#I wanted to post it before the new chapter airs

[chaosandcandies]

UNPLUGGED

CHAPTER XIX: Pretty & Polished

trope: fem!9th skz member warnings: angst, drama, insecure oc, cyber bullying, slow burn pairings: hyunjinxfem!oc prev|next

THE MOMENT THE HOST GAVE THE closing line — “We’ve been with Stray Kids, and this was StarZone!” — and the studio lights dipped into soft standby, everyone exhaled. Smiles faded. Postures slumped. The masks peeled off without anyone having to say a word.

Iseul’s jaw ached.

She hadn’t even realized she’d been clenching it until now.

Staff began buzzing again, wrapping up cables, thanking the team, offering water bottles and quick nods of appreciation. Somewhere behind her, Felix cracked his neck with a dramatic groan and muttered, “I aged six years during that.”

“Same,” Seungmin deadpanned, already halfway out of his mic pack.

Chan stood a beat later than the others. He rolled his shoulders, pulled out his earpiece, and handed it to a nearby staff member with a tired smile — then turned to Iseul.

She was still seated, perfectly upright, her hands clenched around the edges of her chair like she was afraid she’d fall through it. Her expression was… pleasant. Too pleasant.

Chan approached slowly, crouching just a little to meet her eye level.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You did well.”

Iseul blinked like she hadn’t heard the question.

Then she nodded. Her expression didn’t change — not annoyed, not angry. Just... tired.

“I didn’t mean to sound harsh earlier,” Chan continued, scratching the back of his neck. “It was just... you know how they twist things in post. I didn’t want your words getting taken the wrong way.”

Another nod. Once. Twice. Maybe more than necessary.

“I get it,” she said. “I know you were just looking out.”

Her voice was calm. Too calm. She even smiled.

Chan chuckled gently, filling the silence before it got awkward. “And the bit where Seungmin cracked that joke about me being a ‘grandpa leader’? Your timing was perfect. That little laugh of yours saved it from sounding like an actual roast.”

Iseul gave a soft laugh — more of an exhale with a melody.

Chan’s smile lingered.

For a second, he felt like maybe — maybe — things were okay between them again.

She was nodding. She was smiling. She wasn’t flinching.

That had to count for something, right?

“I know today probably felt like a lot,” he added after a pause, straightening up and offering his hand to help her up. “But you handled it better than most people would. You should be proud of yourself.”

Iseul took his hand, let him pull her up.

“Thanks, oppa,” she said.

Chan breathed a little easier, patted her shoulder like it was all behind them. “Glad we’re good.”

But they weren’t.

Not exactly.

The rest of the group had already shuffled toward the backstage — some laughing, some dragging their feet, some halfway into a heated debate over where they’d left their jackets.

Chan walked ahead too, chatting with the manager about next week’s schedule.

Iseul followed.

But not closely.

She walked with purpose, like she knew exactly where she was going. And maybe she did — as long as forward meant away. Her fingers curled around her phone like it might anchor her, like it might distract her from how her stomach still twisted from that too-bright spotlight, from all the praise she hadn’t earned, from all the ways Chan kept looking at her like she was okay.

She wasn’t mad at him.

That was the worst part.

Chan was kind. He cared. He said all the right things, and he meant them.

But it didn’t matter.

Because right now, kindness just felt like pressure in prettier packaging.

She caught her reflection in a mirror as they passed.

Still flawless.

Still smiling.

Still pretending.

The interview aired barely a day later — faster than any of their usual promotions. Maybe it was strategy. Maybe desperation. Either way, the company didn’t waste time pushing out the new narrative.

The sooner the fans accepted it, the sooner the noise would quiet down.

She sat curled up on the corner of the dorm couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, a half-eaten tangerine resting on the armrest beside her. The others were scattered across the room, half-lounging, half-dozing, still dressed in their practice clothes.

It was Changbin who spotted the notification first.

“Oh hey,” he said, mouth full of chips. “StarZone interview just dropped.”

“Already?” Seungmin frowned. “Didn’t we just film it yesterday?”

“Quick PR turnaround,” Chan muttered, pulling out his phone. “They’re really on their redemption arc grind.”

“Play it,” Han said, already pulling a blanket over his legs. “Let’s see if they edited out my genius impression of Minho.”

Minho rolled his eyes but didn’t protest.

Chan opened the link on the living room TV, casting the YouTube page with a few taps. The intro music blared, and the familiar studio set flickered to life on screen. Nine smiles. Nine waves. The perfect picture of unity.

Iseul stayed silent.

From the couch, she could feel the moment her own face appeared on screen. Hair done. Makeup glowing. That pink gloss again. That dumb pun Felix had cracked about dorm laundry or whatever. She didn’t remember the setup — only the cue. Her laugh had landed exactly where the editors wanted it. The group’s laughter echoing around her like she’d always been part of it.

Her stomach twisted.

It was like watching a stranger wear her skin.

The boys had already pulled out their phones, reading the comments aloud and laughing at the ridiculous ones.

“Yo, someone said Minho blinked like a cat during Chan’s speech.”

“Someone called Iseul ‘the calm Chan’ — wait, that’s kind of a serve.”

“They said we look like a Netflix ensemble cast now. Not wrong.”

Iseul pulled her knees to her chest.

On screen, she was laughing again. That moment in the middle — Seungmin’s roast, her little giggle, the perfectly timed reaction shot. Cut. Edit. Zoom. Caption: “She fits right in!”

“People are loving you, noona,” Jeongin beamed from the floor, phone tilted up. “Look at this — ‘She’s so natural with the guys, I forgot she was new.’”

Another voice read out: “‘Omg Iseul is such a comfort member. Her laugh is EVERYTHING.’”

Comfort. Natural. Everything.

She wanted to be grateful. Wanted to believe it.

But instead, she just felt some sort of ugly anger blooming inside her chest.

Because none of it felt real.

None of those fans had seen her gasping for breath in the bathroom between takes. None of them had heard the strained way she said “thank you” after the manager reminded her — again — to talk less and smile more. They didn’t know what her laugh sounded like when it wasn’t scheduled. They didn’t know her.

They liked this version of her.

The polished, palatable, media-trained version. The girl who laughed at the right time and didn’t say too much. Who sat in the middle because PR told her to. Who didn’t flinch when the boys reached over her to grab mics or make jokes that skimmed the edge of discomfort.

They liked a story.

And she was the plot device.

Her hoodie sleeves were damp. She didn’t remember when she started gripping them so tightly.

“You okay?” Felix asked from the other end of the couch, but his voice barely broke through the rising fuzz in her ears.

Iseul blinked.

Nodded.

Swallowed.

On screen, the host threw in a final question — “So what’s next for Stray Kids?” — and Chan started answering with the practiced ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times. The camera panned wide. Everyone was smiling. Iseul included.

Except she wasn’t smiling now.

The screen glowed brighter than it needed to. The volume buzzed even at a low setting. Her own voice filled the room — polished, pretty, professional.

She wanted to scream — just once, loud and ugly.

She didn’t feel polished. Or pretty. Or professional.

She felt fake. And so, so tired of pretending.

“Iseul-ah,” Hyunjin said gently, this time closer. He was watching her more than the screen now. “You sure you’re okay?”

She didn’t respond.

The phone was still in her hand. Still open to the YouTube page. The comments kept flooding in, little dopamine bombs, all praise and warmth — for a version of her she didn’t even recognize.

All for someone who didn’t exist.

“I didn’t know she was this funny??”  “I was skeptical at first but she actually fits so well with them omg.” “The way Chan smiled when she talked?? He's proud and I get it.”

Without warning, Iseul’s hand moved.

She picked up her phone from her lap — and flung it.

The phone flew across the room and smacked against the wall with a startling thud, landing screen-first on the floor.

Everyone froze.

Changbin scrambled to pause the video.

A breath caught in someone’s throat. Felix’s, maybe.

Iseul didn’t say anything. She didn’t flinch.

Not at the sound. Not at the silence that followed.

“Okay,” Seungmin said slowly, eyebrows raised. “That’s one way to log out of YouTube.”

She didn’t look at him. Just stared at the paused image on the screen — her face caught mid-smile, eyes crinkled at the edges. It looked natural. Genuine.

She hated it.

She just stood up slowly, jaw tight, and muttered, “I’m going to my room.”

Jeongin made a small motion, like he was about to get up too — but Minho subtly stopped him with a hand on the shoulder and Iseul didn’t bother saying anything as she moved towards her room.

The silence she left behind felt heavier than the thud of her phone against the wall.

No one moved for a second. The paused frame on the TV glared back at them: Iseul’s face frozen mid-laugh, like some cruel parody of the expression she’d been fighting to maintain.

Han was the first to shift, sitting up straighter under the blanket.

“Well that happened,” Han finally said, scratching the back of his neck. ““Sooo... I’m just gonna assume she didn’t throw her phone because of my Lee Know hyung's impression?”

No one laughed.

Changbin gave him a flat look and muttered, “Han, now is not the time.”

Han threw his hands up. “Hey, I’m just trying to—”

“Don’t.”

It wasn’t angry. Just tired.

Han shut his mouth.

Across the room, Seungmin sat forward, elbows on his knees. He wasn’t saying anything, but his gaze was sharp, flickering between the paused video and the corner where Iseul had been curled up.

Jeongin stood abruptly. “I’m getting ramen.”

Felix blinked. “What?”

“She looked tired. She always wants spicy ramen when she’s tired.” Jeongin was already halfway to the kitchen, grabbing his wallet and muttering under his breath. “And yogurt. She likes that weird passionfruit one. The one that smells like shampoo.”

“I’m coming with you,” Felix said, hopping up, voice resolute. “We’ll get the XL pack. And strawberry. Just in case.”

The two were halfway to the door before anyone else moved.

“They know that won’t fix it, right?” Seungmin said after a beat, voice quieter now.

“They know,” Minho replied, rubbing his jaw. “But it makes them feel useful.”

No one argued.

Changbin stood awkwardly by the coffee table, glancing between the empty hallway and the shattered silence Iseul had left behind. “She didn’t even yell,” he said. “I’ve seen her yell at her phone for autocorrect changing ‘ah’ to ‘shark,’ but this time… nothing.”

“Her yelling would’ve been easier,” Chan said quietly.

Everyone looked at him.

He was still sitting on the floor, elbows on his knees, hands clasped — like if he held still enough, maybe he could rewind the past few hours. Like if he focused hard enough, maybe the moment would make sense.

Because now that the fog of it all was lifting — the fake laughs, the tension in her shoulders, the way she hadn’t made eye contact once since the studio wrapped — it all seemed obvious.

He’d known it the moment her smile didn’t reach her eyes earlier. When she laughed on cue, but her voice was quieter than usual. When she said “I get it” but didn’t look him in the eye.

When he tried to comfort her — to smooth it over like always — and she let him.

That was the worst part.

She let him.

No pushback. No sarcasm. No glare. Just that perfect, media-ready smile and a soft “thanks, oppa.”

It was all a performance. And he’d accepted it like a fool. Like that meant things were okay.

He rubbed his face with both hands, leaning forward, suddenly exhausted. “I shouldn’t have said anything about the PR edits,” he muttered. “She was already nervous. I just made it worse.”

“You were trying to protect her,” Minho replied. “Doesn’t mean you did it right. But I get it.”

“She looked at me like she was trying to pass an exam,” Chan said quietly. “Not like someone whom she could trust.”

The words hung in the air.

And then — like a thread being tugged — Chan felt it.

A stare.

From across the room, Hyunjin hadn’t said a word. He sat on the floor near the couch, legs crossed, eyes locked on Chan like he’d been watching him unravel in real time.

Because of course he knew. He’d been right beside them during the interview – close enough to catch Iseul’s clenched fists in her lap, the sharp inhale when she swallowed her voice, the way she sat so still, as if any movement would shatter her mask.

Chan met Hyunjin’s gaze.

And Hyunjin didn’t look away. If anything, he leaned in slightly — like he wanted to say something but knew the words would be too late now.

There was no blame in his eyes. No accusation. Just a quiet sort of knowing. A “you saw it too” kind of stare. Like he’d been holding onto the same dread since yesterday — except unlike Chan, he hadn’t tried to fix it with empty reassurances.

Chan looked down again.

Maybe that’s where he went wrong.

He stood, moved to pick up her phone — the screen cracked, like something vital had finally splintered. He didn’t look up as he said, “I’ll go check on her.”

The silence in her room was too loud.

It pressed in from every direction — heavy, thick, almost humming with judgment. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting to see what she would do next.

Iseul sat on the edge of her bed, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tightly around them. The glow from her desk lamp cast a soft circle of light around her, but the rest of the room felt dim. Muted. Like even the air was holding its breath.

She didn’t know what came over her when she threw her phone.

But it was ugly and it was true and it eased the tightening around her chest a bit.

Unfortunately that sense of comfort was only temporary.

The panic came slow, like a tide creeping up her spine. She hadn’t realized it until her hands were trembling. Until the room felt just a little too warm. Until her thoughts started racing in circles.

Why did you smile?

Why didn’t you say anything?

Why didn’t anyone stop it?

No, worse—

Why didn’t they notice?

Her breath caught.

She blinked, trying to stop the sting behind her eyes. Not again. She wasn’t going to cry again. Not after everything. Not when the part of her that still cared was already stretched thin, brittle from being bent for too long.

There was a knock at the door.

She flinched.

Another pause, and then —

“Iseul?”

Chan.

Of course it was him.

She didn’t answer.

“I’m coming in.”

The door creaked open and Chan stepped into the room, careful, hesitant, like he was stepping into something sacred — or fragile.

Iseul didn’t look at him.

He stayed near the door. “Your phone’s busted,” he said softly, holding it out with both hands. “Might still work if we—”

“Just leave it.”

His hands paused mid-air. He lowered them. “Okay.”

Silence again.

She felt him staring, and it made her skin itch.

He exhaled through his nose and sat slowly on the floor near her bed, close enough to talk, far enough not to crowd. “Iseul,” he said carefully, “what happened out there—”

“You know what happened.”

Her voice came out sharper than she meant, but she didn’t apologize.

Chan didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I do.”

More silence.

Then Iseul scoffed, bitter. “Did you come in here to make sure I don’t cry in front of the group? Or is this another PR damage control talk?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

Chan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You think I don’t see what you’re going through? I’m trying—”

“No. You’re managing me.” She turned to look at him, eyes hard. “There’s a difference.”

He went still.

“Y’know what the managers tell me? They tell me what to say, when to smile, when to pull back because the fans ‘aren’t ready for me.’ But that’s expected from them. What really hurts is that you – you – watch me get ripped apart online and tell me not to look. You talk like you’re protecting me, but you never ask me what I want. You just expect me to go along with it because I should be grateful.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The words cracked in her throat. “You treat me like a PR problem you have to fix. Not like a person. Not like someone who—who’s trying so fucking hard just to keep up with the rest of you.”

She wasn’t yelling. But her voice shook.

And that hurt worse.

Chan rubbed his face with both hands, like he was trying to steady himself. “You think I don’t care about you?”

“I think you care about the version of me that doesn’t make things complicated.”

“Iseul—”

“I’m not your burden to carry, oppa.”

“I never said you were!”

“But you act like it.”

Her voice cracked then, just barely — but it was enough. The lump in her throat was impossible to ignore now. The tears were right there, hot and furious.

She didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not now.

Not when it would look like weakness instead of what it really was — exhaustion.

He stood, suddenly looking older than before, jaw tight. “I came in here because I care. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to say the right thing, but—”

“No, you just said the easy thing.”

Chan stared at her.

Then slowly, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t want me here right now.”

He walked to the door, paused with his hand on the handle.

But he didn’t look back.

Just said, “I’ll be out there when you do.”

He

And Iseul sat perfectly still.

The tears didn’t fall yet. But they would. Eventually.

The door clicked shut behind Chan, but the sound reverberated like a gunshot through the dorm.

He stepped out into the hallway, shoulders taut, jaw clenched — and didn’t get three steps before the boys were on him.

“Hyung?” Han stood up sharply.

“What happened?” Changbin asked at the same time, trying to read his face.

“Is she okay?” Seungmin voice cracked slightly, fingers tightening around the sleeves of his hoodie.

But Chan didn’t pause. Didn’t explain. Didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Just kept walking until he disappeared into the room he shared with the rest of 3RACHA and Hyunjin, the door shutting behind him with a quiet but absolute finality.

Minho’s curse came seconds later, vicious and loud.

“Fucking hell,” he snapped, throwing his arms out. “Will both of them quit being goddamn two-year-olds and deal with the damn problem already?!”

Nobody corrected him. No one told him to quiet down.

Because it wasn’t just rage in his voice. It was helplessness. Frustration. The kind that came from loving people who didn’t know how to stop hurting.

Seungmin sighed — the long, exhausted kind that came from holding up a dam that had already cracked. He sank back into the couch with a dead-eyed stare. “I’m done,” he said flatly. “She wants to sulk, he wants to mope, and apparently we’re just here to… I don’t know. Orbit around their misery like idiot satellites.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Changbin shot back, turning on him, voice rising. “You think this is about sulking? She’s breaking down in there, and you’re sitting here acting like it’s beneath you to care.”

“I do care!” Seungmin snapped. “But what do you want me to do? Bang down her door and drag her out?”

“Yes, if that’s what it takes!”

“Oh, that’ll fix everything. Great plan, hyung.”

Before Changbin could say anything too drastic to take back, Han cut in. “Boys. By all means, please, continue yelling. I think the neighbours three floors down didn’t hear you yet.”

“Shut up, Han,” both of them snapped at once.

Han lifted his hands innocently. “Just saying. If we’re gonna implode, might as well do it dramatically.”

Seungmin rubbed his temples. Changbin paced furiously in a tiny loop like he wanted to punch the wall but was too controlled to actually do it. Minho looked ready to throw something or someone through a wall — preferably Chan, if he had his pick.

And then, from the corner, Hyunjin stood up.

No warning. No dramatic sigh. Just quietly moved from the couch, padded down the hallway, and slipped into the same room Chan had vanished into moments ago.

“Where are you going?” Minho asked, voice sharp.

“Someone has to talk to him,” Hyunjin muttered. “And you clearly shouldn’t.”

Minho cursed again — loud and creative.

“Sure. Great. Just go in there and play therapist while we rot out here.”

Hyunjin didn’t respond.

The door clicked shut behind him too and the dorm fell into uneasy silence.

Until the front door opened, and Felix and Jeongin stepped in, arms full of plastic bags.

“Hey, we got everything—” Felix began, then froze when he saw their faces. “Wait. Did something happen?”

“Did she come out?” Jeongin asked quickly, already heading toward Iseul’s door. “Did anyone talk to her?”

Seungmin shook his head. “Chan tried. Didn’t end well.”

Felix’s face fell. Jeongin looked down at the yogurt in his hands like it had failed him personally.

He didn’t give up.

He stood outside Iseul’s door and knocked gently. “Noona? It’s me. I got the yogurt you like — the passionfruit one. And the strawberry one, too. Lix hyung even got the XL ramen, the spicy ones…”

No response.

“Come on,” he pleaded, voice trembling slightly. “Please just open the door. You don’t even have to talk. Just… just don’t hide.”

Nothing.

“I don’t like when you’re sad. It makes everyone weird.” His voice cracked. “It makes me weird.”

Still nothing.

Felix stepped in then, placing a comforting hand on Jeongin’s back before kneeling in front of the door.

“Iseul,” he said softly. “We know you’re upset. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything right now. But… we’re here. All of us. Whenever you’re ready.”

On the other side of the door, she heard every word.

The soft knock. The tremble in Jeongin’s voice. The familiar warmth in Felix’s.

It hurt.

It hurt so much she thought she might choke on it.

Then came Seungmin.

“Alright, fine,” he said, louder now. “If you don’t open this door, I will post those ugly pictures I took of you last week. The one with your hair sticking out like a cactus and that neon green sheet mask—yeah, that one.”

No reaction.

“Y/N,” Minho barked, tired and impatient, “open the fucking door. I swear, if you make me do some emotional shit, I’ll pretend to cry so hard you’ll start comforting me.”

Still nothing.

Jeongin looked like he might cry for real.

Changbin exhaled and rolled his shoulders like he was warming up for something serious.

“…Is he about to sing?” Han asked, amused and horrified.

A beat of silence.

Then — in a tragic falsetto — “I love you baBBYYYYY AND IF IT’S QUITE ALRIGHT-”

Han’s snort echoed off the hallway walls.

“Hyung, no—please, you are going to get us evicted.”

Still no sound.

Felix set the yogurt down beside the door.

And then, with a soft sigh, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against it. “Iseul-ah, come out when you’re hungry, yeah? You don’t even have to talk to us but please don’t starve to death.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

None of them did.

They just sat down near the hallway, some leaning against walls, others quietly checking their phones or staring at nothing, waiting in their own way

Inside the room, Iseul heard everything.

The knocks. The voices. The jokes, the threats, the warmth behind all of it.

And she didn’t move.

She pressed her forehead against her knees, fists clenched tight in the blanket pooled around her.

They were trying so hard.

And all she was doing was hiding. Making it worse. Hurting people who’d done nothing but try to help.

The anger that had surged through her — the fury at being seen, at being pitied — had evaporated the moment Chan walked out and closed the door behind him. She’d expected to feel satisfied, powerful even, like she’d claimed space for herself for once.

But instead, guilt settled in her chest like a stone. Guilt and something darker curling low.

Shame.

Her hands trembled.

She hadn’t meant to lash out. Not really. But now they were all bleeding for her anger — carrying it like it was their own. Arguing, worrying, breaking apart because she didn’t know how to say “I’m scared.”

And worse than the guilt — worse than the ache — was the sick, selfish voice in her head that whispered that she was right. That she had every reason to feel the way she did. That they didn’t see her, didn’t really understand how hard this was.

But another part — the louder one — wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

Wanted to go back in time. To un-throw the phone. To un-snap at Chan. To undo everything.

Because they didn’t deserve that.

Not Minho with his threats. Not Seungmin with his smug, cursed photos. Not Jeongin’s yogurt bag or Felix’s quiet efforts to cheer her up. Nor Changbin’s wrong notes or Han’s stupid jokes.

And definitely not Chan.

She hated it. Hated that bitter little thought more than anything else. Because it wasn’t fair. They were hurting too. They were victims too. Just trying their best, same as her.

But she needed someone to blame.

She needed it not to be her fault.

She pressed her palms hard against her eyes, like she could shut the thoughts out. Like she could force herself to stop unraveling.

But the guilt was too loud now – flooding her until it felt hard to breathe.

She wanted to go out there. Fall to her knees and beg them all to forgive her. To tell them she hadn’t meant it. That she was just tired and scared and needed someone to blame.

But if she stepped out now, she wasn’t sure if she’d cry or scream.

And worse — she wasn’t sure if she deserved their comfort.

So Iseul stayed there, curled up in the dark, drowning in her thoughts.

TAGLIST: @leewritesstuff, @athens-09xx, @allenajade-ite, @idjdndjzbsdm, @idjdndjzbsdm, @hyuneskkami, @geni-627, @valkirymin, @miminbin, @tillaboo, @dreamerwasfound, @youthsquaredd, @skzstannie, @nchhuhi, @rtyuy1346, @necrozica, @aemondsrhaenyra, @skzfangirl143, @eridanuswave, @enhacolor

Hey! Sorry no story hint this time - this chapter was kinda rushed lol Comment down below what u thought abt this haha oh ALSO i wanna do smtg for hitting 200 followers so pls pls pls fill my inbox w requests and I'll try to write them out hahaha also attached below is a snippet of the new story im kinda working on - its gonna be small only 2 to 3 parts cause i dont have the courage nor energy to commit to another series apart from UNPLUGGED, so yea comment if yer interested and i'll add u in the taglist once i drop it hehe (ik ik self promotion but eh girls gotta do what girls do)

(It's non!idolchanxbsf!femoc and full blown angst sorta btw 👀) anw stay safe! ~candy \(￣︶￣*\))

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (Prologue)

Master-Post // Chapter one

Oh yeah, we're doing prequels now baby... just a little extra chapter for IF fans, I am working on the redraft atm and I hope you accept this as an apology for the absurdly long wait... but it shows the new route that IF is taking, with more plot and character development... whaaattt crazyyy

Also sorry for all the spam, I need another place to ramble for all my thoughts instead of here... if only twitter still existed, sigh...

*~*~*~*~*

Atlas ducked as another ball of flame was hurled at his head. He could feel the heat of the fire as it roared over his head and past his wall of refuge.

“Come out, come out little hero. I promise I won’t burn you alive, maybe scorch you a bit. Scars build character, Atlas, or are you too young to know that yet?”

Atlas huffed, his ears straining to hear when the stream of fire lessened over the villain’s stupid monologue. Too young to know about scars? What a dick. Atlas waited for the stream to burn out, listening as the roar from the fire-villain Arson lessened. The heat rippling in the air diminished as Atlas waited, before the absence altogether.

And then.

There.

Atlas vaulted the wall, clicking his fingers and relishing the familiar sound of cobalt electricity crackling around his hand, spreading up his arms to his shoulders. He sent one quick bolt of lightning towards the Arson as he landed on his feet and kept running. The second one he aimed at Arson’s head.

His aim was perfect; Atlas didn’t have to check to make sure. He watched as the electricity touched the villain’s face and simmered away. Atlas’s eyes widened as the villain laughed, his mouth lighting up like a jack-o-lanterns on Halloween. “Uh-oh Atlas... My turn.”

Atlas was too slow. He was too slow in moving to get out of the way and he saw the flames coming and he was too slow. He was going to burn. He may even die. No.

The wind was knocked out of him as he felt someone barrel into him just before the flames hit him and drag him behind the safety of an alley.

Archangel panted slightly, a smile on his face. “You were too slow.”

“My electricity doesn’t work with him,” Atlas replied mutinously, glaring at his hands. He was too slow. “I didn’t – I froze…”

“I saw.”

“Where’s Tempest when you need her?” Atlas asked, wishing the water hero was here to douse out the fire villain. He could hear the sirens in the distance, no doubt the fire trucks and police finally on their way here.

“Are all the civilians cleared?” Archangel asked. Atlas nodded.

“Yeah, I got ‘em out before he started burning down the entire block.”

Archangel nodded, pressing his back flush against the brick wall. He tucked his giant, white-speckled wings in tight so they wouldn’t be exposed to Arson’s attacks. “Good. Then we can wait him out.”

Atlas’s eyes widened. “Wait him out? He’s going to destroy every building if we wait!”

Archangel threw his hands up. “What do you want me to do? Hmm? Your electricity doesn’t work, and I can’t get to him without at least a distraction or back-up.” Archangel muttered, his wings flaring in irritation. “We want to keep casualties to a minimum. It’s not always about catching the bad guy.”

“Stop speaking to me like I’m your sidekick,” Kit hissed. “I know it’s about saving people, but the emergency responders are coming now. We have to stop Arson or at least incapacitate him before they come.”

Archangel stared at Kit for a long time, and for a moment his gaze softened behind his mask. “God, I’ll never escape Noble with you around,” he grumbled fondly. Kit smirked at the number one hero.

“Not a chance,” he replied. Atlas scanned the alley they were in. It wasn’t closed off at the end, the grey concrete floors and walls led to a corner at the back into another alley. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You slip behind the building and fly up and tell me when you’re on the roof. Then I’ll step out and distract him and you can attack from above.”

Archangel nodded. “You’re right. Nobody ever looks up.”

Atlas pressed himself into the wall as Archangel passed him, wings tucked in as he disappeared around the corner.

“Have I frightened you, little hero?” Arson yelled. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of prodigy?! Noble’s apprentice, right?”

Kit’s blood ran cold at the mention of his Mentor. He remained silent as he waited for Archangel’s confirmation he was in position. The hero had wings, what was taking him so bloody long?

“You are, aren’t you?” Arson cooed, a smile in his words. God, Kit wanted to punch him in his mouth until he choked on blood, until he couldn’t speak anymore. “The original hero, and see how far he’s fallen little hero? Hmm? What does he spend his days doing now? Wiping drool from his chi–”

Kit burst from behind the wall, moving with the improved currents in the night air, and before Arson could get a stream of fire off at him, Kit’s fist already connected with the villain’s jaw, and they went down.

“Kit! Shit,” Archangel muttered through his earpiece, but Kit didn’t care. He couldn’t use his lightning alone to hurt the Villain, so instead he charged his muscles with it, using it to make his punches harder, to enhance the impact, the pain.

Arson’s head whipped to the side and straightened, and Kit punched him again and again and again, until Arson couldn’t move his head back. A flurry of wings and wind, but Kit didn’t get off Arson. Not when he knew he was down. Not when he knew he wouldn’t harm anyone tonight again, at the very least.

“Atlas. Atlas. Atlas!” Archangel yelled, grabbing Kit by the arms and dragging him up.

“Wipe the drool off your own chin now, motherfucker,” Kit growled as Archangel pulled him away from the fire villain. Archangel spread his wings wide, shielding the villain from Kit’s wrathful gaze and forcing him to look at him.

“What the hell was that, Atlas?”

Kit pulled free of Archangel’s hold, just in time as a bullet whizzed right where Kit was standing not two seconds ago. Once again, the breath was stolen from his lungs as Archangel grabbed him and shot backwards, away from the unseen shooter. No doubt Arson’s accomplice. Shit… can this night get any worse?

When they were successfully shielded from the shooter, a few bullets going wide, their radios cackled to life, scratching and cracking and behind it a voice. “—the old…” Both Atlas and Archangel leaned into the walkie talkie, ears straining to make out the choppy voice. “by the ferris…”

More interference cut the rest of the sentence off, but Kit and Archangel’s eyes met over the receiver. That was Tempest.

“Another Attack—”

Kit stood up. Archangel stared at him. “I’ll go.”

“No—”

“I’m useless here anyway,” Kit protested. “Tempest needs me. If I can help her, at least I’ll feel like I’m not completely useless.”

Archangel’s eyes softened. “How many lives did you save today? Hmm? Do you think saving people is useless?”

Kit waved Archangel away. “You know what I mean. I’m restless anyways, helping Tempest will help me calm down at least. Update us when this is clear.”

Kit met the fire trucks and ambulances as he rounded the corner, heading south towards the old pier. Tempest had said it was next to the old Ferris wheel, and luckily there were only two Ferris wheels in the city, the old one by the pier which had been closed for years now, and the new one they moved up town, closer to the wealthier district. The pier became the shipping docks and people got tired of seeing crates being hauled in when they were trying to have a romantic Ferris wheel ride.

The old fairground was only a few streets from where Kit and Archangel were fighting, and with Kit’s abilities, and the amount of static charge in the air he was able to propel himself faster than an athletic civilian. Though nowhere near as fast as Blitz whose power was super speed, or Crowe who could travel through any shadow, but still. Kit enjoyed the wind on his face, the power in his veins almost singing as he turned down a street and saw the Ferris wheel on the old fairground come into view.

His radio crackled to life again. It was Tempest her voice quieter now.

“Atlas… no, all heroes, stay away,” she whispered, the signal better the closer Kit got to her location. “Stay away from the old pier. I think…” Tempest cut herself off with a gasp, static crackling as Atlas pumped his legs faster. He never heard Tempest so scared in his life. “I think this villain is Omen.”

And it was as if all the wind had been stolen from Kit, ripped away in an instant. He stopped outside the ticket booth to the Fairground, his heart thundering in his ears, the waves echoing back his terrified heartbeat to him.

Omen… Omen was a ghost story, he wasn’t… he wasn’t an active Villain anymore. The only time he… God, Kit wanted to be sick. The only attack Omen was known for was his fight with Noble. Noble’s final fight that ensured he never worked again. That he didn’t even get to remember his own name sometimes, that he would be left, stuck, in a prison of his own mind.

“Kit…” Kit’s earpiece cackled to life, the sound of bullets and wind in the background as Archangel spoke to him. “Don’t go there. Wait for back up. Do not face Omen, do you understand me?”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into a glare as he surveyed the wooden boardwalk. “Kit! God damn it Kit, for once just listen to me. I am your superior. Noble wouldn’t want you to–”

“Noble doesn’t want anything anymore,” Kit replied, voice cold. “Omen saw to that.”

“Kit! Kit don–”

Kit unhooked the wire from his earpiece and turned off his walkie talkie. This wasn’t about helping Tempest, or Archangel, or his restlessness anymore. No, this was personal. Kit jumped the railing onto the boardwalk, before he could talk himself out of it. His body screamed at him to wait, to fall back, but he couldn’t. He refused.

For Omen to appear one night, as if out of the woodwork itself… that wasn’t a coincidence, and it wasn’t a coincidence that Kit was on patrol so close either. Despite his fear threatening to choke him, and his limbs feeling a little lighter from exerting his power, Kit continued down onto the boardwalk, scanning the kiosks and listening for sounds of a fight between Omen and Tempest over the waves lapping against the rocks below.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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[just-like-playing-tag]

Don and Gilda - Chapter 139: Demon serch, part 2

[matsubrokq]

no causw how do i stop having the i liked it before it was cool/popular complex i can’t escape it

[genshinluvr]

Burning Desire

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and the men are exploring the Chasm to search for the flower dubbed the Scent of Spring. A rare flower that is the last of its kind. While trying to pull the flower from the cracks in the wall, the flower sprays a strange powder all over you. When the flower sprays powder all over you, you end up inhaling a large amount of it.

Note: Welcome to a new smut series by yours truly, me! Thanks to the requester, there is a new smut series where every man gets their own smut fic and the readers get to choose who's starting the smut series and who will be next after the previous character! This request was sent in before the harem had 25 people, therefore I am making it into a new smut series other than Crave. There will be a poll per chapter and whoever gets the most votes will be the one to start off the smut, and whoever is voted the most after that character the started the smut fic (for example: Aether), will be the next chapter. Instead of making the reader drink an aphrodisiac, I decided to have the reader inhale it. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: No smut in this part (darn), but there are some implications of sex and masturbation. Reader inhales a large amount of sex pollen/aphrodisiac.

Word Count: 9.2k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

You have recently decided to work for the Adventurer’s Guild! Kind of. The Akademiya and the Adventurer’s Guild decide to team up and let the Akademiya students explore around and take on an adventurer’s task. You are tasked to investigate the Chasm and find a mysterious flower that went extinct thousands of years ago. Rumor has it that there is only one flower that managed to survive the extinction, and you are on a mission to find that flower.

When you informed your twenty-five boyfriends about your task in the Chasm, they were hesitant to let you go to the Chasm. Not because they didn’t trust you but because it’s the Chasm, and many things can go wrong down there. Plus, it’s hard to tell whether the air conditions are safe down there or not. Hence why miners would go into the Chasm with finches in the cage— to test whether the air quality is good down there or not. At least, that’s what you can recall. 

“Why the Chasm? Why not somewhere else that isn’t dangerous, like the Chasm?” Aether asks, leaning back in his seat while gazing at you worriedly.

Al Haitham chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. “Did they assign you the Chasm?”

You shake your head. “I chose to go to the Chasm! There’s this rare— I’m not sure if I should call it rare— flower in the Chasm. It’s the only flower that managed to survive while its fellow species went extinct. Because botany is what I specialize in, I want to find this flower, bring it back to the Akademiya, and have it studied,” you explain.

“And you want to go to the Chasm alone?” Tighnari asks, staring at you with wide eyes.

You quickly protest, “No, no! I’m not! I was hoping you all would go to the Chasm with me and keep me company!” You say, fiddling with your thumbs.

The corners of Childe’s lips quirk up after hearing your response. Childe gets up from his seat and walks over to you. Childe wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest, and caresses your face in front of the other men around you two. You and Childe hear collective scoffs and groans from the men.

Childe has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Do you all hear that? My precious snookums wants me to keep them company to the Chasm!” Childe exclaims dramatically, resting his cheek on your head while rocking you back and forth.

“You mean us, Harbinger. [Y/N] wants us to join them in the Chasm while they search for this mysterious flower for their Akademiya research,” Diluc interjects, rolling his eyes.

Childe rolls his eyes and mouths “whatever” to himself while suffocating you in his arms. It wasn’t hard to convince the others to join you in the Chasm while you searched for this flower. And now, here you are, walking through the Chasm with your beloved boyfriends following behind.

Your professors at the Akademiya have been raving about this mysterious flower when you were a new student at the Akademiya. Despite the professors raving about the flower, they were afraid of going to the Chasm to search for the flower, which is a bit ironic because most Akademiya scholars would risk it all for their research and experiments. 

The flower is dubbed the “Scent of Spring,” and you’re not entirely sure why the flower is called that when none of these scholars have gotten close enough to the flower to smell it. While the scholars at the Akademiya have some knowledge of the flower, the knowledge did not help you and the men find this flower. You only know what it looks like.

You hold the sketched image of the “Scent of Spring” in your hands. “It looks like an apple blossom! And the colors are supposed to be a gradient of light steel blue and a medium slate blue,” you murmur, stroking your chin.

“It’s dark down here. How are we supposed to find this mysterious flower in a place like this?” Kaveh asks, squinting to search the darkness ahead of you all.

You shrug, following behind Albedo (who has the Lumenstone Adjuvant). “I’m not sure! It should be somewhere in the Chasm, but my professors and the other scholars weren’t clear on where the flower can be found,” you sigh.

“Sounds like they don’t know what they’re talking about. What if they led you on a goose chase, and they’re watching our every move to get what they wanted?” Cyno asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh, dear archons. You sure hope the Akademiya scholars aren’t leading you on a wild goose chase. This is part of your assignment and research project. You will be disappointed if you go through all that trouble just to find out the flower doesn’t exist or the scholars already have it.

Albedo hums thoughtfully, shining the Lumenstone Adjuvant in another direction in the cave. “I don’t think a couple of scholars are capable of doing that. But if they attempt to do that, we won’t let it happen,” Albedo murmurs.

“How does a flower thrive in an environment like the Chasm? It’s underground, away from sunlight. There’s no way a flower can survive without sunlight,” Scaramouche interjects, kicking a pebble across the cave.

“Well, there are plenty of plants that can grow without sunlight, Scaramouche. I find it strange that a flower can survive in an environment like the Chasm. We can barely breathe in some areas of the Chasm,” you mutter, propping your hands on your hips before looking back at the sketched image of the flower. 

The area all of you are in is dark and wet. It’s disgusting, but the air is breathable compared to other areas of the Chasm you all explored a while ago. It’s kind of a win. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling in the cave is all you can hear. As you and the twenty-five men continue to walk further into the cave, the sound of the waterfall running gradually becomes louder.

Venti points forward. “Maybe the flower survived in the Chasm because of this stream that is connected to the waterfall!” Venti theorizes, skipping ahead of the group.

You stop in your tracks and think about what Venti had just said. He’s not wrong. While the air in the Chasm is unbreathable in some areas, there is a source of running water in the Chasm that could be keeping the flower alive. You and the men progress into the cave, the waterfall getting louder and louder the more you all approach the end of the cave.

“Are there any other descriptions given about the flower other than its color? Does it glow in the dark? Is there a strong scent?” Heizou trails off, looking around the cave to search for the flower.

You shake your head. “My professors didn’t give me any further details about the flower other than it being dubbed the Scent of Spring,” you say dramatically.

“And what does the scent of spring supposed to smell like? Spring?” Itto asks, making a “pfft” sound and walking over to where you stand and props his arm on your head, using you as a personal stand. 

You shrug your shoulders and move Itto’s arm off your head. “That, I do not know! However, I think that means we should start sniffing flowers,” you say, pulling out your flashlight and begin searching for this rare flower your professors and the scholars in the botany department have been raving about for who knows how long. 

You believe once you have given the scholars the flower, they will try to find a way to bring back the population of the extinct flower. Though, you wonder if they will continue to revive their population if the flower ends up being dangerous to inhale or be around. Now that you think about it, there are dangerous plants throughout Teyvat that are used for experiments to create new medicine or cure for diseases.

“Once you find the flower, what are you going to do with it?” Ayato asks, his eyes landing on the giant mushroom in the Chasm.

The giant mushroom in the Chasm illuminated the area. You shine the flashlight around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the flower the Akademiya scholars have been talking about nonstop. You hum and prop your hand on your hip, thinking about what you will be doing with the flower once you find it.

“I’m going to give it to the Akademiya, but I want Albedo and the others to get some research done on it. It wouldn’t be fair if I find something rare and immediately hand it off to the scholars at the Akademiya,” you say.

Dottore smiles and throws his arms around your shoulders. “It’s sweet how you’re putting us ahead of the scholars,” Dottore coos, pinching your cheek with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Since this is for [Y/N]’s assignment, let’s not distract them any more than we already are. They need to focus and find the flower,” says Baizhu, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mouthed a “thank you” to Baizhu before proceeding on your search for the flower. Everyone is scattered around the cave, searching for the Scent of Spring. You’re not sure why it's dubbed the Scent of Spring because surely the people would have known what it smells like if they come across it. But because the flower is in the Chasm and no one has gone near it, you find it hard to believe that the flower smells like spring. Plus, what does spring smell like other than flowers? Every flower has its own unique scent.

After searching for about fifteen minutes, you see a medium-sized flower between the cracks in the wall. The flower is sticking out, and it’s shaped like an apple blossom and has the same color gradient that was written down on the piece of paper in your hand. The sound of your gasp alerted the men, and they all ran toward where you were standing.

Kaeya points at the flower. “Is that the flower you’ve been searching for?” Kaeya asks, inspecting the flower from a safe distance.

You nod slowly. “I believe it is! It’s shaped like an apple blossom, it has the same color gradient written on the paper, and it’s the only flower in this area,” you murmur, reaching forward and touching the petals. “It’s really soft, too,” you add.

“Now that we found it, how should we extract the flower from the area without damaging it?” Asks Thoma, tilting his head to the side and scanning the flower in front of you.

You pull a glass case from your bag and place it on the ground, putting on rubber gloves and preparing to take the flower out from where it’s residing. There’s no guarantee you’ll be able to pull the Scent of Spring out of the cracks without damaging it. It’ll be ironic if it dies the minute you pull it out from the cracks, even though it survived for thousands of years while its own kind went extinct.

When you tug on it, you notice the stem is quite thick, almost as wide as a branch. Not only was it sturdy, but you noticed there was some powdery substance on the flower itself. Even though you know little to nothing about this particular flower, you know that most flowers in Teyvat do not have a powdery coating on top of the petals. You rub the powder between your gloved thumb and index finger, testing its consistency.

“That’s odd. I’ve never seen a flower that has this powdery coating on it,” you murmur, leaning your face closer to the flower to inspect it.

“Does it smell like the Scent of Spring?” Kazuha asks, watching you examine the flower closely.

You shrugged your shoulders and gave a whiff of the flower. After whiffing the flower, you have concluded that the flower has no scent at all. Therefore whoever named the flower needs to rename it because it doesn’t smell like spring, nor does it smell like anything at all. It does have a hint of an earthy smell, but that could be coming from the rocks and the dirt it’s planted in. 

You shake your head. “There’s no scent. The Akademiya scholars will need to rename it because it has no fragrance at all,” you say, proceeding to gently grab it by the stem, lightly tugging on it.

When you tug on it lightly, it does not budge. Not even a little bit. You furrow your eyebrows and pull on the flower harder. The harder you pull on the flower, the more you realize the flower isn’t going to be budging anytime soon. Before you know it, the flower sprays the powder all over you. You freeze and release the flower, blinking at the men, who look at you worriedly. 

You breathe in the powder, feeling the powder inhaled through your nose. You coughed and began hacking, punching your chest, doubling over while in a coughing fit. Gorou panics and runs toward you, only for you to shake your head frantically and gesture for him and others not to come any closer.

Gorou whimpers, looking at the others worriedly. “[Y/N], are you okay?” Gorou asks softly.

You calm down after a few minutes and take a deep breath, wincing when you feel the powder in your throat and lungs. You take deep gulps of air and straighten up, looking over at the flower. The flower no longer has a powdery coating on its petals, which was strange because it made you assume the flower never had any powder coating in the first place. What was that thing that coated the flower? Unless it was the flower that spits the powder at you as a defense mechanism?

You stroke your chin. “How strange,” You mutter.

Xiao scoffs. “Yeah, no kidding. You were hacking your lungs up a few minutes ago, and now you’re acting like everything’s okay?” Xiao asks, propping his hands on his hips while narrowing his eyes at you.

You clear your throat, swallowing your saliva. You wince and rub your throat, sniffing the air lightly. You can still feel the powdery substance in your nose, lungs, and throat. It feels awful. It’s almost as if you purposefully inhaled cinnamon or breathed in cinnamon. Your nose begins to itch, making you take your rubber gloves off and rub your nose, hoping to get rid of the itchiness in your nostrils.

Zhongli approaches you and places a hand on your shoulder. “Dearest, are you alright?” Zhongli asks softly.

You wave Zhongli off and nod, but you don’t brush his hands away from you. “Yeah! I’m fine! Totally fine!” You say, giving the men a strained smile.

Before any of the men could speak up, you squeeze your eyes shut and sneeze into your elbow. You quickly act like nothing has happened. The men stare at you, and you stare right back at them. You cough into your elbow to clear your throat. You can still feel the powder lingering in your nose, lungs, and throat. You look over at the flower, and you still don’t see any of the powder coatings that you have inhaled. Whatever the powder was, you only hope it’s not a drug that will negatively impact you and your health. Just when Tighnari was about to open his mouth to say something, you sneezed again.

You rub your nose and groan. “Oh my gosh. I can still feel the stupid powder,” you groused.

“We should head back to the abode and get you checked out,” Dainsleif says, now standing beside you.

“What about the flower? It wouldn’t budge when I tried to get it,” you mutter, pointing over at the flower that looks delicate.

Pierro sighs and closes his eyes. “We’ll get it for you,” he says, looking over at Capitano and nodding.

Capitano walks toward the flower wedged between the cracks in the wall. Capitano grabs the flower by the stem and begins to lightly tug on the flower to see how stuck it is in the gaps.

“Okay, but please be care—” 

Capitano grunts and rips the flower from the wall; the flower is still intact and in good shape. Somehow. You look at Capitano blankly, who turns toward you and holds the flower out to you. You, Dainsleif, and Zhongli stare at the flower in Capitano’s hand.

“The flower was firmly planted in the cracks. You need to put more force when you pull the flower out from where it was planted,” Capitano says gruffly.

You grab the flower from Capitano’s hand and place the flower in the glass case. The flower is beautiful, but you’re upset the flower sprayed the powdery substance at you. And now you have to get checked up to see if the powder has any effects on you, your lungs, your nose, and your throat. Other than the lingering feeling of inhaling the powder, you feel fine. You close the glass case and put it back in your backpack, putting the bag on and rubbing your nose with the palm of your hand.

Pantalone looks at you worriedly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t feel strange, do you?” Pantalone asks.

You shake your head. “I’m feeling okay so far! But, we should get to the abode quick. I need to find a safe place to store the flower, then shower to wash this,” you gestured to your body, “off.” 

Tighnari, Albedo, Baizhu, and Dottore walk up to you. Albedo, Tighnari, and Dottore pull out cotton swabs and begin to swipe at the powder on your body and put it in a glass test tube. You blink at the men and watch them pocket the test tube, acting like nothing has happened.

You shake your head with a deep exhale. “I’m assuming you’re all going to put it under the microscope to see what the powder actually is?” You ask.

Albedo nods and adjusts his glove. “We’re also going to run some tests on it to see what the powder is made of,” replies Albedo.

You and the men start walking back to the surface of the Chasm. You made sure the men walked ahead of you while you walked behind them. You don’t want to risk the men inhaling the powder while you walk in front of them, and a gust of wind blows the powder to their faces, making them inhale it. Upon arriving at the abode, you take your shoes off and rub your nose. Your nose is still itching, your throat no longer feels weird, but you can feel the powder lingering in your lungs.

“Are we going to the lab, or are we going to the infirmary for my check-up?” You ask, scratching the back of your head. 

Other than wondering where you need to go for the check-up, you really want to take a shower and wash the remaining powder off your clothes, hair, and body. The powder got everywhere (it covered you from head to toe, pretty much), and it bothered you.

Tighnari hums and taps his chin. “That’s a good question,” Tighnari hums, tapping his foot on the ground.

“Wait! I’m going to take a shower first, then we can start with the check-up,” You said.

You turn around and quickly walk up the stairs to your bedroom. While you are showering, you scrub every nook and cranny with a loofa lathered in a sakura blossom-scented shower gel. You want to make sure to scrub and wash away the powder sprayed at you. 

You might have to dispose of the clothes you wore to the Chasm. You don’t want the powder to be lingering around or spread on other things in the abode (like the men’s clothes). So far, you’re not feeling anything from the powder. The only thing it’s doing to you is making you cough and sneeze occasionally.

You changed into clean undergarments and clothes. You wrap your hair in a towel and submerge your clothes in the water to make sure the powder dissolves into the water. You continue with your skincare routine, making sure to scrub your face for a long time with cleanser. 

After your skincare, you walk to your bathtub and drain the water, wringing your clothes dry once the water is completely drained. Once the clothes are wrung, you toss them into a trash bag and take them downstairs, your hair still dripping wet from your shower. You open the trash can and throw the trash bag into it, ignoring the looks the men are giving you.

You clear your throat and turn to the others with a smile on your face. “I’m ready for my check-up now! Do we go to the infirmary, or are we going to get it done in the lab?” You ask.

“Why did you throw your clothes away?” Baizhu asks, pointing at the stainless steel trash bin.

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m throwing them away just to be safe. I soaked them in the bathtub and wrung them dry, but I’m not risking anything!” You huff, propping your hands on your hips.

Dottore approaches you and wraps his arms over your shoulders. “We’ll be conducting a simple check-up on you in the lab. You haven’t been showing any medical emergencies since we returned to the abode. So, I believe we’ll be doing it in the lab,” Dottore explains, turning to look at Tighnari, Albedo, and Baizhu, who nod in agreement. 

You and the twenty-five men walk to the laboratory in the basement of the estate. You sit on the closest chair and wait for one of the four men (Albedo, Baizhu, Dottore, and Tighnari) to start the check-up. While Baizhu’s checking up on your eyes, throat, breathing, and your heart, the other men ask you various questions.

“Did you feel strange when you breathed in the powder?” Ayato asks.

“Not really,” you shake your head, “other than coughing and sneezing because of the powder, I feel alright. Although I did feel the powder going into my throat and lungs when it sprayed on me.”

Dainsleif furrows his eyebrows and watches you closely. “Can you still feel it?” Dainsleif asks.

You take a deep breath, only for your breath to get caught in your throat halfway, making you cough. You wince and nod to Dainsleif’s question. “I can still feel it, but not as much as I could earlier,” you croak.

“Here, drink this,” Childe says as he hands you a cup of water. 

You give Childe a grateful smile and grab the cup from his hands before gulping the water. After a few more questions from the men, Baizhu concludes that you’re healthy and there’s nothing wrong. But Baizhu did advise you to keep a close eye on your health and body in case anything changes overnight or over the next few days. That is something you don’t mind doing, and you’re planning on doing it anyway.

You look at the flower in the display case in the laboratory. It’s in great condition. Nothing is torn or crushed, thankfully. You get up from your seat and walk toward the display glass. As much as you want to start your research on the flower, your breathing in the powder is already too much for you to deal with. Especially when you have coughing or sneezing fits every now and then. 

Kaeya notices the look on your face while you examine the flower. “Oh, no. You’re not conducting any experiments or research right now, bunny. What you need to do is rest,” says Kaeya, crossing his arms over his chest.

You pucker your lips. “I know, Kaeya! I just wanted to make sure the flower is in good condition! After all, Capitano did rip the flower from the cracks,” you say, looking over at the tall man.

Capitano shrugs. “You attempted to be gentle with the flower, and it wouldn’t budge. Therefore, I took it into my own hands and got you the flower you need for your research,” replies Capitano.

You turn toward the flower and continue where you left off. The powder. The flower didn’t produce the powder again, making you wonder if the powder was only temporary or if it’ll make the powdery coating again if the flower was still in the cracks. Even if the flower did produce that powder as a defense mechanism from predators or (in your and the Akademiya’s case) people who want to take the flower from its habitat, the flower did not create any more powder after it sprayed you the first time.

Pierro raises an eyebrow at you. “What’s on your mind, little one?” Pierro asks.

You press your lips into a thin line and shake your head. “Way too much, that’s for sure,” you sigh.

“I think you should take a break for today! We returned to the abode from the Chasm not too long ago. It’s been a long day for all of us, and you should spend the day with us relaxing and doing nothing!” Itto proclaims, pulling you to his chest and patting your damp hair.

You snort and let yourself melt in Itto’s arms. “Alright, I’ll take up on your offer,” you say, reaching up and tapping on Itto’s nose lightly.

Itto scrunches his nose and rubs the tip of his nose against yours. You giggle and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Itto lifts you up and carries you out of the laboratory with the other men following behind. Some were muttering about how Itto is hogging you for himself and how it’s not fair for everyone else. It’s Childe that’s muttering about it, the others were giving Itto silent glares and looks of disapproval. Itto collapses on the couch with you in his arms, wrapping both his arms and legs around you while smirking at the others that groan loudly.

Diluc rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose while shaking his head. “Itto, can you not hog [Y/N] for yourself?” Diluc asks, frowning at the Oni clinging to you.

Itto gives Diluc a cheeky grin and shakes his head, tightening his arms and legs around you while you lay on Itto’s chest limply. After almost a year of dating these men (holy shit, has it been nearly a year?), you have decided not to fight off their affections and clinginess unless you want them to become even clingier. Therefore you have accepted your fate and let these men smother you with love and affection.

Xiao pulls out his polearm and looks over at Diluc from the corner of his eyes. “Do you want me to do something about it?” Asks Xiao.

Diluc shakes his head, continuing to narrow his eyes at Itto. Itto ignores the look almost everyone is giving him by burying his face into your neck and closing his eyes. You and the men lounge around the living room for the rest of the day. You and Thoma end up making pizza for everyone to eat— you and Thoma made a lot of pizza since everyone has a big appetite. Once the pizza was done cooking, you all dined in the living room with your pizzas, catching up with what had happened at work and school (since you’re an Akademiya student).

The day soon winds down, and everyone has finished their pizzas and is scattered around the living area of the estate. Since Itto decides to hog your attention, the others have decided to do it back to him by doing the same. You were passed around from man to man to snuggle with them. Each time Itto tries to snuggle with you, you’re taken away from his grasp by another man, leaving Itto to pout and complain to the others.

You’re now lying on Pantalone’s chest, slowly dozing off. After consuming about five slices of pizza, you feel really full and really sleepy. Pantalone is reading a book while combing his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep. Just when you’re about to fall asleep, you feel someone press their hands against your forehead. You crack your eyes open and see Al Haitham and Kaveh standing in front of you, bending down to examine you.

Kaveh smiles at you, brushing your hair away from your face. “Sorry to disturb your nap. We were just checking up on you,” Kaveh says softly.

Al Haitham lightly smacks Kaveh’s hand away from your face before caressing your face. “How are you doing? Do you feel off in any way, or do you feel okay?

Kaveh scowls at Kaveh, crossing his arms over his chest. You rub your eyes sleepily, continuing to lie on Pantalone’s chest. You stare at the ground, trying to process what’s going on. How do you feel? Well, for starters, you shouldn’t have eaten too many pizzas because now you’re feeling exhausted because of the number of carbs you’ve eaten.

“I’m tired. I’m also very full,” you grumble, yawning. “I shouldn’t have taken up on Itto’s offer of having a pizza-eating competition. Now I feel like I’m pregnant,” you mumble, rubbing your tummy.

“And you beat Itto in the pizza-eating competition. I’m surprised he stopped after four slices of pizza,” Venti interjects, propping his hands on his hips.

You nod. “Me too! And he’s very competitive, and yet he stopped eating after four slices,” you grumble, looking over at Itto, who gives you a sheepish look.

Cyno hums and strokes his chin, glancing at Itto and then over at you. “I guess he didn’t want a pizza-of it anymore,” Cyno commented, shrugging his shoulders.

Everyone around Cyno groans and gives him a side-eye. You snort and shake your head, burying your face into Pantalone’s chest. Whenever Cyno sees an opportunity to crack a lame joke, he will take it. You feel something stir inside you, making you freeze in Pantalone’s arms, making him look down at you curiously. 

Pantalone scratches your head gently. “What’s wrong?” Pantalone murmurs, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at your face.

“I don’t know. I feel something strange,” you mutter, sitting up and straddling Pantalone’s lap. “I can’t really explain it. Health-wise, I’m fine. Physically, I am fine as well.” You tap your chin before rubbing your face. 

Maybe it’s the effects of eating five slices of pizza, but you don’t think that could be it exactly. What you are going to do is go to bed and take a nap because the sleepiness is catching up to you at full speed. You get off of Pantalone’s lap and rub your eyes, yawning and stretching your arms in the air.

“I am going to bed now. It’s been a long day, and I think sleep is what I need,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck before glancing over at the clock.

Scaramouche gets up from his seat and walks over to where you’re standing. “I’ll take you to your room if that’s okay with you,” Scaramouche offers, holding his arm out for you to take.

“Yeah, sure! I don’t mind!” You say, linking your arms with Scaramouche.

Heizou holds his hands up to stop you and Scaramouche from leaving. “You’re just going to leave us all without a goodnight kiss?” Heizou teases, pouting at you while batting his eyelashes at you.

You roll your eyes playfully and snort. “Ah, I see! How could I forget about our bedtime rituals?” You ask, unlinking your arms around Scaramouche’s arm.

The bedtime routine for you is to bid each man goodnight with hugs, kisses, or both depending on the man. Usually, it would take a while for you to bid everyone goodnight because one man wouldn’t want to hand you over to the next person because he wanted to hold onto you longer— which is where you are currently at: stuck in Zhongli’s arms and his refusal to hand you over to Thoma.

You poke Zhongli’s biceps. “Zhongli, I need to bid Thoma goodnight before going to bed. He’s the last person,” you pout, repeatedly poking him.

Zhongli tightens his grip around you with a sigh. Zhongli leans down to your ear, pressing his lips on your ear. “Must I let you go? How about you stay with me for the night?” Zhongli murmurs, closing his eyes.

“Hey! If I can’t have [Y/N] sleep in my room tonight, then no one can!” Aether complains loudly, plopping down on the couch with his arms crossed over his torso. 

You reach toward Thoma. Thoma grabs your hands and pulls you toward him, attempting to pull you from Zhongli’s grasp. Zhongli tightens his grip around you and narrows his eyes at Thoma, who is struggling to release you from the former archon’s grasp.

Thoma laughs breathlessly. “Come on, Zhongli! I’m only going to be bidding [Y/N] goodnight! It’s not like I’ll be stealing them from you for the night,” Thoma rolls his eyes playfully. 

Zhongli rests his chin on your shoulders. “Then you can just say goodnight to my dearest and call it a day,” he huffs, burying his face into your neck.

The men watch Zhongli and Thoma plays tug-of-war with you for the next five minutes. You end up breaking the tug-of-war by batting at the two men like a cat. You give Zhongli a look before slowly walking toward Thoma, wrapping your arms around his waist and narrowing your eyes at Zhongli, who narrows his eyes in return.

“Who knew the God of Contracts is clingy,” Kazuha chuckles, shaking his head.

Gorou leans toward Kazuha and whispers, “I don’t think I would want to be Zhongli’s competition. He’s more possessive over [Y/N] than we all are.”

To be fair, all of the men are possessive over you. And you gotta admit, you love it when the men are possessive over you. Who wouldn’t be? Imagine having twenty-five attractive men wrapped around your finger, and they’re willing to rip an arm off of someone if they (the person that isn’t in the harem) touch you? Despite you loving the men’s possessiveness over you, you did set a boundary they cannot cross, and they respect those boundaries of yours. Plus, they may be possessive over you, but they’re not overly possessive to the point where you cannot talk to anyone that’s not them, nor do they prevent you from doing things you love and going outside the abode.

You unwrap your arms around Thoma and walk toward the stairs. “Okay, goodnight!” You said, waving at the men and running up the stairs to your bedroom.

The next day, you’re rudely awoken from your sleep by the feeling of throbbing between your legs and your body being overheated. You look around your bedroom sleepily and panting. You sit and toss your blanket off your body. Your body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, nearly soaking through your clothes. You’re not entirely sure if your menstrual cycle is close or not because you’re feeling unbelievably horny.

You end up taking a shower to wake up and cool your overheated body. And now here you are, sitting in the bathtub, letting cold water rain down on you while you try to find a way to relieve this feeling between your legs. You’re not a prude. You’ve masturbated to relieve yourself before. But this feeling is stronger, and it's unavoidable. Therefore, that is what you did in the shower for the next fifteen minutes— trying to relieve yourself and soothe the aching between your legs. Did it work? No, it did not work at all.

After your failed attempts of trying to relieve yourself, you step out of the bathroom. The only bright side is that you’re not covered in sweat like how you were when you first woke up. Well, rudely awoken from your sleep, to be more specific. You’re tempted to go back to bed and sleep the horniness away, but you know it won’t be going away any time soon. Your thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking at your bedroom door.

“Who is it?” You ask, slowly walking to the door.

“Oh, good! You’re awake! Are you ready for your check-up today?” You hear Tighnari ask.

You sigh in relief. A check-up, right! That’s what you need right now so you can know what’s going on with your body. 

You grab the door handle and open the door. “Is the check-up going to be now, or will it be after breakfast?” You ask.

Albedo shrugs. “Whichever is good to you. We can give you a check-up before breakfast if that’s what you prefer,” replies Albedo.

“Can we do it now? I’m not feeling well, and I don’t think the check-up should be delayed any longer,” you said, leaning your head against the door frame with a shaky sigh.

Tighnari and Albedo look at you worriedly before taking you to the laboratory in the basement of the estate. While escorting you to the laboratory, the three of you walk past the other men. They greeted you, but you were busy telling Albedo and Tighnari the issue to acknowledge them. The men ended up following you, Tighnari, and Albedo to the lab.

In the laboratory, you’re sitting at the examination table. Baizhu takes your temperature while Dottore presses the back of his hand against your forehead. You’re very warm, almost like you’re running a fever despite feeling healthy. Unless you count the heat coursing through your veins and bubbling inside your guts to be unhealthy.

“Let me make this clear: you woke up feeling like you’re a dog in heat, and you were covered in a thin layer of sweat,” Scaramouche says, leaning against the wall.

You nod hesitantly and narrow your eyes at Scaramouche’s comment. “That is correct. Although I wish you didn’t include the ‘dog in heat’ part,” you reply, fidgeting in your seat.

Itto looks at you quizzically. “Are you sure you didn’t wake up from a wet dream? It happened to me before, and you know how that ended,” Itto says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You do; you do know how it ended. It ended with Itto using you like a cocksleeve for almost three hours. That man is an Oni. Therefore you’re not surprised that he can go on for that long. Heck, he could go on longer if he wanted to, but seeing how worn out you were, he decided to stop at the three-hour mark. You couldn’t walk for the next few days, and you made Itto carry you around the estate as punishment. Then again, it’s not like Itto was forced to do it. He offered to carry you around, and you accepted his offer.

Ayato rolls his eyes after hearing Itto’s comment. “You did not need to mention that at all, Itto. You could’ve stopped at the question,” Ayato mutters, crossing his arms over his chest with a sharp huff of breath.

You think about it for a minute. It’s possible that you could have woken up from a wet dream, but usually, you remember your dreams. If you did have a wet dream, you wonder what it’s about because it made you feel like, according to Scaramouche, a dog in heat. Maybe it is a wet dream, but the heat inside your core and the throbbing between your legs feels unbearable. You’re trying to keep yourself together and not fall apart in front of the men. 

“Are you guys sure it’s not the powder that is causing [Y/N]’s body to act this way?” Thoma asks, looking at you worriedly.

Your eyes widen, and you nod, pointing at Thoma. “Yeah! What he said! It’s most likely the powder from the flower that’s causing me to feel this way!” You exclaim.

Kaveh hums and looks at the flower sitting in the glass case. “Since you, Dottore, Baizhu, Albedo, and Tighnari have yet to experiment or study the plant and powder, I’m not entirely sure if that’s something we can automatically confirm to be the reason why you’re feeling this way,” Kaveh comments, tapping on his chin.

“Then what else could be affecting [Y/N] this way? They didn’t eat anything weird, and I’m sure it’s not a wet dream Itto claims it to be,” Al Haitham interjects, narrowing his eyes at Kaveh.

You run your fingers through your hair with a frustrated sigh. You know it’s the flower that’s making you feel this way. You’re the only one that got sprayed by this flower, and you inhaled large gulps of this mysterious powder. Days before going to the Chasm, you felt fine. You didn’t feel like a dog in heat. There’s no pit of fire in your core that is raging days prior to going to the Chasm.

You rub your temples with a frustrated sigh. “Is there a way for me to…. Stop this feeling? Or at least put it on hold, or make it less torturous?” You ask.

Archons, this is so frustrating. How else are you supposed to calm this heat in your gut? It’s driving you insane, and you want it to stop. It feels like you have a fire pit in your core, burning wildly, inextinguishable.

“The best we could tell you is to masturbate, but I’m assuming you already did it,” Dottore says, raising an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lips quirking up.

You huff and look away, your face becoming hot under his and the other men’s gaze. “So much for helping,” you mutter. “It’s gotten to the point where it starts to hurt a little bit,” you add, swinging your feet back and forth.

“Maybe whatever you’re feeling will go away as the day progresses. I think the best thing Dottore, Baizhu, Albedo, and Tighnari could do is give you medication,” Cyno comments, looking over at Baizhu, who walks up to you and hands you a small pill.

“This should help ease the pain you’re feeling. If the pain worsens, or if the feeling you’re experiencing right now progresses, please let us know,” Baizhu instructs, stroking your hair.

You grab the cup from Gorou’s hand and swallow the pill. After swallowing the pill, you and the men walked back upstairs and got ready for breakfast. The medication sort of eased the pain, but it did not quell the heat in your core.

You tried your best to ignore it, but the heat is hard to ignore because of how strong it is. Once you have finished breakfast, you excuse yourself and retreat back to your bedroom. The feeling of needing to be relieved died down for about four hours. It’s still there, but it’s not as bad as when you first woke up. You’re able to take a peaceful nap without being rudely woken up by the intense throbbing between your legs.

While you’re napping in your bedroom, the men are in the laboratory, trying to figure out what the powder could be. The flower does not have the powder on it, even if it's been almost twenty-four hours since you and the men have taken it from the Chasm. Dainsleif stares at the flower intently, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I find it strange how the flower had powder on it before we discovered it. What’s even more strange is how the flower didn’t produce any more of the powder,” Dainsleif mutters.

Childe shrugs. “Maybe the reason why the flower didn’t produce any more of that powder is that we ripped it from the roots,” Childe suggests, stroking his chin while pacing back and forth in the laboratory.

Diluc looks over at Dottore, Albedo, Tighnari, and Baizhu. The four men are conducting experiments on the powder that is sprayed all over you. The flower continues to sit in its case, untouched. Diluc runs his fingers through his red hair and sighs.

“A Mora for your thought?” Kaeya asks, standing beside the wine tycoon. 

Diluc pinches the space between his eyebrows and sighs for the umpteenth time. “It bothers me that we can’t find a way to help [Y/N]. It’s affecting them so much that they had to request to take medication to ease the pain,” Diluc replies. 

Aether and Heizou approach Kaeya and Diluc.

“If it’s something we’re suspecting, then there might be a way to help them ease the pain,” says Heizou, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

Xiao narrows his eyes at Heizou from across the room. “Why are you so calm about this? Do you not care that [Y/N] is suffering?” Xiao demands, pushing himself off the wall and walking toward Heizou and Aether.

Xiao is now standing in front of both Aether and Heizou, his arms crossing over his chest while he glares at Heizou, who blinks at him calmly. Aether laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, and Aether pats Xiao’s shoulders. Xiao doesn’t flinch. Instead, he continues to stare at Heizou with a small glare.

“I think Heizou is trying his best to remain calm. We won’t be able to find the solution to [Y/N]’s suffering if we’re all panicking and hovering over them constantly,” Aether explains.

Over at the table where the four men are conducting the research, Venti trots up to the four men and peek over their shoulders with curiosity. Albedo is looking at the powder from under the microscope, and they’re all wearing masks to prevent themselves from inhaling the powder.

“I highly suggest you wear a mask when you’re entering our area. It’s not safe if you’re with us unprotected,” says Albedo, handing a surgical mask to Venti.

Venti shrugs his shoulders and puts the mask on over his face before gazing at the four men curiously. “So! Do you guys know what the powder is?” Venti asks.

“They’ve been inspecting the powder for a while now. It can take some more time for them to figure out what it really is,” Pantalone hollers from across the room.

Gorou hums and plops down on the loveseat in the laboratory, resting his elbow on the armrest. “Do you guys think the flower produced that powder, or did someone else put the powder on it so it can prevent people from taking the flower from the Chasm?” Gorou asks while his ears twitching with worry.

Capitano nods. “It’s possible that someone could cover the flower with the powder. If it is true, then we’re going to need to find out who it is,” Capitano answers, leaning in his seat.

Kazuha sighs and leans his head back, closing his eyes. “How long will it be until we get the results back?” Kazuha asks, turning his head in the four men’s direction.

Dottore slowly looks away from the test tube and takes his mask off before approaching where the others are gathered in the lab. It’s been almost an hour since you retreated to your bedroom to get some sleep. Therefore, it has been nearly an hour since he, Albedo, Baizhu, and Tighnari have been working closely to find out what the powder is made of and what it does to the human body.

“It shouldn’t be taking longer than two hours if there are four knowledgeable people working together to get the results,” Pierro mutters, his eyes scanning the laboratory with disinterest. 

Kaveh sighs loudly, leaning against the wall with his head tilting forward. “And how much longer is that? I feel like we’ve been down here for way too long,” Kaveh complains aloud.

Al Haitham rolls his eyes at Kaveh. “Can you not complain for the day? All you do is complain about the littlest things, Kaveh,” Al Haitham says, shooting a glare in Kaveh’s direction.

Kaveh scoffs and is about to retort when the other three men begin muttering to themselves. Everyone looks in their direction and slowly approaches them, stopping three feet away from where Albedo, Tighnari, and Baizhu are standing.

Heizou looks at the three men curiously. “Did you guys get the results?” Heizou asks, raising his eyebrows at them.

Tighnari, Albedo, and Baizhu look at each other worriedly. The three men nod and take their gloves off, tossing them into the trash bin. They all give each other looks as if they’re mentally debating with each other to see who’s going to announce the results to everyone in the laboratory.

“We should’ve known what it was in the first place,” Tighnari sighs, slapping his forehead with a deep frown.

Aether looks at them anxiously. “What are you guys implying?” Aether asks, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“The powder that sprayed all over [Y/N] is a—”

Gorou and Tighnari perk up suddenly, their eyes widening, their pupils dilated. Back to your room, you wake up, and the medicine has either worn off or it wasn’t strong enough to diffuse the heat in your core. You kneel on your bed, curling up into a ball and groaning and whimpering. The aching between your legs has grown immensely. You feel your underwear becoming damp. Your wetness dampens through not only your underwear but also your sleep shorts.

You roll off your bed, bumping into your nightstand. The water pitcher and glass cup tumble off the nightstand, shattering into millions of pieces. You groan and fall to your knees, hugging your lower abdomen and whimpering softly. You didn’t know whether you wanted to clean the mess off your bedroom floor or continue to writhe in pain on the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, pressing your hot and sweaty forehead against the wooden floor of your bedroom.

The heat in your core feels like a cramp. It hurts a lot, and you don’t think there’s any medication downstairs that can ease the pain. Not even masturbation can quell the pit of fire in your core. It hurts too much, and the ache seems to only grow even more.

Ayato sighs. “Well, go on! What is it?” Ayato asks, raising his eyebrows at Baizhu.

Baizhu sighs. “The powder that sprayed all over [Y/N] is an aphrodisiac. It’s sex pollen,” Baizhu says.

Cyno raises his eyebrows at Tighnari and Gorou. “Why are you guys acting that way?” Cyno asks.

“We need to check on [Y/N] immediately,” Gorou orders.

Everyone runs back upstairs to the estate and toward your bedroom. You lay on the ground, curled up in a ball, your sweat getting on the floor of your room. At this point, your clothes are drenched in sweat, and your underwear is completely soaked through. You want to feel humiliated, but you’re too hot and bothered to even feel a pinch of embarrassment. 

Loud sets of footsteps and chatter are coming up from the stairs. Your eyes widen, and you quickly get off the ground and crawl to the door to barricade the door with your body. The door handle jiggles. You quickly reach for the door handle and lock it to prevent anyone from coming into your room.

Childe curses under his breath. “Snookums? Are you okay?” Childe asks, banging on the door lightly.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine, Childe.” You whisper, leaning your head against the door. 

“No. You’re not fine. We found out what you accidentally inhaled back at the Chasm,” Diluc replies, pushing Childe away from the door.

You sigh and press your lips into a thin line, fanning your overheated body with your sweat-soaked t-shirt. You’re tempted to strip off all your clothes, but the painful ache between your legs and the heat in your core is making it hard for you to do anything besides remain sitting where you’re at.

“You inhaled a large amount of aphrodisiac. We’re not sure whether the flower produced the aphrodisiac or if someone purposefully covered the flower with it to prevent people from taking the flower,” Capitano replies, leaning against the door frame.

You let out a breathless laugh. “That makes sense. No wonder I feel like a dog in heat,” you croak, closing your eyes and resting your head on the door.

“Please, let us in. We can find a way to help you with what you’re going through,” Kazuha pleads.

You shake your head, knowing the men won’t see it. As much as you want the feeling to go away, you can’t have the men be involved. You would rather ride it out and wait for it to disappear from your system.

You swallow the dry lump in your throat. “It hurts so much, but I don’t want any of you to get involved. Let me ride it out, and I’ll be fine,” you whisper.

Dottore sighs and rubs his forehead. “That’s the problem, [Y/N]. The only time the aphrodisiac will wear off is if you do something about it, not ride it out alone,” Dottore explains.

You curl your toes, run your fingers through your hair and start to pull at the roots. Your breathing is labored, your chest is heaving, you feel so hot, and you want it all to go away. 

“I don’t want to force any of you to help me with my issue,” you mutter, wiping your sweaty neck with the back of your hand.

You wince when you feel that the back of your hand is also sweaty. You’re so hot. Not even the cool air in your bedroom can cool you down. Heck, you think if the men were to leave you in Dragonspine, the sheer cold wouldn’t bother you one bit.

Dainsleif sighs and close his eyes. “You’re not forcing us to do anything, sweetheart. We want to help you, and seeing you suffer is the last thing we want you to go through,” Dainsleif replies, trying to open your bedroom door, only to no avail. 

“We? All of you are going to take turns rearranging my insides, or is it going to be one person that does it?” You mutter, wiping the sweat from your eyebrows with the collar of your shirt.

Xiao looks at the men from the corner of his eyes. “I would prefer to have you for myself. I don’t like sharing,” Xiao states.

Itto perks up after hearing Xiao’s response. “Yeah! Me too! If there’s someone that can help you ride through this wave of sex pollen, it’s the one and Oni!” Itto says, pointing at himself with his thumb.

You laugh nervously, rubbing your neck. “I don’t know how long this aphrodisiac is going to be in my system, but for now, I think one person should suffice,” you murmur.

“Do you have a preference in mind? Immortals? People with furry ears? Old people? People with eyepatches and masks?” Venti trails off, looking at the men around him.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t have a preference. If I did, I wouldn’t be dating all of you now, would I?” you mutter, closing your eyes.

“Alright! Now that’s settled, we’ll send in someone! Just open the door, and whoever is chosen will step into your room to help you with your problem,” you hear Heizou say.

“Okay,” you mumble.

You unlock your bedroom door and slowly crawl away from the door. Everything is silent, other than the faint sound of your panting. You hug your knees to your chest, digging your fingernails into your calves. You watch the doorknob slowly turn, and the door cracks open.

Note: DUN, DUN, DUNNNN! Who could it be!? Ready to choose who's going to be the first one to get their smut in this new smut series? Click [HERE] for the poll for whichever character you want to be the first one to get their smut! As the story progresses, the men who already have their fics will be removed from the poll and previous polls will be closed. As for new characters, they will be added, but they will get their smut if they get the most votes. If no one gets voted, then I will choose and my close friends/mods in my discord server get to choose their favorite Genshin man to go after my choice [that is if people don't vote] ✨ Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @kwelibeeery, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @honeybedo, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @alteeeeyang, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @bajifairyy, @heyimkay, @milkpeanuts476, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @wynncrites, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. 1

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist |

summary: When you let your new neighbor’s daughter inside to call her father from your landline, you never expect to be dealing with the fallout twenty years later. Series will take place before and after the outbreak, and is partially inspired by this request. Slow-burn(ish), eventual smut. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 6.4k chapter warnings: mentions of/encounters with a drunk person, references to absent parents, i imply that both reader (and joel) like pineapple on pizza. a/n: i need to get my shit together and make a proper masterlist/post for this series but i'm absolute garbage with photoshop/making collages so that is a project for another day!! for now, i wanted to get this first part out to ya'll. i watched a playthrough of the game too so ill be including some references to that throughout the series. this will be some hallmark-movie ass romance so strap in!! this chapter was super fun to write and i loved writing for reader and sarah, give it a read and let me know what you think!

-March 7, 2003- 

“Excuse me? Ma’am? Excuse me?”

The voice behind you is so timid you don’t hear it right away, especially not when your phone is pressed to your ear with your shoulder as you sort through the mail, your coworker droning on and on…

“Ma’am?” 

It’s a little more forceful this time, a little closer too, and that’s when it finally gets your attention. Turning around on your heel, you find a young girl standing behind you, one hand hooked in the strap of her backpack that hangs off of one thin shoulder, the other worrying about the butterfly pendant of the necklace she’s wearing. 

You recognize her immediately as one of your neighbors, the girl from across the street whose name you didn’t know yet, because you only moved in about two months ago. You’d met the man who you assumed was her father – Joe? Or was it Joel?, you couldn’t remember – the first day you’d moved in, but there had been so much going on that you were too flustered to be engaged.

It’s a Friday, but apparently that doesn’t keep you safe from work calls after you leave the office, because you’re getting an earful of a whole lot of hot air, so much so that you’re probably unintentionally frowning at the girl in front of you while you try to follow the conversation.

“....I think you’re right, but they’re not going to budge unless we sweeten the deal somehow-”

“Can I call you back?” you blurt, ultimately thankful for the interruption. You don’t even wait for his response before you click off your blackberry, sighing, looking up. “Hi, yeah, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Uhm, I’m Sarah…..Miller….I live across the street?” her voice goes up slightly at the end of the sentence, like she’s unsure, even as she points to the home behind her, a two-story place that’s considerably bigger than your own, but maybe a little older. “I uhm…I locked myself out and I was wondering if I could use your phone…to call my dad at work? Please?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “That’s fine. Just uh..follow me I guess.”

Tucking the stack of mail in your hand under your arm, you wave her after you, your kitten heels clicking on the hard pavement of your driveway. 

“Be careful here,” you warn her as you step over the middle step to your front porch that has rotted, and gives easily under any amount of weight. You’d learned about it the hard way, last week, and still had the bruise on your leg to show for it. 

Your front door is open, and Sarah pauses to take off her shoes when you do, a pair of beat-up white Converse that have been doodled on in Sharpie.

“Here, phone’s right there,” you lead her into the kitchen and point to the landline. “Can I get you anything to drink?” 

“Uhm, could I just get some water…please?” She stands rigidly in your kitchen, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Of course,” you reach into the cabinet. Once the glass is filled and placed in front of her, you retreat to your front living area to give her some privacy while she makes the call, sitting on the couch and scrolling through unanswered emails on your blackberry. Sarah mumbles indiscreetly, until you hear her call out again. 

“Uhm…ma’am…I’m sorry, Miss…uh-what’s your last name?”

“Oh,” you sit up, giving her your first instead. 

“Okay….Uh, my dad wants to talk to you…could you-”

“Sure,” you stand, stepping back into the kitchen, and accepting the receiver from the girl. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Joel Miller,” you’re greeted with a low, gruff drawl. “You’re the new neighbor, I believe introduced myself a while back”

“Joel,” you repeat. It’s Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel, you force yourself to remember. Joel and Sarah Miller. “Yes, we met very briefly.”

“And it sounds like you met Sarah.”

“Yeah.”

On the other end of the line, you hear him hesitate, let out a long sigh. “Look, I hate to put you out, but she lost her key to the house, and she tells me the Adlers aren’t home. Do you think she could stay at your place until I’m able to get off work in a couple hours? I know it’s a big ask, but-”

“Of course she can,” you cut him off, peering over your shoulder at Sarah, who’s staring up at you expectantly with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“She’s probably got homework so I’ll make sure she stays quiet and out of your way. I’m so sorry, she should know better than this. It’s the second time this month this has happened, I keep tellin’ her-”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal,” you cut him off, unintentionally, before wondering if it was rude you didn’t let him finish. It’s the native New Yorker in you, always in a rush and uninterested in drawn-out excuses. It’s an unfortunate instinct you’ve been trying to train yourself out of, particularly now that you’re living in the southwest. You soften your tone. “She can stay as long as she needs to, seriously. I don’t have anything planned.”

“Okay,” the voice on the other end sounds relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I should be home by nine, I’ll call if anything changes. Thanks so much.”

“Of course, we’ll be fine. See you soon.” You hang up. 

Sarah is still behind you when you turn around, clutching the glass of water she’s got in both hands like a vice. “You can stay here until your dad gets home,” you tell her. 

“Did….did he sound mad?”

“Maybe a little stressed,” you’re honest. “But….not mad. I also don’t know him, so…”

“I bet he’ll be mad. This is the second time I’ve locked myself out this month because I forgot my key, and I already got lectured once that last time because he had to leave work early.”

“You made a mistake, people forget things…” you shrug. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she looks around like it’s the first time she’s actually registered where she’s at. “You have a nice house. It’s cozy.” 

“Thanks,” you put your hands on your hips and look around too. “I’m still settling in, so not everything’s unpacked, but I could give you a tour if you’d like?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ma’am. That tickles you. The address is still not something you’re used to hearing, even though you’ve only been in Austin a few years. “You can just call me by my first name, you know? Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Really?” she grins, following you down the hall. “I can’t wait to be old.”

“You’ll feel differently someday,” you answer. “But…I guess it’s not so bad.”

Compared to the house you grew up in, your new house is nothing special, but it’s yours, and you couldn’t be prouder that you’d bought it all on your own. It’s a three-bedroom ranch, and you��d converted one of the rooms into an office for yourself. There’s a kitchen, living room, and den. But your favorite part is your large, screened in back porch that overlooks your yard. Now that it’s getting closer to summer, you sit outside in the mornings with a cup of tea and read the newspaper, listen to the birds. 

“Can I do my homework at your kitchen table?” Sarah asks once you’re finished showing her around.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever,” you answer. “I could probably stand to get a little work done myself.”

Sarah sits at your dining room table, spreads out her books, and works quietly while you answer some emails and look over some contracts. You’ve got a big meeting Monday with a potential client, and a giant stack of term sheets to go through, but if you could manage to get some of it done tonight it might actually help you down the line. As much as possible, you try to avoid doing too much work outside of your office’s standard hours, but sometimes, it’s inevitable.

The subject Sarah has homework in is algebra, which renders you useless. Even when you have to do any accounting at work, you’re used to having a calculator nearby. It’d been awhile since you spent time with anyone as young as she was – in sixth grade, she told you – and it was starting to serve as a confirmation of your own dysfunctional childhood, because her carefree, sweet nature was so drastically different from anything you remembered feeling. 

After about an hour, Sarah slowly starts to close her notebooks, zipping her pencils back up in plastic pouches. You look up from making revisions on a contract, the smell of blue ink heavy in the air around you. “I’m done,” she announces. “Could I sit on your couch and read?”

“Of course,” you answer. “Give me five and I’ll join you.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find a good stopping point, and you pack up your messenger bag, and join Sarah in the living room. “So…I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell her. “Are you?”

Sarah nods sheepishly.

“I could order us something,” you said. “What do you like?”

You aren’t much of a chef, though you can generally figure your way out around any recipe. However, cooking for one is notoriously tedious. If you had multiple mouths to feed, maybe you’d be tempted to hone your skills in the kitchen a little more. Most nights you usually treated yourself to a depressing, hastily thrown together salad, scrambled eggs, or a PB&J. Tonight, you had actually been planning to take yourself out to dinner – there’s a cute little French bistro down the street and you were hoping to treat yourself to a cocktail and a nice meal while you read.

Sarah closes her book, contemplating. “Could we….get a pizza?”

You think about it. “Sure, yeah. Pepperoni…cheese?”

“Can we get….one of both?” she tests. 

“Yeah, we can do both,” You smile. “I bet your dad will be hungry, too, he can have some if he wants.”

“Maybe…he likes pineapple on his,” Sarah wrinkles her nose.

“He has good taste. I do too.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them separate,” you call over your shoulder as you retreat to the kitchen. 

Once the pizza is ordered, you return to your living room and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from Sarah, who is engrossed back in her book. “They told me about 30 minutes. What are you reading?”

“To Kill A Mockingbird,” she says, showing you the cover. 

“That was one of my favorites growing up.”

“I have to read it for school…but it’s pretty good so far.”

Your phone pings with another email, and you glance at it quickly. 

“Is that work?” she asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. It still finds you, even when you leave.”

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a lawyer.”

“No way!” Sarah perks up. “Like on the tv shows? That’s so cool.” 

You snort, shaking your head. “No, not exactly. I’m a corporate lawyer so it’s not as fun, actually, it’s just a lot of paperwork and meetings…”

“So…you don’t like it, then?”

“It’s….” you think about it. “....Fine.” Did you like your job? It wasn’t really something you thought about in that way, you’d always seen it as a means to an end. “I went to law school because my dad wanted me to…he wanted me to work for him someday. And…that didn’t pan out so…yeah. But you know…it pays well, and….”

“You get to wear cool outfits,” she gestures to you.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Although the heels do get a little uncomfortable.”

Sarah’s eyes shift behind you for a second to the hallway leading to your bedroom, then widen excitedly. “You have a cat?” 

You turn around to see what she’s looking at, the white and gray ball of fluff that you’d found underneath a dumpster one late night in college. 

“Yeah, that’s Martini.”

“Martini,” she giggles, and the cat approaches her cautiously. He’s notoriously shy and quiet, and not even particularly cuddly, but he likes to sleep at the foot of your bed and will sit next to you on the couch if you stay still for long enough.

The cat sniffs Sarah’s outstretched hand, then presses his face into Sarah’s palm so she can scratch him under his chin, his favorite spot. “He’s not usually a fan of strangers, he must like you.”

“I love animals,” she says. “My dad won’t let me get a pet because he says he’ll end up taking care of it.”

You chuckle. “Cats are pretty easy…at least, he is.”

Martini allows himself about twenty seconds worth of affection before he darts out of the room and heads to his food bowl. 

“I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, I’ll be right back,” you push yourself off the couch and walk down the hallway. Any other night and you probably would’ve been in pajamas awhile ago but that’s probably not acceptable, so you settle for jeans and a sweater, which is much more comfortable than the dress and tights you had been in before. 

The pizza arrives and after you tip the driver, set it on your kitchen island and pull some plates out of your cupboard. You and Sarah are both long settled with full plates when you speak again. 

“Wow….I forgot how good pizza is…” you say, staring at the half eaten piece in your hand. 

“You don’t eat pizza?”

“Usually only when I’m drunk,” you say, then immediately realize you’re talking to an eleven year old. “Oops, I…probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”

She giggles. “It’s okay.”

“So, it’s just you and your dad across the street?” you ask. “Does your mom live with you?” 

The second the question registers, you immediately regret asking. Sarah shrinks before you, her face dropping, shaking her head. “No I…I don’t really have a mom.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, softly. You just assumed she existed although you’d never seen her, and you feel guilty, racking your brain for something that might help make her feel better. “I understand, my mom wasn’t really around growing up.”

“She wasn’t?” Sarah asked, looking up. 

You shake your head.  “My parents got divorced when I was young, my dad took us, and she moved across the country, so….I didn’t see much of her.”

“My mom… she left when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry.” You say again, staring at the girl in front of you. 

For a moment, looking at her, you see yourself, and you wonder how a parent can wake up one day and choose to ignore someone that’s one half of themselves. Someone they made. If they really understood what that might do to a person’s psyche, growing up thinking that they weren’t wanted. You had always told yourself that your mother, your parents must have not understood, because if they did, and they still chose to do it…

“Are you married?” Sarah asks, and you’re snapped out of your train of thought.

Taking a bite of pizza, you shake your head no.

“So you live here alone?” 

You nod, chewing.

“Do you like it?”

You nod, swallow. “It’s better than having a roommate, or living in the city.” 

Standing up, you walk towards the fridge for a can of sparkling water. It hisses while you open it, and you lean over the counter while Sarah continues to drill you. “Do you ever get….scared? Like at night?” 

“No….not really. I have locks. And this is a safe neighborhood. And uh, I may or may not have a nightlight still.”

Sarah giggles. “Me too.”

There’s a sturdy knock on your screen door, which you’d left open to let in the cool spring breeze, and you notice Sarah’s eyes widen. “I bet that’s my dad.”

As if he heard her, and maybe he did, the guest calls out. “It’s Joel!” It’s the same voice from over the phone, but much clearer. 

“Come in,” you answer.

The screen door creaks open, the sound of boots shuffling inside. “Sarah?” It’s the same voice from the phone. Joel steps into the warm light of the kitchen.

When you first met it had been from a distance, you were carrying boxes and he was loading something into the back of his truck. It’s clear you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him, wouldn’t have forgotten his name, because fuck, he’s kind of gorgeous…tan skin, dark wavy hair, and a sharp jawline covered in stubble. In the archway to your kitchen he looks huge, taller than you remembered.

“Hi Dad,” Sarah says. “Miss-“

You cut her off simply by saying your first name. “Nice to meet you…again.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, and thank you so much for keeping an eye on her. We’ll get out of your ha-”

“We got you pizza,” Sarah pipes up, looking at him. You can tell that she’s trying to stall. Or at least, trying to offer him something that might soften the inevitable lecture she’s going to get. It’s a smart play, and definitely not something you would’ve been above trying at her age.

Joel looks at the three pizza boxes spread across your countertop. “You didn’t have to feed her, really, like I said, she should’ve known better,” he turns to look at her pointedly.

“I had to eat anyway. Please, help yourself. There’s a ton of leftovers,” You really did not want cold pizza in your fridge, because it’d be too tempting to eat as a late night snack or even breakfast on your way out the door in the mornings.

Reluctantly, he looks at you before taking a plate. “Thank you,” he turns to his daughter while he opens one of the boxes. “Did you get your homework done?” 

Sarah nods. “And I got ahead on my reading for English.”

“That’s good.” 

Joel turns back to you, settles in a chair with the plate of food in front of him at the island. You do the same. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to come over and properly introduce myself. Sarah too.”

You shrug. “I’m the new neighbor, that’s probably my responsibility anyways. It’s been kind of hectic settling in.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“Well, I’ve been in Austin for the past few years, but originally I’m from Manhattan.”

Joel nods. “Why Texas?” 

It’s far away from my insane family, you think, and then settle on something else. “Work.”

Sarah is staring at her plate and tearing a piece of crust into tiny pieces. Joel eyes the slice of pizza he’s just taken a bite of.

“Pineapple?” he looks over at Sarah. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me so you don’t get in trouble?”

“It’s my favorite, too,” you offer, then wink at Sarah when Joel isn’t looking. She tilts her head down, her hair hiding the grin on her face from her father.

A buzzing sound cuts through the room before Joel can answer, and he digs in his pocket to fish out his cell phone. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”

When he steps out of the room, you begin to clear the empty boxes and plates off your kitchen island and bring them over to the sink. Sarah brings her plate over as well, stands next to you at the sink while you rinse them off and load them in the dishwasher. 

“Thank you for dinner,” she says. 

“Of course,” you answer.

“I just really hope he’s not disappointed with me.”

Placing your hand between her shoulder blades, you give her an encouraging pat. “I don’t think he is….” you hear Joel on the phone in the other room, his voice rising in volume. “....and honestly….it sounds like he might have bigger fish to fry…”

“Tommy…are you fucking kidding me? Again? How many times is this gonna happen? Okay…fine. fine. I’ll be there soon, but you can’t keep doing this shit.”

Sarah grimaces, and you both turn back to the sink sheepishly when you hear Joel’s footsteps returning. She bumps you with her elbow while you clear your throat. 

You’re sure there’s still a residual smile on your face when you turn around to face Joel, who has his hands on his hips. “Alright, Sarah, we gotta get going.”

“Is everything okay with Uncle Tommy?” 

“No, I’ve gotta pick him up at the police station.” 

“Did he drink too much again?”

“Sarah!” Joel exclaims. “Please, it’s gettin’ late and you’ve got a soccer game tomorrow, you need to get to bed.”

You’re biting your lower lip so hard to keep from laughing you almost taste blood. It’s not funny, definitely not funny to Joel, who you can tell is having a rough night, but it’s objectively funny as an outsider, watching all their familial drama being put on blast by his daughter who doesn’t quite have a filter yet, and is first and foremost trying to protect herself from getting into trouble.

“She’s a lawyer, I bet she could help Tommy,” Sarah looks over at you. “Couldn’t you?”

Joel frowns. “That’s not how that works-”

“What’d they bring him in for?” you ask. 

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Public intoxication. Are you really a lawyer?”

“Well…I’m a corporate lawyer so that wouldn’t really be my specialty. But uh…I’ve definitely been able to talk my friends out of that kind of thing before.”

“But this is not the first time,” Joel says. “It’s probably useless.” 

“Didn’t you say you can’t afford to keep-”

“Sarah, enough.” Joel’s voice is as stern as you’ve heard it, and he digs into his pocket, producing a keychain. “Go home and get ready for bed. I’ll be home in a minute.”

Sarah sighs, defeated. “Okay.” 

Joel stands dead still while she shuffles to the door, cramming her feet in her shoes with her backpack slung over her shoulder. 

By this point in the evening, you’d usually be curled up on your couch by the fireplace with your latest knitting project, moderately stoned, watching bad reality television and sipping sleepytime herbal tea. But your night has already gone drastically different from your expectation. Why stop now? “If you wanted…I could try to help.”

Joel shakes his head, looks at the floor. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “I offered.”

He looks up, a soft smile breaks across his face, revealing a row of straight, sparkling teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen from him, and your knees feel a little weak at the sight of it. You think you might offer him anything just to see it again. “It’d be a huge favor. But….I’d appreciate it.”

“Alright well…” you look around, push yourself off the countertop. “I probably should change before we go. I don’t think I’ll be taken seriously in this.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I need to make sure Sarah gets to bed alright, how ‘bout you meet me on my porch in ten?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks again,” he raps his knuckles on the counter twice before retreating, and you stay in place until you hear the screen door close behind him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I feel like you’re meeting us all at a very chaotic time….I promise, things aren’t usually like this.” 

Joel’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify this to you on the drive to the police station. In fact, he might be saying it more to convince himself, because he thinks ever since Sarah’s mom ran off, things have never not been chaotic. 

In some ways, he’s glad it happened. It was a doomed relationship from the start, they’d both been far too young to understand the consequences of their actions, so it was probably for the better that she was no longer around. But he was caught in a constant state of feeling like he could never quite get a handle on things. 

Joel glances over at you in the passenger's seat of his truck. He decides that you look a little out of place there, dressed in a black pantsuit, a messenger bag tucked between your heel-clad feet. He can’t remember the last time there was an adult woman in his car. Three months, maybe? It had been a date, a third date, and subsequently, a last date. But right now the context is different.

Your head is tilted towards the open window, the breeze casting stray pieces of your hair around as the radio cuts in and out of an old Eagles song and then to static, and then back into music again. He needs to get his damned stereo fixed but unfortunately it hasn’t exactly been high on his priority list. His gaze travels down the slope of your neck, where your skin dips into the collar of your silky blue blouse, then back to your profile, your lips moving as you mouth the words to the song, but don’t sing. 

I get this feelin' I may know you

As a lover and a friend

You stop when his words register, turning to look at him, and he averts his eyes back to the road. “No offense or anything….” you say. “But compared to the family I grew up in….this is all pretty tame.”

Joel ponders that for a moment, notices the way your eyes are narrowed, the corners of your lips quirking. “What, you got a problematic little brother, too? A precocious eleven-year-old?”

“No kids,” you answer. He didn’t think so. “But I do have a problematic older brother. And the stress he’s caused has definitely taken years off my life.”

At least you seem like you understand. 

He’s shocked you’re in this car with him, that after entertaining his daughter all night, you’d offered to help him out with this Tommy mess. Though, he assumes you’re doing it out of guilt because Sarah made it sound like he was broke.

“You know for the record, I actually have the money to bail him out.”

“I figured.”

“Then why’d you come?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. My life has been pretty boring lately. I can’t remember the last time I did something exciting on a Friday night.” 

“This is exciting to you?”

“It’s objectively exciting,” you sound assured. “Maybe more exciting than being the person who got arrested for public intoxication.” 

Despite the stress of the evening, he can’t help but laugh. 

“And whether you’re broke or not, bailing someone out of jail is no joke. If you can at least try to talk your way out of it, you might as well.”

Joel can’t argue with your logic.

“What is it you do again?” you ask, eyeing the protective glasses he has in the cup holder of his front seat. There are nails stuck between the rubber grooves of the mat beneath the seats, a pair of thick gloves resting on the dashboard.

“I’m a carpenter.”

“Makes sense,” you answer. “So you’re handy?”

“You could say that,” Joel lifts the can of flat, warm seltzer from his lunch break to his mouth, just to take a sip. 

“That’s hot,” you say, and he nearly chokes when he hears it.  Are you….flirting? Though, you can’t be, because when he looks over at you, you’re staring at the road, face neutral. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of what’s hot and what isn’t….it’s just a fact. Everyone knows that.” 

“Do they?” 

“Uh-huh,” you respond. “I mean, I wish I was handy. I’m pretty much a lost cause in that department.” 

“If it paid the bills, you’d figure it out.” 

“If it paid the bills, I can tell you, I would not be living in our neighborhood.”

Joel puts his blinker on, preparing to pull into the police station. “You probably still could, it’s not that nice of a neighborhood.” 

“Shut up,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “But in all seriousness, it is peaceful. It’s quiet.”

“See, but you still didn’t say nice.”

“It is nice. I like it.” 

When he parks the car, you straighten up, unbuckling the seatbelt and exiting without a word. On the opposite side of the truck, he observes how you rebutton the front of your blazer, smooth down its lapels and shift your shoulders back before turning to him. 

“You ready?” you ask. 

He nods. 

“After you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Joel spots you again, Tommy is walking a few paces behind you. You turn your head over one shoulder, smirking at whatever he’s saying. From where Joel is sitting in the lobby, he can just make out the soft curve of your hips, the tops of your thighs over the barrier that separates him from all the desks of the officers and staff at the station. You’ve got an easy, relaxed gait and you give Joel a wink when he catches you staring.

He can tell it’s just meant to be celebratory thing, since both you and Tommy seem to be in good spirits, but he likes the sight of it anyways, the idea that you’re both in on some secret that no one else is. 

Joel stands to greet you and his brother to get the download, but as he approaches, your group is intercepted by one of the cops that had been hanging around reception. 

“Miller,” he says lowly to Tommy. “This better be the last time I see you in here.” 

When Tommy doesn’t answer right away, you pipe up. 

“I assure you my client will be on his best behavior.”

The cop turns to you for a minute, turns back to Tommy, contemplating. “You’re lucky you have a good lawyer…” he says. “Although I’m still not convinced you’re really paying someone to get you out of a public intoxication charge.” 

“I-” Tommy opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Alleged…intoxication,” you interject, stone-faced.

“He can hardly walk straight.”

You purse your lips. “But….you never did a sobriety test, so, would it hold up in court?” you grimace. “If I had to guess….probably not.”

The cop narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t push it, princess.” 

Despite the infantilizing nickname, You respond with a polite smile. “Thanks again, officer. Have a nice evening.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs before backing away. 

You turn to Joel, your smile fading, and Tommy cuts in. “We should get the fuck out of here before he changes his mind.”

“That’s it? You’re free?” Joel asks.

Tommy nods. 

“Tommy’s right, we should definitely leave.”

It’s a mad scramble, the three of you settling back into Joel’s truck, and if he was feeling a little less angsty about the way the whole evening had gone, he might’ve even peeled out of the parking lot for dramatic effect. But at this point, his patience is wearing thin.

He’s back on the main drag, en route to Tommy’s place, with you on the passenger’s side, and his brother in the back, leaning forward with his elbows resting on your seats when his brother speaks up.

“Holy….shit!” Tommy turns to you. “That was fucking awesome, are you kidding me? Joel, where the fuck did you find her?”

He’s still drunk, words slurring together, and he shakes both of your shoulders ferociously. You actually giggle — the sound of it is fucking adorable and Joel wishes that these are not the circumstances for hearing such a noise. He rather it be because of something he said, but he knows Tommy has always been more charming, even when drunk 

“She’s my neighbor, Tommy.”

“No way! How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Tommy asks, and Joel can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“I’m kind of new to the area,” you answer. 

“Dammit, oh my god, Joel, I wish you coulda seen it.”

Joel looks over at you, and is thankful that he catches your eye. “What’d you say?” 

“Never underestimate your negotiating power when the cop you’re talking to’s shift ended over an hour ago, and he doesn’t want to fill out any more paperwork.” You cross your arms, look over your shoulder at Tommy, who is leaning back against the seat with his head in his hands, laughing, before looking back at Joel. “I told you, I have experience.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy pokes his head back between you. “How’d he even get you to come down here? What’d he have to do, offer to paint your house or somethin’?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sarah got locked out again,” Joel explained. “And I was over at her place when you called. She’s a corporate lawyer.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You know, Joel’s always liked the smart ones,” Tommy starts, and Joel has to contain the urge to slam on the brakes and send his brother face first into the back of his headrest. Unfortunately, he can’t do that with you in the car. “Too bad he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

“Okay, watch yourself!” Joel snaps, and he’s only halfway kidding. “You got off easy, but you’re on fuckin’ thin ice, and I’m still pissed that I’m spending my night bailing you out again.”

Tommy doesn’t even catch on to Joel’s irritation – or maybe he does, and has just decided that he’s going to be the Annoying Younger Sibling and see how far he can push it. “Don’t let him fool you, okay?” Tommy continues, and you’ve angled yourself towards him, amused. “It’s not always him lookin’ after me. Before he had Sarah, he was crazy.”

“Alright, alright that’s enough, Tommy.” Joel shoots daggers towards his brother in the rearview mirror, and he watches Tommy’s smile falter, finally deciding to back down. 

“Is that true, Joel, were you really crazy?” you ask after Tommy grows quiet, tilting your head. “I can’t see it.”

“Well we’ve all have our moments, right?” he says sheepishly. 

“We do,” you agree, and then it’s finally silent.

Joel is thankful to see Tommy’s driveway straight in front of him, and his car lurches up the curb. “Alright, alright, this is your last stop,” he says to his brother. “You’ll get in okay?” 

Tommy takes a deep breath, settling himself after all his bravado and sinking back against his seat. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Sarah’s game.” He slinks out of the truck and slams the door behind him. 

Normally, Joel would’ve chewed him out after something like this, but he knows being hungover tomorrow at a middle school soccer game, sandwiched between screaming parents and the ear-splitting whistles of the referees will be punishment enough.

“I’ll see you then.” He watches his brother stumble up the steps to his home, unlock the door, and give a wave before disappearing inside. 

Joel’s left alone with you. “Should we get you home, now?”

“Yeah, we should.”

Joel puts the car in reverse, puts one of his arms over the back of the bench seat to look for cars behind him, and catches you staring. You don’t even seem embarrassed that he notices, either, you just shift your gaze away to outside the window.

He feels a little self-conscious about the first impression he’s probably made, which is a feeling he’s not used to…caring about what people think. 

“Sorry about him, he’s….a good guy but a real piece of work.”

You giggle. “Like I said, I have a brother, too.”

It’s been awhile since he’s interacted with anyone outside of Sarah, Tommy, and his coworkers, and his day was exhausting. He wants to ask more questions, see if he can hold some kind of conversation, but words fail him, so you spend the short drive on the way back home mostly in silence. You’re so quiet that by the time he pulls into your driveway, he thinks you might be asleep. If you were, he doesn’t even get the chance to wake you, because you immediately sit up straight once the truck has come to a halt.

“Thanks for everything tonight,” he says. 

“You’re welcome, it was no problem,” you get out of the car, sling your bag over your shoulders, and close the door. “Have a good night.” 

Joel’s listening to the retreating click of your heels up the driveway when he rolls down his window all the way to speak again. It’s clear you’re tired, your shoulders are slouched, and he feels incredibly guilty. You worked all day and then had to put up with his entire crazy family. 

“Hey,” he says. “How much do I owe you for the pizza?”

You turn around, still stepping backwards. “Nothing.”

“Look, you’ve done too much for me tonight to say that,” he says. “I’m startin’ to feel bad.”

You stop in your tracks then, the smirk on your face fading a little bit as you slowly step forward to where he leans out the truck window. It’s only a few feet, but you’re much closer now than you’ve been to him all night, and there must be jasmine in your perfume. It smells expensive, he thinks, as your hands lift to rest on the door next to his elbow. “You shouldn’t feel bad,” you say softly, voice low. 

God, you’re fucking beautiful, he realizes, basked in the glow of the moon, a smile creeping along the edges of your lips. Of course, he knew you were attractive, had definitely registered it at some point before –  maybe when he’d walked in on you and Sarah giggling in the kitchen. He was just too busy being worried to even notice until now. 

This isn’t a date, but you’re so close he could kiss you, kind of wants to just to see what would happen, but he doesn’t. You’re his new neighbor, and if he’s reading this wrong, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the mistake everyday, first thing in the morning when you’re picking up your newspaper at the end of your driveway and he’s leaving for work. 

“But uh…if it would make you feel better…one of the steps on my front porch is rotted. Maybe you could come over sometime and fix it? That a fair trade?” 

Joel nods, and you stick out your hand. “It’s a deal,” he says, ignoring the jolt of energy he feels when your palms press together, like you’re a kid wearing a hand buzzer, trying to shock him.

“Great,” you step away. He’s about to put the car in reverse when you speak again. 

“Oh, and Joel?” you ask, he looks back at you. Before you speak again, your eyes shift to the ground, like you’re mustering up the courage to ask him something, and when they return to his again, your expression is somber. “Go easy on Sarah….she’s a good kid.”

Joel nods, understanding.

“I know.”

-

volume ii

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Prologue

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None for this chapter [this also isn’t beta’d so bear with me]

Notes: it took me so long to work up the courage to actually post my first work, so enjoy! I’ll be over here anxiously awaiting your thoughts.

Word Count: 705

Series Masterlist

A clear horizon. An orange sunset fading into vivid pinks and purples as the atmosphere darkens in preparation for the night. Evening sun warming your face, the space around you drifting into silence as calm settles into your bones, time halting its ever constant forward march, no thoughts or worries.

That’s what it felt like, the moment my eyes met Jasper Hale’s. Like I was done searching for what my heart was in need of as soon as I glanced into those golden pools of his.

• January 24th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

Based on the non-stop gossip floating around this microscopic high school, I’m the newest kid on the block. Dethroning the most recent to wear the title, Bella Swan, the Police Chief’s daughter.

Now, I’m not opposed to the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State, but Forks could strive to be a little more than a one-stoplight town and add a few more amenities. This big city Texas girl needs a little more than Forks Outfitters - the one stop shop for food, basic clothing, and hardware.

I left Dallas because my mom needed me here, my dad didn’t want to trade sunshine and big ranches for rain and freezing temperatures. They’re happily divorced, but I can tell that over time it’s worn her down. I’m just a junior in high school, but I guess she and I can navigate this together.

God, let there be cute boys at this high school, I’m begging you.

I was almost immediately accosted by what I deemed the welcoming committee the moment I locked the door to my car and began the dreaded ‘new kid’ trek to the front office of Forks High School. Stares came from anyone loitering in the parking lot before class while this overly-excited kid, who introduced himself as Eric Yorkie, began what had to be a well rehearsed ‘anything you need’ spiel.

All hopes of flying under the radar halfway through junior year vanished into thin air and I hadn’t even made it to the sidewalk yet.

“Eric? I really appreciate your help and concern, but I was hoping to kinda just glide in on my first day and blend in.” I said as we walked together through the wet parking lot, dodging the bigger puddles so I wouldn't soak my shoes before I got to my first class of the day.

“Oh that’s pretty much impossible here, newcomers are always the only thing everyone talks about. Don’t be scared to hit me up with questions later though, good luck!” Shouting that last part as he dashed off to class, turning the heads of a few close students.

A deep sigh passed my lips as I trudged on, pulling open the heavy door to the administration office. It’s nice to have someone offer help on my first day, I just wish this town was big enough so that I could get lost on everyone’s list of priorities to gossip about or stare at.

Today is going to be a long day.

“Good morning dear!” A sweet older woman announced from behind the central desk in the front office. The name plate in front of her reading ‘Administrative Secretary Shelly Cope’.

“Good morning Miss Cope. I’m Y/n Y/l/n, here to pick up my class schedule and hopefully a map of the place?” I said, cutting to the chase. The front office is a giant fish bowl to the students walking by outside, no one wants to spend more time than necessary here on their first day.

“Oh yes! I’ve got it all printed out and ready to go for ya dear, along with your locker assignment.” She says with a smile, passing the papers across her desk. “Let me know if you have any questions or if you need help with anything!”

“Yes ma’am, thank you!” I responded, half reading my new schedule - half aware of where I was going as I press a shoulder to the exit.

First period Biology

Second period English

Third period Spanish

Fourth period Trigonom-

The front office door smacks straight into an unsuspecting, gorgeous, golden-eyed fellow student, sending the papers clutched in my hands to the ground.

Next

[heartofthedragons]

Rotten Deal Pt. 1

Modern!Aegon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When your ex boyfriend cheats on you and spreads a vicious rumor about you, you want to make him suffer. So you make a deal with the man you can’t stand: Aegon, the most infamous fuckboy at KLU.

Chapter Summary: Aegon comes to you asking for help and you use it as the perfect opportunity to deal with the disaster of your breakup.

Warning(s): Cursing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos, cheating mentions

Word Count: 1614 words

When you walked in on your (ex) boyfriend Jason Lannister cheating on you with Cassie Baratheon last night, you didn’t think things could get worse. What could be worse than seeing your boyfriend balls deep in another girl? Well, you find out that things can get much much worse.

As soon as you enter the campus cafeteria and approach your friends, you know something is wrong. The four girls are all huddled together over the table in a heated discussion, and when they take notice of your form near them the air becomes thick with discomfort.

“Hey,” you say plopping down beside Helaena. The silence is palpable as all the girls give you a pitying and worried glance. You can feel your heart drop and your anxiety spike at their reaction, “What’s wrong?”

You see Sara bite her lip for a moment before she speaks, “Jason and Cas are official on socials.” You frown, “Seriously? Already? It hasn’t even been a full day.”

Baela sighs for a moment before picking up where Sara left off. “That’s not all though,” she says, “Jason got called out for everything, and, to put it simply, he started telling everyone that he dumped you because you’re a shitty lay.”

Your jaw drops, “I’m sorry. What?”

“Seven hells Bael, way to put it gently,” Rhaena says sternly. But Baela simply shrugs off her comment. “When Jason and Cas started posting each other everyone asked him what the hell happened,” Rhaena says, “He started getting defensive and not so subtly implied that the reason he broke up with you and cheated on you is because you didn’t…satisfy him.”

“Oh gods,” you exclaim as you drop your head into your arms. You feel like you could die of embarrassment. Helaena rubs your back gently attempting to soothe you as best as she can, “It’s ok Y/N. It’s really not that bad. You’re just too close to the situation.” Every the sweetheart Helaena is trying desperately to salvage your feelings and soften the blows of the news you’ve heard. But this time she’s desperately wrong. Your heart has been shattered, your trust broken, and now your reputation has been completely tarnished.

You lift your head and give Helaena a weak smile in return before facing the other three girls again, “How many people know?”

“Well, Jace and Creagan both know,” Sara says.

“And all of Cas’s friends, plus their boyfriends,” Baela adds on.

“Great so…everyone I know, you guys know, and Jason knows thinks I’m bad at sex. Wonderful,” you stand up and grab your belongings quickly, “I’m going to go to the library a bit before classes. I need a moment to myself.” All four girls nod at you and shoot you apologetic smiles as you turn away quickly. You need to get away from everyone now because you can’t bare to face everyone. They’re all pitying you or judging you and you hate it.

‘Seven Hells, things really can’t get worse’ you think.

Aegon is having a pretty shitty day as well. When he took Valyrian History he thought it would be a breeze. That’s his culture after all. And when he heard that attendance wasn’t mandatory for the class on the first day, he did not return. As far as he was concerned this was a fluff class that he could easily pass by winging it, giving him the time to have fun and focus on…better things.

And now, the consequences are biting him in the ass. He’s still in shock as he stares at the 45% on the top of his essay. It turns out that this class and professor were not easy at all, and Aegon’s passive approach has led to him essentially flunking the class.

“C’mon prof, there’s gotta be something I can do to fix this,” he says pleadingly. The professor looks up at him completely unimpressed as she continues to clean up her work space, “I’ve already told you Mr. Targaryen, there’s no way to change your grade. Your best chance is to improve your performance on any future assignments and exams.”

Aegon groans in frustration. At this point he’s months behind in material and has no idea where to begin. “Might I suggest,” the professor says, “seeking extra help from one of your peers?”

Aegon sighs before nodding his head in defeat. “Yeah, sure. Ok,” he says before shuffling out the door. He doesn’t know anyone in this class due to the whole not attending lectures thing. So, he shoots his sister a quick text asking if she knows anyone in Valyrian History, and her reply comes a few moments later, ‘I’m pretty sure Y/N takes that class. Why?’

Aegon deflates. Of course you’re the only one that can help him. ‘Any idea where I can find her? I need to ask for her help with something,’ he texts back.

‘She should be in the library, but I’d leave her alone right now. She’s not in a great mood.’

Aegon reads the text but shrugs it off. As far as he’s concerned, you’re almost never happy around him anyway so not much will change.

He makes his way to the huge library on campus, and as soon as he enters he scans for your form. He sees you tucked away in a corner reading a book.

The frown on your face is evident even from afar, but even then, he can’t help but think about how pretty you are. It really is a shame that you’re such a stick in the mud and seem to dislike him so much, he’s always thought you were smoking hot and he’d have a good time with you. If only you’d drop your icy walls when he’s around, he bets you’d be extra fun.

He makes his way to you and casually drops into the chair beside you. He throws his arm around the back of your seat before leaning in. “Hey, hot stuff,” he says with his signature smirk, and you audibly groan.

“Go away, Aegon.”

His smirk doesn’t falter even for a second before he continues, “Wow, five seconds. That must be a new record for you, love.”

You shut your book in annoyance before turning to him, you look pissed. More than usual. “What do you want?” You say dully.

“I need you to tutor me in Valyrian history.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He asks, clearly upset with your quick and blunt response.

“Because I’m dealing with a lot right now, and I really don’t want to deal with your shit too.”

Aegon frowns and furrows his brow. He really needs your help if he wants even the slightest chance at passing this course. “Please Y/N. I really need your help. I’ll do anything. Name your price.”

You’re silent for a moment. You’ve got so much going on now. What could possibly make spending time teaching Aegon remotely worthwhile? And then the idea pops into your mind. A terrible idea that can lead to no good. But it feels so perfect.

“Anything?” You ask. There’s a hint of mischief in your eyes now, and Aegon falters in his decision for a moment before doubling down, “Yeah. Anything.”

“Ok. I’ll help you,” Aegon smiles in relief for a moment, “But it’s gonna cost you.”

“How much money are we talking?” He asks.

“I don’t want your money.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

You bite your lip. There’s no good way to say this so you just come right out with it. “In exchange for me helping you pass, I want you to pretend we’re sleeping together.”

Aegon is shocked. You’ve always been a bit of a prude around him so hearing you talk so forwardly is beyond weird though not unwelcome, “Why do you want me to pretend we’re fucking? Aren’t you dating Lannister?”

You drop your gaze away from his. “We broke up,” you say matter-of-factly, “I caught him cheating on me yesterday with Cas Baratheon.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah. And to make matters worse. He decided to go around and say that we broke up because I’m bad at sex.”

Aegon has no idea what to say to that, and he’s not sure anything he could say would even help, so he chooses to move on from the topic.

“So you want to pretend we’re dating to get back at your ex for cheating and lying about you?”

“No. Not date. Just pretend we’re having sex.”

Aegon looks at you quizzically, “What’s the difference?” You can’t help but scoff at the question. Of course notorious fuckboy, Aegon Targaryen can’t tell the difference between fucking and dating.

“I don’t want to fake date you because you can’t keep it in your pants,” you say dryly, “You’ll end up sleeping with some other girl, and then I’ll look like the idiot who got cheated on twice in a row. If we’re just sleeping together then I don’t look like a fool.”

Aegon nods, “Ok…so you want me to pretend we’re fucking to make Jason jealous?”

“Basically. I also want you to tell people it’s good”

“Why?”

“Because if the infamous, handsome fuckboy, Aegon Targaryen says that sex with me is good, then nobody will believe what Jason said is true.”

A wolfish grin takes over Aegon’s face, “You think I’m handsome?” You groan and lightly hit him with your elbow. “Shut up. Do we have a deal?” You ask outstretching your hand.

“We have a deal,” he says, but then he leans over to whisper in your ear, “I’ll see you tomorrow, fuck buddy.” He gets up to leave throwing you a wink before making his way out of the library.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Part 2

Tag List: @mysingularitybts

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 4.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Still far from home and far from well.

Master List / Prev Chapter

Warning: 18+ (fairly tame chapter, but stands for entire series)

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Tumblr is being weird with links, and I'm not sure how to fix it. Had an extremely rough month really working on a piece about school safety... enough said. And I've been sick. So. Ya'll mean the world, thank you for your continued support!

4.

You’re drowning in a sea of hands.

They push and pull like ocean currents, and you’re as helpless in their merciless grip as a swimmer in a riptide, tumbling so deep you can’t remember which way is up. There’s air, but an arm around your neck presses on your trachea. Suffocating you. No matter how much you claw and wheeze, it only tightens, slow and inextricable. The worst kind of promise building in the pressure.

Thousands of strangers’ fingers paint you with intent, sweaty and slick. Each hand wants something. Maybe they’re working in chorus, or maybe each one is out for itself. It’s impossible to tell by the way they paw, snare, and grab at you. Whatever they want is inside. Deep in your belly or hiding in your spine, some key or secret blunt nails work to pry out. They won’t be satisfied until you’re swallowed, torn apart, and sorted into pieces.

The dark smells like old carpets, bird shit, and rust.

Waves of touch tug you in opposite directions, twisting your arm behind your back and your foot over your head. It’s chaos. And it hurts. But they’re all moving you, hauling you into a hell that sounds like war. You’ve never heard gunfire like this. Only three clean shots from a distant sniper rifle. But the cacophony ricochets with dozens of automatic weapons, and the hands scratch and dig into your skin, greedy for your fear as you sink into the echoes…

And wake with the gunfire still in your ears.

Sharp, jolting breaths lift your shoulder, punching through your chest with a salty aftertaste from the tears and mucus trickling down the back of your throat. Everything else locks in place. Your legs are too achy to move. Your eyelids stick open, drinking in shadows. Lying on your side, you not only hear but feel your pulse beating in your ears, and it takes several minutes of wading through too many confusing sensations before you know where you are and why everything’s stiff and sore.

The room is dark. Only a crack of light spills under the door. It’s proper country dark outside, too, pressing black against the window.

It’s raining.

No gunfire. No danger. It’s only precipitation battering against the glass. You are as safe as you can be, given the situation, and the men downstairs would be shouting and kicking in the door if something had gone wrong. Bullets would pierce the walls, shatter the window.

Even though you know it’s just the weather, you’re half convinced a dozen soldiers have opened fire on the room.

You try waiting it out.

Maybe it will stop or you’ll remember you aren’t afraid of the rain.

But it doesn’t, and you can’t bear it, so you get up and head for the glow behind the door. Hopefully the rain isn’t so loud downstairs.

The hall light bathes the space yellow in a way your shattered internal clock reads as daylight. Open doors to the bathroom and the second bedroom loom dark in contrast, like caves along a hiking trail, and the stairs will challenge you as much as a mountainside when you work up the nerve to descend. First you take time to wipe the salt track off your face with cool tap water. The pillow should keep those secrets. You don’t need to wear the evidence.

The adrenaline rush fucked off some time ago, and even after the nightmare you’re left with nothing but clinging paranoia. That doesn’t make you calm. Your anxiety feels like breath on the back of your neck, or eyes squinting through hidden peepholes, prickling over your skin with the assurance that something, somewhere is off, and you shouldn’t leave yourself exposed.

Logically, the men downstairs are no threat. Quite the opposite. You don’t feel logical. Your collection of hurts urge you to hide under a bed. In a closet. To stay out of sight as you lick your wounds.

The soldiers have your life in their hands, and that requires inordinate amounts of trust. There’s a gap you can’t cross. You’ve known them for a few hours. They killed people, and then they stopped your bleeding and sent you to bed. That’s too much and not enough for friendship.

You’re also, on a much shallower level, wildly aware that you’re the odd one out. The only woman. The only stranger. The only civilian.

It’s like standing in the cafeteria on the first day at a new school and wondering where the hell you’re supposed to sit.

Studiously avoiding your reflection, you leave the bathroom and begin your hike downstairs. Each step is a mile. You count them, congratulating yourself on your progress as you balance with your hand on the wall. In yesterday’s – today’s? – struggle, you used muscle groups you didn’t know you had and used known muscles in new and interesting ways they disapprove of. Everything is a little harder, and every step a little wobbly, and thankfully no one pops around the corner to see your tremorous pace.

Shadow creep over the lower steps where the hall light can’t quite reach, but a bright puddle spills out from the kitchen, and you follow it like a little moth.

Rain patters against the windows here, too, but the drumming on the roof doesn’t reach through the upper floor.

You’ll take it.

The kitchen opens around you as you step through, and your eyes flick up from your feet as a figure moves in your peripheral.

“You’re up.”

It’s the Scot. He’s divested himself of the tac vest, though a handgun peaks out from a holster under his jacket. It’s a good sign that he’s less armed than this morning, though. It gives you hope. A step towards de-escalation and a normal state of being where locked doors mean something and you get to sleep in your own bed.

The kitchen’s a little chilly, and your arms fold of their own volition. You stuff your hands out of sight, hiding your most obvious injury as you wince out a smile and try not to make things awkward.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t ask if you slept well. You appreciate it. Instead he fills the electric kettle and pops down the tab before even asking, “Tea?”

Since it’s already too late to say no, you nod, taking a seat at the table to spare your shaky fawn legs. “Thanks.”

The clock over the sink reads 9:07, so it hasn’t been dark for long. You’ve slept away the day, and now you have a long night of worry and stilted conversation ahead. What the fuck are you supposed to talk about with these people? Or are you supposed to converse with them at all beyond basic pleasantries?

Tea might make everything better, or the caffeine may make everything just a little worse. A warm drink does sound nice, though.

A heavy jacket still flush with body heat drops over your shoulders, and you freeze like a cat suddenly trapped under a blanket.

You feel your eyes go big and know you’ve made the moment weird as you peer up at the burly Scot. The fabric’s heavier than it looks, and it smells like the man. Something sweet hidden under whiskey and aftershave. The weighted warmth feels like security made cloth, and the comfort tangles with the acidic terror still hissing in your belly.

The man beams. Chortling, clearly delighted with himself, he rearranges the collar to sit right around your neck without pressing on the bruises.

“Dreich weather,” he says, stepping away to throw a tea bag in a chipped white mug. “Need to keep warm.”

Your fingers lift to the worn seems along the zip, pulling it just a little closer, like folding yourself into a cocoon. He’s given you a hug, you realize, without invading your personal space. It’s shockingly considerate, and you swim through treacle-thick thoughts for the right words of thanks, but they roll back down your throat before you can express yourself as you look back up to an eyeful of distraction.

Without the jacket the soldier’s a walking gun show, and you aren’t thinking about the weapon clipped to his belt. His snug, dun t-shirt showcases his broad shoulders and the sculpted trunks he calls arms without clinging to his tapered waist. His golden tan practically shines against the dull cloth and muted colors of the kitchen. Veiled muscles roll along his back as he reaches into an upper cabinet for a couple more mugs, and you flick your eyes down to the places the varnish has cracked off the table so he doesn’t catch you staring.

It's patently unfair that such an attractive man is paying so much attention to you when you’re too sick with shock and fear to do anything about it.

He slides the tea into your line of sight, and manage to mumble, “Thank you,” without imploding, exploding, or falling into a heap of embarrassed chunks.

“Ye’re welcome.”

He’s added sugar. Did you miss him asking how you took your tea? Doesn’t matter.

You only just notice the soft footsteps approaching from the open doorway leading to the living room before a shadow cuts through the yellow kitchen lights to your left. The captain nods down at you as he heads towards the half-steeped cups waiting by the sink, greeting his sergeant with a rumble. With cup in hand, he turns, propping a hip against the counter as he pulls you into a conversation.

“Was plannin’ on sending Gaz to check on you in another hour, make sure you were alright.” He speaks as he sips his tea, leaving his voice a little muffled, indirect in a way that suggests awareness of things better left half-acknowledged.

Taking your cue from the leader, you hide behind your mug.

“No need now.”

The tea’s very nice, actually. The warmth soothes your aching throat and pairs well with the gentle warmth of Soap’s jacket. A hug inside to complement the hug outside.

The captain lifts his eyebrows, pausing between sips. “And are you?”

Despite his careful tone, the question hits with a sharp edge, slicing between the plates of armor you assembled over the bathroom sink before braving the soldiers’ company. Are you alright? You flinch setting down your mug, and the drink sloshes up to the rim. Just shy of a spill.

Washed face of no, you must look awful. Your eyes always go red and puffy after too much crying, and you can’t banish every trace of your little breakdown, no matter how hard you try.

“I thought I’d spare us all the awkwardness of a bunch of soldiers trying to handle a crying woman.” Make it a joke. Make it light. Maybe it will float away and take those probing questions with it. You desperately need a distraction, something to pull the focus off your welfare and back to things these men are equipped to handle.

“What happens now?” you ask.

Soap scoffs into the third cup. “Try not to die.” The captain swats him over the head, grazing the mohawk, and the Scot chokes, spluttering tea out his nose as he hastily adds, “Of boredom.”

“Laswell called while you were asleep. She has things in hand. In another day or two she’ll have enough free resources to help us handle the cell here without drawing the wrong attention. Until then we sit tight.” He smiles with his eyes and the shape of his face. The mustache hides most of his mouth when he angles his head down to meet your eye, but there’s no mistaking his expression. “Keep you safe.”

He’s as bad as subordinate.

The military issue clothes reveal enough of his shape to spark your interest in any other situation, and he moves with confidence you’d like to reach out and taste. Those smiles of his don’t help.

As you sit stewing in your own flatfooted frustration, your stomach decides you haven’t done enough to humiliate yourself and kicks off with a growl.

You press a hand flat to your gut. Soap laughs as your face heats, and if you weren’t on the verge of starving you might’ve sprinted back up the stairs to hide in the room Gaz said is more or less yours.

“How long since you ate?” the captain asks.

Too long ago. This is a military man, though, and they like specifics. You think back, leaping from abduction to fleeing to the club lights and blood. “More than a day. Day and a half, I think.” That sounds right. The last meal you remember is lunch the day prior.

Huffing, the Scot turns back to the cabinets, rustling through a collection of tins and boxes. Nonperishables. Of course. A safehouse wouldn’t stock anything liable to spoil in the months or years between visits. At least you don’t see any MREs lurking in the depths. The past twenty-four hours have seen enough horrors.

Squinting at the expiration date on a can, Soap asks, “How do you feel about beans?”

[matcha-kathrin]

STRANGERS

Summary: You meet a stranger, share a smoke, and talk a bit about life in the chilly damp streets of New York.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader. Now until these two actually introduce themselves you could literally imagine whomever you want, while I was writing i was thinking about Pedro (how weird!). So feel free to interpret this one however you want.

Word Count: 3k

Notes/Warnings: No warnings, this is all pretty mellow, a bit retorical and a bit philosophical. This is a standalone piece, I consider it to be complete and imo it proves what i was trying to say by itself. I will however, be posting other parts of this that in no way influence it, so if you want to know what happens next tune in!

~*~

STRANGERS - Chapter One

It was a chilly night. The sky dark with lights decorating the edifices above you. You had decided to take a night for yourself, leaving the comfort of your apartment to hit the small bar that stood a few blocks from it. Every time you walked by it looked so inviting, the rough old exterior and the colored lights inside made your heart buzz. It seemed like a speakeasy, a place where they would hold live music nights, any and every genre depending on which night of the week you happened upon it. So there you were, much later in the evening than you expected, standing in front of the bar to light a smoke. 

You were relaxed. More relaxed than you had been in weeks, it seemed all you needed was a drink and some live music to give you some peace of mind. As you took out a cigarette from the pack hidden in your jacket pocket you heard the bar door open next to you, signaling someone had the same craving as you did.

You turned and acknowledged the stranger with a short lift of your brows, who raised his hand slightly in response. Patting down your pockets you searched for your lighter, not finding what you were looking for.

“Need a light?” The stranger asked next to you, not close enough for you to hear him clearly but not too far either. You gave a slight nod approaching him, keeping a good distance between you as you would with any person you didn’t know. He lit up his zippo lighter and offered it to you, you bent down, cigarette in your lips as you took a few puffs to get it well lit.

“Much obliged.” You said, taking a few steps back to get the same initial distance, though somehow it felt as if you two were standing closer than before.

You didn’t really get a good look at him, the one thing you did notice was he had sunglasses on, big and thick rimmed, covering half his face. You found it odd, but you found everyone odd in this city. Sunglasses at night was the least of it. 

He also had a messy head of hair, a leather jacket with a loose fitted shirt, he looked tired that much you could tell. Either that or he was tipsy just as much as you were.

“It was stuffy in there, wasn’t it?” You said just a moment of silence later. You never really did initiate conversation but maybe since you had been sitting alone inside for the past few hours you needed a bit of socialization. A little couldn’t hurt right?

“Yeah, I was desperate for a cigarette break.” He groaned, feeling your sentiment immediately, you smiled, neither of you looked at each other but just stared at the empty street in front of the both of you. If it weren’t for the passerby cars driving a few streets over and the music booming from the bar behind you you’d be all alone in the silence. 

“It always gets stuffy at some point. I think cigarettes are just an excuse to go outside and take a breath of fresh air without looking lost.” You continued without thinking, getting a bit too taken by the conversation solely about cigarettes “Don’t mind me, I’ll shut up now.” 

 “No, no I mean-“ he seemed to struggle to find the words “there’s something nice about talking to strangers isn’t there? People who know nothing about you.”  He waved one of his hands slightly around as he spoke, he was holding a beer in his hand, the liquid sloshing around with his movements. You nodded in agreement, taking another deep puff of the cigarette.

“People who won’t judge you.” You replied.

“Actually, strangers are the ones that judge you the most.”

“You think?” You frown at him and he just shrugs “You don’t?”

“Not necessarily,” you tilt your head in thought “I mean since a stranger doesn’t know you they can’t be influenced by any opinions that they have for you- or feelings. They have no reason to judge you.” 

“They don’t need a reason to.” He answered taking another hit from his own cigarette.

“That’s the problem with strangers, without knowing you they have every possibility to judge you without feeling guilty or mean, so wouldn’t it be easier for them?” He turned to you slightly as he gestured sluggishly, you could hear the slight playful tone in his argumentation. You were glad he was having as much fun talking nonsense as you were.

“Not really, sometimes it’s easier for us to feel entitled to our opinions when we know the person they’re directed to.” You tried to sway his mind but he just pressed his mouth in a tight line, not convinced.

 “Take us for example. You know nothing of me, I know nothing of you. Yet we found common ground in our appreciation for smoke breaks. That being said it doesn’t mean I know you any more, meaning that your opinion on the matter of judgement does not faze me, therefore I don’t judge you for it.” You laughed when you saw his exaggerated confused expression.

He seemed familiar the more you spoke with him, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. The glasses and the dark lighting were definitely not helping. Plus, everyone looked familiar in this city.

“I mean we’re proving my point each passing second!” 

“Mmmh I dunno, how can you be so sure you won’t judge me for-” he looked at himself trying to find something to use as an example “-how I stand?”

“How you stand?” You repeated, he nodded lifting his arms to the side to let you judge the way he stands. You lifted a brow, amused by his perseverance in proving you wrong.

“Why should I judge you for how you stand? You might have a bad back, or better yet you might be tired, or who knows maybe you even have a fake leg.” He gasped dramatically and you laughed, wondering if he was being serious. 

“So you’re saying I stand in a bad way?”

“No! You just look tired.”

“See? You judged me.”

Rolling your eyes you frowned “That’s not judging that’s being observant.” You corrected.

He lifted his arms in a shrug once more, offering you one of his own cigarettes seeing you had finished yours, you happily obliged, thankful he lit it for you too.

“How do you tell the difference?” He mused, and you realized you had turned from being two people minding their own business to an unlikely pair. You didn’t know his name, didn’t know his age but he definitely looked older than you, and you didn’t really want to know. He was just another person living in this city just like you. 

 “Easy. Judging is always mean. If I say you look tired that’s not being mean, it’s being observant.” 

 “I’ll give you a pass on that just because I am actually tired.” He groaned; you laughed in agreement. So were you, you always looked tired. You couldn’t help it, you were working yourself to the bone, so of course you were dead tired the one night you decided to take some time for yourself.

“Tell me about it.” You mumbled, he just chuckled alongside you, then you turned with a frown. “Why did you come out? Why not just stay home and rest?”

“Careful now, the more you ask the less we’ll be strangers.” He warned playfully, you looked at him unbothered “I didn’t ask you why you were tired I asked why you chose to go out despite being tired.” You corrected him once more, for being someone easy to talk to he really did seem to need a lot of correcting.

“Aaaah and that makes a whole difference.” He teased, you shook your head at his tone.

“Of course it does, I won’t know any more about you if you tell me why you decided to come out here tonight.”

“There’s no going back.” 

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

He scrunched up his face, giving you one more moment to stop him. But you didn’t, you just stayed there with one brow raised, waiting for him to reveal such a fundamental truth about him. Why he had decided to go out.

“I needed a break.”

“I feel like I know you better already.”

“Oh, shut up.” He chuckled and you laughed with him, shrugging when he gave you a look from underneath his sunglasses, he had brown eyes, that much you could tell from the split second he lowered his head to look at you from beneath them. Again a flash of recognition hit you, but you couldn’t pin point where or when or how you had seen him. You were sure you had never met him. Not to raise your ego but people usually took notice to you, rarely did people forget your face, you were more the forgetful one.

“I needed a break from…everything.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking back out to the street. You hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“Remember how you said it always gets stuffy at some point?”

“Yeah that was 5 minutes ago.” You smiled, he just waved his hand as if to tell you to go with it, so you just nodded. 

“That’s how I feel. Stuffy. Not just in nights out at bars but in general. Like I can’t really get away from where I am right now, no matter how many cigarette breaks I take.”

You hummed, but he just cleared his throat nervously, not sure if to continue or just shut up all together.

“So, you feel stuck?”

“Stuck- yeah. Like in a- in a box.”

“Caged almost.” You mumbled. That’s how you were feeling. Stuck, trapped, caged. You desperately wanted to resurface from the deep abyss you had swam down in, but it was harder and harder. You had almost forgotten all about it until the stranger brought it up.

“I guess…all I can say is you’re not alone?” He chuckled at your words and you pouted, you sounded so unsure you almost laughed at yourself with him.

“I mean, everyone says that. And a lot of times it doesn’t really help to hear that. But I do feel the same as you. Stuck, trapped, sometimes lost even. Am I doing all of this right? Or have I just been circling around it this entire time? Will I leave the routine I’ve inevitably found myself in or will it change? I don’t know if that’s what you feel but, that’s what it makes me feel.” You whispered the last part solemnly.

You didn’t mean to go so hard on it, but it was true, every word. It was weird how easy it was to say these things to him. A man you didn’t know, didn’t care to know. But he was staring at you intently, listening to every word, watching your eyes as they looked around as you spoke, as if you were unsure. But your voice was strong, clear, in the 10 or so minutes you had been conversing you had planted your feet on the ground, not being swayed in the slightest by every ridiculous notion he was throwing at you. He liked how you corrected him, he liked how your voice sounded. He could listen to it all night, no matter what you were talking about.

You didn’t seem to read all these thoughts he had as you waited for him to reply. 

“It’s not exactly what I feel but…it’s close. Especially the part of being responsible for being stuck in the first place.” He sighed, sipping his beer he had almost forgot he had.

“I said inevitable, not responsible.” 

“Same thing.”

“Maybe,” you lulled, taking out yet another cigarette, and he quickly took his lighter as he saw you. You chuckled, even if he was turned he noticed your cigarette, he was aware of you. That much you could tell. 

Again you placed your lips on the cigarette, puffing a bit as he lit it, looking up to him from below.

That look made his chest do a summersault all of a sudden. You looked…divine. He hadn’t really taken much notice to you when he had stepped out for air, then you started talking and it grabbed his attention, but now he was fully immersed. Noticing how your hair framed your face, how your dark eyes looked at him, acknowledging his presence and help as he lit your cigarette. Then you got up from your slight bent position, blowing out the smoke that was in your lungs, giving him a nod in appreciation.

“Or maybe you can’t distinguish when something is inevitable or solely in your control.” You teased, he huffed shaking his head as he lit his own cigarette, already losing count of how many he’s had.

“Careful, I might think your judging me.”

“Maybe I’m just observant.” 

“Then proceed, observant little stranger.” 

His voice came low, making you shiver when he called you little. How dare he? You liked it, but how dare he? Strangers weren’t so familiar with each other; strangers didn’t make you shiver for any other reason than the cold. Yet he was. And all he had to do was laugh, tease, or call you a little stranger to make your heart beat even the slightest bit faster.

“You have control over your own actions,” you explained, gesturing your hands in front of you as if explaining things to someone oblivious. He loved it.

“not to be confused with your feelings. You have no control over those, unfortunately.” You mumbled bitterly; he raised a brow at your tone.

 “Your actions on the other hand are solely yours. Complete control, even if you are driven by emotion you rationally always have the final say. What you don’t have control over, is others.”

“Others?” He mused, leaning against the brick wall of the bar, making you hesitate as you watched him lean in so casually, so intimately. You followed suit and leaned your back to the wall as well, not wanting to face him completely but still wanting to seem interested.

“Other people. You have no control over them, over their reactions, their choices. Let’s face it we have no power over anyone, sometimes we don’t even have it for ourselves. And once we accept that fact can we distinguish between the inevitable and what was purely our responsibility. So many times we’re defined by the things others say or think or do. Sometimes it’s…”

“Inevitable.” He finished, repeating the perfect words that expressed your sentiment. Your eyes fluttered to his sadly, feeling melancholy creep up in his voice as it was doing in yours 

“Inevitable.” You repeated, staring into his glasses, knowing he was staring into your eyes too. And for a moment, it was just the two of you, not like it had been until then but even more. As if there was no music behind you, no cars in the distance, no lights on the street except for the warm one above both your heads. Again, he was a stranger, but when he looked at you, you felt…understood. As if by just lighting your cigarette and listening to your mindless thoughts it was enough. You didn’t feel so alone, even if you had gone out by yourself, even if you had wanted to be alone, at least you didn’t feel lonely.

“Well then stranger,” you whispered finally after what seemed like an eternity but was probably just a few seconds of a staring contest “I better be going. Time won’t stop just because I want it to.” Standing up from your leaning position against the wall you took out another cigarette, looking at him expectantly “One last time for the road?”

He was in a daze, after what seemed like the most beautiful conversation he had ever had with anyone in his life he was just about to ask you your name, but you had stood up, so nonchalantly, so calmly. As if you knew your night had come to it’s inevitable end, like all things did, and you both would have to part ways. Never to be seen again.

He didn’t want that.

“Will I see you again?” He asked, lighting your cigarette. Making you chuckle.

“Careful now, the more you ask the less we’ll be strangers remember?” You warned him, throwing his same words back at him.

“I don’t have to know you to see you again do I?” He teased, and you shrugged.

“Maybe this time your right.”

“Only this time?”

“Only this time.” You laughed, taking a few steps away from him, ready to walk the five minutes it took to get to your place. He didn’t offer to walk you back home, he knew what you would say, he could already tell what you were thinking. Maybe you weren’t that much of strangers in the end. 

“See you around, stranger. I’ll be there the next time you need a break.” You called as you walked away, waving a hand, and turning your back to him as you slowly walked down the damp, chilly street.

“I’m counting on it!” He called out to you, but you didn’t turn, just kept walking, the fatigue of the day finally settling into you. He watched as you disappeared slowly until you turned onto another street. 

He cursed, he should’ve asked your name, your number, anything. The city was huge; he might never see you again.

But that was the whole point. Strangers were supposed to never see each other again, they were supposed to meet at a random point in time, exchange a few words of wisdom to guide each other on their own path, and then part. That’s how it was. That’s why it was beautiful.

Nonetheless, you counted on seeing him again too.

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter two

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

a/n: the response to this fic has been so unexpected and it's honestly amazing! thank you all so much for reading. a lot of this series is based on grey’s anatomy but I’m putting my own spin on it! all the positive feedback is motivating me to write more often so I’m going to try to post new chapters on a somewhat weekly schedule.  

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, very minor character death, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word count: 1.5k

series playlist: here

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak (message me to be added!)

series masterlist

I had to drag myself out of bed the next morning. I was dreading going to the hospital. Mainly because I was nervous to see the hot doctor I’d accidentally slept with. I didn’t know what to say to him. I wasn’t sure if we should talk about it or just pretend like it never happened. And he was so damn coy it was difficult to tell what he was thinking.

Once we were changed into scrubs, we met with Palmer to go through rounds. As we visited each patient, our knowledge was tested on their diagnoses and treatment plans. Palmer would assign an intern to each of the cases to assist with patient treatment and potential surgeries. Once rounds were finished, I was the last intern left and I eyed Palmer inquisitively.

“Y/L/N, you will be working with Dr. Barnes today.”

I felt nervous butterflies in my stomach, “Oh, I just thought I’d be working with one of these patients,” I said, trying to get out of it.

“Nope, Barnes specifically requested you. He’s down in the pit.”

“Got it,” I replied. I trudged to the elevator that would take me down to the ER, wondering how I was going to handle this.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, nurses were scrambling, prepping beds and trauma rooms. 

“There’s my intern!” I heard from across the way. “Good morning Y/L/N,” he said, calling me by my last name. While this was common in the medical field, it felt oddly chummy coming from him. 

“Hi Dr. Barnes. What do we have today?” I faked a smile.

“Collision in a bicycle race, multiple injuries, a few pretty serious. The ambulance is on the way. Put on one of those gowns and follow me.” I took a yellow disposable gown and donned it over my scrubs, along with a set of surgical gloves. Then I followed Bucky to the back entrance of the ER where the ambulances would arrive.

The two of us stood there for a moment in silence, listening for the wail of sirens that were sure to arrive any minute. There was a chill in the air which gave me shivers and ultimately put me on edge. I wasn’t good with uncomfortable silence, but I bit my tongue, determined not to give in first.

I lost that imaginary contest.

“Why did you lie to me?” I asked, turning toward him.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“You told me your name was Bucky.”

“My name is Bucky. It’s what all my friends call me. It’s a nickname from when I was growing up.”

“Then why hasn’t anyone here called you Bucky.”

He sighed, “James is more professional so it's what I use at work. Think about it, who would want a surgeon named Bucky operating on them.”

I considered his point for a moment and realized I believed him. Before I could retort he added, “You weren’t exactly honest with me. You never said you were a doctor.”

I immediately became defensive, “I was just looking for a hookup, not someone to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh that was very clear when you hit on me.”

My jaw dropped, “The way I remember it, you hit on me.”

“Mmm…you’re probably right. I do have a thing for gorgeous women drinking tequila by themselves.”

I ran my tongue across my teeth in an attempt to fight the smile that was attempting to spread across my face.

“Okay, you know what, I’m pretending like that night never happened. We are starting fresh today. I am your intern and that’s it. No more flirting with me.”

“Whatever you say, Y/L/N,” he said, flashing me that irresistible smile. I shifted my attention away from his handsome face as the sound of sirens came into earshot.

The gurneys flowed in with injuries ranging from concussions to flesh wounds. I quickly made a move for one of the cases that I guessed to be surgical. The patient was an attractive male in his early thirties. He had three bicycle spokes poking out of his abdomen but was speaking perfectly normally.

“What happened here?” I asked him, inspecting the wounds.

“Just another day in the life,” he replied.

I chuckled, “You make it a habit of ending up in the ER?”

“It’s the best way to meet hot doctors,” he flirted. I stopped my inspection to stare at him, finding myself oddly charmed.

“What’s your name?” I said, pulling out a clipboard to fill out some paperwork.

“Quentin Beck.”

“Well Quentin Beck, I’m going to remove these spokes and stitch up your abdomen. Then I recommend we send you to CT just to ensure there isn’t any additional damage.”

“Ooh I don’t know about that. I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Leaving so soon?” I joked.

“Can’t miss the big afterparty. I’ll see you there right?”

“You wish,” I applied a numbing agent to his wounds before carefully removing the spokes. I pulled off his shirt and started working on his sutures. Quentin kept trying to talk and I continued to shush him, focusing on tending to his wounds.

“You really should go to CT,” I said as I finished stitching him up and admired my work.

“No can do darling. My presence is expected elsewhere.”

I shook my head in disapproval, “Well I’m going to need you to sign a form that says you’re leaving against medical advice.”

“I will sign anything you ask me to.” I handed him a clipboard and showed him where to sign. He scribbled his signature, handed the clipboard back to me and stood up to leave the room. Then he doubled back and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me towards him, and kissed me, taking me completely by surprise.

When he pulled away he said, “That was for good luck.” Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving for the hospital.

At that moment, I looked through the blinds and saw Bucky standing there, having witnessed the entire exchange. He had a surprised yet smug expression on his face

“Did you just make out with a patient?” he asked, leaning on the door jamb.

I had no words for what had just happened. “He just…kissed me…” I eventually managed.

“So that’s your type, huh?”

“I don’t have a type.”

“No? You don’t like world class doctors with irresistible charm?”

“Are you jealous?” I teased.

“Maybe I am,” he added with a smile. “But I could really use your help with a patient.” 

“Of course,” I followed him out of the room and tried to shift my focus back to work. One of the patients was having difficulty breathing and needed to be intubated.

“Have you done this before?” he asked me.

“Not on a real patient,” I replied.

He smiled, “We’re going to change that.” He instructed me to get in position towards the patient's head. He handed me the necessary equipment and talked me through it. I felt my nerves increasing, not sure if I was ready to do this. 

He seemed to pick up on this because then he said, “Hey, don’t panic. You can do this. I’ll be right here if you need help.” I nodded and took a deep breath, focusing on what he instructed. I had to make sure I inserted the tube into the trachea and not the esophagus. I angled the device to where Bucky had described and carefully fed the tube downwards. I looked toward him for confirmation I had done it correctly.

“Now place your hand on his chest and see if air is filling the lungs.” I did as he instructed and felt the gentle inflation of the patient’s chest.

“Yeah, I think I can feel it.” He placed his hand next to mine, overlapping ever so slightly to confirm the intubation had been successful.

He nodded and smiled at me, “Yeah you got it. Great job Dr. Y/L/N.” I couldn’t hide the smile spreading across my face and the rush that was hitting me. This was the feeling I’d been chasing for the past few years. This was why I wanted to become a surgeon.

I watched as Bucky continued his examination to determine what the patient needed. He appeared to have a few external injuries but nothing that major.

“His abdomen is swollen, so he might have some internal injuries. Y/L/N, can you take him down to CT.”

“Absolutely,” I replied. And just like that Bucky was gone, off to the next patient. I wheeled down the John Doe we just intubated to get his scans.

Once the CT was complete, I held up his scans to study them. There was severe internal bleeding in the abdomen that would likely require surgery. I paged Bucky, knowing he would need to make the ultimate call.

It didn’t take him long to answer the page. I had the scans displayed against the backlights and was studying them. He walked into the room and said, “What do you see?”

“Internal bleeding.”

“It looks like it’s coming from the kidneys. We need to get in there, stat. Book an OR.”

“Got it,” I replied, leaving the room to complete my task.

“Oh and Y/L/N? Great work today. I’ll see you in the OR.”

“I’m scrubbing in?” I asked, astounded.

He nodded with his signature smile, “You’re scrubbing in.”

next chapter

[life-love-musicaltheatre]

This started more as a self indulgent joke I made in the tags of @unclewaynemunson’s post that I ended up running away with.

I just really like baseball and I think Eddie would agree with me that Steve with a nail bat could convince me to do anything.

⚾️🦇⚾️🦇⚾️🦇⚾️🦇

If you were to tell Eddie Munson that within 3 months he would watch a girl die, become wanted for murder of said sweet sweet girl, steal an RV, almost die himself in a hell dimension, get carried out of said hell dimension by his high school crush, and then have his name mysteriously cleared of all charges and /those/ events led to him playing a sport for the first time in his life, he would ask who sold you the drugs you were on because it definitely wasn’t him. But somehow, there he was, in the middle of a small clearing with Steve Harrington’s chest pressing gently against his back, hands over his own while they swung a bat through the air. Eddie and Steve were both sweaty and the repetition of the motion was actually nice. Eddie felt Steve slip from behind him and he caught himself from sighing at the loss of contact. 

“Alright, think you’re ready to take a swing at a moving target?”

Eddie eased into the stance they’d been practicing and closed his eyes while he drew a steadying breath. 

“Throw it.”

In truth this chapter of Eddie’s life had started a week ago when Steve asked him to grab Dustin’s backpack from his trunk. 

“What the fuck, Harrington!”

Steve jogged over as Eddie gestured to the contents of his car. “Oh! Yeah, that’s my bat.”

Steve said it like it was the most casual thing in the world to own a baseball bat with FUCKING NAILS sticking out of it! Eddie blinked and gestured again, more forcefully since it seemed to him Steve missed the whole point of What The Fuck Harrington-ing him. Steve rolled his eyes and chuckled as if Eddie was putting on just for Steve’s amusement. (Which to be honest, he was, but only a little bit.) 

“It’s /the/ bat, Munson. Y’know, the one I took on those dog things with.” He said it with an almost shy smile like he was embarrassed to be bragging about himself. 

Eddie blinked at him. Yeah, that was something Dustin had filled him in on, but he’s only heard it in snippets till then, and at no point did anyone mention the nails. 

“You still drag that around in your car?” Dustin added as he grabbed his backpack from Eddie’s loosening grip.He’d thought it before, but it never ceased to absolutely floor Eddie how casually his new friends talked about near apocalyptic experiences. He shook himself a little as a hard reset before taking a deep breath and reminding himself he did in fact care about these weirdos, who were now bickering over the merits of being able to swing a bat. 

“I taught Nancy how to swing it, and then I kicked that demogorgon’s ass at the Byers’! You cannot disparage the bat Henderson.”

“Oh you taught Nancy? That explains why she’s crap with melee weapons and sticks to her guns. Literally! She could blow your bat out of the water with her aim!”

Steve put his hands on his hips and leveled Dustin with a glare. “S’not my fault she found something she was better at. Plus, I bet I could teach any one of you how to swing. I was in charge of batting practice Sophomore and Junior year.”

“Then teach me.”

Both boys turned and looked at Eddie like they just remembered he was there. Eddie was even a little surprised he’d spoken up, but he was never one to back down from a challenge and with a chance to be close to Steve on the line there was no limit to the type of fool he’d make of himself. 

“You sure about that?” Steve asked cautiously. 

Eddie shrugged. “If it gets you two to stop giving me a headache then I’ll even let you teach me what order to run the little baggies in, Steve-o.”

Steve looked at him hard for a beat before breaking out into a huge grin. “Alright. You asked for it man.” 

With that Steve slammed the trunk and the three of them went inside. Eddie should have felt nervous, but with the way Steve’s face lit up he was honestly just trying not to swoon. He looked so excited and Eddie would do anything to see Steve’s face light up like that again. So they made plans, next afternoon Steve had off work he was going to teach Eddie how to swing his nail bat. 

—

The day came fast and Steve had given him specific instructions to wear pants and shoes he could run in. They met at Steve’s house and walked out into the woods; Steve carrying a navy blue bag that Eddie was sure was hiding the nail bat from prying eyes. There was a giddiness in the air between the boys as they made their way to a small clearing deep in the trees. 

“Alright,” Steve clapped his hands together as he rounded on Eddie, “time for batting practice, Munson.”

He unzipped the bag and dropped it before pulling out two normal bats and a baseball. 

For a split second Eddie was confused at the lack of nails and a grin on Steve’s face that could only be described as shit eating. It took him a half second longer to realize he’d been tricked by Steve Harrington into playing real, actual baseball for an entire afternoon. 

Eddie’s silence stretched on a beat more and Steve’s smile faltered. 

“I was-“

“Let’s hit balls.”

Steve’s worried look morphed into a smile as he hid a snort behind his hand. “I think you’re looking for ‘Let’s play ball.’”

Eddie rolled his eyes and huffed, “Whatever you say, oh Royal Knight of the field,” bowing low before taking the bat Steve was holding out to him. 

“Ok, I know you’re just trying to make fun of me, but actually the Kansas City Royals won the World Series last year so that’s actually a compliment.”It was Eddie’s turn to hide a laugh as Steve idly twirled his bat in his hands—a move Eddie was sure if he tried to replicate would end up with him smacking himself in the head—as he looked Eddie up and down. 

“Alright now, I want to see what we’re working with.” Eddie started feeling fidgety under Steve’s gaze. “Give me a swing.”

“Ok man, you asked for it.”

Eddie planted his feet wide and leaned over at the hips before swinging fast, almost losing his grip on the back swing. He looked up (when had he started looking down?) at Steve to see him with his brow furrowed, biting his bottom lip. Eddie winced and shrugged. “Like I said...”

“No. I mean it’s not great, by any means, but,” Steve’s brow softened, “it’s not the worst I’ve seen. And you didn’t almost hit me so you’ve got that over Nance.”

Eddie felt something in his chest brighten involuntarily. He smirked at Steve, “So you’re saying I have a shot at making the team, Harrington?”

Steve laughed and Eddie felt like his chest was visibly glowing. “You already made the cut, Eds. We just gotta whip you into playing shape now.”

And as light as Eddie felt, making Steve smile and sharing something he obviously loved so much, so began one of the sweatiest afternoons of Eddie’s life.

They started with his grip, which according to Steve wasn’t too horrible actually, but needed to be more relaxed so it didn’t affect his overall swing. Steve used his own bat to tap at Eddie, moving his feet closer together so they were shoulder width apart, raising his hands up higher and lengthening out his neck so he was actually looking up and not at his feet. All the while he gave instructions about how Eddie should position his weight over his back foot and step into the swing, lead with his hips, and don’t try to end the swing till he finishes following the movement all the way through.

Steve made him do a few more, even doing a few swings of his own so Eddie could see what he meant, but it seemed like both of them were just becoming more frustrated, till Steve ran a hand through his hair and groaned.

“Fuck it.”

Steve dropped his bat and moved behind Eddie, dropping his hands firmly to his hips and pulling them back. Eddie let his bat fall slack, stuck between telling Steve off for not warning him first and melting into his grip. 

“You’re rotating too fast. You’re throwing your hips too much and you’ll get hit by the ball if you’re not careful.”

Eddie could feel Steve’s words like a cooling breeze on the back of his neck. He nodded, not trusting his voice with Steve pressed this close, right behind him.

“You have to let every part of your body flow through the swing.” Steve was pulling his hips, “Bat up Munson,” and Eddie let himself be dragged through the motion. 

Back, step forward, pull through. Again. Back, step forward, pull through. All the while Steve was guiding his body through the motion, it felt hypnotic and fluid. Much better than how Eddie had been doing it before. 

“Good.” Steve moved his arms up and wrapped his hands over Eddie’s. “Keep the bat up higher. You want to let it fall back a little when you wind up.”

They moved through the swing together some more—back, step forward, pull through—and Eddie felt himself sink into the motion fully for the first time that day. It’d only been a couple hours they’d been practicing but his swings were getting surer. The bat was loose in his grip but he didn’t feel like it was going to go sailing into the trees like it almost had earlier. Eddie felt a tingle of something start to well up and spread through his limbs with every swing. Steve’s body was warm behind his. He was just starting to relax into the strong arms around him when Eddie felt Steve slip from behind him and he caught himself from sighing at the loss of contact. 

“Alright, think you’re ready to take a swing at a moving target?”

Steve had gone to stand in front of him, pulling the baseball out from his pocket. Eddie squared up. Weight over his back foot, knees and feet shoulder width apart, knuckles lined up and fingers loose around the bat handle. He closed his eyes, took a final breath to steady himself before looking up at Steve with a sure smile. 

“Throw it.”

Steve matched his smile before jogging back a few paces and taking a stance of his own. He tossed the ball underhanded towards Eddie and he wound up, stepping forward, and swinging sure through the pitch. He only caught the edge of the ball and it soared straight up into the air before coming back down and landing a foot behind where Eddie was standing. Steve’s laugh was bright as it cut through their clearing. 

“Nice! You tipped it!” Eddie was scowling at the ball but looked up as Steve continued. “Toss it back and I’ll throw you another one.”

Eddie wanted to stay pissy but it was hard when Steve was obviously having so much fun. He threw it back the same way Steve had tossed it to him and it rolled the last few feet to where he was standing. He laughed again.

“Maybe next time I’ll teach you how to throw.”

Eddie laughed back, “How about we master one feat of athleticism at a time?”

They were smiling at each other as they reset their positions. Steve nodded at Eddie before tossing the ball, only for him to tip it again, this time landing in front of him. Eddie tossed it back quickly before squaring up again. 

“Come on Steve! Give me a good throw!” He called out. He was long past denying that he was enjoying himself too.

Steve threw his head back, his mirth was palpable and it made Eddie’s face flush. “All right, you asked for it.”

Steve’s stance changed. It felt more serious, standing profiled as he hiked his leg up and let a real pitch go. 

Eddie still swung at it. Of course he swung at it. He felt his hips pull forward and lead his shoulders and hands through his swing, eyes wide as he saw the bat make full contact with the ball and send it flying over Steve’s head and out into the trees beyond. There was a millisecond where the world was quiet before they could faintly hear the ball hit the first few leaves as it went through the canopy and suddenly Eddie felt pride explode in his chest. Steve began cheering as Eddie took off, running where he imagined the bases to be, egged on by Steve’s laughter. 

“Eddie, dude! You’re running the wrong direction!” He doubled over as Eddie made a show of going around base numbers one and two. “Fuck it! Run home, Eddie! Run home!” 

Eddie rounded close enough to base three before turning and sprinting directly at Steve. He jumped at him the last few paces crashing into him with a giant hug, sending them down to the forest floor. Both of them were too happy to care, they continued holding on to each other as they celebrated. 

“Safe! Touchdown, Kansas City!” Eddie crowed from half on top of Steve. 

“I know, you know that’s not right.” Steve said as their laughing died down. Eddie looked down at Steve below him and felt a pull in his gut. Sweaty and still so beautiful, he let his eyes flicker down to Steve’s lips. 

“Is this part of the game too?” He asked quietly. 

“Nah,” Steve’s smile practically sparkled up at him, “but I can still probably show you a thing or two.”

“You’re on.” Eddie grinned as he closed the gap between them and gave Steve a soft kiss. 

He felt Steve’s hands come up and gently thread through his hair, not to deepen but to hold. They lazily let their lips slide over each other’s, Eddie more than happy to stay in their little clearing for the rest of the day, till Steve broke the kiss with a giggle. 

“Y’know, again, I know you were joking but Kansas City’s also got a football team and-“

“You know what Steve? Let’s just stick with baseball for now.”

⚾️🦇⚾️🦇⚾️🦇⚾️🦇

Please let me know what you think. I personally think there needs to be more fics about Eddie getting into Steve’s hobbies too. I love the ones where Steve learns he’s amazing at DnD but please, we also need the reverse because there’s really something so homoerotic about the rituals we have for men to touch other men. 😂

I’ll probably refine this a little more and throw it up on my Ao3 in the morning, if you wanna read it there. In the mean time thank you so much for reading. Ok I love you buh-bye. 💕

*edit: since I finished this at like 3 am I didn’t really give it a thorough read through for spelling and grammar errors. Little bits have been edited. Hope this makes it read a little better! 

[rainhadaenerys]

Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin

I wrote about this before, and I made an edit about this as well, but I wanted to write a separate post just for this topic because I think people really don't understand what "madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin" means. I see many people taking at face value that half of the Targaryens are mad and that Targaryens are ticking time bombs, and I also see other people criticizing GRRM for including the madness theme for the Targaryens, criticizing him for supposedly adding genetic determinism and stigmatizing mental illness. But I think both are missing the point.

The madness vs greatness theme is not about half of the Targaryens being mad or great (this isn't even accurate with what we're shown in the books, as very few Targaryens were mad). The madness and greatness theme wasn't introduced just to add some cool mythos to House Targaryen. The madness vs greatness theme is a commentary on what it takes to be great: madness. And it's a theme pertaining to Dany specifically.

The theme was introduced explicitly for the first time in a Dany's chapter, as something that is said TO Dany, right after she liberated three slave cities:

"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land." - Daenerys VI ASOS

In fact, this is the ONLY time in all the books in which the Targaryens are stated to be mad or great (sure, there are times where the books talk about the Mad King, or say that this or that Targaryen was mad, but this is the only moment in the books where the coin toss and the theme of madness vs greatness are explicitly mentioned). It's not something that is brought up several times or given much emphasis, it's something that appears only this time, and is only said to Dany.

And why is this concept introduced only to Dany, and at this moment? Because it's meant to be a thematic reflection on what she just did. Because what she did was MAD. To think that you have the power to defy an institution as ingrained as slavery, to think you have the power to make such a huge change in the world, and to actually attempt it, it's something that most people would consider madness. Because it's seen as an impossible thing, it's seen as crazy, it's seen as suicide. But that's exactly what greatness is: to do things that most people would consider madness.

And this theme doesn't even start in ASOS, it starts back in AGOT. The only reason Dany is even in a position to attempt to end slavery, is because she did a mad thing in the first place: walk into a pyre to hatch her dragons. And the narrative points this out several times:

"No. He cannot have my son." She would not weep, she decided. She would not shiver with fear. The Usurper has woken the dragon now, she told herself … and her eyes went to the dragon's eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet. The shifting lamplight limned their stony scales, and shimmering motes of jade and scarlet and gold swam in the air around them, like courtiers around a king.

Was it madness that seized her then, born of fear? Or some strange wisdom buried in her blood? Dany could not have said. She heard her own voice saying, "Ser Jorah, light the brazier."

[...]

When the coals were afire, Dany sent Ser Jorah from her. She had to be alone to do what she must do. This is madness, she told herself as she lifted the black-and-scarlet egg from the velvet. It will only crack and burn, and it's so beautiful, Ser Jorah will call me a fool if I ruin it, and yet, and yet …

Cradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. Flames licked against the stone with small red tongues. Dany placed the other two eggs beside the black one in the fire. As she stepped back from the brazier, the breath trembled in her throat. - Daenerys VI AGOT

~

She could feel the eyes of the khalasar on her as she entered her tent. The Dothraki were muttering and giving her strange sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost. - Daenerys X AGOT

~

As she climbed down off the pyre, she noticed Mirri Maz Duur watching her. "You are mad," the godswife said hoarsely.

"Is it so far from madness to wisdom?" Dany asked. - Daenerys V AGOT

When Dany says she is determined to conquer Westeros, even though it seems impossible for someone who has nothing, she is called mad:

"I mean to sail to Westeros, and drink the wine of vengeance from the skull of the Usurper." She scratched Rhaegal under one eye, and his jade-green wings unfolded for a moment, stirring the still air in the palanquin.

A single perfect tear ran down the cheek of Xaro Xhoan Daxos. "Will nothing turn you from this madness?"

"Nothing," she said, wishing she was as certain as she sounded. - Daenerys III ACOK

Later, when Dany ends slavery, people call her mad for it, for daring to challenge an institution that is seen as the right order or things:

"I have a gift for you as well." She slammed the chest shut. "Three days. On the morning of the third day, send out your slaves. All of them. Every man, woman, and child shall be given a weapon, and as much food, clothing, coin, and goods as he or she can carry. These they shall be allowed to choose freely from among their masters' possessions, as payment for their years of servitude. When all the slaves have departed, you will open your gates and allow my Unsullied to enter and search your city, to make certain none remain in bondage. If you do this, Yunkai will not be burned or plundered, and none of your people shall be molested. The Wise Masters will have the peace they desire, and will have proved themselves wise indeed. What say you?"

"I say, you are mad." - Daenerys IV ASOS

~

Xaro caught it in the air and took a bite. "Whence came this madness? Should I count myself fortunate that you did not free my own slaves when you were my guest in Qarth?" - Daenerys III ADWD

And we also see people looking at Dany as if she is mad when she approaches the sick Astapori, because this is something people consider to be very dangerous:

By the time Aggo returned with Grey Worm and fifty of the Unsullied loping behind his horse, Dany had shamed all of them into helping her. Symon Stripeback and his men were pulling the living from the dead and stacking up the corpses, while Jhogo and Rakharo and their Dothraki helped those who could still walk toward the shore to bathe and wash their clothes. Aggo stared at them as if they had all gone mad, but Grey Worm knelt beside the queen and said, "This one would be of help." - Daenerys VI ADWD

That's what the madness vs greatness theme is about. It's not about how half of the Targaryens are great and half are crazy. It's about how to be great you have to be mad (not in the clinical sense, like the ASOIAF fandom thinks, but in the sense that you have to do things most people would consider mad). That's the whole point of the theme and it's why it’s been applied only to Dany's character so far: she is an extraordinary person, someone who would DARE to do something that most people would consider impossible and mad. And even GRRM points this out in his interview:

The whole point of the scene in A Game of Thrones where Daenerys hatches the dragons is that she makes the magic up as she goes along; she is someone who really might do anything. (source)

Finally, I just want to mention that Aegon the Conqueror, who is considered to be the greatest Targaryen for conquering Westeros, was also called mad for this:

“A bold plan,” Grand Maester Orwyle said cautiously, when he heard it. Mushroom prefers “madness,” but adds, “they called Aegon the Dragon mad when he spoke of conquering all Westeros.” - Fire and Blood

[genshinluvr]

Secrets and Doubts

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You landed your first-ever job in Inazuma City! You wanted to keep it a secret away from the men for now because, well, you don't know how they'd react if they knew what your job was. Because of your secrecy and strange behavior, your secrecy made the men suspicious of you.

Note: I took time on this fic because I had a lot of things to do for school, and I wanted to be able to type out a lot of stuff for this fic 🥲 It's the weekend, and yet I still have homework to work on and turn in 🗿 So, if you see that the chapters are less than 8-9k words, its because school is starting to get hectic and I'm trying my best to type something out with a full schedule 🥹 Please keep in mind that I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo)

Warnings: Thoma is a bit rude in one part of the story, but it's okay because the reader and Thoma make up toward the end :> (there's a tiny pinch of angst, but not too bad)

Word Count: 9.8k

Today was the longest day of your life. You walk out of the building and head to the secluded area of Inazuma City, stretching your arms in the air before letting out a long yawn. You wiped the forming tears in your eyes and rubbed your eyes tiredly. Today was not only the longest day of your life in Teyvat, but it was also tiring. You’re tired, and you’re in desperate need of a shower and a long nap. 

Recently, you have been hired at this cute cafe in Inazuma, and you’ve been keeping it a secret from your boyfriends. It wasn’t like you didn’t want them to know that you had a job; it was for another reason that you can’t disclose just yet. After all, this cafe that you’re hired at is new and is a little bit different from other cafes throughout Teyvat. You walk over to where the teapot is floating and look at your surroundings, making sure that no one is following you. After confirming that you were alone, you entered the teapot.

Once you’ve entered the teapot, you stumbled on your feet and nearly fell to the ground. You huffed and muttered to yourself about needing to get used to teleport to a new location without losing your footing. It was already nightfall in Teyvat, and at the abode, everyone must’ve been asleep by now. You walk to the front door of the estate sluggishly, your shoulders slumping.

“Now I remember why I hate working.” You groused, pulling your keys out from your pocket before unlocking the front door and walking through the door with your eyes closed. You end up bumping into something, causing you to stumble back slightly. You open your eyes and swallow the lump in your throat when you see your beloved boyfriends standing there with their arms crossed over their chests or their hands propped up on their hips.

You laugh nervously, “Oh, good evening, my loves!” You squeaked, your face heating up with embarrassment. “I, uh, hope you all had some good night's sleep?” You ask, slowly closing the front door behind you.

“Where were you?” Ayato asks, leaning up against the wooden pillar in the estate. If he didn’t look so intimidating right now, you would’ve commented on how good he looks in his nightwear. But seeing the expression on his face, you decided to keep that comment to yourself.

You sigh, “I was in Inazuma City, shopping and exploring the beautiful region.” You said. Technically, you weren’t lying about being in Inazuma City. As for shopping and exploring in Inazuma City, that was a lie that is going to bite you in the ass soon.

“Shopping in Inazuma City, eh?” Al Haitham asks, looking at you with scrutiny. You shift in your spot, feeling awkward with the way Al Haitham was practically sizing you up.

You clear your throat, “Yes, that is correct! I was shopping and exploring Inazuma City.” You said, nodding your head hesitantly.

“Then where are the shopping bags?” Itto asks, cocking his eyebrows at you.

You held your hand up, “Listen, I didn’t say I bought anything. Yes, I went shopping, but I didn’t really bring any mora with me.” You laugh sheepishly.

Childe sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Just like Zhongli. Always forgetting your wallet at home and never having mora on you.” He exhales through his nose. 

“To be fair, I can make mora easily. I don’t see the need to bring my wallet with me everywhere I go if I can make mora. But living as a mortal, I believe that it’s necessary for me to carry my wallet with me whenever I leave the abode.” Zhongli murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest.

You sighed softly, “Listen. I’ll try my best not to come back to the abode late again, like today. I lost track of time. I promise it won’t happen again.” 

“We’re not forbidding you from exploring Teyvat on your own. We just don’t want you to stay out too late because we’re worried that something or someone could harm you,” Diluc says, placing his hand on your shoulders.

Kaeya nods his head, “Diluc is right. At the same time, we’re not against you being out of the abode on your own; having you stay out for so long worries us. You don’t have a vision, and we don’t want you to end up getting hurt and not have any one of us to protect you.” 

You point at Xiao, “But I can always call for Xiao if I’m in any danger. He’ll be the first one to be able to show up if I call out his name.” You said.

“While that is true, you also need to keep in mind that I also have my duties as a yaksha,” Xiao says. He crosses his arms over his chest. 

Dainsleif sighs, “Just try not to stay out too late. We understand that it’s easy to lose track of time, but please don’t return too late.” Dainsleif says.

You nod your head, “Of course! I’ll try to come back before the sun is down. Today was just a strange and long day for me.” You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower. It’s been a long and tiring day for me.” You said, slowly walking toward the staircase.

Thoma quickly yet gently reaches out to grab at your wrist. “Do you want something to eat after you’re done showering? You weren’t home all day, and we were worried that you didn’t eat all day today.” Thoma says softly.

You smile at Thoma, “Yeah! That’d be nice. Thank you, Thoma!” You said, standing on the tip of your toes before planting a kiss on his cheeks. “I’ll be back downstairs after I’m done with my shower.” You said, giving his hand a light squeeze before walking up the stairs. 

The men watched you walk up the stairs and to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. They all turn to one another, not saying a word. What else were they supposed to say? The important thing is that you’re home, safe and sound. Nothing happened to you, aside from you having a tiring day, which was odd because how can shopping and exploring Teyvat (specifically Inazuma City) be tiring?

“Do you guys think [Y/N] is telling the truth about shopping around Inazuma City and exploring Inazuma?” Aether asks, sitting down on the wooden stool near the kitchen island.

Heizou shrugs his shoulders, “I believe them when they said that they were in Inazuma City the entire time, but the shopping and exploring part is something I don’t believe in.” said Heizou, leaning against the kitchen counter next to the blond male.

Venti snorts, “What? Are you guys suspicious about them? [Y/N] would never do anything behind our backs.” Venti huffs, plucking at his lyre with a small irritated frown on his face.

Gorou laughs nervously, “I don’t know about that, Venti. [Y/N]’s heart was racing in their chest while they were telling us their whereabouts and why they returned to the abode late.” Gorou shrugs his shoulders, and his ears twitch.

Al Haitham turns to Tighnari, “Is that true? Can you hear their heart race against their chest?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest while waiting for Tighnari to answer.

Tighnari nods his head slowly, “That is correct. The minute they stepped through that door, their heart was beating at an abnormally fast pace. However, I couldn’t tell whether it was from them being startled at the sudden sight of us or if it was because they were lying about their whereabouts.”

“You guys aren’t suspecting that they’re up to no good now, are you?” Cyno asks, propping both of his hands on his hips while gazing at the men with a stern look on his face. Even though Cyno wanted to know about where you’ve been all day, he knows you’re not up to no good. Though, you being out in Teyvat is a bit strange given the fact that you’re more of a homebody rather than the one to be out of the house for hours.

Scaramouche snorts, “Perhaps [Y/N] is tired of seeing all of your ugly faces and needs a change of scenery. If that were the case, then I don’t blame them at all!” Scaramouche says, the corner of his lips quirking up in a tiny smirk.

“Maybe they have a good reason to lie about their whereabouts. Although, I don’t see the need in lying about it when relationships are built on trust.” Albedo murmurs, stroking his chin while deep in his thoughts.

Kazuha smiles, “Maybe they’re not comfortable with sharing it just yet. We shouldn’t be making assumptions when we don’t know the full story. Yes, they came home late and were out in Inazuma City all day, but that doesn’t mean they’re up to no good.” Kazuha says gently.

Pantalone chuckles, “Then do you know what they could be hiding?” Pantalone cocks his eyebrows at the samurai with curiosity. Kazuha sighs softly, shaking his head, almost rolling his eyes with slight irritation. 

Pierro clears his throat, “Enough. It’s best we leave this be and act as if nothing has happened. If [Y/N] proceeds to return to the abode late, then we’ll have no choice but to follow their every move.” Pierro stated gruffly, leaning back in his seat.

Dottore rolls his eyes, “And what if they proceed to be out in Inazuma City for hours? Are we going to go out and search for them before dragging them back to the abode?” Asked Dottore.

Capitano chuckles, “We don’t want to cause a scene if we were to drag them back to the abode. People will assume that we’re kidnapping them if we were to do that.” 

Everyone then went on with their business while waiting for you to come downstairs to eat something. This time, Thoma has decided to make you butter chicken for dinner. Cyno offered to make some Tachin as a side dish for you to eat with the butter chicken. You trot down the stairs almost thirty minutes later, freshly showered and wearing your pajamas. Thoma and Cyno give you a smile before setting the plate of food down in front of the spot where you usually sat. Zhongli pulls your seat out for you, you sit down on the chair, and Zhongli pushes the seat in for you.

“So, what do you plan on doing tomorrow?” Aether asks, stealing a piece of your butter chicken before taking a bite out of it.

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a bite out of the Tachin. “I think I might do the same thing as I did today. Explore Inazuma City and maybe look at clothes.” You said, reaching over to grab a chicken on your plate. “Why’d you ask?” You look at Aether curiously.

“All of us were planning on taking a trip to Sumeru and hanging out in the desert,” Heizou says.

You furrow your eyebrows at Heizou’s response. The desert? “What’s the temperature going to be like tomorrow? The desert is always hot, isn’t it?” You murmur, lightly smacking Aether’s hands away from your butter chicken.

“Actually, the temperature is going to be cool tomorrow,” Kazuha interjects, pulling up a seat beside you. 

“While the desert is always hot, there should be a cool breeze that’ll cool everyone down while we’re hanging out in the desert.” Said Baizhu, approaching the dining room. “We haven’t been visiting Sumeru as often, but it’d be nice to explore around a nation that is ruled by the dendro archon,” Baizhu smiles. You nod your head slowly. As much as you would love to explore Sumeru with your lovely boyfriends, you don’t think you’ll be able to get vacation time off of work. After all, you just started working recently, and you most definitely do not have enough working hours to put into a day off. That could get you fired, and you don’t want to get fired from your job just yet.

You dabbed your lips with the cloth napkin, “I don’t know.” You murmur to yourself. “As much as I would love to explore Sumeru more, I don’t think I have the time for it.” You said.

“What do you mean you don’t think you have the time for it?” Al Haitham asks, crossing his arms over his chest while looking at you skeptically.

Your eyes widen at your minor slip up, “Oh! I just meant that I wanted to spend some more time in Inazuma for a little bit. I don’t mind exploring Sumeru, but I have priorities in Inazuma City.” You said, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. “Besides! Exploring Sumeru should be the perfect time for all of you to bond while I’m not with you guys!” You added.

Itto pouts and stomps his feet on the ground. “But we want you to be there with us too! We don’t like going anywhere without you!” Itto whines, getting onto his knees before resting his chin on your lap while giving you puppy dog eyes.

Gorou places a hand on your shoulders, “We don’t want to do anything without you. We want you to be with us and not be left out of anything.” He gives you a sad smile.

You smile at Gorou sadly, placing your hand on top of his. “I’m sorry, Gorou, but I really can’t go to the desert with all of you tomorrow. I promise we can go to the desert in Sumeru next time when I’m available!” You said, squeezing his hand gently. Gorou visibly deflates in front of you, the sad smile slipping off his face. Gorou was disappointed, and so were the others.

“When you’re available?” Venti asks, his eyebrows pinching together with confusion and skepticism.

Ayato chuckles, “I’m sure shopping and exploring Inazuma City isn’t a priority, [Y/N]. But if you don’t want to hang out with your boyfriends, then that is fine too.” Ayato crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from you with clenched jaws.

“Guys….” You said, letting out a laugh of disbelief. “You’re not getting upset that I’m not tagging along, are you? You guys have left me all alone at the abode to tend to your duties, and not once have I gotten upset with any of you.” You frowned at the men around you, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore.

“That’s because we have duties to tend to. You don’t work, nor are you an Akademiya student in Teyvat! What’s there for you to prioritize? All you do is sit at home and do nothing; you don’t have any priorities to worry about like us.” Thoma says, his eyes widening almost immediately after hearing what came out of his mouth.

Tighnari leans to Thoma, “I think you should’ve kept that comment to yourself.” He whispers to the blond male.

“Yeah, no kidding. Now [Y/N] is going to get upset with us and ignore us for days!” Cyno hisses at Tighnari and Thoma, glaring at the blond male.

You let out a sharp exhale, dropping your cutlery on the plate before wiping your hands and mouth on the cloth napkin. The men around you flinch when the cutlery clangs loudly against the ceramic plates. You pushed your seat back and stood up. “I’m going to bed.” You stated, turning around to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“What about your food? Weren’t you hungry?” Xiao asks, grabbing onto your wrist. You take a deep breath and slowly pull your wrist out from Xiao’s grasp. You didn’t want to hurt anyone by showing them how frustrated you were with them.

You turned to Xiao and gave him a weak smile, “I thought I was hungry too, but it seems like I lost my appetite.” You said, rubbing your stomach. “I’ll have those for leftovers, or Aether can have them. It doesn’t matter to me.” You said, walking up the stairs. You can feel the hunger gnawing at you, but you don’t have the energy to eat. Especially when the others are in the same room as you; maybe you’ll sneak downstairs for some midnight snack when everyone is asleep.

Once your bedroom door closed, the men looked at each other in silence, not knowing what else to say. Yes, they’re upset that you didn’t want to go to the desert in Sumeru with them, but the immense guilt they felt when they saw how upset you looked after hearing Thoma’s comment.

“And now they’re upset with us.” Kaeya sighs, shaking his head with a frown on his face.

Childe holds up an index finger, “Correction, they’re upset with Thoma. He was the one that said that shit. We didn’t do anything.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking over at the blond Kamisato servant with a glare.

“That’s the thing; we didn’t do anything to come to their defenses after Thoma said that. Now they’re hurt over Thoma’s words and didn’t finish their food.” Diluc says, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Dainsleif looks over at Thoma and slowly approaches him, “You need to apologize to [Y/N]. Your comment was unnecessary and had clearly hurt their feelings.” 

Scaramouche looks over at Thoma before inching his hands close to Thoma’s ribs, his index finger extending out, inching closer to Thoma’s torso. Scaramouche pauses for a moment before looking around, making sure that no one is watching what he is doing. Alas, everyone was watching him except for Thoma, who was too deep into his thoughts to realize what Scaramouche was about to do. An evil smile appears on Scaramouche’s face, zapping Thoma’s ribs.

“Ouch!” Thoma yowls, jolting away from Scaramouche when electricity shoots through his body. Thoma looks over at Scaramouche with a glare.

Scaramouche shrugs his shoulders, “Hey, you deserve it. You did make [Y/N] upset, so this is me getting back at you for hurting their feelings by making unneeded comments.” Scaramouche says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zhongli looks over at the clock hanging on the wall, “It’s getting late. We should all go to bed. In the meantime, I hope Thoma takes his time to reflect on what he has said to [Y/N]. Perhaps tomorrow morning will be the perfect time for you to apologize to them.” Zhongli says, looking over at Thoma, his amber eyes glowing menacingly. 

“I agree. We should all go to sleep, and hopefully, by tomorrow morning, everything will be sorted out.” Albedo nods his head.

Everyone reluctantly bid each other goodnights before departing to their bedrooms while the four Harbingers exit the abode to walk to their mansion. You lay there in your bed, exhausted and disheartened by the things that Thoma had said to you. You know Thoma didn’t mean what he said and that it was all in the spur of the moment, but still. What Thoma had said to you stung. You let out a shaky sigh, burying your face into your pillow while hugging the body pillow against your body tightly. As much as you want to seek comfort from one of the men, you can’t get yourself to leave your bed and go to one of them for comfort. What if they agreed with what Thoma had said? While you didn’t work, nor are you an Akademiya student, you still tried your best to keep yourself busy around the abode. Since that didn’t work, you decided to get a job at a cafe in Inazuma City to earn some Mora on the side while trying to keep yourself occupied while the men were tending to their duties. You closed your eyes and tightened your grip around the body pillow, slowly drifting off to sleep.

After what felt like an hour, you woke suddenly woke up from your slumber and slowly sat up on the bed. You felt like absolute shit. You threw your blankets off your body and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Even though you slept for hours, it felt like thirty minutes to you. You took a shower, got dressed, brushed your teeth, washed your face, and dried your hair. It was still early in the morning, and everyone else in the estate should still be asleep. 

You peeked from your bedroom and looked around the mansion. It was still dark, and it was really quiet. Everyone was definitely still fast asleep in their bedrooms. You slowly made your way down the stairs, trying not to make a single noise that would wake the others up from their sleep. Specifically, Gorou and Tighnari since both of them have the keenest hearing out of everyone.

Once you reached the bottom of the stairs, you put on your shoes and slipped out the front door quietly. You leave the teapot, and you are automatically in Inazuma City. You yawned and rubbed the sleep from your eyes with your knuckles, walking to the cafe that was tucked in the corner of Inazuma City. You stepped into the cafe, and the smell of freshly baked desserts and pastries wafted your nose, making your stomach rumble with hunger.

“Ah! [Y/N]! It’s good to see that you showed up on time!” The older gentleman says, giving you a closed-eye smile, stepping out from behind the kitchen.

“Of course, I would show up on time! I always worry about showing up late, so I always make myself leave the house earlier than I need you.” You said, walking over to the back of the cafe. “Tadashi, are Yuri and Mei here? It’s awfully quiet.” You said.

“The girls will be here momentarily. I have to step out of the cafe for a moment. We ran out of some ingredients. I will be back with more flour and sugar in twenty minutes.” Tadashi says, walking to the entrance of the cafe.

“Alright! I’ll be changing into my uniform.” You said, waving him off before walking to the changing room of the cafe. You pulled your uniform out from your locker and immediately changed into the uniform of the cafe.

Back at the abode, the men were beginning to wake up one by one. The house was still quiet, but the sounds that occupied the calm air were the sound of footsteps, showers running, faucet running, and a tiny sneeze from Heizou.

“Do you think we’re still going to hang out in the desert without [Y/N]?” Paimon asks.

Aether shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not sure, Paimon. Plus, what Thoma said to [Y/N] yesterday definitely makes them not want to hang out at the desert with us even more.” Aether sits on the cushioned chair and rests his head on his hands.

“I don’t think Thoma would want to hang out in the desert either. He’s quite down today.” Heizou says, strolling into the dining area where Aether and Paimon are.

“Speaking of Thoma, has he apologized to [Y/N] yet? I can’t stand seeing them upset with all of us.” Venti says, resting his chin on the dining table with a pout on his face.

Baizhu walks out of the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea in his hands, lightly blowing on the herbal tea. “It’s still early in the morning. [Y/N] is still asleep in their bedroom, and Thoma is probably upstairs getting ready for the day.” Baizhu takes a small sip from his teacup before sitting down on one of the empty chairs at the dining table.

“Do you think [Y/N] is going to forgive Thoma for what he said to them? He called them useless without actually saying it.” Kazuha asks, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

Ayato sighs, “Let’s hope that they do accept his apology. I don’t want to see either of them upset with each other.” Ayato says, adjusting his coat as he steps into the room where everyone is slowly trickling into. 

“Agreed! It would create a lot of tension in the abode if they were upset with each other! Well, if [Y/N] is upset with anyone in the estate in general.” Gorou says, walking into the dining room while fixing his hair. 

Thoma walks down the stairs, fully dressed and ready for the day. He gives everyone a tight smile before walking to the kitchen without saying a word. The men look at one another quizzically, wondering if he had spoken or apologized to you before coming downstairs.

Albedo hums, “Do you guys think he apologized to [Y/N] about last night?” He whispers, looking at everyone cluelessly.

Kaeya shrugs his shoulders in response. “Considering he gave us an awkward smile and didn’t say a single word to us, I’m assuming he either didn’t apologize to [Y/N] yet, or he did apologize to them, and they didn’t accept his apology.” Kaeya crosses his arms over his chest.

Scaramouche was about to open his mouth to say something when everyone in the estate heard thundering footsteps coming from the stairs. Everyone slowly turned towards the direction of the stairs, only to see Itto looking around the estate with confusion.

“Why are you making the house rumble with your footsteps, big foot?” Scaramouche asks, raising an eyebrow at Itto.

Xiao sighs and rubs his forehead tiredly, “Itto, it’s too early for you to be making such loud noises at a time like this.” He glares at the oni, who ignores the glare while continuing to look around the abode with a look of confusion and worry on his face.

“Have any of you seen [Y/N] today?” Itto asks, propping both of his hands on his hip.

Diluc sighs, “They’re probably still sleeping in their bedroom. It’s only seven in the morning, and they usually don’t wake up until around nine in the morning.” Diluc says, getting up from the kitchen to brew some coffee. 

“Well, they’re not in their bedroom at all. It’s empty, and [Y/N]’s bed is organized.” Cyno interjects, walking down the stairs with Al Haitham and Tighnari following behind.

Childe stood up abruptly. “What do you mean they’re not in their bedroom? Are you implying that they’re not in the abode at all?” Childe demands, his eyebrows narrowing.

Tighnari sighs. “You see, we were going to check up on [Y/N] after what had happened yesterday, but Itto had beat us to it. Itto was looking for [Y/N] to talk to them about what happened yesterday and that he’s not upset with them if they didn’t tag along with us, only to find out that they weren’t in their room at all.” Tighnari explains, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Could they be at the Harbingers’ mansion by any chance?” Zhongli asks.

Dainsleif shakes his head, “It doesn’t look like [Y/N] went to visit those Harbingers. If they did, we would’ve known that they’ve gone to visit the four of them after waking up from their sleep.” The men around Dainsleif look over at one another, not knowing what else to do. Since you’re not in the abode, could you be at the Harbingers’ estate instead? The men ended up stopping by the Harbingers’ estate, knocking on the door of the black and white Snezhnayan-styled mansion.

“Wouldn’t we know that [Y/N] has left the teapot? After all, the stairs at the mansion creak from time to time if there is any stress laid upon it.” Al Haitham crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for someone to answer the door. 

The men hear the door unlock. The black wooden door flies open, revealing a shirtless Pantalone. Pantalone rubs his eyes before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, looking at the men in confusion.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of twenty of you?” Pantalone asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

Diluc rolls his eyes, “Is [Y/N] here by any chance?” Diluc asks.

Pantalone shakes his head, “[Y/N] is not here; if they were, we would’ve made it known already.” Pantalone replies, leaning against the wooden door of the estate.

“Shit, so they really did leave the teapot while we were all sleeping,” Aether mutters under his breath.

“Oh? Did [Y/N] finally escape from the clutches of the twenty possessive men?” Dottore asks mockingly, walking up to Pantalone and the other men. “I don’t blame them if they did.” Dottore snorts, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk on his face.

“It looks like that blond Kamisato servant’s words hurt them even more than it should’ve if it caused them to wake up at the crack of dawn and leave the abode,” Pierro says, in the kitchen, pouring coffee into his mug. “How foolish of him to say that to [Y/N]‘s face easily.” Pierro clicks his tongue with disapproval. 

“If you think that we’re hiding [Y/N] somewhere in our estate, save your breaths because we are not hiding them here,” Capitano stated gruffly. “Although we do welcome them here with open arms if they ever want to escape all of your presence.” He added.

Al Haitham rolls his eyes before turning to the other men behind him, “They’re no help at all. Let’s leave the teapot and search for [Y/N].” Al Haitham orders.

Kazuha sighs. “Where could they have gone exactly? While I understand they said they’ll be in Inazuma City, they didn’t say where exactly.” Kazuha says with a faint frown appears on his face.

Xiao sighs softly, “Maybe they did want some space,” Xiao’s arms fall to his side, unsure of how to feel other than disappointment and sadness. 

“And it’s all this one’s fault!” Scaramouche says, zapping Thoma’s side with his index finger with an annoyed glare. 

“Hey! I was going to apologize to [Y/N] after I make them breakfast!” Thoma exclaims, rubbing the area where Scaramouche had zapped him.

Baizhu shook his head, “It looks like we’ll have to find them first before you can cook something for them to eat and apologize after.” Baizhu pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go find them!” Venti says, ushering the men to the exit of the teapot.

You plopped down on the bench outside of the cafe, feet sore and body aching from having to move around constantly. You tilt your head back and let it rest on the bench, closing your eyes. Today was only your second day of working at the cafe, and you were already feeling tired and overwhelmed with the number of people you had to deal with. It’s still early in the morning, yet the cafe is busy. You were about to reach up to rub your eyes, only to stop and let your hands drop onto your lap.

“I’m hungry.” You sighed, rubbing your growling tummy. As an employee of the newest and hottest cafe in Inazuma City, you can eat and drink for free! But the cafe only sells pastries and sweet drinks. “Some tempura would be nice, maybe some pizza as well. Should I go back to the abode to eat something? I am on my break right now.” You muttered, stroking your chin. 

Just when you were about to decide on whether you should return to the abode while on your break or not, you spotted the men from afar— they stick out like sore thumbs— and you immediately panicked. You got up from the bench and ran back into the cafe, hoping that none of the men had spotted you while you were fleeing the scene. 

“Oh! Back from your break already, [Y/N]?” Yuri asks, looking at you with wide eyes. “That was fast.” She commented, propping one hand on her hip while placing down a cup of smoothie in front of the customer.

You laugh nervously, “Ah, yes! I wasn’t that hungry and grabbed a small snack!” You lied, attempting to ignore your growling stomach.

“It’s a good thing you’re back early! We’re about to hit rush hour soon, and a lot of customers will be flooding into the cafe soon.” Mei spoke up from behind the counter.

“Rush hour! Right! How could I forget about that?” Your smile wavered on your face. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to the restroom.” You said, walking to the nearest restroom in the cafe. 

You’re just hoping that none of the men come across the cafe. It would be humiliating if they saw you in the cafe’s uniform, working at a new cafe that is targeted at a specific demographic. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of having this job. It just feels awkward if the men knew you got a job at the new cafe. You didn’t know how they’d react if they were to see you dressed a certain way, catering to other customers that weren’t them. 

“We’ve searched everywhere in Inazuma City, and they’re not here,” Ayato grumbles, running his hands through his hair with a frustrated sigh.

“They did say they were going to explore Inazuma City and shop around, did they not?” Dainsleif asks, crossing his arms over his chest before shooting a glare at bystanders that were staring at the group.

Itto claps his hands and points at both Tighnari and Gorou, “Since both of you have super senses for being part animal, have you guys tried sniffing [Y/N] down or try hearing for their voice?” Itto asks, looking at Tighnari and Gorou curiously.

Tighnari shakes his head, “I haven’t heard them, nor have I smelled their familiar scent in Inazuma City.” Tighnari looks around the city, his ears twitching while trying to listen for your voice if you were around.

“Well, if they were in Inazuma City, I haven’t smelled or heard them.” Gorou sighs, his ears drooping, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat.

Albedo pressed his lips together, “What if they were never in Inazuma City?” Albedo mutters, stroking his chin.

Kaeya quirks his eyebrow. “What do you mean by that, Albedo? Care to elaborate for the rest of us?” Kaeya asks as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“He’s implying that there’s a possible chance that [Y/N] was never in Inazuma City and only said that to throw us all off.” Childe interrupts, a deep frown appearing on his face. Everyone looked at Childe and Albedo with confusion. Was it possible that you were never in Inazuma City the entire time? The real question is: why did you leave the abode early in the morning while everyone was asleep? And how in the world did Tighnari and Gorou not hear you leave when the two of them have the keenest hearing out of everyone in the abode?

Scaramouche lets out a sharp and irritated “tsk,” while rolling his eyes and running his hands through his hair. “If they’re not in Inazuma City, we might as well wait for them to come back to the abode. It’s no use in searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found,” said Scaramouche, his face almost red with anger.

“I suppose that is the only option we have for now.” Zhongli murmurs, his eyes were scanning the city around him.

“I still don’t think they lied about being in Inazuma City. I’m sure they were in Inazuma City but decided to explore another part of Inazuma after seeing all of the city.” Heizou sighs.

Cyno crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, if they did, they should’ve informed us about it.” He huffs, his eyebrows furrowing.

Thoma frowns, “[Y/N] didn’t even inform us about them leaving at the crack of dawn!” Thoma clenches and unclenches his fist, feeling nothing but dread, worry, and guilt gnaw at him.

“Let’s go back to the abode and hope for the best that they will return.” Diluc murmurs. The men around Diluc let out a collective sigh of defeat before walking back to where the teapot was hidden.

Your shift ended quicker than you expected, but you’re grateful because now none of the men can chew you out for coming back to the abode so late. You changed out of your uniform and got dressed into the clothes you’d arrived to work in. It was mid-afternoon when you got off of work, and your stomach continued to rumble throughout your shift. You walked through the doors of the estate, tired and in desperate need of food.

“[Y/N]! Oh, thank the archons, you’re back!” Heizou cries, throwing himself at you. You screamed and fell to the ground with Heizou straddling your waist, his arms wrapped around your neck tightly, his cheeks pressed up against yours.

Aether pulls Heizou off of you, “We were worried about you! We couldn’t find you in Inazuma City at all!” Aether exclaims.

“Oh, sorry. I should’ve left a note before I left, but I was in a hurry.” You smacked your forehead as you got up from the ground with the help of Aether and Heizou. You were planning on leaving them a note, but you’re still upset about Thoma’s comment from the day before and decided not to leave a message at all. After all, when the men leave to go to tend to their duties, they never leave you a note.

Xiao walks up to you and grabs you by your shoulders, looking at you closely. “Did you at least eat something before you left the abode? You have a bad habit of eating only one meal a day.” Xiao stated.

Before you could answer Xiao’s question, you were interrupted by the sound of your stomach letting out a loud growl. It was so loud that you’re pretty sure that the Celestial archons could hear it.

Kaeya chuckles, “That would be a no,” His smile slips off his face while approaching you.

Al Haitham clicks his tongue and shakes his head with disapproval. “You’re lucky Thoma made you something to eat prior to your arrival,” Al Haitham and Kaeya guide you towards the dining area where the plates, cutlery, fancy cloth napkins, glass cup, and ceramic teacups are laid out on the wooden table. 

Ah, it seems like everyone will be dining together. You forgot how long it had been since you’d sat down and eaten your food with the men. A few days, maybe? Maybe the last time you sat down and had breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the men was before you were hired at the cafe in Inazuma.

“And you’re right on time too!” Venti chimes, sitting down beside you when you pull out the chair from underneath the table.

Everyone sat in silence while Thoma brought out food and placed them in the center of the table for everyone to be able to reach. You just know that they’re going to start questioning your whereabouts today, but you can’t tell them yet. It’s embarrassing, and you don’t know how they'd react if you were to get a job. Plus, you worry that Thoma is going to start blaming himself the minute you admit that you have a job. Then again, you’re not exactly sure if the job is going to be permanent or not.

Once everyone had put food on their plates and begun to dig in, you lightly poked at your food and reluctantly ate them. The men around you murmur to each other, giving each other the side eye before looking over where you sit. Your eyes were glued to your plate, you were staring off into space, and you seemed to have slowly sunk down in your seat to make yourself seem smaller.

Gorou clears his throat, “So, [Y/N]! How was exploring Inazuma City?” Gorou asks, looking over at you from Itto’s shoulders.

“It was okay! I’m quite tired from today, but I’m glad I was able to get home early today than yesterday.” You said, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Why did you leave the house so early? I understand that Inazuma looks beautiful when the sun is rising, but you can always explore Inazuma when the sun is high in the sky.” Itto commented, propping his elbows up on the table.

You hum, “Well, the temperature is quite cool early in the morning, and I like to explore the region when it’s not too hot or too warm.” You said, reaching over to grab your napkin and dab your lips with it.

Ayato pauses and looks over at you, slowly placing his ceramic teacup down on the saucer. “It’s dangerous to leave the abode on your own, [Y/N]. Perhaps next time, one of us can wake up early and guide you around Teyvat if you’d like.” Ayato offers.

You slowly nod your head. It’s not like you’ll be staying at your job any longer. Yes, you like working at the cafe, but there are hardly any other people working there, and you didn’t think you’d have to go to an extent for your job, like drinking some random elixir that lasts for almost eight hours.

“I would love that! But we might have to hold off on that for a few days.” You murmured, pinching your chin while in deep thought. “It’d be nice to explore Teyvat early in the morning when the day has yet to start.” You said thoughtfully.

“Oh? Are you saying that you’ll be getting up early in the morning tomorrow?” Childe asks, resting both of his arms on the table while pressing his chest against the edge of the table. Zhongli lightly taps Childe on his arm, giving him a disapproving look. Childe pouts and leans back in his seat, letting his hands fall onto his lap. Ayato and Scaramouche snorted at Childe’s reaction, shaking their heads while proceeding to take a sip of their drinks. You cleared your throat and let out a slow sigh.

“Yes, I will be getting up early tomorrow morning. But not as early as I did today since….” Since your shift starts at nine in the morning instead of seven in the morning today.

“Since what?” Dainsleif asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shake your head and rub your temples with an exhausted sigh. “I don’t know. I’m feeling drained, and I’ve been having a hard time trying to sleep early.” You grumbled.

Scaramouche looks at you closely and notices something strange in your hair. “What’s that?” Scaramouche asks, pointing at the white fuzz in your hair.

Tighnari reaches over and pulls the fuzz from your hair and holds it in front of his face, squinting at it. “It’s animal hair— rabbit hair, to be specific.” He murmurs, looking up at the others, then back over at you.

Shit.

Cyno makes a face. “That’s strange. Why is there a hare in your hair?” Cyno covers his mouth with his hands, stifling his laughter, occasionally snorting.

“It’s fur, you idiot.” Al Haitham says, flicking Cyno’s forehead.

“I don’t care; it’s a joke you stick in the mud!” Cyno retorts, swiping at Al Haitham’s hands.

Zhongli tilts his head to the side, “How did you get fur in your hair?” Zhongli asks. He gazes at you with curiosity.

“Oh, perhaps they visited an animal cafe in Inazuma before returning to the abode,” Kazuha commented.

You immediately nod your head at Kazuha’s comment, “That is correct! I visited a rabbit cafe before returning to the abode!” You squeaked.

“Is that so?” Baizhu murmurs, gazing at you with interest. Again, you nod your head.

Albedo stares at you with scrutiny, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. “If you were at an animal cafe, then how is there no fur on your clothes?” Albedo asks.

“Oh, I didn’t hold them or let them climb on my lap.” You said, beginning to shove food into your mouth, wanting to get dinner over with already.

Gorou hums, “Furs do fly everywhere. I’m impressed that you’re able to leave that animal cafe without a single fur stuck to your clothes.” Gorou says, leaning down to slurp up his ramen.

You sigh and run your hands through your hair, checking to make sure that there aren’t any more furs trapped in your hair. “I’m impressed too.” You muttered, making a face when you discovered a small knot in your hair. “Ouch.” You mumbled, rubbing your head.

“It looks like you need a haircut,” Pierro commented, looking up at you from the book in his hands. “Your hair is getting long.” He reaches over to his cup and takes a long sip from it.

“Aw, come on, Pierro! I think they’ll look adorable with long hair.” Pantalone coos, ruffling your hair as he walks by your seat. “Plus, what am I going to pull on when I—” Pantalone was cut off by Xiao throwing a knife in his direction.

Dottore laughs, “The little yaksha is quite feisty, isn’t he?” Dottore looks over at Xiao, who glares at him in return. “These men have been on edge since this morning. Any little risque comment about [Y/N] will set them off.” Dottore whispers loudly to the four Harbingers.

You look at Dottore with surprise, “They’ve been on edge since this morning? How so?” You ask, wiping your mouth with the napkin. You’ve eaten too much and too fast, and now your stomach feels full. Very full; like you were going to burst very soon from eating too fast and way more than you can handle. You’re just going to have to pray to some archon out there that your bloated stomach goes away before you have to change into your work uniform tomorrow morning.

“They assumed we hid you at our estate,” Capitano says, taking the tea bag out from his cup before tossing them into the trash bin. “Perhaps you should come and pay us a visit when you’re able to. We don’t bite.” Capitano smiles underneath his mask.

You gasped softly, “Oh my gosh, I’ve never stepped foot in the Harbingers’ estate before! Maybe I should pay a visit sometime!” You said.

A smile ghosts over Pierro’s face, “Good. We will be expecting you.” 

After dinner, you weren’t allowed to retreat to your bedroom. Instead, Childe and Itto had you sitting between them while they rambled on about how much they missed you and how it was a pain in the ass to search around Inazuma City for you. Your head was resting on Itto’s shoulders while Childe was playing with your fingers, rubbing the palm of your hands with his thumbs.

Once the night has fallen, everyone slowly starts to go to bed one by one. But of course, before everyone left, each of them kissed your cheek, forehead, the crown of your head, and your temples before going off to bed. You find yourself plopping down on your bed, feeling yourself slowly falling asleep. Right when you were about to drift off to sleep, you heard your bedroom creak open. You crack your eyes and glance towards the door, only to see Thoma peeking his head from the entrance of your room.

“Thoma? Why are you still awake? I thought you went to sleep.” You murmured, sitting up on your bed and rubbing your eyes. 

Thoma enters your bedroom and closes the door behind him before walking over to your bed. Thoma sits down at the edge of your bed beside you and gazes at you with eyes that remind you of a sad puppy. Thoma reluctantly reaches toward your hands and grabs them, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I’m sorry for hurting your feelings yesterday. I didn’t intend to hurt you, and I worded my sentences wrong. I’m sorry. Everything I said, I didn’t mean it at all. I hope you can forgive me.” Thoma says softly.

You gave Thoma a weak smile, “Of course, I forgive you, Thoma. What you said did hurt me, but you were right. There’s no need to deny it because it's true. I don’t work, nor am I a part of the Akademiya.” You said softly. Thoma opens his mouth to protest, but you press your finger against his lips and shake your head. “I’m trying my best, Thoma. And maybe I’ll get a job, but I’m testing the waters right now.” You said. Thoma looks at you questionably.

You coughed and looked away from Thoma, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you guys everything when I’m ready.” You said, giving him a small smile. Thoma nods his head as you slowly take your finger off his lips. “I’m going to sleep now. I really need to fix my sleep schedule because it's all over the place.” You sighed, laying back down on your bed.

“Alright, goodnight, [Y/N],” Thoma says, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead.

You smile and snuggle into your comforter, “Goodnight, Thoma.” You said, closing your eyes.

The next day, you got up for work as per usual and left the abode before everyone woke up from their sleep. Unlike yesterday, you actually left a note to inform the men of your whereabouts, leaving you the information about where you were going to work. Yes, you told them that you’d be in Inazuma City, but not exactly where you’re going and what you’re going to be doing in Inazuma City. Today felt like it was going to be a good day. Perhaps it's because you and Thoma have amended the small rift between you two from a few days ago. Upon your arrival to work, you changed into your uniform and were handed an elixir to drink. You adjusted your uniform and downed the potion that Tadashi had given to you. Your face pinches up in disgust as you hand back the glass vial to him.

“It’ll take some time to get used to,” Tadashi says, giving you a sympathetic smile. 

You snorted, “Well, it’s a potion that lasts up to almost eight hours. I don’t think I’ll be able to get used to it.” You said. A few minutes later, bunny ears sprout from the top of your head, and a small cotton ball-like tail appears where your tailbone is.

“Hey, it’s temporary. It’s not like it’s a permanent potion.” Tadashi added.

You squint your eyes, “That is true….” You clicked your tongue and began to set the tables in the cafe.

When you left to go to work, you assumed that everyone was still asleep. What you didn’t know was that everyone was awake when you left for work, and the men had followed you the entire time. They hid behind buildings, bushes, trees, and wooden crates while you walked to work. All of them had woken up earlier than you did and waited for you to leave the abode before following close behind.

When they saw you walk to the cafe that is tucked in the corner of Inazuma City, the men were suspicious yet curious as to what you were doing there. The building was small, but it looked cozy and welcoming from the outside. The building has a huge glass window that allows people that walk by the building to see what’s going on inside. What they expected to see was you buying some pastries; what they didn’t expect to see was you stepping out from the back of the cafe wearing a maid costume, thigh-high stockings, and five-inch platform heels.

“Awooga! Holy shit, [Y/N] looks good in that maid costume!” Childe whispers loudly, his eyes widening and his face flushing red.

“Why are they wearing a maid costume for another man that isn’t us!?” Itto hisses, looking over at the others with his eyebrows furrowing.

Ayato looks up at the sign that hangs above the small building, “Maid Cafe.” Ayato murmurs.

Kazuha squints his eyes, “What did that man hand to [Y/N]?” Kazuha asks, pointing at the glass vial that is now in your hands.

“And why did [Y/N] drink it?” Kaeya questions, looking at you in disbelief from a distance where you couldn’t see the men.

Diluc sighs, “I guess they’ll accept any drink that is given to them.” Diluc pinches the space between his eyebrows.

Albedo’s mouth drops when bunny ears suddenly sprout from the top of your head. The same pristine white fur that was on your hair the day before. “I have many questions.” Albedo stated, not taking his eyes off the bunny ears on your head.

“What do we do now?” Aether asks.

“We confront them about it,” Xiao stated, getting up from his hiding spot before walking into the cafe with the others following behind him.

The bells of the Maid Cafe chimes loudly, alerting you and Tadashi that there are customers. You looked over at the clock to see that it was opening time already. Tadashi looks at the entrance and smiles widely, waving at new faces.

“Hello! Welcome to the Maid Cafe! Angel will be right with you in a moment.” Tadashi says, walking to the counter. “If you would like to dine in, please inform us! If you would like a takeout, do let us know about that as well.” Tadashi adds.

“Who’s Angel?” Heizou whispers to the others. The men around Heizou shrugged their shoulders at Heizou’s question.

“I don’t know who this Angel person is, but I would rather have [Y/N] be our waitress or maid,” Scaramouche mutters.

“Hi! Welcome to the Maid Cafe! You can call me Angel, and I am here to serve you!” You said, turning around to face the new customers after setting up the tables. You let out a choked gasp when you make eye contact with the men, almost dropping the glass plate in your hands. “What are you guys doing here?!” You squeaked, pointing an accusing finger at them.

“What are we doing here?! What are you doing here?!” Venti exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes.

“I work here!” You exclaimed.

“Work!?” Your beloved boyfriends exclaim, looking at you in disbelief. You sighed loudly and nodded your head slowly, scratching your ears with anxiousness. 

Zhongli points to the top of your head, “Why do you have bunny ears?” He asks, slowly reaching up to lightly touch it. The ears on your head twitch, causing Zhongli to pull his hands away from your ears, eyes the size of plates.

“Why do they call you Angel? Is it a fake name that you go by while you work here?” Dainsleif asks, his eyes scanning you from head to toe.

You nod your head, “Yes, it’s my work name. I, Mei, and Yuri go by aliases as we work here because we don’t want customers to know our real names.” You answered, rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile on your face. “This was not how I wanted you all to know about my new job.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, your tail twitching with irritation.

Tighnari’s eyes widen, and his ears perk up at the sight of your tail. Tighnari slowly reaches toward your tail, his hand pausing halfway when he realizes something. Tighnari’s face turns a deep shade of red before he slowly retreats back to where he previously stood.

Tighnari clears his throat, “I didn’t think your maid uniform is so…. Short.” He looks away from you.

“Hehe, yeah, that is the point of this cafe. It’s to cater to certain demographics.” You said, subconsciously tugging the bottom of your uniform. “So, uh, are you guys here to eat, or are you guys here to scold me for keeping my job a secret?” You ask, rocking back and forth on your feet.

“We’ll stay to eat,” Baizhu says. You smile at Baizhu and nod your head, gesturing for them to follow you.

“So cute.” Childe giggles, poking at the little white cotton ball that is your tail. You smacked Childe’s hands away from your tail with a huff of breath, your face heating up.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Al Haitham stated as he and the rest of the men sat down at the table.

You sighed for the billionth time today, “If it’s about me getting a job after Thoma’s comment, no, it’s not. I got this job days before Thoma made that comment. Don’t point your fingers at Thoma and blame him. I had forgiven him already, and we talked it out last night before going to bed.” You said, patting the top of Thoma’s head with a small smile on your face.

“Quit your job,” Itto demanded, giving you a small pout.

You snorted, “And why is that? I need a job and mora to shop around.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You don’t need to work for mora when I can spoil you with everything you could ever want.” Pantalone says, tossing a large bag of mora on the table.

You laugh, “As much as I loved being spoiled by all of you,” You reach over and lightly pinch Pantalone’s cheeks and a pouting Childe’s cheeks. “I want to make my own mora too! Plus, I need to keep myself occupied. Being home alone while all of you are out doing your jobs makes me feel lonely.” You said.

“And you chose a job where you’re wearing a maid costume, thigh-high stockings, tall heels, and drink potions that make you sprout out bunny ears?” Ayato asks. 

You sighed in defeat, “Yes, yes, I did. But I look cute, and it’s not heavy labor, aside from wearing these dang heels.” You grumbled, taking a seat at an empty chair. “These heels are killing me.” You complained, squeezing and rubbing your sore feet.

Aether leans to you, “You should quit your job. It’s not worth wearing heels all day and parading around in a maid costume to please creepy men. I would rather have you go out on an adventure with us than cater to creepy men.” Aether says, giving you a small pout.

“I don’t know….” You hesitated, playing with the hem of the maid dress. “I’m going to feel bad if I quit.” You murmured.

Cyno squeezes your shoulders lightly, “It’s okay to quit the job that you don’t like! Some people quit after they’re hired! This kind of job isn’t maid for you, so you might as well quit and find a job that is more suitable for you.” Cyno cackles, earning a slap on the back of his head from Al Haitham. Cyno grumbles and glares at Al Haitham.

You cracked a smile and snorted at Al Haitham and Cyno. “Alright, I’ll think about it.” You said. “Now, let me go get the menu, and you all can start ordering something!” You said, getting up from your seat to walk to the counter where the menus are. 

While your back was turned, facing their direction, the men couldn’t help but admire the sight of you wearing the uniform. Perhaps they should get you your very own maid uniform to wear around the abode. It’ll be for their eyes only.

Note: Aw man, I think this is the latest update I've ever posted for an Isekai'd!reader fic 🥹 Idk how I feel about this chapter since I worked on it while being busy with school and loads of assignments, but I hope you all liked it 😭 It's close to 2 AM, and I am in need of sleep and break from assignments, but that's not going to happen. For my new and returning readers, I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Prologue: A Lightfury’s Guide to Stealing A Dragon Rider

Pairing: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x fem!oc

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: A mysterious new dragon rider has been starting to make their presence known by tearing through dragon hunter ships and leaving nothing in their wake. What dragon they ride is unknown. What they look like is unknown. Why they are hunting the dragon hunters is unknown. The only thing that is known is that they will stop at nothing to destroy every dragon hunter ship at any and all costs.

A/N: This is my first time doing something like this so my apologies if it seems rushed or not very good. This morning I just sort of had a burst of creativity and decided I wanted to do this since I rewatched the httyd films recently and started rewatching rtte. This fic will be set during rtte and I haven't decided how I want it to end so it might carry on into the movies but I’m not completely sure yet. I’m hoping to post once or twice a week, each time hopefully having some lengthy chapters. This chapter obviously isn’t too long and I had to decide between making it a prologue or a normal chapter but I'm hoping it turns out better with my decision. Thank you for reading this and hopefully the first chapter of a who-knows-how-long series.

“Fire!” Came the shouted yell of a dragon hunter. The man had his sword raised at an invisible force, his face twisted into a hardened glower as his eyes rapidly shot around the open air before them, the only visible entity being the waxing moon hanging in the clear night sky.

A few flimsy dragon root-laced arrows shot up at where the man had pointed, none of which were able to land its mark. Hunters quickly lined up a second arrow, pointing the weapon towards the sky, ready to shoot on command.

“There's nothing there Ryker,” One of the men stated as he lowered his bow, stepping towards the man who held a crazed look in his eyes. “Whatever fired those shots and sunk the rest of our ships is long gone.”

As if on cue, a whistling lit up the air, chilling the dragon hunters into silence as their heads shot up. With arrows at the ready to immobilise the beast that had been tearing through their ships, they waited for their orders. 

Seemingly out of thin air a blast of pinkish plasma shot towards the deck of a large ship just over from where Ryker stood, sending hunters scattering out of range as the ship was knocked back and forth. Several arrows fired at where the shot had come from, all sailing through the air and into nothing. 

“Long gone you say?” Ryker asked the hunter who had spoken, an eyebrow raised at the previous statement. 

The hunter's eyes fell quickly, shoulders bunching up near his ears before a surge of courage took over him. Raising his head, the hunter stared Ryker down. “It’s an invisible force, Ryker,” he attempted, any bravery draining from him at the set ablaze look in Ryker's eyes. “We’ll never hit it at the rate we’re going.”

“I don’t care if we’re out here all night, we are not moving until we have that dragon locked in a cage,” Ryker demanded through gritted teeth, taking half a step towards the hunter who had opposed him before whirling back around, moving across the deck of the ship with a watchful eye on the sky. “Whatever it is, it’ll have to show itself sooner or later.”

Higher in the sky, said invisible dragon had landed on top of the large sale, paws carefully aligned with the wooden mast to keep itself hidden. On the beast’s back, made from the same material as its scales and leather was a white-scaled saddle. It wasn't the most comfortable substance to make up a saddle but it got its intended job done. Laced in white scales, designed on leather and shaped to be the human shape of the dragon she sat on, was a girl warped in the same invisible blanket that hid her dragon.

Her eyes traced the towering figure of Ryker as his daunting figure scaled the length of the boat, eyes lit from beneath the carved-out space in her helmet. "I don't think they like us very much," The girl said as she slid one of her gloved hands along the neck of her dragon, using blind faith in hopes of not straying from the invisible dragon's neck.

An elated purr escaped the white beast as she stared down at the crew of dragon hunters, blue eyes wide with pupils dilating every few seconds.

A gargled mew left the dragon's mouth, the noise echoing to the point where it reached the ears of the hunters below. A few heads whipped up, trying to find the source of the sound. But a certain pair of eyes seemed to already be latched onto the two invisible forces. "Uh oh, looks like we've been caught." Even as the words were said, a ghost of a grin was gracing the girl's face.

Once again, a delighted noise escaped the throat of the white-scaled beast, ecstatic at the idea of getting off the hunter's ship and firing down at it. Spreading her wings in a large arch, with a bat of gust the dragon took off to the air, the rider that adorned its back latching onto the small handles weaved onto the saddle.

With a large spiral, the dragon shot straight into the sky, the same whistle lighting up the air as the pair flew out of range of any arrows that might stray their way. The noise caught the attention of all the hunters as they raised their bows, arrows at the ready for the slightest form of life.  

“Hold!” Came the yell from Ryker as the whistle hummed out of range. While they waited, Ryker gravitated to one of the large crossbows, the chained coils aiming upwards. When the loud whistle began to register again, a ripple in the skyline caught Ryker's attention. Before he could second-guess himself, he shot the chain forward, yelling “Fire!”

The chain shot forward at a dangerous speed, a startled growl echoing through the sky as the cloak shielding the white dragon slipped forward, the ability gifted by Thor failing the dragon as she and her rider came back into view of the dragon hunters. 

A preparatory grin spread across the face of Ryker as he watched the dragon fade back into existence. “Got you now,” He whispered as a storm of arrows shot towards the pair.

They didn’t stay in view for long, a quick blast of flames being shot forward before the dragon dived through them, its rider pressing close to the beast's body, the same force that cast the dragon into oblivion reflecting onto the scales sewn into the rider's armour. Another quick surge of power was fired down at the deck of the ship, stronger than the last shot. The pile of plasma tore through the deck of the ship, black ashes being left behind on the singed deck and a gaping hole. Before a second could pass, the duo were shooting back into the sky, trying to evade the hunters.

“That was a close one, wasn’t it girl?” The dragon rider questioned the lean dragon below her, earning a rumble in return as they flew from sinking boats behind them.

A cranking noise caught the attention of the rider, her head turning back to see what it was.

In a too-late dive, a metallic chain wrapped around the back leg of the white dragon. A shock was sent through the two of them as they began to be pulled back. 

“Oh, now it’s personal.”

Raising from the back of her dragon, the invisible cloak fell from the rider's outline. “Keep flying straight. Don’t let them pull you in,” The rider muttered, taking slow steps down the dragon's back as she stepped towards the chain. “I’ll get you free.” 

With a leap, the dragon rider pulled her sword to her hands, throwing it over the chain as she began to descend down it. 

Ryker waited for her on board, his own sword at the ready as he waited for the dragon rider with a wicked grin on his face. 

Prev | Next

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million

damian wayne x reader x jon kent  - ch.1

(A/N): The plot of this is mostly based off of a trip I took a little over a year ago, though there are liberties taken further on. And my memory is kinda sucky so take any airport lingo with a grain of salt. Also, thanks to @glorified-red for helping me outline this while I was heading to the same place this year and also for being my beta reader. 

This is fully written and has been for two months so hopefully I'll post a chapter a week or so? I am also posting this from hawaii so here's hoping a) I get new fic material and b) i've converted the time zone correctly and this posts late EST. 

If you saw this posted yesterday, no you didn’t. Posting across time zones is hard

wc: ~2300

warnings: plane travel; anxiety

~

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you stepped off the tram. Above your head, the sign read Terminal B in large letters. The people ahead as you stepped onto the escalator were a couple with matching, brightly colored, floral-patterned carry-ons. 

The notification was a text from the airline. You skimmed it as you walked towards your gate, weaving in and out of internal airport traffic. We're ready to board your flight to Gotham (GHM) at Gate B6 and look forward to seeing you soon! The text was right below the one telling you about yet another delay. A quick check of the time declared that making any detours would cut your arrival at the gate a little close. 

“Worth the risk,” you decided for yourself. “Let's go.” 

The escalator opened into the middle of your terminal, a dozen gates from your destination. Even though the airport you were in was spread out massively, you weren’t too worried. Your boarding group wouldn’t even get on the plane for probably another ten minutes, so you ducked into the nearest restroom before crossing to your gate. 

The time in red on your boarding pass caught your eye. 70 minutes late, it read. Any other day, a delay would have been an inconvenience. This time, the buffer actually ended up being beneficial. You needed it when trying to catch a connecting flight—the second of two on your way home—after one already delayed. Your eye caught on a pretzel stand further down the terminal. You could almost taste the pretzels; it had been a while since breakfast. The usual delicious smells were covered by the perpetual airport scent of stale air and commercial cleaner. If you wanted to get close, you’d have to cross the foot traffic. The voice over the loudspeaker curtailed that hope quickly by announcing your boarding group. You sighed. Next time. 

The boarding line was long and you silently thanked yourself for checking a larger suitcase as your primary luggage. Your only current accompaniment was your airline declared “personal item.” There was no way there would be spots for any hypothetical carry-on by the time you got on board. As if to agree with you, the airline employees over the speakers nudged passengers once again to check their carry-ons. 

Like always, it took longer than it rationally should have for people to display their boarding passes and continue into the enclosed boarding bridge. Your chest squeezed as your seat flashed on the screen. The only seat available and in your budget had been a “B”: a middle seat in the back of the plane. Middle seats were the worst, especially when traveling alone. Too often you’d found yourself next to men (and even women, sometimes) that made you extremely uncomfortable.

You scanned the numbers above the seats as the line in front of you blundered along. Someone’s carry-on bag almost smacked you in the face before the line cleared enough for you to be able to see your row. Your heart sank just a little bit when you spotted the two heads in the A and C seats. No hope for an empty seat on this flight, then. 

When you stepped closer, you could see two men—young adults and not older men, you realized, thank goodness—conversing with each other, both tilted into the middle seat. You hoped, privately, that they didn’t know each other well, if only so they wouldn’t be talking right through you the entire flight. 

“Excuse me,” you said, stopping in front of the row, “I have the middle seat.” 

The boys sat back. The one in the window seat had olive skin and dark wavy hair cropped close on the side, dripping down across his forehead and over his eyes. The other, with lighter skin and fluffy dark hair, stood to let you in. You had to take half a step back to let him out. He was tall. And pretty. Nope, Shut Up, brain. You pushed the thought into the back of your mind; he could be the most homophobic person you’ve ever met, how would you know? 

“Sorry about that, go ahead.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled at the boy before sliding clumsily into the row and landing heavily in the middle seat. You shoved your bag under the seat in front of you and sat up stiffly, shoulders pulled into yourself. The seatbelt dug uncomfortably into your thigh. Silently , you shifted, sliding on the smooth airplane seat, to free it. A few minutes passed in awkward silence as the rest of the passengers boarded. Your headphones were down in the bag you’d just squished under the seat. Was it really worth it to grab them now? Yes, you decided, leaning down to maneuver them out of your bag. The fluffy haired boy spoke across the seats. 

“Damian, I can’t get the app downloaded.” 

You sat back up slowly, chest constricting again. They did know each other. 

The boy in the window seat—Damian apparently—looked up from where his head had been bowed over a book. You couldn’t really make out the words scribbled in the margins, but both the text and the handwritten notes looked like something in the Arabic language family. He put his arm out and the other boy reached across you to place his phone into the outstretched hand. 

“You need to turn on your cellular data for the app store. There’s no internet here.” His voice was low in pitch and quiet. The kind people listened to. Window Seat Boy (it felt weird calling him Damian even if you knew his name) easily unlocked the phone—a red-cased, beat up iPhone—and started rifling through settings. 

The other boy turned his attention to you and you gave an awkward smile. 

“I kinda just realized that it’s probably really annoying to be in the middle of us so did you want to switch with me? Like so every time we talk to each other you’re not in the middle?” 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. The offer was unexpected, but he looked genuine. You didn’t want to wait for him to potentially change his mind. 

“Yeah, um, that would be good—if you’re okay with that?” 

“Oh yeah I don’t care. I don’t fly like this often enough to have a seat preference. But sitting in the middle of two strangers would probably not be it.” 

Your response huff of involuntary laughter surprised you. He seemed sweet. Your guard dropped a little bit as he stood up in the now empty aisle to let you out. You pulled your bag out from under the seat in front of you and dropped both it and your jacket on the now vacated seat before sliding out and standing up yourself. 

“After you.” You gestured to the empty seat. He shot you a grin before maneuvering more awkwardly than you thought possible into the middle seat. 

“These are so cramped. How do people fly like this?” he muttered, then accepted his phone back from Window Seat Boy. You felt a smile tug at your lips, shoving your backpack under the seat as you sat back down.

“It’s the lack of legroom that gets me. There’s barely enough space for my bag, much less my feet.” 

Now, Middle Seat Boy turned to look at you. His eyes—shining from behind black rectangular frames—were a startling crystal blue. A smile spread across his face and you felt your chest squeeze for a different reason this time. You didn’t even have it in you to reprimand your brain; it really was a pretty smile. 

“Yeah I don’t get it. How is this supposed to be comfortable?” 

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable,” you said, “it’s supposed to make the airlines money.” 

There was a soft huff from Window Seat Boy and Middle Seat Boy’s grin widened. He extended his hand, elbow pressed awkwardly against his torso, before seemingly deciding against it and putting it back down. 

“I’m Jon. And this is Damian.” He gestured to the boy next to him, whose face was once again buried in his book. Damian—now using his name felt less like an intrusion and more like decent politeness—gave a brief nod as he was introduced. 

You stuck your hand out and Jon let out a small laugh as he took it. 

You appreciated that he repeated your name back to you when you gave it to him. Most people just barreled on with their misunderstood pronunciations. 

“Are you heading home?” Jon looked actually interested in your answer. 

You debated for a moment before deciding to be honest. There were over a million people living in Gotham.  

“Yeah, heading back. This is my connecting flight to get home. How about you guys?” 

Jon glanced back at Damian before answering. Damian stayed invested in his book. “He’s from Gotham and I’m going back with him so technically, yeah.” 

“Work trip? Or a personal one?” 

Jon opened his mouth then closed it without saying anything. “Kinda work yeah. We missed our,” he paused as if searching for a word, “original flight so now we’re here.” 

You nodded your head understandingly. 

“Oh that sucks. Hope you weren’t delayed too long.” 

Jon hesitated, wincing as he stretched out his left arm. 

“We weren’t, technically. Was hoping not to have to fly like this, though.” 

You shrugged. 

“This is my usual airline so I don’t have much to say about that.” 

Jon found that funnier than you expected, but you felt a smile crawl across your face as he laughed. The crackle of the intercom interrupted whatever he was about to say. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Thank you all for your patience this afternoon. As you know, weather delays kept the plane from arriving here on time and we are happy to finally have you on board. My apologies for the delay in takeoff. There’s been a slight mechanical issue, but we should get it all straightened out in the next twenty minutes so just sit tight. Thank you for your cooperation” 

You sighed heavily, eyes rolling.

“Of course there is.” 

Jon’s worried expression snapped to you. 

“What?” 

Your eyebrows scrunched down in confusion. 

“'What' what?” 

“You said 'of course there is'. Of course there’s what?”

You felt your shoulders relax. 

“Oh, another delay. Almost every plane I take on my own has some sort of delay. Like my last flight was an hour and fifteen minutes behind. And now this one. I just want to go home, you know? I’m exhausted.” 

Jon slumped in his chair. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He looked exhausted, you realized, eyes decorated with underbags and body slouched into his seat. He was also wearing two sweaters, even though the plane was more warm than chilly. 

“Are you okay?” 

Jon shrugged, smiling. 

“I haven’t uh—I haven’t gotten enough sun recently but yeah.” 

You let out a small huh of understanding and looked out the window open across the aisle from you. It was dark out despite the fact that the sun hadn’t quite set. He wasn’t native to Gotham, you remembered. Cloudy days are the default there, but you knew a couple people who could never make it in Gotham just for that reason. 

It felt weird to put in your headphones and tune out the boy next to you now. Usually, you wouldn’t have thought twice, but you liked him and didn’t want to block him out. Instead, you tucked the headphones back in and pulled a craft project out of your bag, continuing the row of stitches you were on when you put it down at your first gate early in the morning. 

After a moment, you looked up to see Jon watching you. 

“Whatcha making?” He asked, eyes tracing the pattern of your project. You paused, hands stilling mid-stitch.

“Nothing specific really. Just something to pass the time. It’s a pattern I found online a little while back. I kinda enjoy the time on planes and the like that force me to not watch something. Even though technically there’s in-flight entertainment, there’s not too much I enjoy so I’d rather read or something, you know?” You completed the stitch, eyes flicking back to Jon as you tugged it tight. Jon’s head tilted to the side. You had to stop yourself from smiling at the movement. It was cute, a little bit like a puppy. 

“In-flight entertainment?” 

“Like movies and TV shows, whatever the airline puts on it. You didn’t know that?” Jon shook his head. “How often do you fly?” Jon’s eyes widened. For a moment you thought you’d offended him. “I’m not judging you or anything I just—”

“No! No, you didn’t. I don’t…take airplanes much.” 

“Ok well there’s a whole selection of movies on the app, if you have that. This plane has some TV channels,” you said, gesturing to his TV. It was streaming a basketball game, same as most of the others around you. You’d turned yours off before continuing on your project. A quick glance at Damian’s revealed that his was also turned off. “But there’s a better selection of stuff on the app and then you can connect your bluetooth or whatever headphones to your phone and watch with those.” You pulled your phone from your pocket, opening the app and navigating to the entertainment section. 

“See?” You hit the button for the ‘view all’ list and turned the phone to Jon. “You can’t do anything with it unless you’re on the plane but since we are, here it is.” 

Jon pulled out his phone and navigated to the same page you were on, then started scrolling down. 

“This one’s okay but I feel like I’ve seen it a thousand times.” He tilted the phone towards you, display open to a movie from a few months ago. 

“Oh, I meant to see that movie but never got to. Do you recommend it?” 

Jon returned to the main page and shrugged. 

“I think you can do better.” 

You smiled, stuffing your project back into your bag in favor of scrolling through the movie list yourself. 

“Let’s see what they’ve got.”