#I thought it was a coincidence at first but it persisted

[asleepinawell]

possibly a controversial opinion and absolutely not trying to take a shot at anyone who disagrees, but I think having portraits show up for comms at the end of a dungeon/raid is a terrible feature. great in theory but terrible in actuality. I don't care about my comm count (and couldn't tell you what it is) but it was always nice to get some in instances where I knew I'd done a kick ass job supporting the team (as a healer or rdm usually). it was people saying thank you

I'm a really average player but there's some content I know very well and can help other players in. I love helping people and it's just a good feeling when you get thanked after. like hey, I was useful! I made a contribution!

that vanished completely when portraits came out (I've done roulettes almost every day for the last 8 months due to leveling all the jobs and just enjoying it, so it was really really easy for me to track the change...there were a few exceptions but overall it was like night and day from before). (and yes, people could obviously see your glam before but having it directly in the comm ui is different)

I got a trickle back when I put some effort into making fun portraits (something I personally don't enjoy doing but felt obligated to do), but I don't play a cute cat boy or a lady with big boobs (two things I've actually seen people online say tempt them into giving comms) and my portraits are definitely not as fancy as a lot of people's and more than that it just feels like that shouldn't matter

so yeah, not a fan. actually turned them off for myself the first time they popped up because it just felt strange. leave them at the start and take them out at the end would be my best solution since, like I said, really neat idea in theory and I think people should be proud of their cool glams and show them off. but it also really sucks to be in what feels a lot like a beauty pageant

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route. 

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear. 

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly. 

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind. 

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute. 

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck? 

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of? 

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back. 

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it. 

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice. 

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye. 

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you. 

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness. 

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made. 

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive. 

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found. 

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that. 

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

[areislol]

men i trust

ft— various male genshin x gn! reader

warning — mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, modern! au, mentions of sex (it's a party/club), mentions of drugging/spiking drinks, mentions of a junkie

a/n— they're the men you can trust fr, another shitpost of mine....

wordcount. 1.9k

synopsis. an alternative title, them holding your drink at a party.

In the midst of pulsating music and vibrant laughter and chatter at a lively party, you along with a friend you've bought stood next to one another near a couch, dancing to the beat with just a little effort.

The thumping bass and flickering lights seemed to swirl around them as they engaged in a conversation, after a couple of minutes you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Hey, do you mind holding my cup for a moment? I need to go to the bathroom!" you yelled over the loud music and chatter, pointing at your cup to indicate something to him just incase he didn't hear you.

He gave you a swift nod in response, "sure, take your time," he replied, extending his hands to accept the cup. You left him momentarily, weaving through the vibrant crowd toward the bathroom.

He stood by the couch, holding your cup as he eyed his surrounding, silently judging the swirl of people around him that were fucking on the couches.

the overly cautious/chivalrous pal, the type to grip onto that cup like his life depends on it. he will shoot glares to whoever's way if he needs to he is NOT messing around.

he takes the responsibility seriously and might even accompany you to the bathroom to ensure a safe return but since you insisted on going alone, he (reluctantly) let you go alone.

his palm is covering the top of your cup (don't worry he washed his hands) as he watches the people in his area like a guard dog, he won't even hesitate to threaten and fight whoever asks to take YOUR cup with absolutely NO shame whatsoever.

but his aura and built itself scares off people (which is why nobody disturbed the both of you) so he doesn't really have anything to worry about but even so, it won't hurt to be cautious.

he watches the people like a HAWK, it's scary actually. to see someone already (somewhat) intimating watching their every move, it ruined their vibe. but if ruining the vibe to make sure no creep does anything to him and your drink then so be it, not like them scurrying away will affect him in any way.

he treats your cup like it's precious jewel, so what if you could go get another if he accidentally dropped it? (he didn't, somebody bumped into him CURSE THEM which resulted into him dropping it by how big the impact was) so what if it was just a cup? it's YOUR FIRST cup!!!

oh did i mention how they won't hesitate to threaten and or fight somebody? oh well they would if they have to, not that they WANT to but the thought of a free man roaming around and spiking people's drinks doesn't sit right with him, what if you were a victim? he would never forgive himself if that ever happened.

which is why he always accompanies you to parties/clubs and nearly EVERYTIME you go out. not that you're complaining though

"hey, you there. pass me that cup.. ya know, from a guy to a guy, eh?" a drunkard 'pst'ed at him, eyeing the cup in his hand that he knew was yours. the drunkard really didn't think he couldn't see the shameless stares he was giving at you, did he?

he only glared at the drunkard (who by a coincidence looked like a junkie as well, it really pulled the pieces together), his eyes narrowing at him. he stayed silent, not wanting to even speak to him and answer, he wasn't worthy anyway.

as the drunkard kept on persisting and was inching closer and closer to him he knew enough was enough and would not allow that man to take one step closer to him and your cup (i mean it held your favourite soda so). "take one more step and i swear you will not live to see another day." the man, clearly confused and scared, stopped in his tracks.

"oh you're their boyfriend, uh? .... that shouldn't matter. you know what to do to help a man in need right? no need to threaten me!" the drunkard let out the most disgusting, vile laugh he had ever heard. he was now irritated. "you think i'm joking huh? would you still think i'm joking if i fought you right now?" his tone was sharp and lethal, he was not having any of it.

that man dare would spike your drink and even shamelessly ask him (not your boyfriend sadly) to pass you your cup? abso-fucking-not. before he knew it the drunkard was on the ground, and although drunk and dazed, was pleading for him to not have mercy on him. "p-please! have mercy on me i swear on my life to never do that ever a-again p-please!" it was a funny sight to say the least, to see him cry and beg for mercy. as he should.

"you better swear on that life of yours, if i ever see you in here asking another man to spike someone's drink you bet i'm beating your ass again. and i promise i won't let you live to see the light."

— ALHAITHAM, WRIOTHESLEY, capitano, diluc, WANDERER, pierro, DAINSLEIF

the reliable one, he is never drunk, barely really. even if he did drink he knew how to control it, he makes sure he's sober when being with you!!! he's fierce when protecting your cup and tries to be friendly/passive but if he needs to be, he will be violent, sigh... they were asking for it.

you know your cup is in safe hands. he is trustworthy and reliable when it comes to protecting your things when you ask for it.

he is positive that nothing will happen, for the couple of hours you've been there no trouble has stirred in the club so he was sure that nothing would happen as he patiently waited for you.

he sits up straight on the couch, holding the cup with his hands, his foot tapping on the ground. as he waits he notices from the corner of his eye someone scooching closer to him. at first he wasn't worried although he was a little on edge but you know, nothing much. but when they got too close for comfort he moved to the side, now focusing on the man.

"uhm, if you could please not come so close to me, thank you." he tried to polite, not wanting to anger the man. he looked sober, so he wasn't drunk nor on drugs. "why not, young man? hey whad'ya say..." his gaze drops to the cup in his hands, he immediately clenched the cup, creeped out. "$10 for that cup?"

"... you.... you do realize that this isn't mine right? why do you want the cup anyway?" at this point he wanted to walk away and never see him ever again but he was in too deep now, plus, he needed to wait here for you. the man chuckles and dismisses his question. "you needn't worry young man, take it or leave it."

without any hesitation he immediately refuses his offer. "no." his answer was blunt and cold, he wasn't messing around. the man slowly backed away upon hearing his tone, grumbling about how men these days don't take the bait.

he takes their role as the holder of your drink very seriously. you can trust that he'll keep a keen eye on it until your return.

but.. if by any chance they are drunk and the only person you trust to hold you drink, you still have faith in him of course! but to be honest when they're drunk they're a little bit... too much so it's okay, nobody will dare to come and talk to him.

— TIGHNARI, KAVEH, xiao, ZHONGLI, THOMA, pantalone, kazuha, AYATO, baizhu, albedo, gorou, NEUVILLETTE

the photographer guardian, they're armed with their phone and take a snapshot of your drink, proclaiming themselves the official cup guardian. they protect your drink yet ensure you have a visual record of your drink's momentary protector.

when he sees that your back is towards him he wastes no time in taking out his phone and snapping a picture of the cup before taking a selfie of him holing the cup to his face, just barely covering half of his face. he took many photos to say the least.

he posted it on his instagram story as well, to the poor soul's finger, take it easy on yourself as you vigorously tap on the screen to get rid of all of his stories.

and the captions? my god the captions. "haha guess who's the cup guardian rn?" "?!?!?! i wonder whose cup this is..." "look at me and this cup, wow... i'm like guarding it so hard rn"

what did "guarding it so hard" mean? no idea. obviously he takes his job seriously as well, but why not have a little fun? i mean you trust him of all people to hold your cup, to protect your cup from being tampered with. so yes, of course he will protect it with his life! if anyone was to come too close for comfort and eye your drink suspiciously, even just a little glance at your drink will put him on high alert.

he tries not to ruin his vibe at the club and refrains from arguing with the person but will not hesitate to throw hands if necessary!! he mumbles under his breath about how annoying this woman was, she randomly walked up to him and began to flirt with him in the hopes of inching closer to him and then maybe spike your drink.

trust me, he has a lot of experience with these types of people, people who flirt or make small talk in order to get closer to the person and then spike the drink without them noticing, unfortunately many people fall for their trick.

"ah, no. what are you trying to do? do you take me for someone stupid?" he's clearly offended that this person thought that they could really trick him. "you really think flirting with me will do you any good? spiking drinks are we?" he tsks, glaring at the woman. she scoffs and gets up from the couch and walks away angrily, her plan had failed.

when you come back and see him taking photos of him with your cup he immediately puts his phone away and acts like he did nothing. "huh? photo? pfffffff WHAATTT no never. no." you know he's lying. like c'mon you LITERALLY caught him in the action.

but please ignore all the notifications on your phone where he mentioned (@ed) you in the pictures he took, it was stupid, yes.

— CYNO, CHILDE, dottore, kaeya, LYNEY, heizou

begins to act feral and barks.. i mean it works so... that's all that matters right?

.... honestly, don't even ask me why or how. they saw one tiktok of someone barking at a man to scare them off and it worked so why not try it out? the second the suspicious man begins to make small talk with him (he looked around 40 years old, a junkie? mayhaps) he doesn't pay too much mind, if anything he exchanged a couple of words

but when he senses that something is off he tries to steer away from him, pointing at random things and trying to get the man to focus on another thing but alas, it did not work. he would do everything to keep your cup safe, so even though his way of keeping your drink safe is a bit silly he only means the best.

"WROOF BARK MEOW GRRRR" oh my days the attention he brought to himself when he began to bark? hello? it's so embarrassing but aye, it worked! the man, clearly terrified now began to back away and cursed at him. "you weirdo!" he yelled before running off. he only laughed it off, yes, he had no shame.

— ITTO, VENTI

note: i just woke up and i forgot i needed to write (9 am help)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

[aebinspa]

beg for you

PAIRING: winter x y/n reader

SUMMARY: Winter is your trusted, yet hated, co-worker. You both work for the South Korean secret service and are known to be a match made in heaven when it comes to killing or making someone disappear. Your already precarious relationship changes when you are assigned to find, and mercilessly kill, Choi Ye-won, a North Korean spy who has settled in South Korean territory.

GENRES: angst, violence, suggestive, death, blood, bad ending!

WORD COUNT: 3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! as you can see graphic design is my passion (i tried please ignore). i don't know if i'm good at writing stories like this but i tried!! i'll make it up to you by writing next time something extremely sweet for minjeong :))

It was night. Not even a sound seemed to rise in that total silence. The only noise the human ear could have heard was your breathing and your colleague's combined. The one who broke the religious silence was your colleague who began to reload the magazine of her gun. “Winter, for the love of God, be quiet” whispering had never been easy for you and, with a colleague like that who drove you crazy every second, all you could train was patience, certainly not silence. “There is no one in this hole in the forest anyway. And what's a mission without a little action?” she replied sarcastically to you with a raised eyebrow.

You, Panther, and Winter, your colleague, had been tasked by the South Korean secret service agency to find, interrogate, and then eliminate without any mercy Choi Ye-Won, informant and daughter of one of the most important men, at a managerial level, of North Korea. The young woman had been in South Korea for a few years and could get a huge amount of information to the North, without ever being traced. For a week, however, the secret services had been breathing down her neck and seemed to have discovered one of her many secret hideouts.

“I've always said that. Kill and let kill, what’s wrong with that? We are the God who decides what is right and wrong” Winter snorted, whose code name described her perfectly. “You’re crazy. We should only kill when it’s strictly necessary. What’s so nice about knowing you’ve taken someone’s life?” even though you knew no one was around, you persisted in whispering. “That you stole his life and his last words. He will die seeing you and no one else"

You and Winter thought differently about everything – it was always a debate. Nothing ever coincided when it came to you. Life, death, and desire were concepts that took two totally different paths in your subjective vision.

“Let’s stop for today, this little princess of the North won’t be captured so easily” “Well, what are you going to do?” A spark lit up in the eyes of the young girl with whom you share this difficult job. Winter took the gun and threw it as far as she could; it ended up near the abandoned house that you were observing from behind the trees. You turned to her, speechless; Winter walked past you with a satisfied smirk and headed toward the house

“Are you dumb?” “Why?” “First you complain about my inability to understand how important it is to do everything by the rules and now, not caring, you are perched on a criminal’s bed.” You yawned loudly and invited her to sit next to you.

Winter, despite appearances, sometimes seemed to let down that insurmountable barrier. The eyes, almost always empty and dull, sometimes revealed an unusual light that would have made even the darkest place shine. It wasn’t the first time you found yourself staring at her: her blonde hair, now gathered in a high bun, and the heavy black makeup made her seem more attractive - and cold - than usual.

“Are you kidding, right?” “Can't stand me at all?” your cheeks reddened slightly. “It’s counterproductive to get attached to someone you work with, Panther. Learn some basic rules” “So if we didn’t work together, would you be able to get attached?” Holding Winter’s gaze was an impossible mission; the mission you were trying to execute was child's play in comparison. You turned away unable to continue looking at those two puddles.

An unexpected thud made you turn towards the door, both with loaded guns and two lives to protect. You both exchanged a knowing look, before hearing another thud and coming back to attention. Winter didn’t fail to make a sarcastic comment before thanking God for sending you to die or kill.

“Don’t shoot” The first thing they taught you when you were still spending your days training was to not trust anyone. Sure, you wouldn’t shoot until you were shot, but you couldn’t say the same about your partner. You turned to look at her and noticed that she didn’t have any killer instinct. “Don't shoot for any reason, Y/n”

It was the first time she called you by your name. In astonishment, the gun slipped from your hands which had turned to butter. The next second Winter was pointing the gun at you.

“What are you doing?” “I thought you would end up getting more upset when this time came. I was wrong, maybe you are more qualified than I expected” “Winter” your angry gaze for the first time was able to hold the icy one of your colleague. “Everything will be fine, just do what I say”

These were the last words you heard, then something in your mouth prevented you from rebelling, and finally, darkness.

In a hotel room with furniture of questionable taste and an air that smelled of rottenness, you opened your eyes after a few hours. Your hands and feet were tied together, your mouth was dry and your hunger was starting to eat you from the inside. The first sensation when you woke up you also hoped would be the last. You didn't know where you were, you weren't completely aware of the dangers around you, and above all you were without a gun. Even though the last drastic moments you had lived with your perhaps no longer colleague were flashing through your mind, you had a hard time rationalizing everything. Was the woman who had accompanied you for the last five years trying to send you to the other world? And then, who was the little girl who had joined Winter? In the whirlwind of emotions and resentment that was building up in you, the door of the room slowly opened, contributing to creating more agitation in your nervous system.

“Hey sweetie, didn't you get scared while you were waiting all here alone?” You wanted to scream, but you only then noticed that your mouth was covered with a dirty cloth that prevented you from making any sound. “I know, I know. Take it easy. First, let me introduce you to my assistant,” she came forward timidly, in front of the bed where you had been placed, the girl who had stunned you, “She’s Choi Ye-won. Or at least, it’s Choi Ye-won on the passport that brought her here.”

Your head hurts. It felt like someone had landed countless blows on your head - maybe that's what happened. All the words that came out of Winter’s mouth came to you distorted. You wanted to answer her, but everything you thought couldn’t take shape.

“Y/n” Just saying your name for the second time, you started to thrash furiously on the bed, so much so that you scared the little girl who hid behind Winter. “Calm down, let me at least get this stuff off your face…” the blond-haired girl approached with huge strides as if to make you understand that it wouldn't be a problem for her to handle you and your outbursts.

As soon as Winter pulled the fabric out of your mouth, you instinctively grabbed her right arm and bit it so hard it made her in agony.

You tried to take your first steps after the impetuous action you had done, but you immediately realized that your legs could not move. Immediately after, cold as death, a gun was pointed at your temple.

“Let's calm down so no one gets hurt, what do you say?” “I won't play your game much longer, Winter.” “You'll be the one to say the famous last words, Y/n.”

Winter was in front of you, sitting on a wicker chair that screamed to the world that it had been clandestinely manufactured. The little girl, now sitting on the bed where you had been, was looking at you with a grim look.

“Ask me what you want.” Winter had no intention of letting you breathe: every word was accompanied by a lethal look and a gun pointed at you. Her ways were familiar to you but feeling the effect on your skin was something else entirely. “Who are you?” Winter looked at the little girl on the bed and then rested it on you. “Are you already ready to die?” “Answer me so I can die without regrets.”

Winter stood up from the chair and came closer, then sat on your lap and put her arms around your neck. This time the gun went to place behind your head. “What’s going through your head is probably right, Y/n” “Stop calling me that. I’m still in a work context” A disturbing giggle left the blonde’s lips. “I always told you: perfection will kill you”

This time Winter ran a finger over your lower lip and then over your upper lip. He gingerly approached your lips, kissed you, and then bit you so hard it made you bleed. The drop of blood hit your neck until it reached the hollow of your breast. Winter looked you in the eyes before smiling and lowering her head slightly; she slowly licked the trickle of blood. She met your eyes once more and licked her lips before speaking.

“I’m Choi Ye-won” A simple answer was enough to send you into a state of confusion. All the certainties, everything you had shared in the last five years flashed before your eyes: when was the truth falsehood and falsehood truth? “Prove it to me” Winter snorted loudly. “That’s my younger sister, she was brought to South Korea a few months ago and now everyone is convinced that she’s Choi Ye-won. They thought they had found the right person,” another stupid, irritating laugh came out of her mouth “But the right person is me and I’ve always been here. Next to you, next to the secret services, and close – maybe too close for your tastes – to South Korea”

“Why?” “Explain yourself better, Y/n” “What does all this mean?” Winter dropped the gun and, with her free hands, began to stroke your hair. “Unfortunately in all of South Korea, the agents chosen to carry out this mission were the two of us. The prey and the hunter. You understand that one of us had to disappear, one way or another”

The cold coming in from the large window of the room had numbed your body. You were unable to move. “So you're going to kill me?” “I'm not going to let you live”

Still sitting on your lap, Winter moved the gun from behind your head to your heart with a coldness that seemed forced even for her. “I know very well that after telling you everything you won’t let me escape to my country with my sister. I can’t stay here anymore. Winter only exists on South Korean soil and in your heart” “Winter is you” “No, I am Yewon. You're Y/n. I don't need to know anything else to make my own decisions."

A staring contest as painful as yours had never been seen, and yet you should have been two of the most feared women in Korea. Cold hands, throbbing hearts, and blood were all that remained of you. This time it was you who approached the blonde to kiss her and, Winter, without being told twice, returned a kiss that was anything but sweet: blood and saliva mixed, your wound continued to bleed and Winter couldn't help but be violent even in a moment that should have meant something else entirely.

“When?” “When I’m ready” “And when will you be ready?” Winter stood up from your lap and immediately the cold air hit you mercilessly. “I have to save my sister. I’m sorry, in another life maybe it would have gone differently” “It’s not your fault. After all, you always told me that it’s counterproductive to make friends at work” Winter laughed loudly at the word “friends” and then left the room with her sister. They both wished you goodnight. That day you abandoned the idea of ​​sleeping and kept your eyes open for fear that someone would kill you without giving you the chance to see her one last time.

The next morning Winter seemed intent on carrying out the final act. She was gripping the gun with all her strength and, as she paid the bill, her hand was shaking. The two sisters had planned to leave that day. They had taken a suitcase and filled it with any junk that might pass them off as respectable people. Watching them get ready so hastily confirmed to you that the two were desperate and couldn’t wait to leave and get protection. Are you willing to leave everything behind, Winter?

You walked side by side. Winter held the fully loaded gun behind your back. The two had revealed to you that a North Korean collaborator would come to pick them up and take them safe and sound, after a nice trip around the Sea of ​​Japan, back to their homeland.

“How old is your sister?” you asked, bored by the situation you found yourself in. “Sixteen” “Um. It must be fun for you to put a minor in danger.” “I have never killed or let people get killed who had nothing to do with the shady dealings their guardians were involved in.” “Your work ethic is sometimes worse than mine.” “Um?” Winter turned to look at you, shocked to hear such a serene tone.

You stopped, noticing how the boat that was waiting for the two young girls was a wreck in all its parts. “I see that North Korea treats you well” “There is no reason to expect more than salvation”

In Winter’s eyes, you see a new form of anger, rejection, and renunciation. The blonde touched the trigger of the gun and pointed it at you. “Y/n, I know it may seem terrible as an ending, but at least I will be the one to kill you. Your companion, your beloved and, soon, the incarnation of death” “Uhm” “Your last words?”

Looking into Winter’s eyes was a great way to distract her, and the five years you had spent together had proven that. You smiled cheekily, not losing eye contact with the blonde. “Maybe you really do have a heart too”

A second later a scream broke the unhealthy atmosphere between you and your colleague. Winter quickly turned in fury towards the scream uttered by her sister, who now found herself in the arms of the man who was supposed to take them to North Korea. “Leave my sister, you fucking idiot!” Oh, how satisfying it was to see a cold and calculating woman lose all her composure in an instant.

The man had a gun pointed at his younger sister’s temple. “Winter” In response, the girl turned violently towards you, pointing the gun straight at your forehead. This time it was you who had an annoying smirk on your face.

“That man works for the Secret Service, he’s a colleague of ours. There’s an entire squadron nearby ready to intervene at the first gunshot” Winter was shaking. “I'm about to offer you an advantageous deal” “Speak, you ugly bitch” “Leave the gun” "Never"

Winter had perhaps forgotten that in martial arts you had been at the top of your class for years. With a quick gesture, you threw the blonde’s gun as far away as possible. Now it was you who had the gun pointed at the young North Korean girl's forehead. Winter started laughing. “When did you realize that?” “When we were in that shitty little house and you came out with sentences I’d never heard before. Killing is your life, saying you didn’t want to do it was a pretty strong warning signal, don’t you think?”

“What do you want, Y/n?” “Your life.” Winter didn’t look scared at all. “And what do I gain from it?” “Your sister will live. I will personally send her back to Korea and cover up any clues or traces that could lead her back to you.” “Was I her doom?” “You can be her salvation.”

Winter turned to her sister and told her to cover her eyes and ears. “I trust you, Y/n.” “Me too. I know I wouldn’t screw up. Work is work and…” “Death is death. Don’t make it long and kill me.”

You pulled the trigger. You looked into Winter’s eyes one last time. The blonde seemed to feel the same. She was shaking, but nothing could stop you from completing the mission. “Thank you for everything, Winter. We’ll complete the mission together this time too” “Spare me this bullshit”

A gust of wind ruffled both of their hair, Winter’s sister let out another scream and started to cry. Tears were streaming down her face.

“Winter, your last words?” The girl smiled like you’d never seen her do. She chained her black pools in your eyes and whispered the next words. “Y/n, I loved y-”

You didn’t let her finish. One blow and the girl’s body was lying helpless on the ground. The pool of blood that formed beneath her seemed to be a representation of the blood she had taken from everyone she had killed over the past few years. She had been a liar, a murderer, the top of her class, and also the love of your life. You turned and signaled to your colleague to leave in the boat, which silently went away along with the tears of a younger sister left alone.

In the months that followed, the secret service agency named you and Winter the best agents they had ever had. Your names were now both imprinted on the golden walls of the department waiting room. No one ever knew that Winter was Choi Ye-Won; everyone cried her name believing that she had been killed by the North Korean whose body and traces you had then eliminated. Winter's sister remained safe in North Korea.

In your memories Winter was never Choi Ye-Won, but always and only Winter. Like the cold earth that now enveloped her body. In the future you asked your colleagues, when your time came, to bury you next to your beloved, yet hated, colleague. Choi Ye-Won was born and died as Winter in your heart.

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 | lyney, neuvillette, wriothelsey x gn!reader

( i am fully aware snowfelt is not a word. shhhh just please. ignore it. let's have another silly year together, yeah? )

⤷ they confess to you! reader has liked them for a while beforehand, fluff to start off the year ~ (psps i kn o w its the 23rd but writer's block whammied me against a wall and held me hostage for that time so. its really not my fault /lh)

[ in the dying light of fireglow, hands intertwined below a blanket, they turn to gaze into your eyes, speaking three words... ]

"Cold, are we? Shall I warm you up?"

Ah, but the playful grin tugging at LYNEY's lips already provides you with a sufficient, kindled warmth nestled deep into your chest. The snow cascading beyond the windows, curtains half-drawn over the glass, revealed the picturesque scenery, the land that had grown familiar to you dusted with white… your thoughts were dispersed with a light shake of your head just as the winter breeze swept over the snow. 

The male smiles as you nudge yourself closer to his side, and with a swift snap of his fingers, sparks heat in the fireplace, a blaze whose flames licked the bricks of its ensnarement. Unfair, really, simply unfair, how with such an effortless movement he swept you into your arms, reddened your already flushed, cold-bitten cheeks. “Warm yet?”

“...Too warm,” you manage a complaint, voice barely audible with how tightly you were pressed against him. “You’re suffocating me, Lyney.” At your words, his seemingly unconscious vice-like grip loosened, allowing you a breath. 

“Better?”

“Better.”

The world was quiet. Silent, for not even the wind dared utter a noise. No, that couldn’t be true, for if that were the case, then what were you to make of the persistent flutter of your heart? It was the way his gaze drunk you in that allowed you to dream of such a misunderstanding that he might share the sentiment, with the sight of you cuddled tightly in his arms, your slightly messy hair after he had ruffled it and the rosy cheeks that could possibly bring the most minuscule warmth to his face. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was quiet, it felt small, too small for your liking. Why were you even thanking him? What had he done for you? A lot. Simply too many to count. With his playful demeanor, certainly someone like you wouldn’t be well suited to him. Perhaps it was just a haphazard coincidence that allowed the two of you to meet, or perhaps just a cruel twist of fate that had decided to toy with your heart before discarding it. Either way, these feelings are safeguarded, nestled along with the warmth in your chest… they were quiet.

“For what?” Lyney’s jest of a smile tugged at his lips. “Why, have you finally realized that I’m quite the respectable person after all this time?”

“No,” you playfully hit his chest. Ever since the first encounter, the male had chased after you with reckless abandon, somehow managing to find you in just about any situation you were in. Watering the flowers that lined the streets, discussing work matters with the civilians, he’d appear out of thin air beside you, almost like magic. With a boyish grin on his face and a word or two whispered into your ear, “So this is where you were~” ...You shook your head, ears only growing redder at fortunate past thoughts. “You still remain a stalker, it’d be foolish to hope for anything more.” 

To hope for something more… what a hypocrite, you were. Your own words burned your tongue, the consequence of such a sin.

“Is it wrong to hope?” Lyney’s smile remained, but his tone grew serious. The faint twinkles that shone in his lavender eyes evidently bore his “wrongful” hope. “To wish that perhaps one day, I’ll mean more than just a ‘stalker’ to you?”

Your breath hitched. Say, didn’t these words… sound familiar? Didn’t they resemble lines read from those light novels from Inazuma, covers decorated with roses and sparkles? “Lyney, you-”

“I love you.”

Your words have escaped you. Countless, countless words. Each of them grow wings and flit away. 

“Ah, would it be too cliché to call it a love at first sight?” Lyney let loose a sigh, grinning sheepishly with a shake of his head. “But that was exactly what it was. The second I saw you… my, how generic I sound. Would it be too much to stomach if it was from that moment that I knew?” He paused, pursing his lips. They pressed into a tight line. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I won’t be hopeful. I know better than that, and you’ve said it yourself. Let’s just… would I go too far if I wished to remain by your side? Not as a lover, surely, but a companion, or a mere acquaintance-”

“Lyney.”

His name is familiar in your mouth. It rests easy on the tongue.

“As a lover. That. That’s what… I want.”

The curve of his lips says well enough before he even opens them.

“Then, as your lover… may I kiss you?” ₊˚ෆ

“Are you feeling alright?”

His words were soft against the cold air, and NEUVILLETTE’s pale-eyed gaze even softer. Fontaine had had its first taste of snow, and with it came its cold finger tips that thoroughly dusted whatever it touched, the streets and tops of buildings painted a brilliant white.

“Yes, it’s just… Aren’t you cold like this?” The male, upon seeing you give the slightest shiver at the sudden drop in temperature, had immediately rushed over and taken off his coat for you to wear instead, where it was now draped comfortably over your shoulders. Warm, and it carried his scent. “I’d feel bad if you were to feel unwell because of me, so please, take it back?”

“Now, that’s something I simply can’t do,” His lips drew the slightest smile, a rare sight you were delighted to witness - the way his eyes crinkled at their corners and twinkled all the more was a pleasant one to experience indeed. “I’ll be fine, I can assure you. It’d take more than just a winter breeze to incapacitate me.”

You furrowed your brows, puffing out your cold-flushed cheeks before making a cross with your arms. “Nope, no can do! We’re heading back to my place, and I’ll brew some hot tea. No complaints, we’re going!” Before the man could utter another word, presumably a word of protest, you took him by his gloved hand and started running forwards. Full well, you knew Neuvillette was certainly at a better physique than you were, but you really just needed an excuse to hold his hand.

Why, exactly? The answer was rather simple.

While you weren’t enamored with him to begin with… after all, how could one be like that towards the respectable iudex of Fontaine, your curiosity got the better of you the moment you realized the stoic man suspiciously resembled one of Fontaine’s many creatures, the otter. The colors, the mannerisms, truly, it all paired up in an uncanny fashion. Somehow, along the line of approaching and getting to know him, you had caught feelings. It was almost funny, how they could sneak up on you like that while your guard was down. Except, now that you had them, what were you supposed to confess? “I started to like you when I realized you were practically an otter, love!”...Ugh, how embarrassing would that be? Imagining his handsome features scrunched with displeasure at your offense is one thing about Neuvillette you wished not to behold.

"...Ahem." Curses, you had been holding his hand for far too long to just laugh it off. You blinked yourself out of your past reminiscence, finding yourself faced with a rather concerned Neuvillette. "Apologies, you weren't responding, so..."

"No matter, are we here already?" You coughed into your first awkwardly, quickly letting go of Neuvillette's hand, however warm his touch may be. Unlocking the door, you swiftly swung it open, letting Neuvillette enter and then shutting it behind you. If you’d known that he’d be coming over - you had unconsciously invited him to your residence - you would’ve cleaned the space up a bit more. Nothing you could do about it now, you supposed. “There’s nothing special, you can make yourself at home while I go fetch some refreshments for us.”

“There’s no need for that.” Neuvillette held up a hand to stop you. “I’m quite alright, and if anything, I’d be delighted if you allowed me to brew your tea for you.”

“What? No, you’re my guest, you shouldn’t possibly-!”

“Ah ah, no complaints. I held mine back, so you should do the same, no?” Great, since when had he started getting clever with his words? “What I need you to do is to go get a blanket and sit at the fireplace. Where do you keep the tea?”

You let out a begrudging sigh. “Fifth cabinet.”

“Thank you.” You did as he asked with less than an enthusiastic self, and managed to light the fireplace before Neuvillette returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray that held two cups and a steaming teapot.

You raised an eyebrow at him as you took your cup, warm to the touch. “My, I didn’t expect you to have any complaints, dear Sir Iudex of Fontaine.”

“...Complaint? Ah,” Neuvillette’s eyes rounded when he realized what conversation you were referring to. “Hm, it’s rather embarrassing to say, however… well, since it was a precious day off, I figured I’d take you somewhere special, to the Opera House or wherever, but instead I’m here interfering in your home… it’s certainly not ideal, is it? My apologies.”

There was a moment of silence, accompanied by the crackle of flames. “Archons, is that what you were thinking with such a downcast expression?” You laughed, seeing his expression brighten. He was perhaps a little too predictable. “I don’t mind, Neuvillette. I was the one who invited you here, so there’s no need for you to feel ashamed that you accepted it. Besides…” you inched closer to him, grinning. “Every moment with you is special enough, it doesn’t take somewhere ‘special’ to make it so, hm?”

The man remained silent. Had you gone too far with your reassurance? His pale cheeks were flushed, had he become so enraged that his face had gone red? Certainly not, for he whispered your words like an echo. “A special moment, you say?” A tilt of your head was enough of a response. “Then…”

“I love you.”

“...Pardon?” The smile on your face slipped, and your ears rung with the gravity of his words. Perhaps you had grown so desperate that the only way to appease that mind of yours was to form auditory hallucinations? You had surely dropped to new, unprecedented lows.

“I love you.”

There’s just something about that gaze of his that makes you want to cry in his arms. Something about it that makes you want to be held by him, to feel the warmth that he holds in the way he simply looks at you, to bask in it like sunlight, to feel loved.

“I love..”

“There’s no need to say it again, Neuvillette.” His face falls, and his beautifully damned eyes grow wide. “I heard it the first time.” You can sense that he’s bracing himself for a response, with the way the smile on his lips draws tight and his stance grows rigid. “To think that you’d be the one confessing to me, why, this was certainly not the vision I had imagined a thousand times over in my head.”

You can see the hope in his eyes. You would never dare crush it, your heart beats for him. “I love you, Neuvillette, so repeat it just one more time, would you?”

And just like that, he melts in your arms.

“Yes, darling. I love you too.” ₊˚ෆ

“My, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Standing up from his desk, WRIOTHESLEY’s eyes are bright with excitement. 

“So surprised, aren’t you?” You lean on his doorway with a fond smile as he embraces you in a quick hug. You smile as he draws back, “Why, am I not allowed to visit the poor duke, cooped up here with nothing but paperwork to satisfy his boredom?”

Your words were true, and they’d struck a note inside him. The Fortress of Meropide was quiet, almost too quiet these days. Sure, there was the persistent, eternal sound of turning gears and bursts of steam, and the never-ending crinkle of paper under his hands, but with most of the prisoners turning in a little earlier due to the cold, the hallways that were usually filled with chatter that he’d proclaim as “distracting” were no more. Monotonous was the crackle of the flames in the fireplace, but the sound of your eager footsteps rounding the hallways was a welcome sound indeed.

“Certainly not, I wouldn’t lie through my teeth and say that your presence is unwelcome.” His lips were curled upwards in a grin, his husky voice bearing the melody of delight. 

“I’d imagine.” That sneaky smile on your face is almost alluring in the pale light. “Stuck in this office of yours doing tedious tasks for the foreseeable future is not the ideal form of entertainment for most Fontainions.” 

A scoff, a playful one. “Then, have you come to help me with said paperwork?”

The shake of your head was instant, so much so that the man could’ve sworn it came out of instinct. “Most definitely not, Wrio. It’s rather unfortunate to say, however…” You let out a great sigh, one foreboding terrible news. Even your eyes began to tear up at their corners, and your expression became dramatically crestfallen. “I’m afraid this empty head of mine has suddenly become illiterate!” 

Wriothesley swallowed a laugh that almost dared surface and instead feigned a dramatic gasp, a hand over his mouth that had widened with shock. “Oh, dearest me! What a predicament… Then, what have you come to visit me for, pray tell? To sit and stare at me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, expression blank. “To be fair, I don’t exactly know either. I wanted to see you, and my feet just brought me here.” It wasn’t a complete truth, but not exactly a lie either. You had wanted to see him - partially to admire his strikingly handsome features, but also just to, well, exist in his presence. As much as he’d deny it, Wriothesley hated the idea of being apart from you, and his unchanging situation as the duke of the Fortress of Meropide didn’t aid that information. That, and the fact that ever since you had seen him simply strolling through the city, the slightest wind ruffling his dark locks and that sharp gaze of his staring ahead of him, you’d been utterly captured. While clichés weren’t exactly your forte, you had to admit that he was a case of “love at first sight”. And while you had fallen for his looks, his disposition wasn’t something to simply brush aside. Funniest thing? He’d been the one to approach you, striking up a conversation while you were merely having a drink at a nearby cafe, asking if you’d seen a certain wig-wearing dog.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you, but have you seen a dog around here? He has a top hat, brightly colored hair, is wearing a suit covered in stickers…”

After joining him on the chase around just about the entirety of Fontaine, the two of you managed to find the missing dog, who was actually a stray being taken care of by a melusine Wriothesley was familiar with, and return it. One thing led to another, and the two of you grew from strangers, acquaintances, and now to friends. Surely, it’d be terrible to wish for something more, wouldn’t it?

“Just tell me you missed me.” Wriothesley’s grin had returned, and he chuckled. “You’re not doing the greatest job of hiding it.”

“So what if I missed you?” You pouted, finally moving past the man and into the office, eyeing the papers on his desk before making yourself comfortable next to the fire. “And who said I was hiding it, dear duke?”

Wriothesley paused for a beat before continuing in his regular fashion. “You’re being rather bold today, aren’t you? Your words… they’re making it easy to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand all you want, does it matter?”

“Yes, it does.”

“N-”

“Let’s stop speaking in riddles. Make yourself clear, hm? What’re you trying to pull with all these questions?” Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, leaning closer. “What, are you trying to be a flirt?”

“Aaaand if I am?” You smiled at his actions, not exactly sure what was spurring you onwards. 

“...Damnit, you… archons, you just won’t listen, will you? No matter, it just makes things easier for me. Hey, flirt, you won’t get all flustered if I say this then, yeah?”

“Say what-”

“I love you.”

That was certainly a way to catch someone off guard. “... the fuck-”

“No need to react that badly, all right?” Wriothesley let out a sigh of defeat, leaning his head against the wall as he sat down next to you. “I didn’t say it for the sake of saying it. It’s true. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but..” He chuckled, a laugh that was void of what a laugh should have. “I’m rather a coward.”

“I-I didn’t mean to answer like that, you just caught me by surprise-” You shook your head, cursing at yourself for sounding so pathetic, with your trembling voice and words that stuttered every syllable. “...And by your definition…” You drew your knees closer to yourself, hugging them to your body. “I’m a coward as well.”

It takes him the count of three to respond, eyes blown wide. “...Wait, you-” The flush on his face was undeniable.

“I like you too, Wrio.”

“Archons, I… give me a moment. I’ve been wanting to hear that for so long, I think my heart has stopped beating.” ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) greetings my beloved melons. hello. ive risen from my grave to presumably and hopefully be alive for the next couple months. my reqs are all still full so i will be tryna get through em but at the same time i will be doing self indulgent fics. so udhaofjsdlf yeahd ahhahahahaa thats pretty much it on daily melon talk im going to answer my plethora of asks tomorrow because i know your dashboard wont be able to handle it if i post this and then answer 15 miillion asks. you are ever so welcome. also i always hate the way i write wriothelsey and this time was no exception this was so painful blegh ajlfksdmc

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling 

reblogs are appreciated! line up for a smooch. mwah!!

[tcfactory]

A smile for the master

Okay, what if white lotus Luo Binghe and OG Shen Qingqiu body swap.

The fake cultivation manual does make Luo Binghe qi deviate. Relatively early too, he's still in his white lotus phase. This qi deviation just coincides with one of Shen Qingqiu's many, many deviations and, by some freak twist of luck, swaps their bodies.

The only people who know about this are Yue Qingyuan, Mu Qingfang and the people directly involved, because they can't let word get out about the body swap. Unlike all the regular shenanigans (amnesia, de-aging, animal transformations, etc.) Mu Qingfang has no idea how to approach fixing this. He can't even tell if it is possible to fix it or not. This is such a one-in-a-million thing that there's no precedent.

So for the time being Luo Binghe in Shen Qingqiu's body will be confined to the bamboo house, under some supervision, with the excuse that Shen Qingqiu is still under danger of another qi deviation. And Shen Qingqiu gets to go out and pretend to be Binghe.

He's meant to move into the bamboo house to 'assist his shizun in his recovery' (yeah, right, like anyone would believe that), but the first thing he does once everyone leaves them alone that evening is grab a few things in a qiankun pouch and prepares to leave.

"Where is shizun going?"

"Wipe that pathetic look off my face! I'm sleeping in the woodshed."

"But shizun doesn't have to! This disciple will sleep in the side room, I-"

"I don't care where you sleep in my house. But I'm not sleeping under the same roof as a man, and you currently qualify as such."

It's such a strange thing to say that it sticks with Binghe - does his shizun genuinely feel safer in the woodshed than in the same house with his own body??? - but he is still disoriented and in so much pain that he doesn't have it in him to argue. Mu-shishu said it was not unusual for a severe qi deviation to cause pain, but he hopes it will fade quickly.

The pain doesn't fade by morning. It stays a persistent, sharp ache in his joints that seems to sap the strength from his limbs. Binghe thinks he can cheer himself up by cooking breakfast in shizun's kitchen, but his hands shake and his fingers refuse to bend right. He still scrapes together two servings of palatable congee, which gets him an unreadable look from his returning shizun. You'd think Binghe would be able to read the man's expressions on his own face better, but all he can say for certain is that his face has never made that expression before.

"Shizun, how do you stop the shaking?" Binghe asks tentatively. Shen Qingqiu made tea and brought over a few dry biscuits that looked completely unappetizing to Binghe. He planned to pointedly ignore them in favor of his own, much better food, except he has eaten two spoonfuls of congee and he's suddenly feeling sick. Something on his face must be showing because Shen Qingqiu snatches his bowl away and pushes the biscuits to him instead.

"Eat one, slowly, with the tea. It will help you keep the food down." In Luo Binghe's body his shizun has no problem eating both portions while Binghe nibbles on the biscuit. It's bitter from the herbs, but it does help. "Haven't you learned how to channel qi to stabilize your body? Useless little beast." After a moment his eyes grow wide and he hastily holds up a hand. "Don't try it with my body! The last thing we need is for you to have another qi deviation."

"Even this useless one knows how to direct and circulate his qi, shizun." Binghe tries to pout - it has never worked on his shizun, but maybe he will be more receptive of such tactics when it's his own face - but finds that the muscles of his face are not working as they should.

"Not with my meridians you don't. I thought even the lowliest of outer disciples have heard by now that my cultivation base is ruined." He squints up at Binghe and his glare is no less formidable on a different face. "Little beast. What are you trying to do with my face?"

Binghe has, in fact, reached up and is trying to feel out why he can't move part of his face as he should. "This... is there a scar here?" He's not familiar enough with scars to be sure, but he can feel the slightly different texture of the skin with his fingers as it curves around his cheek and jaw. Strange, he's sure he would have noticed before if his shizun had such a big scar on his face.

Shen Qingqiu slaps his hand away.

"A mule kicked me in the face when I was a child. They put an ointment on it at the time, so it healed well enough that it's no longer visible."

Not visible, but still present. Later, after Shen Qingqiu leaves for Luo Binghe's classes, he stands in front of the bronze mirror to test the range of his expressions and suddenly understands why Shen Qingqiu prefers to hide the lower half of his face behind a fan. The scar tissue tugs on the muscles of his face and makes the way one corner of his mouth moves rather ghastly.

It's not the only scar he has. It takes Binghe until the afternoon to work up the courage to take a bath and he can't help to look at his shizun's body then. The history written into the man's skin is distressing to say the least. Cuts and whip marks, all etched in deep, and burns, so many burns. The most horrifying is on one of his thighs, the muscle and skin deformed where it was burned deep; Binghe has seen kitchen accidents before and this has the look of boiling oil, but it's position and size both speak of intentionality. He can't even imagine what shizun has done to be injured there, so close to an intimate area.

And the crowning jewel of all scars, the one that raises the most questions in Binghe's mind, is the slave brand. Qiu, it reads on the left side of his chest, still clearly legible despite obvious signs that someone tried to ruin it with deep cuts; the character just ate even deeper into the flesh to retain its shape.

He's standing in front of the bronze mirror, staring numbly at the brand while the water goes cold next to him, only snapping out of his stupor when the front door slams open, then closed, then his shizun calls for him. "In here, shizun!"

Shen Qingqiu is in a good mood - the body he's in is strong and healthy, despite everything, and unlike that dolt of a little beast, he knows exactly how to get out of chores - so he doesn't immediately snap at Binghe when he finds him inspecting his body. "It would have been too much of a blessing to expect you to not undress and poke at my flesh the moment you were left alone."

"I just wanted a bath." The face he currently wears doesn't lend itself to his usual tactics, so he simply... doesn't try. It makes him much more tolerable in Shen Qingqiu's eyes. "Begging shizun's forgiveness, I expected him to take longer with this disciple's daily chores."

"Unlike you, I don't have the personality of a doormat. I've done the chores for you and Yingying and then tricked one of your shixiongs into insulting Ming Fan, so he got saddled with the rest." He says it like it's the easiest thing in the world and there's a disapproving edge to it. See, little beast? His eyes say. Why don't you do it this way, it's so easy.

"I don't know what shizun expects from me," Binghe finally says, his frustrations overflowing. "I want nothing more than to cultivate in peace! I used every trick I have ever learned to make the bullies go away, but it only made things worse!" He claws at the slave mark, as if he could rip it from the skin and hand it to Shen Qingqiu. "I thought shizun to be a rich master who would not understand, but shizun has come from a background as lowly as this one's! Shizun should understand! Shizun should-!"

"Shut up. You don't know anything about me." There is no real anger in those words, but Binghe immediately shuts up. Shen Qingqiu regards him with something calculating, until he finally comes to a decision of sorts. He closes his eyes, schools his features and when he opens them again the picture of innocence looks up at Binghe, a harmless white sheep who could do no harm.

It's almost as good as when Binghe does it.

"What did you say your mother's job was?" The moment is gone and Shen Qingqiu arranges his features back into something more comfortable and Binghe, still reeling, answers on autopilot.

"This one's elderly mother was a lowly washerwoman."

"An elderly woman, of a low, but stable position, with no ambitions left in life and no power to protect her son." Shen Qingqiu exhales slowly. "She taught you to smile, hasn't she? To be good and docile to avoid trouble."

"Yes!" Finally, it feels like they are going somewhere, they have found common ground. "My mother taught me that no matter what grief or grudge settles in my heart, I should always-"

"Have a smile for the master," Shen Qingqiu finishes for him. He looks annoyed, but not angry - at least not at Binghe. "Go take that bath." He reheats the water with the touch of his hand and a careful application of qi. "This master has essays to grade."

The hot water is a blessing, but Binghe still hurries to get clean and get dressed again. Shizun, true to his word, is grading essays at the table when Binghe returns. Binghe fidgets with nothing to do while his shizun works, so eventually Shen Qingqiu chases him off to make tea so he can work in peace.

Binghe is just returning when the sect leader arrives. "Qingqiu-shidi, Luo-shizi. I hope everything is going all right so far?"

"Good timing," Shen Qingqiu looks up from the essays with a wolfish expression that makes Binghe's face look almost scary. "Qi-ge, think fast: smile for the master-"

"-Snarl for the wolves-" Yue Qingyuan answers without thinking, something sharp and dark glinting in his usually soft eyes. This minute slip in his mask scares Binghe more than the worst of his shizun's temper.

"-knife for the rivals." Unexpectedly, Shang Qinghua pops his head out from behind the wide bulk of the sect leader. "Why are we reciting the Urchins' Laws?"

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes at his shidi. "Where this one grew up we said rocks for the rivals, but the sentiment is the same." He gestures for Binghe, who stands frozen in Shen Qingqiu's body, to serve the tea. "What is Shang-shidi doing here?"

"I might have, ah. Overheard? Overheard the situation and I might know an herb that can remedy it. Liu Qingge is already on his way to get it, so it's only a matter of days!" He rubs the back of his neck. "I just wanted to be here when zhangmen-shixiong tells shixiong the good news."

"That's acceptable." Shen Qingqiu takes a sip from his tea, then pushes the essays away in favor of an empty sheet. "Then Shang-shidi can stay and help us remedy a serious shortcoming in disciple Luo's education. It would seem he only learned to smile and never to snarl, leaving him with the appearance of an unfortunately spineless disposition."

"I see." All three adults look at Luo Binghe with pity, even the one currently wearing his body. He takes a big gulp of his tea to get away from their staring and almost chokes from the overwhelming bitter taste.

"It's fine, shizi! I think there are no better people to teach disciple Luo these lessons, so he will learn them in no time!" Shang Qinghua hurries to reassure him.

"That's not- thanking shishu for his encouraging words! It's just this tea is unexpectedly bitter."

The lords all look puzzled. "Bitter? Has Shen-shidi acquired a new blend?"

"As if you could tell," Shen Qingqiu huffs dismissively and takes another sip of his tea. "I don't taste anything wrong with it."

They all turn to Shang Qinghua, who takes a sip and immediately makes a noise of disgust.

"It's been severely over-steeped," he declares, pushing the cup away.

"Interesting." Shen Qingqiu drinks the rest of his tea and shakes his head. "Disciple Luo can't taste bitterness, so he doesn't know when he over steeps the tea."

"This one can taste bitterness, shizun! Mu-shishu's cold medicine-"

"-doesn't count. Even zhangmen-shixiong can tell it's bitter and he has almost completely lost his sense of taste when we were children."

The sect leader has a soft, awkward look on his face and Shang Qinghua stifles a laugh behind his sleeve. "Can confirm! Yue-shixiong once drank an entire undiluted bottle of chili oil on a bet when we were disciples. Luo-shizi is in good company."

Good company indeed. It's strange and a little frightening to see the three untouchable immortal masters acting so human, but Binghe rubs the scar on his face and thinks of masks. The same way Binghe puts on the mask of a meek little lamb every morning, the peak lords put on their own masks each day.

In the fifteen days it takes for Liu-shishu to get the herbs and return, they teach Binghe how to navigate the power plays of the sect in the way only those not born into power know:

A smile for the master (be pleasant and meek and uninteresting in the face of those who can hurt you without consequence, because it's boring to bully docile and uninteresting servants. Bide your time and only plot where they can't see it).

Yue Qingyuan smiles, because he has risen above the rest. Nobody would dare to trample him, so he can wear a smile if he wants; it makes him more approachable. Luo Binghe smiles at him and the sect leader winks back; this comes the easiest to him.

A snarl for the wolves (do not let your peers trample you. You are roughly of equal standing and power, so fight for what you deserve. If someone with only slightly higher standing tries to strike against you and you can get away with it, bite the hand that struck you, so they would think twice before they try again).

Shen Qingqiu was born a wolf and will likely die one, too broken and battered to become a prized, pampered hound. He snarls at the world and wants Binghe to snarl back at him, to show him that he has the determination to make it through. (Urchins who don't learn to bare their teeth when they should all die, trampled in the dirt, and Binghe suspects that his shizun has seen it happen enough times that he has hardened his heart against it.) It comes frighteningly easy, once he tries, and he makes sure to restrain himself so he doesn't become a mirror of his bitter shizun.

A knife for the rivals (be ruthless and deadly to the outsiders who come to harm you and yours. Set aside internal strife in the face of outside threat and sharpen your fangs together; the only good enemy is a dead one).

Binghe doesn't know what to think of Shang Qinghua at first. The An Ding lord has his own flavor of pathetic (it's not quite the same as smiling, he thinks), but Binghe is not a fool. If the sect leader is the smile and his shizun the snarl, then Shang Qinghua is the knife, and his cultivated helplessness is the perfect disguise for his sharp edge.

Out of all three of them, he decides that Shang Qinghua scares him the most.

The day after they are switched back Luo Binghe returns to the bamboo house to report to his shizun.

"So early today, little beast." Shen Qingqiu doesn't look up from the novel he's reading, sprawled carelessly over the couch. Binghe knows that this crack in his shizun's peerless facade is only there for him to see because he has lived in his body for two weeks and knows exactly how much agony he is in day in day out (Binghe did some much less dignified sprawling when he was wearing that body, that's for sure), but it still makes him feel honored, in a way. He's in on a secret none of the other disciples are and it makes him feel... special.

"Ming-shixiong had an unfortunate incident with a hive of wasps and forgot to assign his shidis extra chores."

Shen Qingqiu glances at him over the edge of his book. "Where in the hells have you found wasps this time of the year?"

"I could not say. Shizun will have to ask Shang-shishu."

The set of Shen Qingqiu's mouth shifts. It's not a smile, but it's as close as the man gets and Luo Binghe's heart soars when he sees it. His shizun stands with mesmerizing feline grace and plucks a manual off from his shelf. "Catch." Binghe scrambles to catch the manual, his eyes going wide when he recognizes his shizun's calligraphy. The book is bound in an old cover to make it look used, but the pages and the contents are all brand new. "This master has noticed that disciple Luo's current manual is unsuitable for his cultivation. This one will be a better fit."

"Thank you, shizun!" He turns to walk into the side room, planning to pretend that he belongs here ('sometimes if you are confident enough, you can make others think that you belong somewhere you have no business being', Shang Qinghua said), but he stops dead when his shizun calls after him.

"Where do you think you are going, little beast?"

"To my room, shizun." He brazenly meets Shen Qingqiu's narrowed eyes and carefully gauges the man's mood. He's not angry yet. "This disciple has no place in the dorms, but he got to thinking: wouldn't it reflect badly on our peak and our peak lord if word got out that one of the Qing Jing disciples sleeps in the woodshed? This one is not a man, so he thought shizun would have no opposition against him taking the unused side room in exchange for performing extra chores around the house."

Shen Qingqiu approaches him with an aura like a fierce storm, but Luo Binghe stands his ground. The man wanted him to snarl back; it was time to test the practice of that theory.

"Luo Binghe has done a lot of thinking in the day since we last met."

"Of course. This disciple had years of thoughtlessness to make up for."

Shen Qingqiu exhales sharply; a silent laugh. "Luo Binghe might not be a man yet, but he will grow up to be one. Why should I tolerate his presence?"

"This one might become a man, but only if shizun can't mold him into something better."

"Insolent little beast!" He expects the smack with the fan. It smarts like always and it's likely going to leave a bruise. He doesn't expect the hand on his head, not petting, but... acknowledging. "Go to your room."

Binghe can't restrain the smile that spreads over his face. It earns him another smack, lighter this time, but it's worth it. He sets the new manual down on the bed and starts brewing tea for his shizun, lighting a timer talisman so he doesn't seep the leaves too long.

It took him to walk a mile in his shizun's boots in the most convoluted way possible, but he has finally done it: he found common ground with his master. It could only get better from now.

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 5

Content warnings: p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), toxic ani, dom ani!sub reader, creampie, daddy kink, dirty talk, general smut

WC: 3.7k

The air is thick with smoke in the visibly unpoliced venue, filled with weed-smoking teenagers and middle-aged alcoholics. “What a charming audience.” You thought to yourself as you weaved through the sticky crowd to get a spot near the front.

You’d rummaged through your wardrobe to find something suitable for the boys’ rock concert but couldn’t find an article of clothing that wasn’t pink or frilly. Setting your sights on the metal band tee Ani gave you after hours of futile browsing, you settled on that along with some baggy black jeans you stole off Jaden. As you secured your spot in the front row, you lifted your jeans and checked on the pink Mary Jane heels you had on- you couldn’t find anyone to steal black shoes from but luckily the jeans swallowed them into obscurity.

All eyes turn to the front and conversations cease as the venue manager climbs up to the platform with a mic and announces tonight’s main act.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage- Dead Rebels!” Applause erupts as the lights dim and a group of 4 men approach the stage. Your eyes are instantly set on Anakin- who’s sporting a long-sleeved top, black and slightly see-through so that his nipple piercing glints in the low lights. He takes a seat behind the drums and scans the crowd, grinning mischievously when he locks eyes with you.

“Good luck.” You mouth to him and he winks back, before counting the band in and commencing the evening with their first song. You try to focus on the music, try to keep your eyes on your brother- who’s singing his heart out- but your eyes keep wandering over to Anakin; glowing with a thin sheen of sweat from the exertion of smashing the cymbals over and over again. Dirty thoughts creep into your mind as you shamelessly ogle his defined but lean arm muscles, gaze shifting from there to his beautifully concentrated face.

The only thing that draws your attention away from him is the persistent glare of the bassist, Max. The first time you met his gaze and you thought you saw a smile creep up on his face, you thought it might’ve been a coincidence- but after the second, third and fourth, you knew for sure: Max was into you.

With the last chord struck, the show was over and the audience began clearing the venue while you made your way backstage with the aid of a security guard. Rushing into their dressing room, you barged in to give Jaden and Anakin a hug.

“Oh my God guys, you were amazing! I never knew you had that kind of talent, I just always assumed band practice was code for getting high.” You joked, gushing about their performance.

“Thanks sis.” Jaden chuckled, hugging you back while Anakin awkwardly patted your back and withdrew. “And it was, but only half the time.”

“And the rest of you guys were fantastic too!” You pointed at the guitarist and bassist and they smiled humbly.

“Are you wearing my jeans?” Jaden remarked agitatedly.

“Maybe…come on Jay, I didn’t have anything to wear, I was only borrowing them!” You squeaked defensively.

“Ah whatever - wait a sec, is that Anakin’s tee?” He pointed at your skull-imprinted shirt and you looked to Ani before answering. “You need to give that back, it’s one thing to take my stuff but you can’t go around taking my friend’s clothes too!”

“Oh no, it’s okay, Ani g-“

“Yeah can I have that back please?” Anakin interrupted you.

Your heart dropped as you stared at him in dejected confusion, waiting to see if he was joking; when you saw that he wasn’t, a wave of rage overcame you and you started to pull the shirt over your head.

“I didn’t mean right here in front of everyone!” Jaden protested, jumping to cover you up.

“No no, I insist, don’t let me wear it for a second longer!” You ripped it off and threw it harshly at Anakin, leaving yourself exposed in a lace pink bra in front of the room, much to the chagrin of your brother and the shock of the bassist.

“Here, put this on.” Max scrambles over to hand you the hoodie he’s just taken off himself, putting it over your head and dressing you gently.

“Thank you Max, it’s nice to be around a gentleman for once.” You flash an exaggerated smile at him and shoot daggers at Anakin. “You have to come by at some point so you can pick it up.”

“Oh, yeah- give me your number and we can arrange something.” Max sees a window of opportunity open up and he takes it. “Maybe you can give it back to me after I’ve taken you out one time?”

“Sure. Give me your phone.” You flatly reply, punching your digits in while glaring at Anakin, who’s visibly seething but remains silent.

“Great, I’ll give you a call soon. Bye sweetheart.” Max chirps, kissing you on the cheek before heading out the door.

“I’m going home now.” You announce monotonously, now feeling the rage subdue and the misery kick in. Was he embarrassed to be associated with you? Or does he think what you two shared is so insignificant it’s not even worth mentioning?

“Wait, I’ll drive you.” Anakin reaches out to place his hand on your shoulder but you shake him off. “I’ll get a cab.”

2 days later, you received a call from an overly eager Max asking you on a date; you feigned enthusiasm convincingly when he revealed his plans to take you to dinner and ice skating. You knew this was the kind of guy you should be entertaining - someone who wasn’t ashamed to make his affection for you public knowledge- but great as he may be, he just wasn’t Anakin.

Nonetheless, you used this sham of a date as an excuse to go shopping and get your hair and nails done. Once you’d returned home, you tried on your prettiest dresses, settling on one that perfectly matched the shade of your glittering pink nails. Staring out the window, you applied another layer of lip gloss and anticipated Max’s imminent arrival.

Checking your phone, you knitted your brows together: he was meant to pick you up 20 minutes ago- and now he’s left you waiting without so much as a text. Guess he wasn’t much of a gentleman after all.

Just as you were about to give up and change into your pyjamas, you heard the crunching of gravel in the driveway. “It’s about damn time.” You thought as you packed your lip gloss into your bag, listening to the sound of footsteps thudding up the stairs.

“Rather presumptuous of you to come straight up to my room, don’t you think?” You reprimand him playfully when you hear the bedroom door swing open.

“Sorry, guess I’ve gotten too comfortable around here.” A familiar voice answers and you turn around so fast you get whiplash.

“Ani!” You’re filled with the urge to jump up and hug him, but the memory of his cowardice prevents you. “What are you doing here?” You fold your arms and turn your back to him. “I’m expecting someone.”

“No you’re not.” He states simply.

“What are you talking about? You need to leave, Max is going to be here any minute.”

“You’re not listening to me darling, no he’s not.”

“What did you do?” You roll your eyes at him, knowing he meddled in some way.

“Let’s just say you won’t be leaving the house anytime soon.” He approaches you and you’re powerless to move. “On account of that nasty accident you had.”

“B- but I wasn’t in an accident.” You stutter, body racked with intimidation.

“You would’ve been if you’d have gotten into that car with him.” He snarls into your ear and snakes his hand around your waist. “You really thought I was going to let you go out with that idiot? Have him try to make a move on you- when I know you were only doing it to make me jealous? You’re dumber than I thought, princess.”

“Did it work then?” You bat your eyelashes innocently but can’t stop the wild grin that overtakes your face.

“Oh, you are so bad.” He grabs you by the jaw and meets your lips, fueled with a fire unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“No, stop.” You put your hand against his firm chest and push him away. “You really hurt me, you know. Why would you let Jaden think I stole your shirt?”

“Are you serious? Use your brain, sweetheart.” He scoffs and you scrunch your face up in disbelief.

“Stop being mean! I’m not dumb and I deserve better than this.” You back away and climb onto your bed, grabbing a nearby teddy bear plushie and embracing it tightly.

“Okay, okay- I’m sorry, princess.” He sighs and takes a seat at the end of your bed. “I do care about you, you know that-“

“No! I don’t. And I’m starting to think you’re just a big fat liar who’s selling me dreams to try to get in my panties.” You huff, hiding behind your teddy.

“They are very nice panties, admittedly, and what’s underneath them is even nicer-“

“Ani!” You throw the teddy and it goes flying in his direction.

“Let me finish!” He sniggers, climbing up closer to you and handing you your teddy back.

“As much as I am a fan of your panties, I’m an even bigger fan of you. Your beautiful face, your mind, the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. I’m sorry I hurt you darling, it just wasn’t the right time to reveal a thing like that. Y’know your brother would kill me if he found out. All ramped up on post-show adrenaline. And he’s my best friend, ya know? He means a lot to me- you both do, so I just need some time to figure out how this is gonna work.” He speaks softly, brushing his knuckles against your cheeks.

“O-okay, Ani. I guess I understand.” You mutter, entranced by his close proximity and the way he’s touching you.

“Good girl. Now take that dress off.” He commands and you’re rendered speechless. “I know you bought it for him and that sickens me.”

For reasons you can’t explain, you stand up and begin slowly peeling off the dress, pushing the fabric off your shoulders and allowing it to drop to the floor, pooling around your feet.

“Now throw it away. I’ll buy you a new one.” His slippery voice seeps into your mind and you crumble the dress up, throwing it into the bin by the door.

“Good. Now come here.” He gestures you towards his lap and you slowly climb him, wrapping your legs around his smooth torso.

“You know you’re mine, right?” He slides his broad calloused palms over your ass cheeks, eliciting a squeak from you when he squeezes them roughly.

“M, m’ all yours Ani.” You kick yourself for how easily you gave in -but those eyes, and that body- oh that body. How could you be expected to stay strong when you were pressed this tightly against him?

“That’s right, babydoll. You’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” He purrs and you feel a damp spot forming in your panties at the sound of his velvety hushed voice. “And that’s the way it’s gonna be from now on. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Ani, crystal.” You whine, pawing at his chest and planting kisses around his neck.

“Needy little thing. Do you need daddy’s help to make you feel better?”

“Yes please, daddy. Make me feel good like you did last time.” You moan at the memory and goosebumps form all over your skin.

“Oh, I’ll make you feel even better. Lie back down, sweetheart.” He helps you off him and you sprawl out onto your mound of fluffy pillows.

“W-what are you gonna do t’me?” You question, a tingle of apprehension piercing your excitement.

“I’m gonna mark you as mine. I’m gonna fill you up full of me.” He begins to plant kisses all up and down your thighs, making you whimper with anticipation.

“Remember how good you did for me last time? I’m gonna need you to do that again- spread your legs, sweetheart.” You obey him and spread yourself open, revealing the wet spot permeating your lace panties.

“Nice ’n ready f’me.” He grumbles with a quietly content sigh. “Lift your hips.”

Doing as he wishes, you let him slip your underwear off and settle himself between your heat- his warm breath causing tingling sensations to bloom all over your skin. A hunger overtakes him and he dives in abruptly, tongue flicking up and down your sensitive clit. You pant and moan, feeling a full-body blush warm you up, all your nerve endings on fire at the feeling of his flat tongue against your cunt.

“Fuck Ani, you’re so good at that.” You moan breathlessly and feel him chuckle, the vibrations buzzing through you. He lifts his head and allows a glistening trail of spit to drip down from his lips to your core, soaking you entirely.

“Not that you need any help getting wet, but I want it to feel as good as possible.” He wipes the drool from his mouth and rises until he’s hovering above you. “Do you want to touch it first?” He asks and you nod slowly.

Unzipping his jeans, he grabs your hand and guides it to feel what’s underneath his boxers. A small gasp escapes your lips once you touch the ridged edges of his tip, before trailing your fingers down to his veiny, thick base.

“Oh my God, Ani…” You utter, barely above a whisper. “How…how will it fit?”

“We’ll make it fit.” He smirks, before putting your hand back and removing his jeans. “Are you ready, sweetheart? Remember if it hurts too much just tap me and I’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay Ani, I trust you.” You couldn’t believe you were finally doing this- years of saving yourself, only to give your virginity to a guy who you weren’t even in a real relationship with. It was so unlike you, so contrary to the way you’d been raised, so bad- and you loved it.

“Spit.” He orders, holding his hand under your mouth. As with all his commands, you obey without question and observe as he takes that same hand and strokes his cock with it, your spit wettening his entire base.

Lining himself up with your entrance, he takes a deep breath- as if he’s the one who’ll be in pain- and pushes in just the tip. You wince a little and grab the bedsheets- seeing this, Ani offers you his hand to hold. “It’s just the tip baby, relax. I’m not moving.” You nod furiously, blinking away tears that are forming; you’re not sure if they’re from the pain, the shock or the emotional effect this is having on you.

After taking a minute to adjust, you find yourself moving your hips just a little, impaling yourself on his cock by just a centimetre at a time.

“I thought it hurt, princess- do you want more already?” Anakin teases but remains completely still.

“Mhm, I’m ready for more, daddy.” You mumble, rotating your hips impatiently.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” He smirks, pushing the rest of his length into you in one swift motion- causing you to throw your head back at the overwhelming sensation of being filled. “What’s the matter, bunny? Too much?” Your eyes are screwed shut but you can feel his cocky smile radiating at you as he thrusts in and out.

“Fu- ugh, ani, mmph!” Little squeaks are pounded out of you a syllable at a time as your poor pussy is bullied by Anakin’s cock.

“That was quick, thought I was gonna have to ease my way in an inch at a time- but you just swallowed me right up, greedy pussy.” His vulgar words prompt whimpers to leave your wet lips and cause your legs to tremble.

“Goddamn baby, you are just so wet.” You don’t even have to look down to know he’s right- you can hear the lewd squelching that accompanies every smack of flesh.

“Please, I wanna, mmph.” You can’t get the words out as you claw at Ani’s shirt, hoping he gets the hint to take it off.

“Alright baby, alright.” He rips his shirt off, leaving his tanned chest exposed. Wanting to follow suit, you try to reach around and take your bra off- but the cock deep inside you is blighting your cognitive ability too much for you to succeed.

“I got you, baby, c’mere.” He coos, unhooking your bra with one hand- an act you raise a disapproving eyebrow to. “What? We can’t all be virgins.” The rational part of your brain wants to get mad but your body can’t seem to focus on anything other than the deliriously good way in which you’re getting pounded right now.

No doubt trying to get your mind off his sexual history before you started ruminating on it, he massages your breast, reaching down to suck on one while his relentless thrusts continued.

“If I could stay in here for the rest of my life, I’d be a very happy man.” He mumbled in between sucks, the cold air making your wet nipples hard. “Can I, princess? Can I stay inside you forever?”

You look down at the sight of your bodies meeting- his cock barging into your core, coated in creamy arousal- and you almost turn hysterical.

“Yes, yes, yes! Please Ani- mmph- please never, ever leave.” You beg, head spinning with pleasure as you feel your climax approaching.

“Shh, you have to be quiet, we’re not home alone.” He places his hand over your mouth and pounds into your little guts, muffled squeaks sufficiently silenced.

“Do you want me to fill you up?” He says breathily, trying to hold back moans. “Would you like that sweetheart? Want me to fill you up while your brother’s next door? Want to walk around the house with my cum dripping down your thighs?”

He knows you can’t say anything with his hand clutched over your mouth so tightly but he wants to give you the illusion that you have an option.

“Are you gonna be daddy’s good girl and let him spill his cum deep inside you? Yeah?” You nod frantically to everything he says, too cock drunk to think logically. He puts one of your legs over his shoulders as he drills into you with an increased intensity and you notice a warm, tingly feeling rise within you.

“Ahh fu- mm Ani, Ani, ‘m gonna cum.” You yelp out wildly, biting through his hand.

“Daddy’s gonna cum too, baby.” He groans in response, grip on your thigh hardening as his thrusts become more sloppy. “Oh, baby! Fuck, princess.” He whines as you feel hot ropes of cum shoot into you, pushing you over the edge into your own white hot orgasm. Your legs shake at the aftershock of such an intense feeling and Anakin remains on top of you, catching his breath.

“Who moans who’s name when they cum now?” You tease and he slaps the side of your thigh in response, chuckling as he slowly pulls out to reveal a flood of cum dribbling from your core.

“Yep, definitely mine.” He admires the sight. “Fuck, I hope Jaden didn’t hear any of that.”

“He’s always got his headphones on- if he suspected anything, he would’ve come in and beat you up by now.” You giggle mischievously- you loved how protective your brother was over you.

You showered together in your ensuite and Anakin gently cleaned every inch of your body, kissing every part he touched so softly that you would’ve thought you were made of glass. Once you got out, you headed to your wardrobe to find pyjamas.

“I believe this belongs to you.” He reaches into his backpack and hands you his band tee.

“You sure I can actually keep it this time?” You accept it hesitantly.

“Yes. And if anyone asks, say your boyfriend gave it to you.”

You smile sheepishly and put the oversized tee on before enveloping Ani in the tightest hug you’d ever given.

“Let’s go downstairs, I’ll make us some hot chocolate!”

“Oh dear God no, please let me make it.” Ani laughs and throws you over his shoulder, trudging downstairs to the kitchen.

“There you are. Thought you said you’d be here an hour ago.” Jaden grumbles at the bottom of the stairs, staring blankly at Anakin.

“Oh! Yeah, I, uh made a detour.” He gulps and Jaden raises an eyebrow when he sees you.

“Was that detour giving it to my sister?”

“What?!”

“The shirt. Did you go to give it to her?”

“Oh! Yes, I uh think it suits her more than me.” His gaze trails off, admiring you.

“Are you two finally a thing now then or?” Jaden asks, unamused.

“Huh? I, well we, uh-“

“Relax, I know you’ve liked her for years. I guess if she has to be with someone, I’m glad it’s my best buddy. That way I can keep an eye on you both.” He points in your direction, chuckling. “Oh and by the way- our walls? They’re real thin. Just sayin’.” Jaden walks off, rolling his eyes as you and Anakin stare at each other in shock.

“Wow, that was not the reaction I was expecting. Thought I was gonna get my ass beat.” Anakin sighs in relief.

“Liked me for years, huh?” You grin, ego boosted by Jaden’s revelation.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s see how cocky you are when I’m in your guts again.” Anakin stares down at you and you’re suddenly aware of how small you are compared to him.

“I can take it.” You huff defiantly.

“One round and you think you’re a big girl? Very well, I’ll clear my schedule- looks like I’ve got a long night of brat training.”

@erinkeifer @mortalheartache @crazy4hotmen

[moonsaver]

Sumeru roses, House of Daena, Sticky notes.

-------

Being an asisstant for the scribe isn't so bad. Just ignore the persistent overtimes, the scent of your perfume everywhere, and the new ink bottles that keep running out on his desk. You didn't anticipate red being his favorite ink to work with.

A/n: more than 2.5k words. I didnt bother counting. I hsed google translate for arabic whoops sorry not sorry <3 also its been a while since i wrote.

Warnings/tags: reader is g/n, yandere Alhaitham, Alhaitham x reader, stalking, paranoia, obsessive themes, very very subtle mentions of blood (if you squint), kind of drawn out? Horrible arabic google translate quote. Probably OOC but you can ignore that

------

You admit, being an asisstant isn't so bad.

Of course, at first when you broke the announcement to your parents you wanted to further your studies at the Akademiya, your parents werent approving. They wanted you to get a cushy job and earn as soon as possible; you don't blame them. Having that life sounds peaceful, however, you think delaying it a bit won't hurt. You haven't had the proper chance to really scour the library at your own leisure, at least, not as a student.

So, while job-hunting, (which was wonderfully disrupted by the huge Archon-Overthrow-play-god plan for a good few weeks,) you got an offer as the Asisstant of the Grand Sage; which was suspicious from how good of a title it was. The Akademiya was desperate to get back on it's feet, and who were you to deny the offer?

Of course, it didn't quite occur to you until the first day of your job you'd be working alongside Alhaitham, the scribe of the Akademiya (and perhaps his infamous title as the one who curated a plan to foil Azar's shenanigans).

Which was fine. He was generally alright,if not great to work with. Straightforward, clear, brief, analytical and most of all – he wasn't pushy. Which was a relief, of course. You managed to make small talk from time to time (if you could really call it that,) and came to a consensus with him on many things, mostly that both of you were not pleased with overtime. The moment the clock hit 5:00 PM, both of you were out of your offices and posts. You were mutually respectful, and generally tolerated each other well.

Of course, things at your job got shaken up when your schedule was thrown off balance. Your favorite drink always ran out, your mornings were crowded and somehow you started showing up later than usual, which meant you went home later aswell (much to your dismay).

Another strange series of events started taking place, if you could even call it that. You swear you haven't been watering the plants in front of your home, and the soil is dry enough, so how are they so.. vibrant? And recently, you swear one of the plants is growing a little too much, basically covering one of the windows, threatening to break it. Sticky notes scattered around the front of your house which you originally thought of as littering from those raucous kids your neighbours can't keep in control – you only realised they were for you when you caught a glimpse of your name on it, and you can only agree with the suspicious look on your friends’ faces when you show them the notes – bright Canary yellow and the striking red colour across the notes (although, you've only shown them the more milder ones. You can't imagine the panic you'll be forced to acknowledge if they see some of the other.. strange ones.)

And you suppose your paranoia has caught up to you. Your sleep-deprived mind swears that new red coloured bottle of ink on Alhaitham's desk wasn't there. You swear he never used that bright Canary Yellow colour of post-its. Did he really like that drink he always seemed to get for both of you? It conveniently ran out when you wanted it, and even more so, he conveniently just brought an extra since it was on discount? Of course it all just seems like a coincidence. You're a fool to even think otherwise.

And well, you're fine. Your life has always been a long series of fine, even with the occasional weird mishaps. That's how it's always been, and you don't intend to change it; rather, you really do find change almost repulsive (save for the panic you felt deep down in your stomach at all the things you couldn't control). And that “fine” comes to a halt when you find your door absolutely mauled with sticky notes. There's a bouquet of Sumeru Roses at the bottom, as if to try and apologise sheepishly for the terrifying collage on your door. The terrifying numbness in your fingers, face, your brows furrowed as you can't decide just how to react, the elevated heartbeat – you swear you can feel the blood threaten to burst through your chest. 

You opted to stay with a friend that night. You don't know what you were expecting when you came back in the morning, and all of those notes were gone, except a singular one in the middle, “الهوس والحب مترادفان، لكنهما لا يقارنان بارتباط روحي بروحك” (which you had to reread almost 30 times with your broken arabic, checked with someone from the Haravatat Darshan, to really confirm – obsession and love are synonyms, but they are nothing compared to the connection of my soul to yours – is what it said, and it's echoed in your head for weeks). You can't remember the last time you wore your rose perfume after that.

Scouring in the House Of Daena didn't seem to alleviate your troubles that well, either. The books you read one day, and opted to continue the next – vanished. Someone else always had the upper hand. And when they returned, they were scribbled and annotated with many pockets of information. Sometimes they overshadow the information on the page itself. And on the rare occasion you put your head on the books as a makeshift pillow for a power nap, you jolted up from just a sniff. Sumeru roses hit your nose.

And of course, when you find notes with all different handwritings on your desk in the office, you think someone's playing a cruel prank on you. But your office was locked. No one saw anyone enter your office. You did your usual check up before you locked it last night, and assorted everything in place. None of these notes were here. And of course, your only clue is the fact they're all Canary Yellow post-its, and that striking scarlet red ink on it. Hasn't the bottle on Alhaitham's desk been running out? He mentioned it off-handedly. You remember saying blue ink was cheaper. He didn't respond.

–

overtime was disdainful, for the lack of a better word. However, that implies only to the masses – it is no problem for him to come up with better synonyms to describe the situation at hand. “Distasteful”, “loathsome”, “detestable”, and so on. However, complaining will not solve the stacks of files on his desk that he wishes to do away with as soon as possible.

If anything pleases him more than his usual combination of abstruse books, isolation from the general public, and extreme individuality, it is that as the Grand Sage's assistant – you are expected to stay back for the extended hours as much as he is, if not more. For once, working overtime (or being forced to) has brought him progress. Will a few more hours of scribbling away and reviewing files change anything huge? He will return to his post again tomorrow as he has today, and the work will continue. Although, this time, it is you who stays working overtime. So for once, if it manages to quiet down the poking and prodding of other nosy scholars, reprimanding him for never working even a minute after the allocated time, he does so for the exchange of working with you.

And he doesn't intend to burden you, but he knows the desperation you work with, trying your best to cram in any minute, second into trying to get ahold of those books at the House Of Daena. So, if at least to make you stay for longer, he assigns you the more dragged out, tedious work. And to make it better – you just got locked out of your office. He has an extra pair, which he diligently uses for his own interest. As for you; perhaps being so frantic and scrambling to gather all books you might have read the day before may have caused you to drop your keys somewhere along the way. Would he know? Of course – he's diligently collected and added it to his inventory. Would he tell you? It would be like stepping on his own tail. The lack of certainty in a schedule makes for more freedom – he thinks. It's for your own good; he almost says. And to have you work in the same proximity as him? It's a bonus. 

Many consider him to be talented and extraordinarily intelligent, so just take his advice as literally as you can. Or maybe he just needs to tell you directly while making small talk between you two more frequent. To his dismay (and your absolute horror), the sticky notes seem to be working counterproductively. Perhaps he should just show up at your house with a bouquet of Sumeru roses and a small journal filled with his advice? He jests, it's only an entertaining idea. The bewildered look on your face makes him adore you – even if only imaginative.

The lift stops at the top floor. He sees your figure standing beside his desk, an expanse of books behind you. The sharp yellow lights contrast your figure to the dim blue light sphere in the middle. He feels the corners of his mouth perk up into a smile,and stops himself.

Another overtime shift for the both of you.

—

Overtime was not easy. You wouldn't have minded it – the job pays you well, and its quite comfortably tucked into the Akademiya, where no one bothers you, and you can easily access the House of Daena. However, the stress and paranoia has absolutely drained you. 

You've visited the matra recently. Frantically scraping together whatever evidence you can, everytime your “admirer” decided to gift you something new, leaving almost no time in your schedule. Daily visits to the library turned into constant visits to the matra, detailing your issues. You would have opted to stay silent, brushing it off as someone who was.. weirdly shy. But shy people don't stalk you, shy people don't leave obsessive notes for you, shy people don't visit your house at unholy hours of the night. And who knows what else this stalker of yours has been up to recently?

Revenge bedtime procrastination turned into sleepless nights, flinching at every sound, hiding under the covers until there was no oxygen and your entire face was covered in sweat. Workload seemed to increase, from how often you kept messing up, many things clouding your mind. Alhaitham's prickly eyes took notice, and he suggested drinking another beverage aside from coffee in the morning, and offered to get you something else – which you generously refused and turned down. (the last thing you would want to be is in someone else's debt at this time. Even if it's just a drink, who knows what else it could add up to in the future?)

So, here you were; irritated, on edge and in the dimly lit office which was viciously devoid of any natural light. You wonder why someone would want such a stuffy office, with books probably growing mold inside. Sure, it's spacious, but it's utter lack of life in it repulses you. It has the comfort level of a hospital waiting room, and it's just enough to add onto the little things that bother you, on top of everything else.

If that wasn't any better – Alhaitham seemed particularly chatty this evening. Perhaps his parasitic roommate (whom he has lovingly mentioned, multiple times,) has been ignoring him as of late? Maybe a commission in the desert, or a commission that requires a huge amount of unnecessary labour? And the (Acting) Grand Scribe has mentioned several times how the blonde architect works himself almost half to death just to get a smile out of his customers. You painstakingly understand him in silence, and don't comment on it.

The rest of the night continues – the benignity of it isn't lost on you. Occasionally perking up from your own scribbling upon Alhaitham's call, searching for a specific book on the vast (dusty, if you may add) shelves, and commenting on a few meeting topics and research projects he grazes, assigning you a few. He doesn't miss the comical dragging of your feet as you walk back over to your desk, befuddled with more work. He wants to tease you, he wants you to ask him for help, for an extra bottle of ink, for an extra post it note, whatever way in which you ask for his help.

He theorises you don't remember much of your and his student days.

—

“shit, I forgot them.”

You searched the familiar pockets and zips of your bag, scrunched eyebrows in frustration.

“Seriously? I'm not lending you any of mine~”

Your friend laughed. You sigh.

“I let you hog all my lunch and this is what I get as a thank you?”

“Too bad. You don't like the blue coloured ones anyway.”

“I'm desperate for a sticky note. Does it look like I'm in a state to be picky?”

Your friend laughs again, and throws their little compact stack of post-its on your book.

“Fine. But you've already annotated so much, what are you gonna write about?”

“Hmm? Wouldn't you like to know?”

You playfully ignore them, as they chitter behind you; carefully sticking it into your textbook and scribbling down the information before you forget. You sigh and look up. You make eye contact.

Right. It's him.

The grey-haired Haravatat boy that rarely showed up. Everyone knew him for his quiet attitude, and his tendency to make your professor's blood boil due to his absence in every lecture. Your friends had a few inside jokes about him. You would dare say this is your first encounter, or really the only one, with him. A stoic look and a judgmental one at the same time, behind curiously multicoloured eyes. 

Nearing the end of the semester – usually the smart ones would avoid the house of Daena, as it would overflow with study groups of caffeine-run seniors and freshman alike. Some of the other clever ones chose spots that weren't easy to find in the first place, and some chose to simply come early.

The thing is, you didn't come early. You were here from midnight. The librarian and all the security checks probably missed you, since you were neatly tucked away into the corner, taking a well-needed nap on one of your reference materials. You only woke up when one of your friends, and that boy poked and prodded you. Your friend laughed until they were out of breath when you looked up – drool slipping down past your chin, eyes swollen from the lack of sleep (and the incessant crying of an academic student), handwriting illegible from just how drowsy you were. The boy only stood quietly, probably judging your.. mannerisms. You weren't sure how, or why, he sat down at the same table as you and your friend. 

—-

Every once in a while - Alhaitham does use the sticky notes.

He didn't buy them. He wanted to borrow them for a short second, but in your hurry, you gave him the compact stack and left, never looking back. After that, you never got them back. Neither of you had the time, and your fate simply intertwined for a brief moment. Things like these happen.

But you keep appearing in the crowd.

He sees you in a flurry of students, or alone at a desolate desk. On a high-up ladder reaching an impossibly reachable book, crouching down to pick up the several you dropped in the process. Passing by the dull lecture halls as he slipped into the library, following the reference materials his father recommended, picked out neatly from private journals and books. The yellow sticky notes never served him much purpose after a single use. He debated simply keeping them on your desk the next time he saw you, but never quite worked up the courage. He swore the sumeru rose scent gave him a headache.

So, when he heard you were continuing your studies at the Akademiya, he was pleased. Working as a Scribe was a simple job, and his chances of seeing you just increased. And he may have been too ambitious, but it worked greatly in his favour – as he opened up another Assistant role for you. 

He hums, content with his decision to keep the sticky notes. Now - how would he utilise them? He wonders if you remember that friend's handwriting. Simple notes turned into obsessive confessions.

Once in a while turned into almost everyday, the more he observed you.

His obsession alone could become the subject of his own studies – but for now you are his sole interest.

And the next overtime, his first after returning to his post as the Scribe – he decides to finally close the chapter.

Has your perfume always been this sweet? That headache's been catching up to you. All that worrying and panic.. when was the last time you slept?

He opens the door to his office. You stand under the warm light, horrified. Piles of sticky notes crowd your feet. The wall barely peeks through behind you from the sticky notes. He closes the door, and a flurry of them fall from the movement. Both of you stare at each other.

“Alhaitham?”

You remember looking at the collection of sticky notes you'd received over a period of time. Is the red ink turning brown? You swore the color changed. Is it supposed to smell? You don't think you want to know.

“Congratulations. You've made it this far. Ive been waiting to talk to you in private."

Your arms go limp, dropping the stack of files onto the floor. The clock ticks silently. You should have gone home. Your bad habit of staying past closing time and evading the security seemed to have not worked in your favour this time.

----

[ourshadowsmeanomens]

THE MEANING OF THE END OF GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 (SPOILERS UNDER CUT)

I binge-watched this entire new season and immediately unleashed every thought I had about the ending of the show alongside MANY others who were experiencing a lot of feelings. After we all calmed down, we started talking and analyzing- and I think we found something way bigger than we saw on screen at the end of this season. And what this might mean for Aziraphale and Crowley going forward into (FINGERS CROSSED) a wonderful 3rd season.

The biggest complaint many of us in our chat had about the choice Aziraphale made at the very end- to ascend to Heaven, leave behind Crowley and the bookshop, to take Gabriel's place. Everyone is saying that it's out of character, there was so much build up all for Aziraphale to throw it away, etc. But the theory- a miracled brainwash. By Metatron, on Aziraphale. Metatron has proven to be a very dismissive and rude character, especially in regards to Aziraphale, since we met him in season 1. During the literal end of the world he still only spoke as God's voice and never appeared in person. Suddenly, Metatron comes down- IN PERSON- to talk with Aziraphale about a promotion. Before we know who he is exactly, we see him buying a coffee and giving it to Aziraphale- KEEP NOTE OF THIS. When Metatron first talks to Aziraphale, Azi says something to the effect that he has "made his position quite clear." The Metatron insists, pointing out the coffee and insists they talk.

HERE'S THE IMPORTANT PART: Metatron says "are you going to take it?" and RIGHT BEFORE Aziraphale says "shall I?" you hear the FAINTEST GLIMMER of the sound effect for miracles. I'll be honest I had to turn my sound up and lean in once someone pointed it out, but it's there and you HAVE to listen for it. They both go for a walk.

Crowley clearly believes Metatron is up to something, and watches them leave and walk but doesn't follow- this isn't addressed again. Then Crowley, Nina, and Maggie have their talk, and this is the part where Crowley is meant to confront his feelings. We switch back to Aziraphale with Metatron. Clearly Metatron and Aziraphale have talked about a deal and Metatron asks him to "think it over." Aziraphale has presumed to finish his coffee at this point, because he heads directly back to the bookshop to talk to Crowley. They fight, they kiss, they give each other up because Aziraphale decides to go to Heaven and leave everything behind. Like I said earlier, this is the part that enraged a lot of people- why would Aziraphale do this? This is so out of character. Why would he leave Crowley behind? Why would he leave his BOOKSHOP behind?

The current persistent theory is this:

Metatron has proven to be dismissive and untrustworthy since we met him. It is odd that he suddenly shows a change of heart for Aziraphale and wants to promote him. We, as the audience and fans, know Aziraphale's desire to live a simple, humanlike life with the person he cares about the most (Crowley) with his most prized possession (the bookshop).

The subtle miracle sound effect when Aziraphale took the coffee was the moment the miracle took place, affecting the coffee to brainwash (or at least to make more easily persuaded) Aziraphale so he'd say yes to the offer Metatron was giving him.

Aside from this, they editors/director/writers purposely wrote in and left the entire part about Metatron getting coffee for Aziraphale (as what? Some sort of peace offering?). The entire ending could have done without bringing so much attention to the coffee that Metatron gave to Aziraphale. It was unnecessary.

Unless it wasn't, and we are meant to find that out in season 3. The coffee is Chekhov's gun. In filmmaking, nothing is ever just a coincidence or an accident. They made a point to give us the miracle sound effect without showing any visible changes, made Aziraphale act wildly out of character, and framed it as though it is not, let's say, an institutional issue that is being covered up 👀👀

And let's not ignore that the episode 6 description specifically says "The Metatron brings an oatmilk latte, along with a final offer." Which would be an odd thing point out if the coffee was a mere prop.

All to say- I personally loved the season. I loved every minute, and I want to see what happens next. I think that people are going to be very angry with the ending, but that there's so much more we have yet to uncover and we shouldn't underestimate the wit of Neil Gaiman.

[tendermiasma]

Out of curiosity, what drove you to pick Halsin as Clover’s love interest out of all the possible characters? Love your work by the way :)

Thank you so much! Baldur's Gate was barely on my radar since I didn't really know about the IP but my friend showed me a picture of Halsin and I said, "I'll play the game if you can kiss him". Well. I think they communicated what kind of person he was very well through his design because he seemed very kind, earnest, and protective with zero explanation. I'd already mostly figured out Clover's story before I started in but I was so delighted at how well they meshed. I was already biased, of course, but their fey plotlines were pure coincidence and so it just made sense. I lost my mind when Halsin started explaining haha. I LOVE the conflict of someone hunted by the fey and someone who is very close to them. They were both raised by the wild in very different ways and it's something I've loved having them explore with each other.

They both also deal with a particular kind of despair. I get the sense that Halsin became emotionally isolated from his own people after trying so hard to right something for so long, but he still had hope. What makes him waver is no longer having hope, which I saw most prevalently when we got to the city. Clover, on the other hand, is the one who digs in and crawls on, even without a light at the end of the tunnel. He doesn't expect anything, it's just what he's always done. Maybe for the spite of maybe living until tomorrow-- he doesn't know. Halsin was the first person who made him think of next Autumn. Halsin learns that despair should not be the death of persistence because the light may just be too far off to see. Clover's living proof of that. I'm not finished with the game but how Halsin deals with the horrors of trying to save everyone and everything when there are powers at work who want people to feel paralyzed and afraid and helpless is very special to me. I think their relationship, along with the events of the game, is helping him realize his true place where he can make a real difference is more grassroots than he thought. For Clover, though, Halsin can draw him out of that twilight and into a life he deserves.

I rambled I think but I hope I answered your question haha

[back2bluesidex]

Lightning - PJM (18+)

Pairing: Heartthrob!Jimin X Fem!Reader

Word count: 1465

Summary: You don't understand why you find Park Jimin everywhere you go. Also, why his eyes stay only on you.

Theme: Smut, PWP

Warnings: Public sex (foreplay), fingering, panty keeping (idk what I am writing here), mentions of drinking, very vaguely discussed context, party/club settings, Jimin is a bit mysterious. MDNI!!

Part 2: Like Crazy

**************

"Lightning strikes everytime she moves..

Everybody's watching her,

But she's looking at you."

Yes, exactly. Lightning strikes everytime Jimin moves. He is the life of the party. When he moves everyone only stares. Sometimes you feel Jimin isn't even real. Does he even dance or does he just float on thin air?

When it comes to Jimin, age, gender, status nothing matters. Everyone is a fan, everyone is in love, everyone waits to be picked by him. Be it for a night or for a dance, everyone is ready to surrender themselves to Park Jimin.

Now as he dances or more likely grinds on his girl for the night, you stare at him from the corner of your eyes, sipping on your drink. Every pair of eyes are on Jimin but Jimin's eyes can't seem to leave you. Everybody is watching him but he's looking at you, only you.

"So, my place or yours?" The guy sitting beside you asks. He has been flirting for a good ten minutes now. Even though you have hardly been hearing anything he says you know he just can't ask whether it will be your place or his. You're not going to sleep with him.

You roll your eyes, "keep on dreaming" you say as you hop off the bar stool to head towards the exit. The guy blocks your way.

"Hey, c'mon. We can have a good night." He pursues.

"Sorry but I am not interested." You reply, you are already starting to get irritated.

"Oh really? So who are you interested in? Park Jimin? You think you have a chance with Park Jimin?" He chuckles rudely. Your eyes go wide. Who this little dick thinks of himself! How the fuck he gets to insult you like this? You are about to curse at him very badly but…

"That's for us to decide. Not you, Mr. Whoever you are." Says the man in question, Park Jimin. You didn't even register when he left the dance floor and came to you. You stare at him with blown out pupils as he brushes past you and stands between you and the guy.

"Leave" Jimin commands the guy and he leaves after glaring at you for a bit. You turn your heels to leave as well. But it's too late. Jimin is already holding you by your elbow.

"Mind having a dance with me?" Jimin says as his stare pierce directly through your soul.

"I- I can't dance." You fumble upon your words. It's the first time you two are exchanging words and it makes you more than nervous. You can't even think of dancing with him.

"I'll lead you, Y/N" he says before pulling you towards the dance floor.

Your eyes go wide again, how does he know your name?

"Wait, you know my name?" You shout over the music as you reach the dance floor.

Jimin wastes no time. He places both of his hands on either side of your waist and pulls you closer to him. Your body presses onto his, your tits onto his firm chest, his crotch onto your stomach. You can feel his bulge. Your breath hitches.

You have always admired him from afar. You have always known your place. You have always admitted that Park Jimin is a dream, a dream that can't take the shape of reality. You knew it all so you stayed away. You never threw yourself at him unlike others.

You two don't even attend the same classes nor do you share the same group of friends. There's a sky-to-earth difference that persists between you two. But somehow you find Jimin everywhere you go. Be it a party or a seminar or a random university get-together. You find Jimin everywhere. And his eyes seem to find you just like everyone's find him. You thought it's a mere coincidence but maybe you were wrong.

"I know a lot of things about you, Y/N. More than you can even think of." Jimin smirks. One of his hands reaches down to stay on the swell of your ass. You grasp at the sudden intimacy.

"How?" You ask him as you try to match his steps. Swaying your hips as his hands guide you.

"Do you really think it's a coincidence to find me everywhere you go?" His eyes stay trained on yours, once again piercing through your soul.

He leans down towards you, reaches your level, and whispers in your ear, "I have been chasing you for a long time now…. Finally you are in my claws."

Shivers run down your spine…. Park Jimin has been chasing you? Why? But before you could voice your question, he bites your earlobe. You moan out a little. You know it's probably not audible since the volume of the music is way too loud. But Jimin hears it.

His hand encircles around your waist tighter as he pulls you towards him even more. Your faces are inches away from each other. And you forget that the world exists.

His plump lips are so inviting that you give in and place your lips on his, giving him a chaste kiss. You hear Jimin groan when you part your lips from him.

"Fuck" he curses as he attacks your lips again. His hand leaves your hip and that reaches to grope one of your tits. He massages it gently but the kiss gets rougher and hungrier each passing moment.

Jimin rubs his erection on your stomach and you know he is quite hard already. He breaks the kiss and looks at you for a moment. You take the chance to admire his beauty. His black locks falling on his eyes, his plump glossy lips, his smooth skin, his Adam's apple and of course his midnight blue sparkle-y two piece dress, everything is perfect. Everything emphasizes his beauty beyond imagination. And for a moment you wonder, if it's another wet dream you're having. Maybe to prove you wrong, Jimin leans down again.

"Remove your panty" he whispers in your ear as you take a moment to register his words.

"W-what?" You ask, bamfuzzled.

"I said remove your panty, baby. Right. Now." His demeanor changes to a more demanding one. You can't help but feel yourself getting aroused. And you obey his words.

Scanning the surroundings for a bit you understand everyone's too busy to keep an eye on you two, since Jimin already found someone, no one is wasting their time anymore. So you take the chance and put one of your hands under your little black dress to remove your panty. As soon as the deed is done, you see Jimin's hand extending towards you as he points the piece of garment with his eyes. You place it on his palm. He puts it in his pocket while licking his lips, eyes staying on your face.

Then once again he pulls you closer to him. this time he attacks your neck, biting and sucking every inch of skin available to him. One of his hands stays on your waist when the other one pushes your dress slightly higher.

You moan out loud when you feel him nipping on your neck and at the same time his thumb presses on your clit.

"So wet and ready for me" he says between kisses. The pad of his thumb makes patterns on your clit as two of his digits slide into you.

"Ji-Jimin" you moan.

"Yes baby? You like that?" He asks. You nod your head as you're unable to form a sentence.

It's been long since you have had anything called sex. And the way Jimin's fingers are restlessly pumping into you, your body can hardly take it. Moreover, the fact that there are people surrounding you, all or most of them want Park Jimin for themselves but you are the one getting his fingers to abuse your cunt like this, is making your pleasure ten fold. As a result, you clench around him embarrassingly early.

"You wanna cum already?" He asks with a low seductive voice, staring at you.

"I'm close" you breathe out as he reaches to kiss your throat again.

"Cum. Make a mess on my fingers, here on the dance floor, Y/N" he commands and you comply.

You cum on his fingers. As he sucks a bruise on your neck. Then he parts his lips from your skin, removes his fingers from you, stands tall and stares at you with his siren eyes.

He brings his fingers coated with your juice to his lips and puts it on his tongue. He hums at the taste, you start to get wet again just with the view.

"Fuck. You taste so good." He says as he completes sucking his fingers. You bite your lips and release a shaky breath.

"Let me drop you home." He says as he starts pulling you out of the club.

**********

A/N: anyone want a part 2?

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[dark-night-hero]

「Without You」 Zhongli

↳ Part two of Without me in which he was fine without you as long as he get to watch you from afar, safe and sound and above all, happy. (Mentions of self harm ahead.)

Morax first met you in a field full of flowers. The thing is, you aren't there to take care of them. In fact, when he first met you, you were busy pucking them one by one, causing a him to frown, wondering what you were doing.

He have heard stories about you, the lonely one with a nasty attitude, always picking up a fight with anyone who dares to mess with you, there were also a rumor among the gods that you aren't like that in the beginning, but after killing your friends with your own hands, you turn into an approachable, loathsome, alof, ready to kill anyone on your path.

Morax found it amusing, but he couldn't careless, it was none of his business away nor there was something to benefit him if he was to mess with you. So it was really nothing but a strange coincidence that he had met you during one of his walks around the mortal world.

"I do not remember giving permission to a mortal, let alone the god of contracts to come in my territory." You didn't turn around, but he did catch a glimpse of those hands pucking yet another flower in the field. "If you're just another useless god I would be very delighted to kill you right here and now because you just invaded my sanctuary. But I'm letting you off the hook because you're the God of Contracts, Morax."

Leaving was on his mind truly, afer all, he doesn't want to be engaged in a fight with no meaning behind it. Thought it may be a shame to leave this beautiful place perfect for his walk, now that the owner asked him to leave, he would have to leave. That was until you turn around to face him as you said those words. For a moment, his amber iris hidden beneath his hood widen. You look so lonely, lonely yet mesmerizing. "Then will you give me the permission to come in here in some other time?"

Morax, or Zhongli as he was called nowadays. Was left standing on a huge flower field. It may not be as huge as it was when he first saw you, the part where you were at most was still intact. Nowadays when he got nothing left to do around the hardor, he would find himself walking towards the place where the two of you have met.

As the gentle breeze passed by, his brown locks swaying along the direction of the wind. His fingers carefully reach out to touch one of the flowers in the field. This place was not known to many, well, at least to the mortals, as well as the rest of the aduptus. This was your secret sanctuary, after all. Who would dare expect a flower field inside deep down a mountain?

After a while, Zhongli pulled out a pair of gardening scissors. Then he kneeled down and started trimming the stray grass that was slowly growing across the field. This place was left unmaintenanced for so long.

"You're quite persistent and consistent. Don't you have some other things to do?" Across to him was you, just like the first time he met you, you were busy pucking flowers out of the soil. At first it really bothered him why were you doing such thing, but the more he dropped by in here as he took a walk due to the fact that he took your silence as a yes when he ask permission. He noticed that every time you pucked a flower out, it was quickly replaced by a new one. Never once taking his eyes off you, he answered. "I got nothing to do, so I dropped by to see my friend."

That causes you to raise a brow, "A friend? I sincerely hope you aren't referring to me because I will have to blow your head off if you do." By your words, he could only chuckle by your vicious words. Brushing it off, he took a step forward towards you, causing your eyes to go wide. "Stay where you are! You're ruining my garden!" "Relax, I did not step on them." ".... Really? Still wait a minute, I'll pave the way." Just like that, a path was created in the midst of the flower field.

Morax, at the time, was still yet to have friends by his side. In fact, just like you, he finds it hard to trust someone. So you were the very first one. Although it took a very long time for you to open up, as well as he to you, though it may not be obvious.

"No.. no. no no no no. I can't drink anymore, Morax." You said with a giggle. There were the two of you, in the middle of the field were a table for more was placed, Morax never knew it was in here until you tour him in the flowery field not too long ago. "Hehe." Looking at you silently giggling, he couldn't help but to smile, unconsciously moving away a lost trand of (hair color) locks behind your ear. Looking at you all flustered up, he shakes his head side to side with a smile. Maybe he shouldn't have brought that many osmanthus wine. But as you said you've been wanting to have it for a while now, how was he to say no? He barely managed to sneak in the land of the mortals to get you this.

"Hey Morax.." You tap him by the arm to gain his attention, something unless when he was already looking at you. "Did you.. Did you know why I don't have and want to have friends?" You asked wasted. "Because they all dieeeee haha." Then you lean against your palm. "They all leave me alone. They left me all alone. Heh. Hehehehe they should have taken me with them." You chuckle. "Everybody says I killed them. It wasn't me, it was another god." You frown then pout. "I arrived too late to save them. Maybe I did kill them." Suddenly you look at him. "Right? It's my fault that they died."

He just looks at you, not saying anything as he lets you speak, rant out everything you've been keeping. He was planning to let you finish before he speak, but as tears started falling down your cheeks as you chuckle in the middle of your ranting, his eyes widen. For a moment, the always calm and collected god of contracts doesn't know what to do. And it pained him, it pained him to see you crying that he doesn't know what to do.

So you sat there crying, cheeks flushed, mind spinning, Morax pulled you in his chest. And before you know you it, you were crying like a mess on his chest, and all he did was to run his hands on your back, patting you gently waiting for you to calm down as he whispered. "Please don't cry. I don't know what else to do when you cry." Morax doesn't know how long you've been suffering, how long you've been alone, but one thing he knew is that he should have found you earlier. He should have been with you. "I... I love you. Please don't say such words to yourself."

Zhongli blink, then he look down. On the table was now his cold tea. He was just taking a break from cleaning up the flower field when he found himself lost in old memories. With a small smile on his face, he shake his head and picks up the cold tea before drinking it and was about to get back into gardening when a familiar presence arrived.

"Xiao. What takes you here?" "Why didn’t you stop them?" "Hmm?" Zhongli looked at him like he doesn't know what he was talking about, but he know. He knew very well. "Why didn't you stop them from leaving?" Xiao was never the one to confront his decision, well with the exception when it comes to you and his mentor.

"I just don't understand. It's just an accident. Does it really have to come to this?" Xiao asked him he remained silent like always. "We.. we have a different way of grieving." Zhongli manage to reply after a long silence. "So you're just letting them leave like that?" Xiao questioned him. "I thought you love them. I guess I was wrong, Morax." For the first time in his life, Xiao seems to be disappointed on him. And as he left, there was bitter smile on Zhongli's face that was never seen by Xiao.

"You- you don't have to come here every day, you know." You see, after that little drunken session, things have been very awkward between the two of you with you almost hiding from him everytime he pays visit to you. And Morax found it cute and amusing. Knowing you just feels the same way ay him. "Hmm? Really? But I really want to see you." He chuckle.

Just like that, you blush. Turning your back at him. "So I'm thinking about us (First name)." "Us?! What are you are talking about?" Flustered, you didn't dare turn around to face him. "Right. I love you, you love me. We feel the same way towards each other. Don't you think it was time for us to be together?" "You-! Stop deciding things on your own!" "But you kissed me back and cried that you love me too." "When did I do that?!"

It was fun to tease you, and it was fun to love you. In a world where gods were at odds with each other. You were his peace. Without you, it was lonely. Without you, he found himself lost. Be it way of living or loving. It was much better to have you by his side. After all, it was thanks to you that he found the other sides of himself as well as he was even able to make friends with the other gods, something he wouldn't dare do in the part. It was fun, and he was genuinely happy with you.

Strange how little things often remind him of you. Maybe because you were the one to show him the world. Walking back to the harbon on his day off after cleaning up the flower field. Zhongli finds his way home lonely. But it was something he was used to nowadays.

From afar was the city he was fond of. It was the last day of the lantern festival, a festival you came up all those years ago. Something that strongly reminds him of you.

"Mor- Zhongli!" What greeted him was the drunk bard that never failed to make him want to turn around and walk away, pretending not to hear anything. But now what the bard was right in front of him, an osmanthus wine in hand. Who was he to refuse?

It took Morax years to convince you to go out of your lair but what convince you was the fact that he wanted to introduce you to his friends and was thinking of building a nation with you and his friends. Curious on what it was all about as well as the nation he wanted to build, but reluctantly agreed to go out. Thankfully, as he introduced you to his friends, you managed to fit him really well.

"If you keep on staring at them, they might turn into a stone." It was Guizhong, a good friend of his mumble underneath her breath but was enough for him to hear, as if it was on purpose to let him hear causing him to raise a brow, still didn't take his eyes off you who was currently having a conversation with Cloud Retainer not to far from them. It was nice to see you having fun. "If you want to talk to them you know you can just approached them, you know." "(First name) is having fun, leave them be."

Everything was going fine, you were just getting along with his friends, the nation you've built along side them was slowly growing in prosperity. Everything was doing well. Until that happened one afternoon.

By the time they arrived in there, everything was almost destroyed, but what stood out the most was Guizhong fallen figure and your bloody ones. You stood in the middle of that chaos, with your body slowly turning to look at them. You had a horrified look on your as they stood there in shock. They body was under control and by the looks of it. You have just killed Guizhong with your own hands. "Mo-Morax." You cried out. "Somebody.. stop me."

"Mo-Zhongli, was it?" As it was once again his day off, he went back to the place where he find most peace at. Glancing at Cloud Retainer by the corner of the field. He let out a humm, continuing to trim the bush in the flower field. "I heard the news." For a moment, Zhongli halted then he started trimming once again. "I heard they left."

Once again, as if minding his own business, he just hummed in agreement. It's true that you left. Left Liyue for good. "You know." There was a hint of hesitation within her voice. "You can always come after them." "The contract says I can't, so I won't." Spoken by Zhongli as he stood up, dusting off the sleaves off his clothes.

"Morax.." "I go by Zhongli nowadays." "Yes. That was the name they chose for you, rigth?" "That's right." He sigh. There was a moment of silence after that. Then the Cloud Retainer sigh in resignation. If Morax doesn't want to talk about it, then none shall talk about it, though, she new the reason herself. "If don't mind. Can I offer some help?" Although he knew that the offer was tempting, Zhongli shake his head. "(First name).." for a moment there was a longing smile on his face. "They don't like it when someone else handles their flower." He chuckle.

You're slowly loosing your mind and self. Unable to bare the guilt and consequences of killing a dear friend of yours as well as the look of blame and distrust of your remaining friends were slowly eating you out. Although you knew it wasn't your fault, although you knew you where under the influence of body control. It doesn't change the fact that you're mind is clear and conscious as somebody else controls over you. And despite the comfort and reassuring words of your lover. None of it was working.

This time, just like the good old days, you lock yourself inside your lair, call it runnig away or something. The guilt and pain was unbearable, the look of Guizhong as you killed her was hunting you. Although she says it's alright. You knew it wasn't. You. You just want to end it all.

There, as Morax tried his best to break the strong barrier that prevented him from coming inside your lair. There, he found you in a bloody mess. For the first time in his long years of living does Morax felt fear, fear of losing you. And as he held you in his arms, trying his best to patch you up. "Morax?" You barely manage to spoke his name. "It's.. you.." Then you smile. Smile like you're leaving him. "Hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here." He spokez holding back his tears. Just a little more and you're fine. "Morax... I'm tired... I don't think... I can... can continue anymore."

"How are they?" "Asleep." Just like that, the Cloud Retainer let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't just her but all the remaining adeptus. "I.." all eyes turn to Morax. "I'm planning on sealing their memories." By the time you wake up again, Morax can imagine how everything would turn out the same way it was before, and worst, you might even doing worst on yourself. "I disagree." It was Streetward Rambler. As Morax turned to meet her glaze, there was nothing but silence, but then she spoke once again. "Doing that is nothing but turning their back on the consequences they have to face."

"I don't plan on sealing everything that happened that day, just the fact that they were being controlled and killed Guizhong would be enough." "That's the same thing!" Streetward Rambler replied, eyes glaring at those amber ones. "My lover is slowly loosing themselves because of what happened! On the first place everything was just an accident!" "Accident?! You heard it! Because they're envious this happened! They wouldn't be controlled in the first place if they aren't feeling that way!"

Then there was a moment of silence, none dared to speak. "Nevermind. Do it." Once again it was Streetward Rambler. Morax eyes widen. "In one condition. Let's make a contract." For a moment, Morax eyes turned cold. "What's the conditions?" He spoke, summoning a scroll. "In exchange of sealing (First name) memories of their involvement in killing Guizhong. You have to stay away from them." "Streetward!" This time it was Cloud Retainer and the other Adeptus that step in. "That's too much!" "Just like how I- we, lost Guizhong. It's only natural that (First name) to lose the only person they love the most, it just happened to be you, Morax." Morax, who has his eyes widen open grit his teeth, "I refuse to fall in such disadvantageous contract!" Morax walked away that day with you on his arms.

That goes on for a while, until you woke up one again and fell hysterical. Hurting yourself in the process, Morax watched you with pain in his eyes. Just like that, he made up his mind. Putting you to sleep, he kissed your forehead. "I'll be back soon, My love."

That day, he signed the contract with the same condition. "Wait." It was Streetward Rambler. "What?" Morax looked at her coldly. It's not like he didn't know where she was coming from, it was his lover that killed Guizhong, a friend of thiers after all. But still. At this very moment as they talked about the contenrs of the contract, Morax couldn't help but to loathe them. "Let me add one more." "What more do you want? Just how much do you want my lover to suffer?" Morax spoke painfully. "I-.. I want to add that if (First name) manage to bring back their memories. The contract would fall invalid." "Wha-?" "What I mean is that if (First name) recalled things on their own. You're free." There was a sad smile on Streetward Rambler face as she said that.

Like he promised, Morax came back to you that night. To you who was peacefully sleeping in the middle of the flower field. Morax carefully approached you, making sure not to wake you up as he was about to do something. "My love." He stroked your cheeks gently. "Everything going to be okay." You look so peaceful right now. "I.. It's okay if you hate me, resent me after this." There was a small smile on his face. "It's okay as long as you're alive and well. I don't care about anything else." He rest his forehead against yours. "You probably won't remember but.." he chuckled and with a quick kiss on the lips. "I love you, forever and endlessly. Only you."

That night, you wake up with a headache. Mind going back into the resent events. Sure you made a fuss, but not as hysterical as you were in the past, probably because most of it was now sealed. That night you waited for your lover to come, but he never did.

"At this point, they'll end up falling for him." The Anemo Archon, Venti nowadays spoke, looking at his friend with a concerning gaze. And his friend, the Geo Archon, just kept looking at you in the distance. You who seems to bright and happy even from afar. It was such a lovely scene to him, even when it wasn't him by your side. "Is that really okay for you? Morax?"

For a moment, he looked away from your figure to give his old friend a glance, only to see that friend shrug and look away from him. For a moment, he asked the same question himself. Is he really okay with this? Without you by his side? But now that he think about it. It's always been like this. "This is enough." "Looking at them from afar like a stalker?" With a glare, the anemo archon mumble an oops and look away.

With a bit of little argument with the Anemo archon, Zhongli finally succeeded on shutting him up by brute force as Venti sulk away in the corner. He looked at you once again. And as he did, your question suddenly came into mind.

Morax, did you ever love me?

With a genuine smile on his face, he answered as he look at you from afar like he always does. "I love you, forever and endlessly." As soon as he said that, he felt a gentle pat in the back, never once looking away from you. "Let's go back." "Already? I thought you'll admire them for at least days" "...." Then he clear his throat. "I just came to see if they're doing fine."

As the two walk away from afar, the (hair color) haired figure turn around, looking at the spot where the two archon just disappeared from. "???"

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Ego Death

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader, Alexis Ness/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.4k TYPE: Rivalry, Tension WARNING(S): Canon-typical football derangement, canon-typical overreaction NOTE: This is a part of the dog walking-verse again it's getting out of control

They swap you in not long after Shidou’s goal.

You’re in a good mood when you step on the field, of course, like you always are. Noa doesn’t like the way you play, but you’re always in the games in the end. Your unbalanced mind chooses to interpret this as an acknowledgement of your greatness, which gives you a funny feeling. Kind of like a high.

And your target is Ness, as usual. You find yourself standing next to him, excitement bubbling in your stomach. “Let’s give them hell, ok?”

“I’m tired of telling you everyday, we won’t be doing anything,” he says, irked by your persistence. “You’re not my ace! Get it through your thick head.”

You continue grinning, giddy for what you have planned. “Ness, do you see the future I see?”

“I don’t know what your delusional imagination has come up with, but I bet it’s something stupid.”

“Whatever. When someone’s mind is closed, you just need to pry it open sometimes.”

Ness maintains his upbeat demeanor, but it’s nothing more than a mask. He intends for his words to cut into you, though he knows you won’t care. “You always talk nonsense and then call everyone else myopic for not understanding you.”

“I guess. I mean, if that’s how you see it,” you say.

After relenting, you glance at Kaiser, who’s not saying anything, just frowning. His attitude has been getting worse the longer this Neo Egotist League event has been going on. Isagi must be wearing him down.

That’s a nasty face he’s making right now. You want to watch it get worse.

When the game starts, you do your typical movements, as if you’re trying to go on the offense. You make an earnest attempt to evade the defenders marking you down whenever you get the ball, but it’s mostly a ploy. What’s important is to get the positioning right for what you’re about to do, so you keep track of where everyone is, where they’re going to run next, and try to use your approach as a lure to adjust it all to your liking.

Is the misery settling in? Does it bother Kaiser how he’s struggling to stand out right now, and against this competition, for maybe the first time in his life? Is Ness frustrated because his passing courses are so limited like never before? You’ll need to create an opportunity for this desperation to turn into a slip up you can exploit. A moment of urgent, careless thinking, more likely to give into instinct rather than a clear-minded aspiration…

You can’t leave it to coincidence, though. You break through with one-two passes from Hiori. Karasu follows, hot on your trail. Defenses are tight, not leaving any room for a sensible breakthrough.

“Always flittin’ about like a damn fly,” Karasu says. “Yer annoying.”

“And you’re a hillbilly.” You’re close to the penalty area, and you realize things have aligned well now, though you try not to let it show on your face that you’re scheming something. The next step requires meticulous execution. You manage to keep the ball in your possession against Karasu, but you can’t drag this out.

The exact moment you have enough space to move, the ball goes up in the air and you take on a shooting stance. Rin jumps into your field of vision as you thought he would, blocking the path with his foot, trying to get in your way. “You’re so damn predictable. It’s-”

In what looks like a show of godlike reflexes, but was actually premeditated all along, you reveal the feint, sending the ball flying to your desired spot, somewhere behind yourself and near the arc. Rin doesn’t even finish his critique of your performance out of incredulity.

You snap your head around to watch with an ecstatic grin, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in anticipation. Even by your standards — quick and precise with your aim — this was an abrupt and forceful pass, enough to catch the recipient off guard.

Ness doesn’t have much time to think it over by the time he realizes what’s happening, what with three defenders blocking Kaiser and two more hovering near Ness himself. So, he pulls his leg in and obeys the instantaneous reaction-

“Yes!” you scream, elated at your success. Your vision comes to life — Alexis Ness scores Bastard München’s first goal.

Despite kicking the ball, Ness seems surprised by this development, staring at you in a confused daze. He doesn’t even bother putting on a pretense of feeling annoyed by your interference. He’s not the only one perplexed. While it’s surprising enough that he scored, what’s even more shocking is the fact that you made an assist. A deliberate one, with this outcome as the intention.

“See, Ness,” you say, gesturing ahead with a manic expression on your face, before you begin making your way towards him as if to celebrate. “You make your own magic.”

He is trembling. Ness never considered himself interested in getting a point by himself, and as of recently to make any plays separate from Kaiser at all, but it is undeniable that he’s excited by this, and he’s sure the afterwaves of energy will linger in his system for a while. But he’s still dumbfounded. “Why…?”

“Let’s play together,” you say. “You shouldn’t shackle yourself to one option like a coward. There’s no need to be scared of making a choice.” Your gaze strays from him and instead moves over his shoulder where you see Kaiser glaring at you with pure hatred from a distance, but you recognize the expression as a farce, hiding feelings of hurt and betrayal and paranoia. He really is sensitive deep down. It’s too much fun poking at that kind of thing. You continue looking at him while you continue, “After all, everything’s possible.”

“But…”

“Ness, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Kaiser approaches with crossed arms, and his scowling is so intense, you feel like he’s trying to blow you to smithereens with his pathetic display. Ness flinches away from him regardless, maybe ashamed of his transgressions. Usually Kaiser treats your encounters together with a sort of levity, but his patience has been stretching thin for a while. “What do you think you’re doing? I thought you don’t help anyone besides yourself? The hell is this?”

“Ness, don’t be scared of him,” you say with a smirk. “You let him do most of the thinking, but you’re not dependent on him. It’s up to you most of the time if he gets a good shot in, not the other way around.”

Ness’s eyes widen at your words. Good. You want to watch him develop a sense of identity. It’s been too many games and you’ve been antsy. You want the satisfaction of being the catalyst to his evolution. How will his real ego manifest?

“I’m talking to you,” Kaiser grits out, grabbing you roughly by the collar of your jersey and leaning down to invade your personal space to the best of his ability as a last ditch attempt at intimidating you, blocking your view of Ness. The corners of your lips quirk up even higher, clearly not taking him seriously. The fuck is he gonna do? Whine at you until you die of boredom? “Look at me and stop pretending I’m not here!”

“When an emperor loses his last lackey, I consider him dethroned.”

His grip on your shirt tightens in response. So temperamental and easy to mess with, it’s almost cute. “Ness won’t switch to you over this. Besides, that was your orchestration. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He’ll resist it at first, I’m sure, but there’s no going back after this. He’ll start seeing me and Isagi as viable passing options, and then curiosity will get the better of him.”

Kaiser pushes you away, but his anger doesn’t seem to be simmering down. You stumble a little, but it’s not even enough to make you lose your balance and land on your ass. “I’ll make sure you plunge so deep into despair, you won’t want to touch a football in your life ever again.”

“Ho ho ho.” You laugh fakely in an exaggerated voice, clasping your hands together behind your back, pleased with the way this is going. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You’ve caused a great sense of unsettle within your favorite player out of the New Generation World XI. How long ago was it when you first saw him through a screen? Now he’s standing in front of you, and he’s disturbed, and you’re getting under his skin, and you’ve just completed the first step in your plan to steal his loyal midfielder. And he even wants to crush you! You’re so happy, you can’t help but continue to grin.

Yes, today is another beautiful day, like always.

___

It's never that serious

[lilacrwses]

▸ Sweet Encounter

summary: The divine dogs always stay with megumi. But with the sweet unfamiliar scent filling the place, they couldn’t help but to go to it, and neither can Megumi.

ft: Megumi, and the cute lil’ dogs

note: I had fun making this one:>

The rays of the sun were covering the whole park, it wasn’t too hot, wasn’t too cloudy, and it was just the perfect weather for Megumi to walk his divine dogs.

He was on a day off, hoping for a peaceful day with his pets; no unexpected curses, no annoying people, and no gojo sensei pestering him to get a s/o…

Megumi was about to sit in the nearest bench for a break until instead he was pulled in a strong motion by his dogs losing grip on the leashes.

He cursed under his breath knowing that this doesn’t happen unless there is a curse nearby.

•••

You were in a park although you’re not supposed to. Well, you can’t help that you’re lost in this big city. The higher-ups had to transfer you to Tokyo for your work, but you were having trouble finding the school.

You felt a huge energy leaped on your back, and immediately turned to the enemy—dogs?

Your eyes softened and the two pets wiggled their tail rubbing their fur in your pants.

You can’t help but to squat and sit in the grass for a while. You assumed that they have someone taking care of them since they smelt good.

You booped their noses. “You guys are making trouble for your owner hm?” You giggled when they whined, ears were down for a while as if they understood what you were saying..

You heard someone panting behind your back and turned your head towards it, you saw a raven haired boy with such pretty lashes catching his breath.

“Must be your owner.” You smiled to the dogs and stood up from the grass pulling their leashes taking a closer step to the boy.

Megumi questioned his intuition, it was not an ugly curse that his dogs found, instead, it was someone opposite.

“I’m sorry, did they give you trouble?” He scratched his head a slight blush tinged up his cheeks.

“Oh, no! They did surprise me but they’re the sweetest.” The dogs barked at your reply moving circles around you, you giggled at their antics.

Oh your laugh

Megumi doesn’t know why his heart just fluttered.

“I must get them now.” This reply is so megumi, your eyes blinked twice before giving the dogs to him. The dogs were cute, you were hoping to at least play with them for a bit. But it seems their owner is quite strict with them, and you still have some school to find.

As you bid goodbyes to the dogs and to Megumi, you heard a whine and it didnt felt a second the dogs were again by your side.

“Your dogs must adore me.” You giggled petting their head. It was quite unusual for the divine dogs to stick with such person they don’t know of.

It piqued megumi’s interest into the next level.

He has nothing to do anyways. “Are you heading somewhere? We could acompany you. I-if it’s okay of course.” He looked away.

“Sure, why not. I was also just waiting for someone.” you shrugged your shoulder.

you both started walking away from the park you felt your sweat drop when the divine dogs were practically scooting you closer to Megumi which made you stumble. Don’t worry! Megumi’s hands were there to hold your waist preventing you from falling further!

“I’m so sorry about that, they aren’t usually….persistent about something.” You laughed it out saying that you didn’t mind. Megumi was about to ask something but your phone started ringing.“Hello? Yes, Gojo sensei. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hearing a familiar name Megumi’s ears perked up in surprise.

‘Jujutsu student transfer…He must be waiting for sensei.’ he thought. He remembered when Gojo mentioned someone transferring it must be you, what a coincidence.“You’re the transfer student aren’t you?” You just finished your call. Dumbfounded and not knowing what to say, you stare at him blankly.

“You know Gojo san?” Megumi nods. ‘If he knows Gojo sensei he must be a sorcerer’. “I’m L/n Y/n, I’m a first year at Jujutsu tech.” You introduced yourself.

Gojo told you that he wouldn’t be around at this moment since the higher ups had gave him a mission.

Tapping some things at your phone you were surprised when you felt a light push from your back making you stride closer to the raven haired boy. If Megumi was a little more closer he could probably see the light pink tint on your cheeks.

It was a good thing you instantly leveled yourself with the cute big puppies.

“It was nice meeting you guys, you were so kind to accompany me even though you were having a walkie. I’ll be leaving now.” Not wanting to trouble them further you. You looked at Megumi and back at the dogs who were tilting their heads not distracted by your beauty.

You kissed the dogs goodbye and they were wiggling their tails. Megumi has never been jealous with his dog.

You waved at him before leaving but it seemed that the dogs were following you instead of their owner. “I’m so sorry, I promise they’re not this welcoming!.” He put his hands up. You laugh at the cute antics.

You pat the white puppy first and then the other one

“I guess you might have to take me on a date with these cuties, they probably won’t be leaving me alone anytime soon.” You controlled yourself from smiling too hard as you felt your cheeks heat up saying that.

“I guess I might actually. Well, my shikigami’s aren’t the only one who’ll want you around often.” The tips of his ears began to heat up. He then coughed beginning to say something.

“And for the next following dates it’ll be just the two of us.”

Maybe Gojo’s plans of getting Megumi an s/o worked out better than expected.

[khunyuki]

"I've lived my life with blade and you always in my mind"

ꜱɪᴅᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ: 𝚍. 𝙸 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙸'𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚑𝚞𝚑?

Synopsis: Narumi Gen initially thought that Uzui Kagami was pathetic with her self-depreciating thoughts and how she let people run their mouths. He hates how he lets himself be dragged around by her cuz it's comfortable, especially that sweet smile that makes her look unbothered when it was, in fact, the opposite. He also hates how she's the fiancee of his rival when she should've been...

Pairing/s: Unrequited!Narumi Gen x OC

Note/s: I was too lazy so I just wrote 3 scenes😭 Will make a part 2 soon. It's also connected to 'that decision' mentioned in the intro

Masterlist: TOC, Previous, Next

Uzui Kagami didn't expect her life to take an unexpected turn after transferring to the First Division. Heck, she didn't even expect she'd be recruited by THE Shinomiya Isao but she did! Yet here she was starting to maybe regret her decision as she stared at the lazy man in front of her.

.

.

"Excuse me"

She called out to the man hiding behind a vending machine, crouching like the object would hide his body. The man was playing with a handheld console she recalled was a PSP with a game she doesn't know. His hair was let down to cover his eyes yet she recognizes this man. It was 'The Troublemaker' Narumi Gen, who was in the same squadron as her.

She found him by coincidence after she left the study room to go to the training room as stated in her schedule when she heard sounds coming from a vending machine besides the storage room. It wasn't loud enough to be heard by an untrained ear so any normal human would probably not notice it but Kagami could. She seemed to have deduced that there's only one person in the base who would go out of his way to hide in an inconspicuous location just to play.

"Narumi Gen-san?"

She once again called out to the dual toned hair guy who tried to ignore her once more but couldn't as she stood in front of him.

"What do you want? I'm busy"

Gen just waved her away with his hand then resumed back to his game.

"Training starts in 10 minutes. We're going to be late"

Kagami, with her outstanding patience, didn't seem bothered at all by his gesture. She reminded him of the scheduled training they have that afternoon.

"Then you go by yourself. Why bother asking me?"

Narumi Gen was starting to get annoyed by the persistent woman in front of him.

"I do not wish to see you be scolded for being late if there's something I can do about it"

Kagami gave him genuine concern as she had already seen him be scolded multiple times during her time there. To her, his demeanor wasn't normal and it bothered her.

"Why are you being so concerned? Who are you anyways?"

Gen finally looked up to the meddlesome person in front of him to see a person he didn't know. Her long black hair hanging on her side and black eyes staring at him without any trace of scorn, something he usually sees from people around him.

"Pardon me for not introducing myself first. I am Uzui Kagami who just joined the First Division last week. I was assigned to the same squadron as you, Narumi-san"

Seeing him finally looking at her, she crouched down to meet him eye to eye when introducing herself as it was polite to do so. Her untied hair bouncing as she did, gently draping over her shoulders. Her smile was as polite as it can be but it was doing something to Gen's heart.

"Y-yeah whatever"

Somehow, he couldn't meet her in the eyes so he turned back to his game where the words 'YOU DIED' was displayed. Usually he'd feel frustrated but he was still trying his best to hide the heat that was growing on his face.

"Ummm is that game that important?"

The lady who introduced herself as Uzui Kagami moved to the empty space beside him so she could peek as his game. She doesn't really understand how it works but she could feel that it's importance whenever he focuses his concentration on it.

"I'm about to defeat the boss"

That's what he said when in fact, he was still stuck in the middle levels and just restarted the game. He tried hard to ignore the woman watching him, who was tucking the stray strands of hair on her face back to her ears.

"Will you be able to finish it within 5 minutes?"

Kagami watched him play for awhile then turned to the watch of her wrist. There were only 5 minutes left and the way to the training grounds is also 5 minutes, if not more.

"Probably"

"Then excuse me"

As soon as she heard his response, she immediately put her hands under his knees and on his back then lifted him up. Time was running out and she needs them to go now or they'll be late.

"W-wha?! What the heck is wrong with you?!"

Wide-eyed, Gen was so surprised when he was suddenly lifted in a princess carry that he almost dropped his console. Why was the pretty stranger yet not stranger carrying him?!

"Please don't worry. You can just play your game while I bring you to our destination"

Kagami gave him a reassuring smile as she fast walked to the training grounds with him in her arms.

"It's not that! My problem is why am I being carried like a princess?!"

Gen couldn't help but cover his entire face with his console in embarrassment. Never in his life had he been carried like this by anyone!

"Ohh... I thought it would be better than having you on my shoulder or on my back so you could play comfortably. I'm sorry for touching you without permission"

She slowed down her pace but continued to walk. It really doesn't matter to her what position he's in if they could go there fast but it seems her consideration was a bit too much for him. She couldn't see what was wrong yet as she's still blinded by the fact that they'll be late.

"Just why are you doing this to me?"

"I told you. I do not wish for you to be scolded for being late."

Narumi Gen wanted to die from embarrassment. Yet he couldn't bring himself to be angry at her, who seem to really just want to go with him to the training grounds together.

"At least change the position"

Her eyes brightened and she eagerly let him down and he could see how big their height difference was. She was a head shorter then him yet she could carry him with such ease... Well, most could probably do so but who would want to involve themselves with him if not this weirdo.

"You're so short yet you really think you could carry me?"

He uses his hand to visually compare their heights by placing it on his head then to her own. But his hand couldn't reach her before she crouched down.

"Height does not matter when slaying kaijus. Please hurry up or we'll be late"

She turned to him with a smile as she crouched down in front of him, her hands ready at her sides to carry him.

"You're going to regret this"

He warned her yet he still got on her back to a comfortable piggyback ride to the training room.

'I could get used to this'

He thought as he played to his heart's content without minding anything else, ignoring the fast beating of his own heart. The confused bystanders who saw them couldn't seem to believe their eyes at the sight. The quiet newbie and the troublemaker combo was the least thing they ever expected to see that day.

The combo that would soon become a common occurrence in the First Division.

.

.

.

"Umm why am I doing this again?"

"I told you, you were going to regret it"

He reminded her as she started carrying him again to their destination for the nth time. Kagami couldn't help but sigh at the past her's actions as it was her fault she made him be comfortable by volunteering to be his transportation.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

Only a few months after joining the First Division, Kagami has successfully established herself as a proper member of the base. She would've wanted to be recognized for her skills most but she knew she was more known for something else. That something was related to the missing, newly promoted captain, Narumi Gen.

"That brat, Gen, is missing again. Uzui, do you know where he is hiding this time?"

Hasegawa Eiji, who was annoyed to see the empty room, rubbed his temple as he turned to the only officer standing inside the captain's office. Despite having on a respirator mask, he knew exactly who it was as she's the only one allowed inside his office.

"I beg your pardon Vice Captain Hasegawa but I am not a missing person detector"

Officer Uzui Kagami couldn't help but sigh. She wasn't annoyed but she's been asked about his location all of the time ever since they showed up together, with him on her back, to training. She knew there would be consequences when she chose to be involved with him but she didn't think it would affect her life for so long.

"The two of you are the only ones in the room. There's no way you don't know where he is"

Vice Captain Hasegawa is extremely suspicious. He knew of her skills. The Uzui's are mostly known for being shinobi's, and that shinobi's are masters of deception. He also knew that Kagami is an honest person that doesn't see any benefit from lying. If not for her mask, he could at least try to read her face for any lies.

"Where is he?"

Kagami blames herself for befriending her captain as it meant she had to serve under him and follow his orders directly. It also meant that whenever he's hiding, she'll be the one to find and fetch him. To drag him from whatever mess he's creating and clean up after him.

She isn't scared of her vice captain despite the scary expression on his face right now. Nor is she scared of the complaining her captain will whine about later. She just wanted to get it over and done with.

"He's inside one of the boxes over there sir"

"Kagami, you traitor!"

She pointed over to the tower of amazon boxes that he ordered. She and her captain made a fort that was hollow inside so he could hide when the vice captain arrives but she knew it was a futile attempt. Especially when he let out a loud noise after she exposed his location.

Vice Captain Hasegawa dragged out the whining captain and went out of the room while the officers he brought with him were cleaning up his room. Usually it was her job to do so but she had to follow them out first. After all, she had something more important to do.

After they arrived at Vice Captain Hasegawa's office where Gen was being scolded, she got caught in the crossfire for letting him be. Used to being scolded, Kagami just stood there and let the time pass by.

"Officer Uzui, what's the business you wanted to talk about?"

Vice Captain Hasegawa, having finished his rants turned to the woman still standing properly, ignoring the whining man on the side. She took a letter from her pocket and placed it on the table.

.

.

"Captain Narumi, Vice Captain Hasegawa. I would like to quit the defense force"

"May I ask the reason why?"

The whining captain immediately went silent and the vice captain opened his eyes wide in shock. Hasegawa kept his composure and asked.

"My family has been encouraging me to quit for a long time now. I've been postponing it but I think it's time to listen to them"

"I won't accept that kind of reason"

Narumi Gen, with a uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, was incredibly upset.

"Are you a puppet? It's been on my mind for a long time but why do you keep letting your family decide on your actions? You're old enough to be independent and have a mind of your own yet you still let yourself be pushed around like this"

He stood up from where he was at and trekked towards her, his hair now slicked back revealing his eyes. The eyes that were compatible with Kaiju no.1, which could be considered a lie detector if used well. Stared straight to her own despite the mask, he took the resignation letter and ripped it to shreds.

"You are the one who told me you wanted to change and become better and I believe you. You are my soldier. You can't just leave because you lost confidence in yourself thus blaming it on your family. I am not letting you go just because they said so. Your place is here in the First Division. And you, Uzui Kagami, is stuck here with me because I said so"

Placing his face closer to her own, it would seem really intimate if not for the mask she's wearing. She had no choice but to lift up her head and not break eye contact as it meant she'll lose.

And she did lose. Because all she ever wanted was someone to believe in her and acknowledge her hard work, enough to blow away her worries.

"How is that any different from my family, sir?"

"It's different because I know full well you want to stay here"

This was the moment she vowed to support her captain.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

"Hey! Why didn't you tell me?"

As soon as Kagami got back from the day off her fiance forced her to get after getting injured, she was approached by her frustrated captain.

"Tell you what, sir?"

Confused, Kagami tilted her head. She doesn't really know what he's talking about.

"That you're that guy's fiancee"

As if a bulb of realization lit up her mind, she finally understood what he meant.

"Ah... Apologies sir, everyone from my previous division knew so I just thought you guys knew, as well"

Kagami didn't really mean to keep it a secret. She thought it was already a fact everyone knew but clearly it wasn't as she never really talked about it before. It never got brought up in a conversation after all.

"Still does not justify you not telling me! I thought we..."

'...Had something special' is what he wanted to say but trailed off. As he bored holes into her round eyes filled with innocence, he just couldn't bring himself to do so.

"I thought we were friends?!"

He just let out something else, something that describes their relationship better.

"Eh? I thought you said we weren't friends?"

Kagami remember him saying that while Gen recalled his interrupted confession before. He was glad he didn't get to do so as it would've risked everything with her.

"Tsk would I let you carry me and do all that to me if we weren't"

Narumi clicked his tongue, not only from the missed opportunity but also from just being called a 'friend'.

"Captain Narumi..."

"Gen"

"Eh?"

"Just call me Gen, since we're friends and all"

"But..."

"Don't even bother with the honorifics! We're friends so you have the right to call me that!"

Frustrated once more, Gen couldn't help but increase the volume of his voice. He saw how she flinched at his sudden volume so he immediately toned it down.

"If you're that bothered then you can just call me that when we're alone"

Rubbing his neck, he didn't know what to do if she still rejected him after this.

"Alright, Gen"

"Though Gen seems a bit too intimate, can I just call you Gen-kun?"

His heart thumped loudly he thought she could hear it. He asked her to call him that yet here he was getting flustered over it. Even hearing her call him Gen-kun was enough to make him feel like he just slayed multiple daikaijus all by himself.

"I-It's fine either way"

His rival may have gotten her first but there's no way in hell he'll give up just yet.

<- Previous Next ->

[yxlnst]

Obsession’s Embrace

Obsessed!Joshua x Student!Y/n

🎀 Summary 🎀 : Joshua, a mysterious and possessive boy, harbors a deep obsession with you, leading to a twisted yet captivating love story.

🧸 Word count 🧸 : 1,360

Oneshot

Random/Fluff

🧸- - - - - - - - - - - - - 🎀 - - - - - - - - - - - -🧸

Joshua Hong wasn’t like the other students at your high school. Transferring in during your junior year, he quickly became a topic of curiosity. With his serene smile and polite demeanor, he seemed almost too perfect. Yet, there was something in his eyes that hinted at a depth few dared to explore.

You first noticed him in the school library. He always sat in the corner, engrossed in a book. One day, you found yourself sitting across from him, stealing glances as you pretended to study. It was hard not to be drawn to him; his presence was magnetic.

“Hi” he said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle, almost melodic.

“Hi” you replied, feeling a sudden rush of nervousness.

“I’m Joshua” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

“Y/n” you responded, shaking his hand. His touch was warm, almost comforting.

From that day on, Joshua seemed to be everywhere you were. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, but soon it became clear that he was always nearby, watching you with a quiet intensity.

Joshua’s presence in your life grew more pronounced with each passing day. He always seemed to know when you needed help, whether it was with homework or carrying your books. His attentiveness was flattering, but also a bit overwhelming.

One afternoon, as you struggled to open your locker, Joshua appeared beside you.

“Need some help?” he asked, his smile gentle.

“Thanks, Joshua,” you said, feeling a mix of gratitude and unease.

“I’m always here for you, Y/N,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours.

As the days turned into weeks, Joshua’s attentions became more persistent. He walked you to your classes, waited for you after school, and even showed up at your favorite café. His behavior was borderline obsessive, yet you couldn’t deny the thrill it gave you.

The turning point came one evening when you were leaving the library late. The campus was eerily quiet, and you quickened your pace, feeling a strange sense of unease. As you rounded a corner, you saw Joshua standing under a streetlamp, his eyes fixed on you.

“Joshua? What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“I was worried about you,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s not safe to walk alone at night.”

His concern felt both comforting and suffocating. “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I can’t help it,” he replied, his gaze intense. “I care about you too much.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in his eyes that made you feel both protected and trapped.

Despite your initial reservations, you found yourself drawn deeper into Joshua’s world. His obsessive behavior, though unsettling, made you feel special in a way you had never experienced before. He was always there, always watching, always caring.

One evening, as you sat together in a quiet corner of the library, Joshua leaned in close.

“You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine,” he whispered, his voice a mix of love and possession.

You shivered, both from his touch and the intensity of his words. “Joshua, I’m here with you. You don’t need to worry.”

He tightened his grip on your hand, his eyes dark with possessive intensity. “I can’t help it. I need you more than anything. Promise me you’ll never leave.”

Looking into his eyes, you saw the depth of his obsession, the all-consuming need that drove him. And despite the fear it elicited, you found yourself nodding. “I promise Joshua.”

As your relationship with Joshua grew more intense, you tried to set some boundaries. But his obsession was all-consuming. He needed to know your every move, every detail of your life. His possessiveness was suffocating, yet you found yourself craving it.

One night, as you lay together on his bed, Joshua’s arms wrapped tightly around you like a vise.

“You’re mine forever, Y/N. No one else can have you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a dangerous edge.

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of contentment.

Your friends noticed the changes in you, but you brushed off their concerns. They could never understand the depth of your connection with Joshua, the way his presence made you feel both protected and cherished. To them, his behavior seemed unhealthy, but to you, it was a testament to his love.

The turning point came when you decided to confront Joshua about his behavior. You needed to understand the depth of his obsession, to see if there was a way to manage it.

“Joshua, we need to talk,” you said one evening, your voice shaking slightly.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with an intense, almost desperate longing. “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down across from him. “I need to know why you’re always watching me. Why you’re always... there.”

Joshua’s expression softened, but his eyes never left yours. “Because I love you, Y/N. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. I need to protect you.”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” you pressed. “You know everything about me. You follow me. You control every aspect of my life.”

He couldn’t say anything because he knew he was in the wrong.

He tried to hold your hand, but you pulled your hand away, standing up. “Joshua, this isn’t healthy. We need to find a way to make this work without you suffocating me.”

His eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something dangerous. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. You’re mine.”

Despite your attempts to set boundaries, Joshua’s obsession only grew stronger. His need to control every aspect of your life was suffocating, yet you found yourself drawn to his intensity. His love was possessive, consuming, and you couldn’t imagine life without it.

One evening, as you lay together, Joshua whispered, “You’re mine forever, Y/N. No one will ever come between us.”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of contentment.

As the world continued to turn, you knew that no matter what happened, you and Joshua would always be bound together by your obsessive love. It was a dark, twisted form of affection, but it was yours. And in Joshua’s arms, you felt a sense of belonging that you had never felt before.

Week’s passed, and your relationship with Joshua remained as intense as ever. His obsession never waned, and neither did your strange, addictive need for his possessive love. You learned to navigate the complexities of your bond, finding comfort in the knowledge that you were never alone.

Joshua’s presence in your life was a constant, a shadow that never left your side. He knew your every move, your every thought, your every desire. And in turn, you found solace in his unwavering devotion, in the way he needed you more than anything else.

As the future loomed uncertainly ahead, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you and Joshua would face them together, bound by a love that was as dark as it was unbreakable.

In Joshua’s arms, you found a twisted, obsessive love that filled the deepest parts of your soul. And as you embraced the shadows of your relationship, you knew that you had found a love that was uniquely yours, a bond that no one could ever break.