know if he could be any prouder of them. “ I made one for Kasey, Nat and Alex.” Marc stated as he handed his father one of the cards he had made. There were three heads on it, one with long blond hair and hoop earrings, one with light brown hair to the shoulders and one with dark red hair, freckles filling up more of his face than the light pink his son had used for all their skin tones. Pascal was about to compliment it, when Marc gave him another one. “This one is for Nado and Kuny. I made it full of hearts in pan and bi colours, because you mentioned that once and I really hope it’s right.” before Pascal could even think his next thought a stack of cards was placed in his hands. “And then for some of then we didn’t know, but we didn’t want them to feel left out or asume, so I made some rainbow ones for Pots, Talker, Sergei, Timmers, Cookie, Bluey, Ringer, Volley, Wrangler, Sunny and Foxy.”
Pascal was a bit shaken, not only that his son even remembered everyone of his teammates, without missing a single one, but at him having crafted every single one of them a rainbow card. “They will all love them, I’m sure. They look incredible.”
He saw Adele look down at her cards and moving them slightly out of view. Frowning, he walked over to her, “Did you also make something, ma colombe?” She nodded, pulling out one of her cards and holding it up for him to see. It was beautiful. She had glued blue magazine cut outs on the top of the cards, which got lighter til they reached a white in the middle and to green ones at the bottom. Over it there was a heart which read “Some hockey players marry their PT, get over it” He didn’t know how she had thought of that, but it was true and funny and so Adele, Pascal had no choice but to love it.
“These are all perfect. Thank you so, so much for making them, they’ll all love them I’m sure. We can tell them to all sit down in the living room so you can give them their cards later, sounds good?” They all nodded, seemingly happy with the idea. “Now let’s clean up before they come here and don’t recognize the place, eh?” All of them nodded as they got up, Celeste telling them where to start and how to clean it.
Pascal moved to the kitchen with the tray of now empty glasses Celeste had no doubt gotten them earlier, when he heard something behind him. Once he had carefully placed down everything he turned around to see Adele standing in the kitchen, arms behind her back. He waited for her to speak for only a moment until she did. “So, you saw that we made cards for everyone, because they’re all great and we should let them know we love and support them, right?” Pascal nodded, letting her continue, “But there’s one more card I made,” Pascal had counted before, his children hadn’t forgotten a single one of his teammates, he had no clue what that last card could be for. “because it’s important that they know they’re loved right?” she continued, “that’s a really important part of all of this. So,” she slowly pulled out a card from behind her back, “this one is for exactly that. Just because someone’s not queer or questioning, doesn’t mean they’re not important this month. It’s not the main focus of it, of course, but having allies is a big part of being able to be proud of who they are for some people. I wanted to thank you for that. I could have gotten some homophobic dad like some of my classmates, but I’m really, really glad I got you.”
She handed him the card she had made, similar to the collage of magazines but in black and white stripes with a rainbow A covering it. He couldn’t help the wetness that gathered in his eyes again. And here he had thought the emotional stuff wouldn’t be until the team arrived. He walked forward and hugged his oldest daughter. “Thank you so, so much,” he whispered, since he didn’t trust himself with anything else to come out anywhere close to evenly, “Thank you, ma petite. I am so proud to have you as my daughter. You’re the best children I could have ever asked for.”
⋆｡°✩ mga season four. episode ii. ‹ #4010 ›
⇢ dance: rocket & celeb five
he finds his way to the building himself. his aunt and uncle were still too busy to make time to send him there and his parents and siblings, of course, in jeju. it’s not too hard to find his way there, thankfully, and haknyeon quite honestly would rather have the time to calm himself instead of having to put up with his aunt’s constant talking and his uncle’s constant questioning gaze.
as he stands in front of the building, he clutches his own chest tight, takes in a deep breath, before he walks in. “you can do this,” he says softly to himself, before he walks in.
there are cameras everywhere. cameras pointing here and there and seats in front of the stage, perhaps for the judges. haknyeon feels a chill run down his spine and immediately he regrets not wearing a jacket (even if it was summer, he probably needed to be a little more careful. studios could get cold).
“four zero, one zero,” he mumbles to himself as he finds his seat. he takes a seat and finds himself drinking a lot of water to cool down. when he spots a camera, his face brightens up and he waves towards it before feeling slight embarrassment and cupping his own cheeks with his two hands.
as he sits and waits for the rest of the participants to enter, he lets out an audible gasp at the girl seated next to him. he recognizes her –– of course he recognizes her. it’s kim hyuna; she’d been on tv before, had been on the royal survival and well, she was definitely known.
his own cheeks turn a bright red (probably because of the force she exudes herself, her aura. he isn’t too sure how to put it) and he blinks as he looks at her. “h-hi!” he says, eyes bright, “you’re sitting beside me –– wow! i’m such a huge fan of you! you’re so pretty!” he blurts out the last part and, he hadn’t known it was possible, but his face turns a shade redder. sure, his sister is a celebrity herself but this is kim hyuna and she’s well –– really pretty too.
thankfully, hyuna doesn’t find him odd, and if anything she’s friendly and willing to share with him tips and tricks. soon enough he finds himself able to converse with her (amazing).
sitting opposite him are a few familiar faces and haknyeon catches sight of just how nervous hyunjoon looks. he attempts to get the boy’s attention and when he does he smiles, lifts his hand up into a fist and mouths the word “you can do it!”. and then he sees juyeon looking well... like juyeon. cool as ever. he smiles at his hyung and puts a thumbs up, before gesturing that he’s kind of cold. he peeks around as he waits and spots changmin, the last to audition and he pouts towards his friend as he mouths the words, “i’m nervous! good luck!”
the wait, thankfully, isn’t too long. though as he waits for the auditions to begin, he busies himself with playing with the cameras to try and calm down. he looks around the area and when he spots a camera, he makes a peace sign or puffs out his cheeks –– anything to keep his mind from getting too nervous, really.
and then, it happens.
the judges walk in and haknyeon can’t help the way his jaw literally drops and he jumps a little in his chair. he stands up to greet them and his eyes remain wide. katie lee is so pretty, he thinks briefly. he blinks once, and then twice before he puts a hand over his chest to calm himself down.
it begins.
hyunjoon’s the first one to be called out and haknyeon can see how nervous he is. as much as hyunjoon’s usually stoic around him; he’s still a kid after all. so haknyeon smiles in his directions and gives him a firm nod before he watches the boy perform. he breaks into a smile at hyunjoon’s introduction and clutches his own chest (as though hit by hyunjoon’s arrow) at the boy’s introduction.
as his friend performs, haknyeon’s expression turns a little serious as he watches how hyunjoon does. and when he’s done, haknyeon finds himself letting out a sigh of relief.
the next auditions come and with passing audition, haknyeon gets more and more nervous. he claps his hands for yongguk, finds himself subconsciously touching his own hair during moonbok’s and cups his cheeks during hyuna’s.
and then, it’s his turn.
“contestant 4010, joo haknyeon, please come to the stage.”
he stands on the stage, hands admittedly a little sweaty and his eyes wide as he looks up at the judges. again, sure, he has a celebrity in his family but nothing could quite compare to meeting all five ceos in one room.
“hello!” he introduces himself, before bowing. “i’m joo haknyeon and i’m from jejudo!” he smiles before his eyes turn to towards hyunbin. he’s had the resolve to say this to hyunbin for a long time. “hyunbin sajangnim,” he begins and he’s glad that his voice doesn’t sound like it’s wavering. “we meet again. i’ll try my best to show you how much i’ve improved.”
months ago, he’d been rejected by nova, months ago he’d sworn off the company (in a childish fit); yet here he was, auditioning on a show where hyunbin was a main judge. “i hope you enjoy my performance,” he says before he bows once more.
taking a deep breath, haknyeon rolls his shoulders as he awaits the music. he could’ve rapped; honestly, haknyeon had contemplated rapping. after all, there were so many dancers this season. yet somehow, he found himself leaning more towards dancing, despite his love for rap, he wanted to dance.
it’s a cover of beyonce’s rocket by travis garland. haknyeon begins by beatboxing, still in his position, before the song comes in, full force.
won’t you sit that ass on me
and show me how you feel
he moves, hands sharp as he body guides with the beat of the song. it’s nothing with too much beat, instead a rather smooth flowing r&b song instead. something that he hopes would be able to show a more mature side of himself.
while his hands are sharp, his legs remain fluid, he gets on the tip of his toes, just like choreographed and smiles towards the judges, mouthing the lyrics of the song.
won’t you take that off
while i watch ya
that’s mass appeal
the dance has him moving his torso in various ways before he gets on his knees. slowly blowing a kiss from his hand.
i won’t take my eyes
i won’t take my eyes
off it
he twirls from the floor, and gets up. hands making a little ‘peeking’ gesture as he dances. he wants to show just how charming he can be. and the more he performs the more in the zone he’s starting to feel; even if he doesn’t completely understand the lyrics of the song (english and school had never really been his strong points anyway).
peak baby
peak baby
peak
as he dances, he nods his head, body moving to the flow of the music and he lets just one lip bite go through.
and reach right into the bottom of your fountain
i wanna play in your deep baby
the deep baby
deep
he follows the beat of the music, and as it reaches a soft guitar-like riff he adds his own little choreography to it, puts both hands against his ears as he looks at the judges while raising a brow.
i wanna show you now
slow it down
go around
“you rock hard
you rock steady”
he lip syncs the last two lines, completely in the zone, and ready to show a lot more of this side of himself when the music suddenly stops.
haknyeon feigns shock, turns to look around the studio as though a technical accident had just occured until a second later –– the song plays loud and clear. and haknyeon does a complete one eighty.
celeb five, or also known as, i want to be a celebrity, by celeb five. it’s a completely different feel from the song he’d just performed. there’s nothing sensual about this, nothing cool and sexy about it either. but it’s a performance that allows haknyeon to show just how much fun he can have, and hopefully, how versatile he can be.
it’s a pretty popular song lately; trot vibes and all and a nice eighties or seventies feel (again, haknyeon’s too young to know exactly what era) but he’s smiling and his facial expression has changed as he dances to the song.
his hands are up in the air as he shakes his butt before he moves on to the next part of the choreography. of course, it isn’t exactly a haknyeon performance if he doesn’t tweak the original dance to his own style; and he does.
while the original dance had been fun and a little more lighter on the hand movements, haknyeon adds his own hip-hop-like popping and locking to the choreo.
아리아나 그란데처럼 셀럽이 되고 싶어
( i want to be a celebrity, just like ariana grande )
the song begins and haknyeon drowns himself in the song, from his facial expression to the way he meets eyes with the judges as he dances. despite this being a funny song, he wants to show them how confident he is about pulling this off.
셀럽은 뉴욕에서 스테낄 썬다구요
( celeb’s eat steak in new york )
he does a turn around the stage before he gets back to the center and ends off the dance with a dab. as much as he’d like to perform a lot more, he’s only given ninety seconds. he honestly wouldn’t have minded dancing a little more hardcore.
after a moment in his dabbing position, he turns to face the judges once more and bows, “thank you!”
he’s done with his audition. and he hopes that they liked it, he did what he could.
as soon as he takes a seat back down, he finds himself clutching his chest again before he lets out a loud puff he’d been holding in out of nervousness. he drinks water, shakes his head and slaps his own cheeks before he focuses on the other performances.
there’s a lot of familiar faces and he cheers loudly in particular for all his friends. they’re all amazing, he’s known that they were talented but it’s a different feeling watching them perform. he tries his best to concentrate now that his turn is over, he’ll cheer for his friends (because he understands just how nerve wrecking it can be, standing on that stage).
