#but all you lovely humans that were like you should post those on ao3

[allylikethecat]

Chapters: 6/20 Fandom: The 1975 (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy Characters: George Daniel, Matthew Healy Additional Tags: kiss prompts, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use Summary:

“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.” – Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

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Kiss Prompts from Tumblr filled

[mosaiclobster]

Pecking Order (Farmer x Hayden)

I haven't posted fic on tumblr before, but people have been so unexpectedly lovely about this silly fic on AO3 so I thought I'd share it here too 🐔🐣

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House chickens must wear many hats. To Henrietta’s relief, those hats were figurative; she never much cared for the indignities of clothing. Ribbons were another matter, especially ones bestowed on award podiums. She wore those with pride.

But Henrietta was more than a show chicken. She was a house chicken, and that meant she was a pest controller, a therapist, a taskmaster. A friend.

Well, not a friend to all. Hayden was her person, and she didn’t see much need for the rest of them. At least Ryis had a healthy admiration for birds - she let him pet her, on occasion.

The others were hopeless. Balor, Valen, and Errol gave her a wide berth, which was respectful, but none of them ever bothered to bring her treats. Celine did, but she was too nervous to feed Henrietta by hand now.

She hadn’t meant to peck the girl. It was a simple misunderstanding, one a flattened palm would’ve solved.

March was the worst of all. He didn’t address her by name, only as “chicken.” When she pecked him, she meant it.

But then, there was this new person. “The Farmer.”

Henrietta considered the nickname an impertinence. Hayden was the farmer in Mistria. His people had worked this land for generations.

Henrietta Jubilation Featherbottom knew something about legacies. She was a part of the most award winning lineage to ever grace chickendom. She’d raised a whole brood of blue ribbon birds, and she had Hayden to thank for that. Any affront to his honor was an attack on her own good name.

Hayden didn’t seem to mind the other farmer, though. He even let the interloper join game night. He broke the news to her over a bowl of popcorn, as if it was only natural to include this fraud. “Used to be an adventurer before settling down here. Imagine the stories!”

An adventurer indeed. Sounded like a rootless, chickenless existence - more of a rogue than a farmer, if you asked her. When their new guest arrived, Henrietta clucked with all the derision she could muster.

In return, she received a handful of wild berries. Palm flat, and steady.

“Nice to meet you, Henrietta.”

Well mannered. That was a surprise.

Hayden gave Henrietta an encouraging pet. “Isn’t that thoughtful?”

She kept a wary eye on the stranger while she plucked and pecked at the ripened fruit. Hayden rubbed at the back of his neck - a nervous habit.

Why should he be nervous? Henrietta studied his kind face, the one she’d known since she broke out of her egg. He was blushing.

“Ah, she’s made a bit of a mess. Sorry about your hand.”

Henrietta trilled, indignant. She was a dainty eater. Juice stains were to be expected, and his embarrassment degraded them both.

The so-called farmer smiled at Hayden, and gave him a rakish wink. “Better berries than monster blood.”

The cheek! But Hayden seemed quite charmed - he hardly noticed their other guests arriving, and the color never quite left his face. Valen even asked if he was feverish.

Amusing jokes, exciting anecdotes, nice manners… by the end of the night, Henrietta had to concede that this new human was well socialized.

Over the next few weeks, a routine took shape. Sweetwater was the fastest route to the museum from the other farm. On the way, offerings were made: berries for Henrietta, and coffee for Hayden. Not every day, but close. Henrietta often joined them at the kitchen table - gossip was her secret joy, and there was plenty to go around. Apparently, Valen was spending an awful lot of time with that witch who ran the bathhouse.

Hayden took a sip of coffee. “Good for them. Life’s meant to be shared, isn’t it?” Henrietta watched his warm brown eyes widen. Hayden coughed, and set his coffee down so hard that it sent a spoon flying. The clatter ruffled Henreitta’s feathers, but she smoothed them for his sake. Poor Hayden was blushing enough already.

“That’s why ranching is so rewarding. I’m glad you decided to get a coop - how are the girls doing so far?”

“They’re great. Thanks for setting up the see-saw, it’s been a big hit.”

Henrietta had met the girls once, under Hayden’s watchful gaze. It was clear they needed a strong matriarch, but Hayden scooped her up before her beak could do its work.

That was alright. Henrietta could be patient - they’d be joining her flock soon enough.

After all, Henrietta was nothing if not perceptive. She knew a courtship when she saw one, even if it lacked the usual dropped wing and dizzying dance. The gifts, the fleeting touches, the lingering looks… honestly, she couldn’t understand what they were waiting for.

Once the leaves began to turn, Hayden confided in her. Not just her - Ryis and Valen were there too. They didn’t equal her in wisdom or tact, but such gatherings were good enrichment for humans. She listened politely, and cooed in agreement when Ryis stated the obvious: “Hayden, we know. Everyone knows. You’ve been attached at the hip all summer.”

More blushing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Valen shrugged, and swirled her glass of wine. “What’s there to say? We all thought you were already dating.”

Hayden rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, we aren’t. I don’t think so, anyway.”

They all laughed. Or clucked impishly, in Henrietta’s case. Once Ryis recovered, he put a gentle hand on Hayden’s shoulder. “You’d know. The next time you’re together, just speak from the heart. Trust me.”

The four of them were halfway through a fiendish jigsaw puzzle when Errol burst through the front door. Henrietta dropped the piece she was nibbling on and nearly fell off the table in shock - such an entrance!

The man’s face was as white as his beard. He looked absolutely stricken. “Please, come quickly. The mines -”

Henrietta trilled in alarm. Only their semi-retired adventurer would be so foolish. So brave.

The others charged off without her, leaving Henrietta sick with worry. She tore open a bag of premium treats, but the tasty morsels did little to soothe her.

Finally, Hayden returned with Valen and the intrepid patient. Henrietta was ready with a lecture about the dangers of monster hunting, but she received no promises of hanging up the blade. Just a pat on the head, and a crushed berry.

“As your doctor, I can’t advise you to hand feed livestock right now. You’re more prone to infection if she-”

“-she won’t. Here you go, Henrietta. I plucked this off a bush as they were dragging me out of the narrows.”

It was the nicest one she ever tasted.

Naturally, Henrietta was an accomplished nurse. She set to work, nestling at the patient’s feet on the couch while Valen gave Hayden instructions.

“This one has to be taken with food, twice a day. Something simple, like toast.”

Eggs and toast, surely. Henrietta began to doze.

When she awoke a while later, she wasn’t surprised to find another set of feet to warm. The two of them were laying in each other’s arms beneath her favorite checkered blanket.

They were mindful not to disturb her, but Henrietta allowed them their cooing and preening and kissing. Humans were such soft, silly creatures.

And now she had two to look after. Henrietta drifted back to sleep, and added another figurative hat to her collection: matchmaker.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Unpunishable (Shang Tsung x F!Reader)

a/n: no one asked for this, but hey, i've been in love with that soul stealing stink-man, i had to finally write something for him. this one is specifically MK1 story mode adjacent, but i do want to write more (for MK11 and the movie), Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (kinda i guess), Captivity, playing fast and loose with the canon, Kinda Soft Shang?, Reader is a Blood Mage (nothing too serious tho)

Summary: After you and your friends raid Shang Tsung's laboratory, you get caught and kept captive by the Sorcerer himself.

Is it wrong to want more?

That was the thought plaguing you from the beginning of your training at the Wu-Shi temple. Blood magic was frowned upon in Outworld. For you to even cross the threshold of the realm, there had been some serious negotiations set in place. Still, the Fire God has managed to convince Empress Sindel of your assets as a healer.

And, you were a curious thing, after all. Humans were not born with magic in Earthrealm, it could only be bestowed by a God. Which is why your natural talent at commanding blood, both yours, and later someone else's, was a strange sight indeed. Strange enough to stir the interest of Outworld's nobility, granting you a safe passage to the tournament with your training companions.

Which is how you landed here. Between helping Raiden navigate the Tournament, through the secret mission on behalf of Liu Kang, and right up to now. As you sit, poised like a decorative doll, hands locked behind your back, intricate, golden cuffs digging into the skin of your wrists. There are piles upon piles of golden coins surrounding you, gold trickles down the walls in long smears of paint, golden dust stains your skin. A kink forms deep within your spine, from the uncomfortable position you have been put in.

And then, there's the deep, bleeding cut, stretching the expanse of your thigh. It was a stupid idea, tagging along for the mission to find Shang Tsung, and bring him to Liu Kang for questioning. You shouldn't have followed your friends into that one. Even more idiotic, was your short stand against Princess Mileena, as her Tarkat affliction took control of her. The fight, if you could even call it that, ended with you gaining a black eye and an awful, ugly cut, made by Princess's knives.

You shift in your position, trying to relieve some of the discomfort. Instead, the thick fabric of your pants slides on the wound, making you wince in pain. Flexing your fingers behind your back, you try to focus on the constant throbbing in your leg. If the traditional means of escape have been taken from you, perhaps a more finessed touch would be efficient.

Blood trickles on your skin, and every fiber of your being zeros in on the feeling. Sweat forms on your forehead, as you slowly force the stream to run upwards, towards your hip, and around your back. Your fingers flex into intricate positions, a thin line of your own blood reaches your wrist.

You have never tried this trick with your magic, all your life dedicating your gift to the art of healing. Dealing with the blood of other people, stopping, pushing, extracting, those were the things you were good at. Solidifying your own plasma, so it can cut through metal cuffs, was an entirely different topic.

But you have to escape. You have to. There's no telling what will happen to you, should you remain in this prison. Surrounded by gold and jewels, like some sort of perverted spoil of war. You valued yourself too much, to allow that. And, most importantly, your friends needed help. The intel you've gathered while being stuck in this wretched place wasn't much, but it was something, which in turn was enough to keep fighting.

Breathing becomes a hassle. You've already exerted far too much of your power, trying to extract from your bleeding thigh, and your hands shake behind your back, as you visualize particles sticking together, forming something solid, something that would free you of this prison. The liquid curling around your wrist shifts, an outer layer forming around it. All you've managed to achieve, is a sort of coagulated jelly, sticking to your skin.

"Your dedication to freedom in commandable." a familiar, male voice surrounds you, and you whip around, chain jingling at the sudden movement.

There he stands, in all his glory. Your captor.

Shang Tsung stalks towards you, his hands clasped behind his back as he leans down, hair flowing past his shoulders and obscuring the two of you from the world in a thick, black curtain. He smells rich. Sandalwood and jasmine, mixed with a nauseating undertone of blood and rot, no doubt, a leftover from his laboratory. It forces you to reel your head back, to try and escape it, but your efforts are quickly destroyed, as the sorcerer closes in further.

"Your skill, however…" his dark eyes fly around your face, taking in your distressed expression with a cruel smile "Well, let's just say there's some room for improvement."

Your eyebrows crease, as he flashes you a grin, before straightening up to his full height, allowing you a moment of relief from his overpowering presence. The bloody clot you've managed to form around your wrist falls to the floor as soon as you lose focus, and silently, you mourn the feeling of blood sinking between golden coins, never to be recovered again. You couldn't even if you tried, not with the Outworld's Snake right in front of you, circling your body like a hawk ready to strike.

Suddenly, he crouches down, right beside your abused leg, your breath catching in your lungs at the sudden change. The way he moved never seized to amaze you, as much as you hated to admit it. There was grace burned into his very being, every step a slithery dance. It terrified you, rightfully so, but underneath something new was brewing. A feeling, which you could easily dismiss during the rush of fighting, was no longer satisfied with staying dormant.

There was a strange pull between the two of you, like two magnets on the opposite sides of a table. Whenever your eyes met with the Sorcerer, you could feel something buried inside your soul start to wake. It felt so foreign, yet so very familiar at the same time, like a ghost of some ancient prophecy clawing at your mind.

Once you free yourself from this hellish predicament, you'll ask Liu Kang what is going on with you. He has to know, or at least, suspect something, and you knew very well, feelings like those could not be ignored. Too much was at stake, to keep secrets out of some misguided shame. That is, if you even make it out of here, because the man beside you suddenly pushes his robe outwards, producing a small box with a practiced flare, like a magician during one of his shows.

"Do not fret, Mortal" you're not sure if the "pet" name is a thinly veiled insult, or if it's just the way the Sorcerer speaks "This is simply something to heal your leg."

Now, your confusion must be palpable, because Shang Tsung's smile widens, as he takes in your face. Then, he laughs quietly to himself, barely above a whisper, and the hairs at the back of your neck stand straight at the sound.

"I don't want anything from you" it's a pathetic effort at staying defiant, and both of you know it.

Instead of entertaining your little outburst, the Sorcerer grabs your leg with his free hand. Immediately, you start to struggle, despite the sharp pain overtaking your senses, as his grip on you tightens. Then, you let out a sharp squeak, when the man's golden claws tear into the fabric of your pants just above the wound, and dangerously close to the apex of your thighs.

The wound looks back at you, swollen and bloody, and you swallow thickly, as blood flows from your face. You could treat it, successfully as well, if only your hands weren't currently bound behind your back, with very limited moving space. Shang Tsung opens the box with delicate fingers. There is some sort of salve packed inside, a rather large indent right in the middle proving it's been used quite extensively.

His hold on you becomes less of a grip, bordering almost on a soft caress, which brings an entire wave of concerning feelings to the surface of your mind. If he notices the way your cheeks flush, he says nothing, opting instead on dipping his fingers into the salve.

"This might hurt" he warns you, although there is not a single note of concern in his voice.

"What is that? Another Tarkat experiment?" you try to mask the shaking in your voice, as the thought of being experimented on genuinely frightens you.

Your leg twitches under his fingers, and he digs in deeper, turning to face you with an unexpected, serious expression. Again, you feel short of breath, as his dark eyes bear into yours with intensity you haven't yet experienced.

"I would never..." he cuts himself off.

The word, or rather, the tone in which he says it seems to startle you both. His eyebrows furrow in an expression of annoyance, or worry, you're not entirely sure, and he turns back towards your wound, his black hair shielding his face from your gaze. Was that repulsion, hidden within his voice? Your chest suddenly feels much too tight. Was the merciless Sorcerer disgusted by the prospect of conducting his inhumane experiments on you? You weren't sure if the sentiment warmed your heart… Or terrified you to the very core of your being.

Still, all your thoughts leave your brain, as soon as Shang Tsung places his fingers on your wound. At first, a cold feeling overtakes you, pain letting go for just a split second. Then, fire. White, hot, burning ache, seeping into your wound. It feels as if it reaches your bone marrow, and with a silent scream you fall on your back, writhing on the floor. Golden coins fly from under your feet, as you kick around, the golden chain tying your hands together strains, as you pull on it with all your might. Slowly, the pain fades, some sort of tight sensation pulling at the skin of your thigh.

And one more thing.

As you come down from the initial shock of the painful treatment, your brain registers something warm and firm, rubbing circles into your flesh. It takes you another while longer to realize it's Shang Tsung's hand, resting right above the wound, claws tapping on the inside of your leg. He watches you, as your breathing starts to slow, eyes following drops of sweat falling from your forehead and mingling with tears. Your lips parted, your eyelids flutter, and you let out a long sigh, finally being able to look down on your leg.

Where the wound once was, now, a long, pink scar shines in the light of the torches strung around the chamber. Shang Tsung closes the box, before hiding it amongst the many layers of his outfit. You half expect him to stand up and leave, but your hopes are squashed once again, as the man kneels down next to you, turning his attention towards your heaving chest.

His hand comes up, towards your face, claws shining gold. You wince and close your eyes, despite your best efforts to appear strong, but the pain you've anticipated doesn't come. Instead, you feel something sharp drag itself across your forehead. You risk cracking an eye at him, face scrunching, before relaxing into an expression of utter confusion.

There he was, your captor, tormentor, your enemy, brushing flyaway hairs from your sweaty forehead. Your eyes meet, and again, feelings swirl inside your gut, some you're too scared to decipher, and some need no explanation. His lips curl into something akin to a smirk, yet his eyes remain focused on you entirely, thoughts swimming behind his irises. Then, as if some magic spell has been broken, you can see him shift into his true self, the same scheming energy overflowing him, as if a new, frightful idea has formed inside his mind.

Once again, he reaches into the pockets of his robe, this time producing a deliciously red apple. Its skin is shiny, the potent smell makes your mouth water, and suddenly you remember you haven't eaten in Gods know how many hours. With a dark chuckle, the man turns the apple, from side to side, as if he wants you to take full stock of just how sinful it looks. Then, with a simple gesture, he tips it towards your lips. Your eyes snap up at him.

"I can't eat it with my hands tied" your voice sounds rough from all the pain you've experienced before.

"Nonsense, I shall feed you" he answers, as if this was the most obvious way out of your predicament, and the heat of embarrassment mixes with anger in your gut.

"You want me to eat out of your hand like some damned pet?"

Now, he laughs, fully. His eyes crinkle at the sides, as he inclines his head towards you.

"I know full-well you're too dangerous to let roam freely" your eyes flicker towards the apple, "And after all you've been through, aren't you hungry, Mortal?"

Your teeth grind against each other, as you weight your options. Shang Tsung moves the apple again in a tantalizing manner, and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes lock onto his, giving him the best performance of defiance you could muster, and slowly, you open your mouth.

"Good girl" he croons, and for a split second you ponder, if spitting at the man was worth the consequences.

He brings the apple closer, lets it rest on your bottom lip, before giving you a patronizingly inviting smile. Swallowing your pride, your teeth sink into the fruit, and you can't stop the absolutely shameful moan from slipping out of you, as the sweetness of the apple hits your tongue. Damned be precautions, damned be your dignity, you were hungry, and that apple was delicious. So you take a bite so large, it almost reaches the stem, letting some juice flow down your chin.

Shang Tsung watches you eat with a laser focus one might imagine he reserves for his experiments, teeth catching his bottom lip.

Another bite, this one silent on your part. His eyes follow the column of your throat, when you swallow. One more, and you give him a show of looking up at his darkened expression when your teeth all but tear away from the fruit.

Your hands are shaking behind your back, a coil is forming deep within you, and you press your legs tight together, to shield the rest of your dwindling dignity from completely being torn away. He notices. Of course, he does, as your actions seem to have a similar effect on him, if his bitten lips and heavy breaths are anything to go by.

"Why go through all this trouble, Sorcerer?" you ask, licking your lips from the remnants of your meal.

His eyes follow your tongue, before looking back right into your eyes. The rest of the apple is thrown somewhere amongst the golden piles of treasure, forgotten entirely. Time seems to slow down, air becomes thick between the two of you, surrounding you like a vat of tar. The pull you've been feeling since meeting this infamous monster becomes almost too strong to ignore.

Shang Tsung raises his hand, grabbing your chin and pushing it upwards. There is a myriad of emotions running rampant on his face, until it finally settles on something so dark and wanting, your stomach tightens at the mere sight. His lips come down upon yours in an avalanche, slipping towards your chin, where he provocatively licks at your skin, tasting the apple's juices and humming to himself.

Your voice comes out as a small whimper, entire body reacting to his kiss, as you fight between pushing him away and pulling him much closer. He decides for you, coming back to claim your lips again, as his hands start to travel up the sides of your stomach, gathering your shirt in the process.

His clawed gauntlets scratch at your skin, not enough to actually hurt you, but enough to elicit a wave of shudders from your body. Finally, he pulls away, considering your swollen lips and disheveled hair as one would their newest painting. Pride and mischief mix well in his black irises, and he licks his lips slowly, making you blush impossibly red.

"You look quite beautiful, like this" he croons, tangling his free hand in the hair at the back of your neck, "So pliant under my fingers."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, poised above you with his usual smirk gracing his features. Then a thought materializes in your head, a chance at finding an escape route, if you could play your cards right.

"Untie me" you moan wantonly, arching your neck, as if to give him better access.

He launches at your exposed pulse point immediately, licking a long stripe up, before giving your skin a few delicious nips, ones that make you almost forget your half-formed plan. Almost. Gathering all your resolve, you writhe against him. His clothes are hiding a lean, but well-muscled body, and you wish so hard, you could run your hands down his chest.

"Untie me, please" you don't recognize your voice, so broken and needy.

The Snake stops his ministrations, tugging at your hair, before sliding his hand towards your shoulders, where he grabs you and pulls you even closer, so your body is leaning almost completely on his lap. His other hand makes quick work of the zipper on your trousers and worms itself into your underwear. A wave of humilation hits you, as your pink, polka-dotted panties look at you from between the fly.

"I can't risk you getting away" he whispers in your ear and takes a long whiff of your hair, humming in pleasure, "My Benefactor has made it clear, you are crucial to their plan."

That startles you. Or it would, if the Sorcerer hadn't began to delicately rub his fingers over your lower lips, just shy of entering you. It's torture, a new brand of cruel experiment, you think, as you buck your hips against him, trying to get some sort of pressure

"I would've thought you wanted me for yourself" you pant between heated kisses you're leaving on the exposed skin of is neck, "It certainly - oh - seems so."

The hand which is currently not occupied sneaks around your middle, before grabbing a handful of your right breasts.

"Would you like that?" he asks into the crown of your head, his fingers finally dipping into your opening.

It takes you several tries to form an answer in your brain, and another few to vocalize it. His thumb makes quick work of finding your bundle of nerves, and instantly starts to abuse that newly-found knowledge. You bite your lip, hard, to stop any sounds from escaping you, but the Sorcerer wouldn't have it. His mouth finds yours, and he swallows your moans of pleasure with an approving hum reverberating through his chest,

"Would you like to be kept by me? Be mine and mine alone" his lips brush against yours as he talks, and you tug mercilessly on your binds, wanting to hold onto something, anything. Him.

"I-" you can't quite finish your sentence, because the hand that's been, for the most part, playing with your breast like it's a stress ball, begins to travel further down, until it rests on the lower part of your stomach. "No."

It comes out as choked and desperate, as his fingers curl upwards inside you, hitting a spot that nearly makes you fly off the ground. He laughs, right in your ear.

"No?"

"No" you swallow, "I'm- oh fuck... I'm too good for you."

Another deliberate motion of his fingers and your toes start to curl. He might be the key to undoing the entire universe, but hell, he does know how to use his fingers. Long and elegant fingers, trained by years spent on studying ad practicing spells, made dexterous by whatever horrors he has committed in his laboratories. Fingers, which are currently pumping in and out of you with a pace set specifically to drive you insane.

"Yes" he hisses through his teeth, pressing his nose to the crown of your head, "You are too good for me, aren't you? That's why you're here, taking my fingers like you were meant for it."

Gods, his voice really isn't helping you focus. By the feeling of something hard and rather large poking you in your thigh, you guess you're not the only one getting off on the sound of his voice. A coil starts to tighten deep within you, growing tighter with every movement of his fingers, every word coming out of his filthy mouth

"Even the Fire God couldn't keep you away from me" his thumb presses down onto your clit and begins to rub it in quick circles, "He was so scared to let you go into my lair, wasn't he?"

You nod absentmindedly, thrashing in the Sorcerer's lap, as a strong shiver of pleasure wrecks your body. Experimentally, you move your backside, rubbing against his growing erection, and the man hisses into your ear, his movements faltering for a split-second.

"He was right" Shang Tsung seethes the words into your skin, before coming down to bite on your shoulder, "We will be each other's undoing."

His palm presses flat on your lower stomach, as his efforts inside your pants increase tenfold. The coil is so close to breaking, you can feel tears start to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Ladies first, sweet thing" he hums, pressing your writhing body even closer to himself, "Come undone for me."

And you do, as if compelled by some ancient magic. Your face buries itself into his robes, teeth catching on the skin of the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. And you bite, hard enough to break his skin, taste his blood on your tongue. The coil shatters, and so does your grip on the world. You let out a muffled wail, the Sorcerer pulling you even closer, engulfing you entirely in his presence, his smell. Your legs are shaking, as Shang Tsung lets you ride out your orgasm on his nimble fingers, and soon, your body becomes boneless.

He doesn't let you go for a while longer, still pressed to your body, swaying with you in some sort of perversion of intimacy. Or perhaps, as much as the thought terrifies you, there is some link building between the two of you. Something more than lust and curiosity. Then, his hand leaves your pants, coming up out of your field of vision. You catch a glimpse of his soaked fingers, and your imagination fills in, what might be happening just above your head, as an obscenely wet sound of sucking reaches your ears.

Then, like the gentleman he is, he helps you button your pants back up, straightens your shirt and ties your hair more neatly. You want to kiss him again. There is another need brewing inside you, as you watch him stand up and dust his clothes, which are now stained with gold dust in places.

Is it wrong to want more?

You want to reach up, brush your fingers through his hair, kiss him until he can't speak clearly. You wants to feel his breath quicken again, feel his pulse run wild. You want to drain his blood and feed on his power until there's nothing left.That last thought freezes you in your spot, cold shivers climbing up your body like a dead hand gripping you from beneath the earth.

Too dark, too power-hungry, and you were none of those things. You never will be.

"Beautiful" he murmurs again, watching you from above, but this moment of sentiment is cut shortly, as his head snaps towards the entrance to the chamber, expression souring instantly

Your eyes follow his, but there's nothing you can see in the darkness. A chill runs up your spine.

"Get ready, Mortal" oh, so we're back to thinly veiled insults, "My Benefactor will want to meet you soon."

With that, he turns to leave, not sparing you a second glance, and you're back to being alone. Used and left between the piles upon piles of gold surrounding you, like your part of this chamber. A pretty thing, stained gold, made to exist only when it's owner is looking at it.

You need to get out of here, before you lose your mind.

[genshinluvr]

Suitors

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Many people in Teyvat knows about your relationship with twenty-five men. Though, they disregard it and continue to try to set you up with someone they know. What happens when one of your "suitors" ends up being wanted by the Fatui?

Note: I guess this counts as a filler-ish story, not entirely sure 🤔 For those who are wondering about the new smut series poll and when it'll close, I will close it when the fic is about to be written and it's planned out. So far, the first chapter isn't planned out but I do have the top 10 so far with the most votes. I've been busy with submitting assignments for my final week of winter classes, so this fic may not have turned out how I wanted it to. 🥲 Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Would the reader drinking three glasses of champagne count as a warning?

Word Count: 9.1k

It’s a known fact that you’re dating these handsome twenty-five men of all forms of life, from humans to archons to Onis to half-animal beings, etc. You’re never alone when you’re in Teyvat. When shopping for ingredients, you’re accompanied by Thoma and sometimes another man in your relationship circle. Oftentimes, when you go to the Akademiya, Al Haitham, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Cyno are the ones walking you to school. Everyone at the Akademiya knows you’re close with the Acting Grand Sage. You like to tease Al Haitham for his title and call him by it, knowing it’ll annoy him a tiny bit when you call him by that title.

But just because you’re dating these twenty-five handsome men does not mean your relationship with these men is going to last long, according to the people that have approached you (and disregarded the men’s presence) to ask you to do a favor for them. When they ask you for a favor, you assume it’s to assist them with something! Like homework, if you’re at the Akademiya. But it’s something else you never think about.

The elderly man holds your hands and gives you a sweet smile. “You’re young, intelligent, and very social! Are you single by any chance?” He asks.

You smile at the man. “Thank you! And to answer your question, I—” 

The man cuts you off.

“Wonderful! I have a grandson who is around your age! I think you two will make a fine couple!” He says, giving your cheek a squeeze. 

Childe lets out a fake laugh, his eyes twitching while holding back from smacking the old man’s hand off your cheek. Childe turns to look at the other men, his lips pressed into a thin line, his face turning red from holding his breath. The other men were giving the elderly man a strained polite smile.

Childe grabs your bicep and pulls you to his side. “I’m sure your grandson will find someone amazing! Unfortunately, that amazing person for your grandson will not be our dear lover,” Childe says, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

Gorou nods. “Childe is right! We’re sure your grandson will find someone almost as amazing as [Y/N], but [Y/N] is not single!” Gorou says, looping his arm around yours protectively.

The old man looks at Gorou and Childe, surprised by their comment. Before the man could open his mouth to reply, Childe and Gorou whisk you away with the other men close behind. It was supposed to be a lovely day in Sumeru with your boyfriends. You all had finished lunch an hour before and were about to go cloud-watching. But this old man approaches you and your boyfriends, starting a conversation with you. 

The conversation started with him asking you about what it’s like to be in the Akademiya because you were in your Akademiya uniform! He then started talking about his grandson, telling you how the man is in his mid to late twenties and yet still doesn’t have a significant other! You joked and said maybe the grandson will find someone as magnificent as you one day, and now here you are. 

Heizou chuckles. “You’re quite the talk around Teyvat, aren’t you? I’m starting to think we should put you in disguise when we go outside the abode,” Heizou jokes.

“Aw! Trying to hide little ol’ me?” you tease, reaching toward Heizou and pinching his cheek. “What if someone asks you where I am and would assume I’m single?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Everyone stops in their tracks and thinks for a moment. You weren’t wrong. If they put you in disguise to hide you away, many people will assume you either broke up with the twenty-five men, or they’re cheating on you with someone else. Okay, so maybe putting you in disguise or going out into Teyvat without you would be a bad idea. 

Aether shoves Heizou to the side and gives you a smile. “We’re not going to do that! In fact, let’s all get necklaces of [Y/N]’s name on it, and [Y/N] will have necklaces of our names!” Aether suggests, propping his hands on his hips with a weary smile. 

You blink at Aether. “I don’t think twenty-five names would fit on a single chain. Plus, if all of you were to put your names on necklaces for me to wear, the chain is going to get tangled,” you say.

While you don’t mind wearing necklaces with their names on them, you kind of wish you never mentioned it to your precious twenty-five boyfriends. Because now there’s a huge chance these men are going to make it happen without your knowledge and have you wear it when you go out, which you don’t mind, but switching out necklaces feels like a chore.

“How else do you expect others to know you’re in a relationship with all of us?” Venti asks, gazing at you curiously. 

You scratch your cheek. “I think it’s obvious for outsiders to see I’m dating all of you,” you say, gesturing toward the twenty-five of them. “I’m not sure if you all realize it, but you’re all clingy and are not afraid to profess your love for me,” you giggle.

Xiao huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, if it’s obvious, then why do people continue to approach you and ask you to date their sons, siblings, grandsons, and cousins?” Xiao demands, frowning at you.

You purse your lips and turn away. You sort of thought it was obvious why other people wanted you to be with someone they knew. The people that approach you assume your relationship with the twenty-five men is temporary until you’re able to live on your own in Teyvat. Then again, whenever these people approach you, they would whisper it to you before talking at a normal volume.

You smile at Xiao and stroke his hair. Xiao blushes and looks away nervously, reaching for the hand that’s stroking his hair and lacing his finger with yours. Xiao is so cute! Xiao tugs you forward from Childe’s arms and wraps his arms around your waist, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulders.

You sigh and close your eyes. “I’ll explain it to you all once we get back to the abode. Do you guys want to continue to hang out in Sumeru, or do you just want to go home?” You ask, tracing the tattoos on Xiao’s biceps.

“I kind of want to explore the desert to search for scarabs, but after what happened today, I want us all to return to the abode and avoid old people,” Itto huffs dramatically and sticks his nose in the air.

You nod. “Back to the abode, it is!” You say, clapping your hands.

Having people randomly approach you and ask if you’re in a relationship is something you never expect. Mainly because people in your world never approach you and ask you that question, ever. The first time it happened was a surprise, but the more it happened, the more you grew tired of it, and so did the men.

You and your twenty-five boyfriends are sitting at a restaurant in Mondstadt, celebrating your eight-month anniversary! Yes, it has been eight months since you and the twenty-five men have been dating! Time went by faster than you expected. Here you are, dressed up and looking cute for the occasion, while the men are looking dapper in their custom-tailored suits.

Diluc leans close to you and whispers, “You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.”

You blush and smile at Diluc shyly. “Thank you, honey! You’re looking handsome yourself!” you reply.

Diluc reaches for your hand under the table and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You squeeze Diluc’s hand in return and press a quick kiss on his cheek. Diluc smiles and nuzzles the tip of his nose against your cheek. You cover your small laugh with your hand and lean against the redhead. 

The sweet moment between you and Diluc was interrupted when someone tapped your shoulder. You and Diluc turn to look in the direction of the person that tapped you on your shoulder, assuming it was Zhongli that needed to speak to you about something. But when you and Diluc turn to the right, there is a blond man standing behind your chair, looking anxious. 

You and Diluc sit properly in your seats, acting as if you two didn’t act like a high school couple just a few seconds ago. You grab the menu and point at the dish you want to order, assuming the anxious blond man is a waiter at the restaurant.

“May I have the—”

The man’s eyes widen. “Oh! No, I’m not a waiter here!” The blond man says, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head with a nervous smile.

You blink at him and close the menu, putting it back on the table. “Oh, well,” you trail off, looking at the men quizzically. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, placing your hands on your lap and giving him a polite smile.

“I noticed you from afar and couldn’t help but feel this… Connection between us!” The blond man says dramatically.

Zhongli raises his eyebrows at the blond man skeptically. “You feel a connection between you and [Y/N]?” Zhongli asks, sipping his drink without taking his eyes away from the man behind you. 

The man looks at you in awe, and a smile appears on his face for a brief moment. “[Y/N]? That’s your name?” The man asks breathlessly.

You nod in response. “That’s correct!” You answer lamely.

He gulps and tugs at his shirt collar, his pale face turning redder the more time ticks by. The conversation around you slowly dies down as the men start to direct their attention to the man behind you. Diluc did not look pleased, knowing what the man was up to.

The man exhales slowly, his cheeks almost as red as Itto’s horns. “I was wondering if perhaps after your meal with your coworkers, you would be free?” The man asks.

“Coworkers?” Thoma chokes on his drink, coughing into his elbow.

You blink at the man before you and sigh, reaching for your drink and lifting it to your lips. “I’m not free after dinner. I’m celebrating my and these men’s eight-month anniversary,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Of being coworkers?” The blond man asks dumbly.

Dainsleif snorts from across the table, covering his mouth with his hand. “You haven’t even introduced yourself to [Y/N]. What makes you think we’ll allow you to leave the restaurant with them?” Dainsleif asks, narrowing his eyes at the anxious Mondstadt man.

The blond man’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, [Y/N]! My name’s Lukas Schmidt, a native to Mondstadt and an owner of a local brewery!” Lukas says, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Oh? A brewery, you say?” Kaeya interjects, resting his elbow on the table with curiosity.

Lukas nods. “That is correct! I own a local brewery, and business has been quite busy that I wasn’t able to go out and meet someone,” Lukas sighs dramatically.

Ayato makes a face. “Interesting. Now, do tell us about this connection you supposedly feel between you and our precious [Y/N],” Ayato says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You lean back in your seat and let yourself drown out Lukas’ explanation to the twenty-five men sitting around you. Lukas assuming you and the men to be coworkers, is something you did not expect to hear. 

Quite frankly, you’re surprised that Lukas didn’t know about your large dating circle with these handsome men. Then again, Lukas did claim that his brewery business has been busy, so maybe that could be the reason? Either way, you’re wondering how you and your boyfriends even look like coworkers when you and Diluc were very cuddly just a few minutes before Lukas approached the table. 

“I don’t know how to explain it! I feel drawn to [Y/N]. It’s like there’s a string attached to the both of us, pulling me toward their direction!” Lukas says, his cheeks turning bright red as he attempts to explain this so-called connection between you and him.

Albedo turns to look at you, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. “What about you, my comet? Do you feel any connection with this man?” Albedo asks, looking at the brewery owner from the corner of his eyes.

“The only connection I’m feeling right now is between me and this mushroom pizza!” You said, reaching toward the pizza tray.

A smirk appears on Kaveh’s face as he flicks his hair off his shoulders. “You were saying?” Kaveh asks sassily.

Lukas sputters while you take a bite out from the slice of pizza, swaying in your seat as you happily chew the cheesy mushroom pizza. Al Haitham looks at Lukas with a small glare, leaning back in his seat with his arms over his chest.

“Since [Y/N] has indirectly confirmed that they do not feel any connection toward you, it's best you leave all of us alone,” Al Haitham says, closing his eyes.

A small gasp can be heard coming from Lukas. He turns to look at you, placing his hand on your bicep and giving you a pleading look. Zhongli and Diluc reach for Lukas’ arm, gripping it so tightly that they could snap his arm in half if they were to apply any more pressure.

Lukas whispers, “Please, [Y/N]. Perhaps if I explain it to you a little more clearly, you’ll understand what I’m saying!” 

You scratch your head awkwardly while holding the slice of pizza in your left hand. “Lukas, even if you explain what this connection feels like, I won’t be able to feel it. Besides, I’m in a relationship,” you say, taking another bite of your pizza.

Lukas was about to respond when Cyno stood up suddenly, walking over to Lukas. Lukas gives Cyno a weary look, slowly backing up from your seat. Tighnari sighed and rubbed his temples, unsure whether he should stop Cyno from intimidating Lukas for letting Cyno continue out of pure entertainment and as a lesson for Lukas to learn. Tighnari decides not to interfere this time, watching the scene unfold.

Cyno stands behind your seat, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s evident that [Y/N] is not interested in you, Lukas. No matter how much you try to convince them that you two are a perfect match, they’re in a relationship with all of us,” Cyno gestures to the twenty-four men sitting at the table.

“They’re dating twenty-five of you?! How is that even possible? How does the relationship even work?” Lukas exclaims, looking at everyone in disbelief.

You shrug your shoulders and reach for your drink. “I’m dating all of them, but to them, I’m dating them individually, you understand? They’re not dating each other, either. They’re only dating me,” you explain, sipping your drink.

Lukas laughs in disbelief, running his hands through his blond tresses. “So, what you are is Teyvat’s biggest whore, is what I’m hearing,” Lukas sneers.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tighnari says, slamming his hands on the table and standing up.

Scaramouche, Kazuha, and Baizhu escort Lukas out of the restaurant before Lukas can cause any more scenes. You sit there, contemplating what Lukas had called you just a few seconds ago. You poke the inside of your cheek, letting out a soft “huh.”

“All because I’m in a relationship and all because a man like him can’t handle rejection,” you comment, putting the cup on the table.

Pierro sighs and shakes his head. “Please do not take offense to his words. He is a weak-minded man who gets his feelings hurt easily,” Pierro spats, glaring at the restaurant door.

If you weren’t interested in Lukas Schmidt in the first place, his calling you a whore was a cherry on top. You wanted to burst out laughing in his face. You weren’t sure if he called you that because you were dating these men or because you rejected him. 

Either way, you weren’t surprised that Lukas went from being infatuated with you to calling you Teyvat’s biggest whore. How typical for a man of his caliber. It’s laughable and pathetic. Kazuha, Scaramouche, and Baizhu soon return to the restaurant, looking visibly irritated. Scaramouche wipes the blood in the corner of his mouth and plops down in his seat.

Scaramouche clears his throat. “I made sure that he won’t be bothering us ever again,” Scaramouche states, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Oh? How so?” You ask, looking at Scaramouche curiously.

Kazuha clears his throat. “We can’t tell you what happened, or else it’ll ruin the element of surprise,” Kazuha says, shooting you a smile.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?” Baizhu asks.

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure I should be the one to ask you three that question,” you said, eyes landing on the faint blood stains on their ironed tuxedos.

Pantalone leans back in his seat with a glass cup of wine in his hands. “They look fine to me! I’m pretty sure the blood stains on their clothes don’t belong to any of them,” Pantalone chuckles, sipping the red wine.

You and the men continue the anniversary date as usual. This time, instead of you sitting between Zhongli and Diluc, you switch seats with each man so you can sit beside every man without making them move. Though the seat changes happen every time you finish eating something, whether it’s a slice of pizza, a sweet madame, 

You didn’t mind changing seats every now and then. As long as you get to eat something, you’re not complaining. The anniversary dinner has come to an end, and you were on the brink of passing out.

“Someone ate a little bit too much,” Dottore snickers, watching Capitano scoop you in his arms and carry you bridal style out of the restaurant.

You snuggle up against Capitano’s chest. “Can you blame me?” You mumble, closing your eyes before covering your mouth with your hand and yawning. “At least I’ll get a good night's sleep when we get back to the abode,” you say.

“You didn’t eat too much, did you? Do you remember the last time you did that?” Capitano asks, not taking his eyes off what’s in front of him while carrying you in his arms.

You shake your head. “I didn’t overeat, I promise,” you reply.

The last time you ate too much food was at the Windblume festival. There were many festival-themed foods at the concession stands, and you wanted to try every food and snack the vendors offered. And what happened three hours later? Your stomach started hurting a lot, you could barely breathe, and finally, you threw it all back up for the next three hours. Since then, you have been a little bit cautious with the amount of food you ingest.

The second time someone approached you was more…. Interesting and things were offered to you. And by things being offered to you, you mean Mora. You’re at a party on the Pearl Galley with your beloved boyfriends. At first, when you and the men received the party invitation, you were a bit miffed when you saw where the party was located. The Pearl Galley is an interesting boat, and you’re not a massive fan of it. But for this party in particular, there were no prostitutes— much to your surprise, but you’re relieved.

Although despite the prostitutes not being on the boat for the party, you continue to feel uneasy about being on this particular boat. To be frank, you would rather be on the Crux than the Pearl Galley. Anyway, back to the party. It’s a black-tie party. Everyone is wearing the fanciest dresses and tuxedos they have, and everyone on the ship looks dazzling. Even with the fanciest clothing you have on, you continue to feel out of place.

“You can all roam around the boat if you’d like. I’m not forcing any of you to keep me company,” you say, sipping on the champagne.

Ayato shakes his head. “We know how you feel about this boat. We want to keep you company and make sure you’re okay,” Ayato replies.

“Besides, it's not like we’ll wander off and find a prostitute to sleep with while the party is going on,” Childe laughs.

You press your lips into a thin line and stare at Childe. Itto smacks Childe upside of his head with a glare. You take a deep breath and down the champagne. The men look at you worriedly. You’re not the type to drink any alcohol or liquor, but when you do drink it, it means something is bothering you, and you need to distract yourself.

You hold the empty champagne glass up. “Oh, my! Empty already? I’m going to get another drink,” you say, giving the men a fake smile before walking away.

The men watch you walk over to the snack and drinks table, keeping yourself distracted with food and drinks. 

Itto sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You really couldn’t keep your mouth shut on that one? Now [Y/N] is going to be overthinking and drink away their worries with champagne,” Itto says, gesturing over to where you’re standing.

“For once, Itto is correct. That comment was unnecessary, Harbinger. Even if it is a ‘joke.’ You know how they feel about the Pearl Galley,” Xiao huffs.

While the men are scolding Childe and trying not to draw attention to themselves, you’re currently taking small sips of your second champagne of the evening while snacking on cheese, ham, and crackers. It’s a simple snack at the event, but you need something to keep you occupied. Therefore you are crafting your mini snack sandwich while taking occasional sips of the champagne. You’re so occupied (thankfully) with the snacks you don’t notice an older gentleman approaching you at the snack table. The man clears his throat to grab your attention. You look up from your small plate of cracker sandwiches and blink at the man owlishly.

The older gentleman before you has salt-and-pepper hair and a beard, and he is wearing a black suit (like every other man on this ship). You couldn’t tell what region he came from for this event, but he looked too old for your taste. Wait a minute—

“Excuse me, are you perhaps [Y/N]?” Asks the older gentleman.

You nod robotically. “Yes, you’re speaking to [Y/N],” you say, taking a sip of your champagne without taking your eyes away from the man.

The man’s eyes light up. “Wonderful! May I ask you to do me a huge favor for not only myself but for my son and my family?” He asks, clasping his hands together in front of him. 

Back to where the men are all standing, Heizou notices you talking to a strange man at the snack table. You look shocked and flustered, tucking your hair behind your ears while trying to find a way to speak to the older gentleman in front of you. Heizou narrows his eyes and holds his hand up, grabbing the others' attention from scolding Childe.

“Who is that man, and why is he speaking to [Y/N]?” Heizou asks, pointing in your and the man’s direction.

Aether shrugs. “I have no idea who that man is, but he looks like an important figure,” Aether murmurs, stroking his chin while leaning against the railing of the ship.

“Should we step in?” Thoma asks nervously, watching you give the man a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

You reply something to the man before grabbing the plate, beginning to make your way toward where the men are standing. The look of panic flashes across the man’s face for a brief moment before he runs to stand in front of you, blocking your way. You stop in your tracks and stare at the man with a deep frown, your shoulders tensed, and your grip tightened on the plate and champagne glass. Your reaction reminds Gorou of a hostile kitten, back arched, fur standing up, tail puffed out, claws ready to strike.

Scaramouche clenches his jaws. “Guess we’ll have to teach someone a lesson tonight,” Scaramouche grumbles, pulling up the sleeves of his buttoned-up shirt.

“Please, [Y/N]! My family and I need you to do us this huge favor! Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to achieve our goal!” The man says, his hands twitching, getting ready to grab your wrist to prevent you from walking away from him.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in your offer.” You stated firmly.

You begin to walk around the man, only for him to grab your biceps.

“Please! You can’t just pass up on the offer! What do you want from me? I can give you whatever you want!” The man sputters.

You look at the man and tug your arm from his grasp, but he tightens his grip, leaving finger indentation on your arms. You sigh and take a deep breath. Great. Now, what are you going to do with this man? He’s very desperate for your help, and you’re not sure what else to do. You have rejected his offer prior, but his desperation is sad.

You clear your throat. “What I need you to do for me is to leave me alone, sir. I declined your offer a few minutes ago. Nothing in the world can convince me to do you that favor,” you said.

With one final tug of your arm, the man lets go, and you turn to walk away, only to almost walk into someone’s chest. You step back and see Pierro and the other men standing there, glaring at the man behind you. None of the men looked too pleased with what they had just witnessed. 

Pierro crosses his arms over his chest. “May I ask what’s going on here?” Pierro asks gruffly.

The man huffs loudly. “It is none of any of your businesses!” The man retorts, rolling his eyes.

Dainsleif glares at the older man and gestures for you to walk to him. You walk over to Dainsleif without hesitation and stand behind him while holding onto his right arm, peeking from Dainsleif’s shoulders.

“It is certainly our business when the person we love is involved,” Dainsleif states, tightening his grip on your hand.

Kaeya smirks and steps forward. “You look like a knowledgeable man. How come it’s hard for you to accept no for an answer?” Kaeya asks, raising an eyebrow at the older man in front of him.

“What did you ask them that made them react in such a way?” Kazuha asks, standing beside you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

The man looks away, refusing to answer. He sticks his nose up in the air with a loud huff of breath, crossing his arms over his chest. The men rolled their eyes before turning to look at you worriedly. You shake your head and down your second glass of champagne of the night. You don’t know how many glasses of champagne you’re going to need to drink to forget about the man’s offer.

Diluc places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I don’t think you should be drinking too much, sweetheart. Remember how you hate alcohol and how it tastes?” Diluc reminds you.

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue before answering, “I do hate the taste of alcohol, but after hearing the man’s offer, I’m going to need a couple of glasses to forget.” 

Zhongli stares at you quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing. “What did he offer to you?” Zhongli asks slowly, turning his head to the side to look at the man.

You look over at the man and gnaw on the inside of your cheek. The man stares at you, waiting for you to respond to Zhongli’s question. The way the man was looking at you is like he’s challenging you in a way. You don’t like it. It feels like he’s mocking you. You let out a slow deep breath, looking at your empty champagne glass.

“Why don’t you all keep me company at the snack table. I’m in need of another cup of champagne,” you say nonchalantly.

You walk toward the snack table, brushing past the older man after giving him a side-eye glance. The men give each other looks before following after you, making sure to bump shoulders with the man when they walk past him. Scaramouche smirks and not-so-subtlely zaps the man in his ribs, causing him to jolt and yowl in pain.

Cyno snickers and high-fives Scaramouche before tucking his hands in his slacks and walking to the table where you and the other men are standing. You shove two cracker sandwiches in your mouth and reach for a napkin and another glass of champagne. 

“Now, care to explain to us what happened between you and that old man over there?” Kaveh asks, looking over at the man from a distance.

Cyno reaches forward and wipes the crumb off the corner of your lips. “And don’t eat too fast. You’re going to choke,” Cyno mutters, shaking his head.

You swallow the cracker sandwich and wipe your lips with the napkin. “I would rather die from choking on the cracker sandwiches than take up on that old man’s offer,” you groused, sipping your third glass of champagne. 

“What did he say to you that is making you drink your third cup of champagne?” Al Haitham demands, towering over you while looking at you with concern.

You sigh loudly and place your plate and champagne on the table. “To be honest, I’m still trying to take time to process what he offered to me.” You reply, scratching your arm.

“What did he offer?” Tighnari asks wearily.

You purse your lips and debate on whether you should tell them what the man offered or if you should tell them to forget it and continue to enjoy the party on the… Pearl Galley. On second thought, perhaps you need another drink. You reach for your champagne, preparing to down your third champagne of the night, but Albedo quickly snatches it from your grasp with a head shake.

“I think you’ve had enough drinks for the night, starlight. Drinking too much isn’t good for you, and you know that,” Albedo chides. 

“Great, what am I going to drink now?” You mumble, sticking your bottom lip out.

Venti pats your shoulders and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure you can drink water! We’re worried you’re going to drink too much and have a nasty hangover the next day,” says Venti.

“Now, spill it. What did that old man say to you?” Pantalone demands, narrowing his eyes while tapping his finger on his biceps.

You sigh and lean on the table. Here goes nothing. “The man begged me to marry his son so his son can live, and be a permanent citizen, in Inazuma because his son has been studying abroad there for almost a year, and he doesn’t want to return to his home country,” you reply. 

“Marry his son?” Baizhu asks, looking at you incredulously.

Dottore shakes his head. “No, you are not going to marry that man’s son just because he refuses to return to whatever region he’s from,” Dottore states, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“Plus, you’re not even a citizen of Inazuma. What gave him the impression that you’re an Inazuma resident?” Capitano asks.

You run your fingers through your hair with a shaky laugh. “I don’t know! I told him I was not going to do it! And then….” you trailed off, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples with your fingers.

You’re starting to get a headache. You’re not sure if it’s from being on the ship for too long, if it’s the champagne, or if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the things that had happened within a few hours of you being at the party. Either way, you want to leave the Pearl Galley, return to the abode, and sleep.

“And then….?” Gorou repeats, anxious about hearing what else you’re about to say.

You open your eyes and let your hands fall at your sides. “This man is so desperate for his son to live in Inazuma that he offered to pay me twenty million Mora. Twenty million Mora just to marry his son and for their entire family to be citizens of Inazuma,” you conclude, propping your hands on your hips.

“Twenty million Mora for that? Quite frankly, I have way more than that,” Pantalone mutters, puckering his lips, taking a cracker sandwich and eating it.

Diluc shakes his head. “No matter how much Mora that old man offers you, do not take it. It’s sketchy, you’re already in a relationship, and you’re not a resident of Inazuma,” Diluc says, clenching his jaws.

You give Diluc a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it, Diluc. I shot down his offer the minute he presented it to me,” you say. 

“But he’s been persistent about it,” Ayato mutters, looking over at where the man stands with a glare.

You nod in response. “Unfortunately. The old man has been very persistent, and I don’t know what else to do! I told him no, and he won’t accept no for an answer!” You say. “I need a drink,” you muttered.

“Did he even tell you his name? If he’s willing to offer you twenty million Mora to marry his son so he and his entire family could be residents of Inazuma, then he must be an important figure in Teyvat, no?” Aether asks, stroking his chin.

You shrug in response, take the champagne glass from Albedo, and chug it. You’re starting to feel buzzed, but you don’t think three glasses of champagne is strong enough to make you forget about the offer. That and the fact you’re on the Pearl Galley. A boat where many go to sleep around and gamble their life savings away. Or something like that. 

“Do you want us to find out who his son is? We can do that for you if you’d like! After all, it’s part of our job as a Harbinger,” Childe offers, propping his arm on your shoulder. 

You sigh and wave your hand around. “I don’t really care who he or his son is. I just want to go home and go to bed,” you say.

“Yelan is going to be disappointed. She invited us all to the party and looked forward to seeing us there. Especially you,” Xiao mutters, looking at the woman from a distance.

Your hands are itching for another champagne. Archons, you just want to go home. You’ve been here for a short time, and many things have gone to shit faster than you expect them to. You didn’t even get to speak to Yelan about the party, but it looks like you’re going to have to call it a night. Plus, the longer you stay at the party, the more you’ll be drinking, and you’re not usually the type to drink alcohol.

You shove a cracker sandwich into your mouth. “If you all want to stay at the party, you can stay. I’m not forcing any of you to go home with me,” you say with your mouth full. “Plus, if any of you stay, please tell Yelan I said hello and apologize for me because of how early I left,” you added.

“We’re not going to let you return to the abode alone while you’re almost as drunk as that old geezer over there,” Thoma says, gesturing toward another party guest, tripping over his feet.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I only had three glasses,” you mutter.

You turned around and made your way toward the exit of the boat. You weren’t sure if its because the ship was on the water, but you were having a little bit of a hard time walking. You’re swaying on your feet and can barely walk in a straight line. Kazuha chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, helping you step off the Pearl Galley.

Kazuha murmurs into your ears, “I believe three is your limit in alcohol,” Kazuha murmurs.

You rest your head on Kazuha’s shoulders and close your eyes. “Not gonna lie, I kind of regret drinking three glasses of champagne,” you whisper to Kazuha.

“That’s right, [Y/N]. You should regret it! Did you learn from your mistakes now?” You hear Tighnari ask from a distance.

Oh, right. You forgot that Tighnari and Gorou have a keen sense of hearing. How could you forget about that so easily? On to Tighnari’s question: did you learn from your mistake? Well, you chugging three glasses of champagne wasn’t a mistake. You knew what you were doing, and it was not a mistake. Therefore, not really, but did you regret drinking three glasses of champagnes? Yes, because now you can kind of walk in a straight line, but with Kazuha’s help.

You wave off Tighnari’s comment, saying, “All of you can scold me when we get back to the abode.”

Fast forwarding to the next day, you woke up with a headache. While you didn’t drink too much alcohol, you certainly drank more than what you usually consume. And that is three glasses too many. You bury your face into your pillow and pray that no one knows you have a hangover. They’re going to say, “I told you so,” and basically rub it in your face while scolding you simultaneously. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door. You peek from under the pillow, hesitating on whether you should answer or you should continue to pretend that you’re still sleeping.

“We know you’re awake,” You hear Gorou say from behind the door.

You toss the pillow off your head and sit up. “How could you tell!?” You ask, staring at the closed door with shock.

The door opens, revealing Gorou, Itto, and Baizhu. Itto points at Gorou and toward the hallway.

“Gorou and Tighnari say you breathe a certain way when you’re asleep and when you’re awake. When everyone is asleep, their breaths are even and steady compared to when they’re awake,” Itto explains, walking toward your bed and plopping down beside you with a grin.

Baizhu hands you a pill and a glass cup of water. You give Baizhu a tight smile before taking the medication and glass cup from his hands. You pop the pill into your mouth and chug the water, wincing when you feel the pill get caught in your throat for a second before going down your throat when you chug as much water as you can.

Baizhu props his hands on his hips. “How are you feeling today? Do you have any pounding headaches, feel nauseous, or feel like you got hit by a mitachurl in any way?” Baizhu asks.

“I do have a headache, but it’s not as bad. I don’t feel nauseous, thankfully. Nor do I feel like I got hit by a mitachurl,” you reply, wiping your lips and putting the cup on your nightstand. 

A knock is heard on your door. You lean to the side and look at the door to see Heizou standing there with a smile. You returned the smile and waved for him to enter your room. Heizou runs his hands through his hair and waltz into your room.

Heizou clasps his hands in front of his chest. “I have news regarding the man who wouldn’t leave you alone last night,” Heizou says.

You look at Heizou with wide eyes, shocked and surprised to hear the men had identified the man from the party at the Pearl Galley the night before. Actually, you didn’t expect them to track down information about the older gentleman. I mean…. Knowing Childe and the other Harbingers, they would definitely hunt the older man down for what had happened the night before. That, and because of the twenty million Mora being offered to you just to marry his son.

“I have a feeling everyone is going to need to know about this, so I’ll get up from my bed now,” you mutter. “Oh, but let me brush my teeth first,” you say.

You quickly brushed your teeth, combed your hair, and used the toilet. Thankfully, you can feel the medicine Baizhu gave you start to kick in. You walk out of the bathroom, and Itto offers to carry you downstairs. Since you did have a hangover, you might as well let Itto carry you down the stairs to where everyone is waiting for you. Itto squats in front of you, his back facing your direction. You hop on Itto’s back and wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Itto, Gorou, Baizhu, and Heizou walk out of your room with you in tow. You bury your face into Itto’s back when you feel a faint pounding in your head. While the pain medication Baizhu gave you did help ease your headache, you can still kind of feel it. It’s there, but not as present as it was when you woke up today.

You hear Venti chirping, “Ah! There they are! And they have [Y/N] with them as well!” 

You wince and continue to press your face against Itto’s back, tightening your arms around his neck. Itto gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Zhongli sighs. “And I see they have a hangover. Luckily, I brewed some tea for you to drink while we discuss this matter,” Zhongli says.

Itto lowers you to the ground, helping you sit on the seat between Dottore and Cyno. Zhongli slides the teacup over to you. You give Zhongli a grateful smile, take the teacup and begin sipping from the ceramic cup. The tea is still warm. It’s very herbally with a hint of ginger. You’re not an avid tea drinker, but you needed to drink some tea for your hangover.

You clear your throat, wiping the small droplets of tea from the rim of the cup. “Heizou informed me that you guys have some information on this man?” You murmur.

“That we do,” Pierro nods.

Everyone goes silent after Pierro replies, making you suspicious of what they are going to say next. They all traded looks with each other as if they were debating on who would be telling you the news and who was not going to be the one to do it. It’s almost like a silent argument between twenty-five people, and you’re just watching them make weird facial expressions at each other while mouthing something.

Dottore lets out a long exhale, rolling his eyes. “Fine! I’ll do it!” Dottore says, turning in your direction before giving you a sweet smile. “[Y/N], darling, the man who has been bothering you is Boris Ivanov. He is from Snezhnaya. While his record is clean in Snezhnaya, his son, not so much,” Dottore explains.

“What’s his son’s name?” You ask anxiously.

Capitano props his leg on the ottoman in front of him. “His son’s name is Aleksei Ivanov. A few months ago, he borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland Bank in Liyue but failed to pay back the bank. He is currently on the run and is trying to seek refuge in a closed-off region. Hence why he wanted to marry you, even though you’re not a citizen of Inazuma,” Capitano says.

You did a double-take. “Hold on, you guys said that this Aleksei man borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland bank and failed to repay the Fatui. How come his father offered to pay me twenty million Mora to marry his son?” You cocked an eyebrow at the men. “I don’t know about you, but something is not adding up!” 

“Aleksei’s father refused to give his son money after getting in trouble with the law many times. While Boris can help Aleksei pay off the debt he has with the Fatui, Aleksei does not want to put that burden on his father,” Scaramouche replies, rolling his eyes.

You pursed your lips. “And yet Aleksei wants to put that burden on me? A complete stranger who is also dating a few of the members of the Fatui?” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s going to put a target on my forehead, too, you know?” You ask, poking the center of your forehead.

Kaeya chuckles and ruffles your hair. “Relax, you’re not going to get harmed,” Kaeya says, giving you a suave smile.

You stare at Kaeya blankly and turn to look at the others. “What is Kaeya implying, and why do I have a bad feeling about this?” You ask, pointing at the tanned man behind you.

“On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your acting skills?” Al Haitham asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh no, they’re up to something, and you know they won’t tell you what they’re up to until you answer their pressing questions. You pinch the bridge of your nose and down the tea that Zhongli had brewed for you. You put the ceramic teacup on the table, wishing the tea was champagne. Just when you thought you were going to finally have a break from the things that have been going on for the last few days (maybe even weeks, you lost your sense of time since the first incident).

“I don’t know? A five, maybe? What are you buffoons up to?” You ask, sitting back in your seat with your arms over your chest, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. 

“Baby, we love you, and we care about you a lot. Can you do us a huge favor?” Kaveh asks, batting his eyelashes at you.

Your eyes widen. “Baby? Oh, this must be a big deal because you’re not calling me an abyss mage this time!” You said, reaching forward and pinching Kaveh’s cheek.

Dainsleif interjects, “Technically, you’re doing a favor for the Harbingers. I’m against you doing this because it’s dangerous.”

You give the men a weary look. “What do you have in mind?”

The men give you a fake smile while the Harbingers start explaining to you what you’re tasked to do. This is your first undercover mission for the Fatui, and it’s weird and nerve-wracking. Dottore and Pantalone jokingly called you an honorary member of the Fatui, earning a heated glare from Diluc and him immediately shooting down the title. And now here you are, sitting in Komore Teahouse, waiting for Aleksei to show up to the teahouse a few days after the men devised a plan on how to capture Aleksei.

You let out a shaky sigh and start to mess with the small decorations in the teahouse. “I’m not going to be alone with Aleksei, am I? I don’t feel comfortable with being alone with him,” you confess.

Albedo squeezes your hand. “We’re not going to leave you alone in the teahouse with Aleksei. All of us will be in the teahouse but hidden from plain sight,” Albedo explains.

“You have nothing to worry about. All you need to do is talk to Aleksei and get to know him. You don’t have to do anything else after. One of the Harbingers will jump in and take it from there,” Tighnari reassures you, squeezing your shoulders. 

Cyno crosses his arms over his chest and analyzes the teahouse with disinterest. “Are you sure this is going to work? Aleksei has been on the run for who knows how long. Do you think he’s stupid enough to fall for it?” Cyno asks.

You shrug. “One way to find out is to wait and see,” you reply.

Everyone ends up leaving the main room you’re sitting in. Because Thoma is familiar with Komore Teahouse, he volunteered to play as the host of the teahouse. About fifteen minutes later, Aleksei finally shows up at the teahouse. You expected Aleksei to be on edge and constantly looking over his shoulders to see if there were any looming Harbingers in the shadows. Still, he looked relaxed and did not seem to be tensed at all. 

Aleksei sits across from you, his back facing the entrance, while sipping on his tea happily and eating the onigiri with eagerness. The way he ate the onigiri made you assume he didn’t eat anything on the way to the teahouse.

“Your father begged for me to marry you so you and your family can be citizens of Inazuma,” you said nonchalantly, tracing your fingers over the rim of the cup.

Aleksei rolls his eyes and swallows the onigiri in his mouth, wiping his mouth on the napkin. “How much did he offer you?” Aleksei asks, tapping his fingers on the table.

“What did he not offer me? I was taken aback when he almost got on his knees for me to marry you,” you reply, resting your head on your hand. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Aleksei shrugs his shoulders. “Well, what do you think? Are you going to help me and my family, or what? I… did something stupid, and now I can’t do anything to get rid of my problem.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I don’t know, Aleksei. I had many suitors in the past, and many people begged me to date or marry their son, cousin, grandson, and nephews. I’m a picky person when it comes to finding a significant other. What makes you so special out of all the candidates?” You ask, tapping your fingers on the table.

Aleksei smirks and leans forward, mimicking you by resting his head on the palm of his hands and tilting his head to the side. You look at Aleksei skeptically, waiting for him to answer your question. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, nor do you like how close he is to you. The distance between you and Aleksei seems to have gotten smaller.

Aleksei reaches across the table and places his hand over yours. “Other than my father offering you Mora, I have a few things in mind to convince you,” Aleksei winks at you, lacing his fingers with yours.

You suddenly have the urge to puke. You swallow the bile that slowly made its way up your throat and give Aleksei a fake smile. Aleksei reaches toward you and brushes your hair away from your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ears.

You look away from Aleksei and let out a sigh. “And what do you have in mind exactly, Aleksei?” You whisper.

Aleksei gets up from his seat and walks around the table, sitting beside you. You look at Aleksei with wide eyes as he closes his eyes and slowly leans forward. Right when Aleksei is about to press his lips against yours, a hand suddenly reaches out from behind the curtain and rips Aleksei away from you. You nearly let out a loud sigh of relief when Childe seizes the blond Snezhnayan man.

“Sorry to interrupt your little date, but I don’t appreciate seeing another man having the gall to kiss the love of my life,” Childe says, squeezing Aleksei’s shoulders tightly.

“Love of your life?!” Aleksei sputters, gazing at Childe in disbelief before looking at you with wide eyes. “You’re in a relationship!?” Aleksei shrieks.

You puckered your lips and looked away from Aleksei, twirling your hair around your index finger while pretending you didn’t see a thing. “Oh please, he’s one of my many other suitors. Did you forget about that already, Aleksei?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck.

“You—”

Childe rolls his eyes and signals for the other Harbingers to enter the room. Aleksei’s face turns pale with fear and realization. He begins to thrash around in Childe’s grasp, only for Childe to tighten his grip around Aleksei’s wrists.

“Aleksei, it’s been a while. Care to chat with the five of us?” Pantalone asks, raising his eyebrows at the blond man before him.

Childe drags Aleksei out of the room, the other four Harbingers circling around Aleksei to make sure he doesn’t escape. You sigh and rest your head on the table. You look over at the menu, contemplating whether you should order alcohol or not. Wait, do they offer alcohol at a teahouse?

“That went on longer than I thought,” Aether says, walking into the room with his hands in his pockets.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. Aleksei almost kissed me! He has fish breath, too,” you shuddered. “What took you guys so long to intervene!? I was suffering and nearly broke character so many times!” You throw your hands in the air.

“I’m impressed you were to stay in character for this long. You looked like you wanted to throw a teapot at his head,” Cyno commented, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“I did. Being alone with Aleksei for some time is torturous.” You mutter, getting up from your seat and stretching your arms. “What would’ve pulled this performance together would be if you all stepped into this room one by one, professing your love for me, but that would be suspicious and weird..”

“We could, but we wouldn’t do that,” Ayato says, giving you a teasing smile.

You pout and look away. “I know, can’t someone like me dream?” You grumble.

Scaramouche leans in, placing his hand behind his ear. “What was that? We didn’t hear you,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes. “I said I need a drink!” You huff, making your way toward the exit. “I need to forget Aleksei and his fish breath,” you said.

Albedo wraps his arms around your shoulders. “Did you happen to forget that you made a promise with us that you wouldn’t drink anymore?” Albedo asks.

You rest your head on Albedo’s shoulder and close your eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. I also made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t be drinking as well,” you mumbled.

You and the men return to the abode, making sure the citizens who would usually approach you in the city wouldn’t see you leave the teahouse. You’re not prepared for another proposal or matchmaking from anyone. But if anyone does dare to propose to you or beg you to marry their son, nephew, cousin, brother, etc., you will start asking the men when they will pop that question. How else will other people in Teyvat know that you and the men are committed to each other? You don’t need any other suitors at the moment. You already have twenty-five suitors and are unsure when you’ll expand your dating circle.

Note: Not gonna lie, I kind of want to make a taglist just for the new smut series, but I'm not sure if I should do it or not 🤔 Not sure how I feel about this fic overall since I typed it out while having to deal with turning in multiple assignments in one week before my spring break 🥲 Hope it's at least decent. I just know the ending is meh, but anyway, I will be keeping the poll open for Burning Desire until further notice. I'll let you all know when the polls are closed! 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!

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 10 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Graphic aftermath of domestic abuse and sadly typical post abuse love bombing

AN: Listen- see those warnings above? I fuckin mean it. If you're not in the right headspace or you need to walk away for a bit, do so. This shouldn't need stating but I will anyway, Laurence is a terrible man and his views are not that of my own.

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“Honey, I’m home!” Laurence’s voice pulled you from the darkness you had taken shelter in, beating it back with a razor wire wrapped bat. Now it was time to be awake, to perform the song and dance of a wife. The time for rest was done. 

You sat on the floor, at the foot of the stairs, though you had no memory of actually making it down them at any point. There were large black spots in your memory, almost as big as those you blinked from your vision. 

Blinking the eye that still worked, you tried to make your mind work. The cogs in your mind felt rusted, seized, as if they hadn’t turned in years, long abandoned and forgotten. 

The shadows were growing long across the floor as the day came to a close. So much time had been lost, slipping from your fingers. If you were stronger, you would have been able to hold on to the fleeting hours. You hoped Laurence wouldn’t be angry that the cleaning hadn’t been done. 

Dinner. You hadn’t started dinner, had you? You couldn’t remember. Hopefully, you had. Laurence needed to be fed. He worked hard, long hours to provide for you. It was your duty. 

His footsteps were heavy across the warm wood floors he hated so much. Anxiety grew in you with every footfall, but you couldn’t do much more than groan in protest. Standing, you willed yourself but you couldn’t. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe. 

“Oh, honey,” Laurence knelt by your side, brushing hair out from your face with a tender hand. “What are you doing down here?” 

“I couldn’t,” you croaked out the words, throat raw and dry, “get the washing done.” 

Laurence’s arms hooked under your legs and scooped behind your back. He lifted you, cradling you against his chest as he carried you to the small breakfast nook just inside your kitchen. There was a sweet smell that clung to the neck of his shirt. Floral. You liked it. Where had it come from?

“I brought you dinner,” Laurence said as he settled you onto the padded bench. “I figured you weren’t much for cooking tonight, so I treated us. It took calling in some favors but I’ve got the roast chicken from that diner you love so much.” 

The act of kind consideration touched you more than it should have. A tear rolled down your cheek, leaving a wet trail. It was always like this, after. Laurence would care, after. He was soft, after. Always after. 

You slumped in your seat as Laurence set a glass of water in front of you. He left you alone, heavy steps taking him through the house. He walked through the house as if he hadn’t been the force behind your blood splatter on the stairs. Was that abnormal? Did other wives wake loose hours or days after an argument with their husbands? That’s all that was, right? Just an argument? 

If it had been anything more than an argument, what did that mean? It was better to not think about that. Your hand trembled as you brought the water to your lips, letting the cool liquid pour down your raw throat, washing away the question as you tried to ignore the way your little finger didn’t move quite right, didn’t sit quite right. 

Laurence came back into the kitchen, humming as he carried a ceramic baking dish and set it on the counter. You could count on one hand the number of times he had dished up a meal, but you said nothing as you watched him portion roasted chicken, vegetables, and rice onto plates. 

You remembered back to the dinner you had prepared for Alastor, how the guest helped serve instead of Laurence. You tried to not think about Alastor or of how your husband had embarrassed you, letting a guest serve the meal when you hadn’t been fast enough. You blinked the thoughts away as Laurence settled into the seat next to you. 

Scooping some rice onto the fork, you tried to keep your hand steady while you brought it to your lips. Most of the rice fell off and what didn’t was pushed off by your lips as you struggled to open your mouth. Your jaw hurt. Your lips hurt. It hurt to open your mouth. 

“Honey, let me help you.” Laurence’s hand was soft as he wrapped it around yours. 

He took the fork from you and fed you like you were some small child. You watched passively as he shredded the chicken, feeding stands through lips you struggled to part. Black dots swam in front of your vision, blocking out the view of Laurence cutting the food. Would you fall over? 

You mashed what you could with your tongue, avoiding working your jaw more than you had to. Laurence helped you wash down each small bite with a bit of water. Every time you swallowed a bite, he had another ready for you, not giving you a chance to do more than gasp a breath between bites. Eating was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to sleep again. 

“You have to eat,” Laurence said, hand resting on your back as he scooted closer to you. “You need to eat so you can heal.” 

“Yes, Laurence.” It felt like you were speaking through cotton balls as you looked at him. You had to look at Laurence when you talked to him. He didn’t like it when people didn’t look at him when they spoke to him. Fear coursed through you as your eye looked into his bright blue eyes.

His hand came to rest on your face, a touch soft as the way he looked at you, brows knitted together in clear concern. For a moment, you thought his eyes were brown. Warm brown eyes and soft hair and then you blinked. No, it was just Laurence, the man who caused the damage, looking at you with pity and sorrow but not an ounce of guilt. 

“You know I’m sorry, right?” Laurence’s thumb ran over the swelling in your face. “I just, you make me so mad sometimes. I love you so much. The thought that you’d want him instead of me…” 

You said nothing. What was there to say? You didn’t forgive him, but that didn’t matter. It would do no good to tell him that when you faded in and out, it was someone else’s eyes you saw in the place of your husband’s. Another tear fell from your eyes, tracing a messy line down the swelling in your face as you wondered why your mind dared to betray you now. 

“You make me so crazy,” Laurence said, standing up from the bench after he decided you had eaten enough. “It happened because I love you.” 

Laurence disappeared into the living room again before returning. He had a bouquet, large and wrapped in colorful paper. Small blooms surrounded a wide arrangement of a dozen bright red roses, all expertly picked, arranged, and tied together, held in the hands of the man that had ruined your last floral arrangement.

“I got these for you because I love you,” Laurence said, setting them on the table in front of you. 

You picked them up mechanically, looking at them. The corners of your mouth twitched up in a mockery of a smile. It was good enough for him, though usually such a poor performance would earn you the back of his hand. 

Laurence hummed as he took the flowers, unwrapped them and put them in water. 

“Oh, honey-” Laurence rested a large hand on your shoulder. “I’ll be working late for at least the next week. The radio station liked our marketing plan so much they wanted more.”

“That’s wonderful,” you said through swollen lips. Maybe with the success Laurence would let you buy a mechanical washing tub. Having one of those would be mighty helpful right about now. 

“Do you ever tire of fetching Mimzy’s dresses?” Susan asked as she packed up yet another custom dress. She hated working on the woman’s designs. They were off fashion, unique and a proper pain in the ass. 

“Is there something bothering you, Susan?” Alastor leaned on the counter, not taking her bait. “Neighborhood boys got you in a bad mood? Want ol Al to put them in their place again? Or is there actually something on your mind?” 

The woman behind the counter huffed, shoving her brown waves back before running her hands down her face. Her elbows rested on the counter on either side of the bag. 

“Boss bothering you?” Alastor asked as he pulled Mimzy’s bag to him. 

“Not any more than usual,” Susan sighed. “Remember Mrs. Latimer? With the bloody nose?”

“How could I forget you overcharging me for a handkerchief?” Alastor leaned on the counter, arms crossed as they spoke like conspirators. 

“I charged you what the boss wants me to charge everyone.”

“Which is too much,” Alastor countered, smile growing wider.

“You could go somewhere else,” Susan snapped, “And take Mimzy with you.” 

“And miss out on your lovely face?” Alastor chuckled, “I would never. Now what’s got your mood more sour than a lemon and what’s it got to do with Mrs. Latimer?”

“She hasn’t been by to pick up her dress. It was due for pick up three days ago. Ticket’s unpaid too. Boss just loves that. He’s been down my neck about it. Sen’t out a notice, but I’m not sure what he expects me to do about it.” 

“Is that so?”

“I don’t-” Susan sighed, “I don’t talk about what I see or the things I know about people in town. But I repair a lot of torn shoulders for Mrs. Latimer. I’m worried about her.”

“Torn shoulders?” Alastor hummed. 

“Don’t ask me to explain. I won’t.” 

“Let me get her dress,” Alastor was already pulling his wallet back out. “I’ll pay the ticket and bring it to her. I’m sure she’s fine, just under the weather.” 

Alastor had stood across the street from the Latimer home long enough to be sure that the man of the house was not home. He could see that someone was moving around inside before crossing the street. He walked swiftly up the pathway to the front door and rapped his knuckles against the dark blue door.

He waited, listening to the chirping of the birds and the rumble of a car in the distance. When you failed to answer, he knocked again, harder this time. The fluttering of curtains in the window told him someone was peeking out. 

He knew it wasn’t Laurence. Unless you had gotten a pet or had guests, it was you. 

So why did you not answer the door?

“Mrs. Latimer?” Alastor calls for you, thinking twice about using your given name while on the street. “I’ve got a delivery for you. Susan sent me.” 

“Just leave it outside,” your voice muffled too much for just coming through the door, “Thank you.” 

Alastor leaned closer to the door, speaking softer, but still clearly intending for her to hear him. “You’ve not picked up your dress. Susan’s worried for you, as am I.” 

“Susan?” 

“The seamstress from Markin’s tailor?” Alastor offered, bemused that someone could not have an annoyingly close relationship with the woman regardless of if they wanted to or not. Alastor had known her since they were children and it seemed he could never shake her. “I’m not leaving until you open this door. She’ll skin me alive if I don’t tell her I laid eyes on you and verified one of her best customers is indeed safe and sound.”

“I,” you hesitated inside your home, a block of ice wrapped in cloth hanging from your hand. The swelling had gone down, but the ice soothed the pain still. “I can’t, Alastor.” 

“I’m not leaving, so you may as well open this door. I’ll stand here all day if I need to.” Alastor’s lips twitched into a wider smile as he heard the lock on the door and watched the doorknob turn. 

You peeked through the opening. “I’m fine, see? Now-” 

Alastor leaned to the side, giving himself a better view of you. You watched his face drop from the smile he seemed to wear, and you knew in that moment he had seen too much. 

“Fuck,” the word was soft, spoken under his breath and not intended for your ears, but you caught the naked truth of it. 

He saw. 

“Let me in.” His voice was little more than a tense hiss, but it lacked the threat of Laurence’s voice. Alastor didn’t wait for you to decide if you were going to allow him in, though. 

As you readied your words of protest, Alastor looked each way and shoved the door open enough for him to slip inside. The force knocked you to the side, but you had no strength to put up any sort of fight.

This was wrong, you thought as the door squeaked. Improper. You were alone with him, or you would be if he dared to close the door. It stood open, just enough for his frame to have slipped through, though someone could still see. 

He looked at you as if he was seeing someone else. A few heartbeats passed before he shut the front door behind him, sealing you off.

Alone. Laurence would kill you if he had found out, but in the haze and fog of pain, you struggled to care beyond the sharp spike of fear. It was done. 

“Did he do this to you?” Deep shadows settled on Alastor’s face. Rage, an emotion that looked wholly misplaced and yet right at home, settled over his face in place of the smile he usually wore. 

You shrugged, not brave enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Alastor reached out, fingers ghosting over the dark blue bruises over your eye, “If I had to bet, I’d say it’s likely worse than it looks.” 

“It’s fine.” You needed Alastor to leave, “I’m healing. Please, you need to go.”

“I’m helping you,” Alastor’s lips twitched up into a calm smile, “Because it is my fault, isn’t it?” 

“No! No, not at all.” 

“The flowers were too much of a risk,” Alastor did not outright say sorry, but the words were written on his face. “I’ve patched my fair share of people up.” 

Somehow, you found yourself led through your house as if you were the guest. Alastor’s hand was light against your back, only a slight pressure when you would hesitate. It was hard to hesitate for more than a few moments. The pain and fatigue stole the fight from you. 

Alastor pulled the chair from your workstation toward the center of your kitchen and lightfully pushed you to sit in it. It was surreal seeing him in your space as if it was his once again. 

With a start, you realized how improper this really was. You were alone with a man that was not your husband. What’s worse, you were alone in your home with him and your husband didn’t know. You had no intention of telling Laurence, and that made it all the worse. 

It didn’t matter if nothing happened between you. If Laurence found out Alastor was in his home without a third party to ensure things were proper, you would be branded an adulteress. He could leave you ruined in society. Your family would disown you.

“It’ll be worse if he finds out you came.” 

Alastor seemed to hear your whispered words easily as he put a kettle of water on the stove to warm, though he disregarded them. He opened drawers until he found the kitchen rags instead of responding to your protest. 

You sat quietly as you watched Alastor pick herbs from the little pots that sat in your kitchen window. He put the leaves between two layers of the rag and grabbed your heavy stone rolling pin. Leaning forward to put his weight into it, he rolled it along the cloth until there was a slight green color to the white kitchen cloth. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Something Ma taught me.” You smiled softly at his words. Though he still spoke in that irritatingly perfect transatlantic accent, he called his mother ‘Ma’. “It’ll help prevent infection in your lip.”

You wanted to ask him how he knew about patching up beaten women, why his mother needed to teach him how to prevent infection beyond washing a cut, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. He was too kind of a man to have a childhood where a harsh man’s hands left bruises and weeping wounds. 

“When do you expect him back?” Alastor asked as he dipped the folded rag into the steaming water. After squeezing the water out, he took the wrapped chunk of ice from you and re-wrapped it with the damp green tinged cloth. 

“Usually just before dinner,” you answered, “But he said he’s probably going to be working late on the extra work for the station.”

“Extra work for the station?” Alastor scoffed but didn’t elaborate. You didn’t ask, though you wanted to. It wasn’t the place of a woman to insert herself into the affairs of men. 

“I’ll be gone before he’s back. I didn’t park near either. He won’t know.” 

You wanted to trust him. There was no energy left to argue with him about it. 

Alastor took the damp rag that had been wrapped around the ice and dropped it into the kettle. He waited for a moment before fishing the rag out and ringing the water out. How it didn’t burn his hands, you did not know.

“Hold this to your eye.” He tilted your head up with a finger under your chin. The action was strangely intimate. Softly, he pressed the warm cloth against the bruised skin. “After the first two days, heat is better to treat bruises. Helps your body break it down so it’ll fade faster.” 

“I didn’t know that,” you were not sure what to say to Alastor at that moment. Instead, you slowly reached up with your other hand to take the rag from him, folding your fingers over his hand as best you could with your little finger still not working right. 

Alastor noticed your finger, sitting out at an angle from the others as your hand ghosted over his. As he let you take the rag yourself, he leaned forward to get a better look at the finger. 

Your heart beat hard in your chest as his face drew closer to yours. You could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, making them look like freshly tilled soil. He had his attention focused on your hand, but the way his hair had just a little more curl at the root, giving it more volume, captivated yours. His long lashes framed his eyes, such a normal color, and yet you couldn’t look away.

“It looks like your finger is just dislocated.” his words were soft. His breath ghosted over you, bitter coffee rich in it. “It’ll hurt, but if you don’t relocate it, it will just get worse.”

“What’s a little more pain?” You tried to sound brave, but your voice still faltered. 

Alastor nodded before rummaging through your kitchen again. He came back with twine as he fished a small folding pocketknife from his pocket. He dropped another rag into the kettle before taking both the rag and hand over your eye in his hand. 

You marveled at how much bigger his hand was than yours as he plucked the rag from your palm and tossed it into the kettle easily. He held your hand close to his face, using his fingers to feel how the bones sat under your skin. 

“Three.” He said, taking your hand in both of his. 

“Two.” He wrapped his fingers carefully around your pinky. You took a deep breath, clenching your teeth together and held it.

“One.” He pulled your finger out and toward the rest of your hand with a strong, steady pressure. 

It wasn’t slow, and for that you were thankful. Pain swirled in your head as you cried out. And then, with a pop, you could instantly feel relief. The joint throbbed, but the pain was duller now..

You didn’t realize you were swaying until Alastor’s hands on your shoulders steadied you. “Are you alright?”

“Dizzy,” was all you could say, “I’m okay.” 

Alastor nodded, dropping his hands from you but stood, watching you for a few moments longer before fishing a rag out of the hot kettle with tongs. 

“Give your lip a break from the ice,” he directed over his shoulder as he worked water out of the rag using the side of the kettle and the tongs. He clumsily folded it on the counter, pinching the steaming edges of the fabric and flipping them over. 

As he tossed the folded cloth between his hands a few times, you pulled the cloth from your lip. He folded the cloth in his hands one more time before resting it against your bruised eye again, holding it to your darkened skin until your fingers slipped under his hand. 

Then his face was once again too close to yours. Your heart pounded as he looked at your lip closer, directing your head this way and that with a few fingers under your chin. 

Never in your life had you been this close to a man who was not your father or your husband. All it would take was leaning just a little forward and your lips would be on his. Such a silly thought that was. The pain was surely getting to you. 

If someone walked in and saw him holding you like this, they would think he was about to kiss you, and that thought wasn’t so silly. Fear flooded you as your eyes ripped from his to glance at the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” Alastor whispered, “We’ve got plenty of time still.” 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked, dressing gown clutched to your chest as you held the back of your blouse up for Alastor, trying to preserve as much of your modesty as you could. 

He had insisted on checking the rest of your injuries and you don’t know why you agreed. Maybe it would make him leave sooner? Maybe it just felt better to be taken care of. While Laurence had provided a meal, flowers and water, he hadn’t provided any actual care for the injuries themselves. 

“Because no man should lay a hand on his wife.” Alastor spoke around the end of the bandage he had gripped in his teeth. “I don’t enjoy seeing it and I enjoy causing it even less. You deserve better.”

“But it’s what it is. I’m his,” Alastor only hummed at your words, passing the bandage to your side. You took it and wrapped it around your front, passing it back to him on the other side, where he pulled it tight. The pressure around your ribs was comforting, just as he promised it would be. 

You still were not sure it was worth being in such an indecent position with him. He said nothing of the yellow and green bruises you knew were on your back, healing marks from prior times you had disappointed your husband. 

“What are you doing later this week?” Alastor asked, breaking the tense silence that fell between you while he finished wrapping your ribs. “While he is working?” 

“Cleaning,” you weakly shrugged. “Cooking. Healing. Being a wife.”

“And if you took a break from that?” Alastor felt the adrenaline trickle into his system just as it did whenever he took a risk while hunting. Interesting. Unexpected. He filed that reaction away to examine later. 

“What?”

“I’ve spent all afternoon here patching you up. I was supposed to go pick up some curtains.” 

“I’m so sorry!” You sucked in a breath as he tied off the bandages. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“I know just the way!” Alastor’s voice returned to the cheer you had grown to associate with him. It had been subdued in the last few hours and you had missed it. Its absence had left you feeling tense. “Why don’t you assist me in making the selection? My home is dearly missing a woman’s touch. We can go next week, so you’ve had a chance to heal.” 

“It wouldn’t be-”

“Proper, sure it would. We’ll be in public and I can assure you that Laurence wouldn’t find out. Just you, me and the rest of the shoppers.” 

“Alright,” you chewed your lip, “If you’re sure he won’t find out… I could assist and then we’ll be even? The debt paid?” 

Next? Masterlist

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 3) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Merilia by saylilirose

"Mermaids are not real!" That's what you and Namjoon hear everywhere you go. It's funny that you're hidden in plain sight, although perhaps popping a tail in front of strangers wouldn't end well for you. That's what you've come to learn. You've also learned, to hide yourself very, very well. Until- "NO-DON'T JUMP-SHIT!" You and Namjoon are joined by others, not by choice.

🗯️ mermaids and insane drama oooh yes

Moonchild by @yoongiofmine (paid on patreon but so worth it)

Working at a coffee shop that only opened in the late hours of the night was the most exciting thing about your life, really. You never had that many friends, your love life was nonexistent, and you just couldn’t explain the feeling of not belonging that chased you no matter where you tried to find your place. It was when seven very handsome strangers came into your life that weird things started happening around you and within you. Could they be the ones to fill in what’s been missing? Or would getting involved with them and their world put you in danger?

🗯️ aaaah so good!!! so well-written, gahh plott so great, identity crisis (human or...?), werewolf drama.

My Muse by Zennnoe

I felt my lungs suddenly stop and a coldness brush onto my face, I gasped loudly clutching onto my chest. Dropping down onto my knees trying to grasp whatever air in-front of me. But I was at dance practice. So why did it feel like I was breathing underwater? I soon felt the hands of my close friends lift me up and lay me down as I try to takin in as much air as possible, for her. Soon the staff swamp me and I hear them talking about her, my other half. I soon clutched onto my stomach and I shouted loudly in so much pain, pink fluorescent patches bloom onto my skin. Yes they looked pretty. But the reason why they were there was not. As I try to reach out I grab one of my friends hands tightly and request for one thing. "My music. Pass me my music." I beg. This is the only way for me to reach her…to help her. My beloved soulmate.

My Soulmate are IDOLS by tinyeyecat

In a world where soulmates exist and people receive their soul bonds (a red string of fate, body exchange, timer tattoos…etc) when they turn 20… Wet dreams are not the norm for Amber. She should not be haunted by men she doesn't know, let alone by the world-famous boyband, Bangtan. But on the day of her birthday, Amber switches bodies with the idol on stage and finds out that the members of the boyband are her soulmates. All seven of them.

🗯️ this is one wild story... aren't all emi ree's stories so wild tho? but also well-written. (epilogue is on Patreon).

Not My Hybrids by Ghosstwriterss

When Y/n is pressured to volunteer at a hybrid rehabilitation/adoption Center, and asked to house 7 hybrids to help them become comfortable with humans and the idea of adoption, who is she to say no?

🗯️ the kind of story where mc's so freakin nice I don't think she's human. but yea it's all worth it.

One Kiss by DuraWrites

In a world where soulmate exist, where you can only know your soulmate through a dream. Confirm through a kiss and complete the bond through love-making. Han Bora just celebrated her 22nd birthday and not long she started having dreams of her soulmate. Correction. Soulmates. Already being a fan of this popular K-pop group, she immediately knew that her soul is tied to all seven of them. It was a dreadful yet thrilling thought as the realization of being the soulmate to her favourite artists hit her. But it isn't just as easy as it seems. Because she was the only one who had the dreams. So She has to prove to them she's their soulmate. And the only way to confirm that is through ONE KISS. How will an average girl find her way to that untouchable top to prove to the biggest boyband that she's their soulmate? Come along and let's dive into this crazy mess of a journey together.

🗯️ one kiss is all it takes... literally

Out of Time series by Alphathyx

🗯️ so freakin sad wtf but that is why there's an alternate ending. soo good and heart wrenching.

❶ Out of Time

A story about a girl named, Hana who has suffered a chronic condition all her life that would soon take her life one day. But with her final wish, she uses it to see BTS, but the boys decided to have more in store for her. Join Hana, and the members in a fluff filled adventure before time runs out.

❷ Out of Time: Young Forever

The alternate ending for 'Out of Time' and bonus chapters

Parfait by fullspectrumfangirl

Alpha bands are a popular entertainment schtick. Handsome, powerful, talented, they sell the fantasy of availability as much as they sell their music. After all, everyone knows a pack is incomplete if it only contains alphas. Omegas and betas dream of being a part of the balance. Unfortunately, this is more than just marketing. A band needs to function as a pack, but with only alpha members, bickering and infighting are almost unavoidable. Beta managers help, but there is another common tactic that helps the talent maintain equilibrium: house omegas, hired companions who stand in for the missing pieces. BTS is a wildly popular seven-member alpha band. They are known to be particularly kind and humble, but they are still struggling to keep house omegas for their pack. None of the prior candidates have wanted to leave, but one member has protested them all. What is the missing ingredient in their otherwise winning recipe?

🗯️ again, idk what to say but it's good! a really well-written story with great plot.

Peculiar Pack by @daydreamindollie

You’re a successful hybrid writer and psychologist, who takes in seven hybrids one stormy night after finding one of their pack stealing from your garden.

🗯️ cute T.T

Petrichor by @purpleyoonn

You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

🗯️ courting... yes please! and again, I love possessive mates.

Plump by koozip

Meeting Namjoon's close friends was something you've been anxious about since meeting him. You wanted them to like you. Starting off with a group chat seemed like the perfect way around your fears. You weren't sure how they'd feel about you in person. So when they fell in love with you and your lovely curves, you were taken by surprise. You soon realize that you're stuck with the seven handsome men for the long run. The chronicles of chubby y/n and her new smitten friends. Based around the group chat named 'chubbybear' that started it all.

🗯️ gosh this one's just warm and sweet, especially for fellow chubby girlies out there!

Rainy Days by Peanut_The_Sugar_Glider

Life had dealt you a rather crappy hand, but you kept on fighting, you kept on existing day by day. On a gloomy day however, you feel as if it all means nothing, as your beloved pet had past away and she always was there to cheer you up and enjoy the gloomy weather, making it less sad and depressing. Be it fate or otherwise, movement catches your attention outside. And your life is never the same after. You never will have to worry about being alone, and you find yourself enjoying the rainy weather.

🗯️ despite the title, this story feels like a warm hug.

Redamancy by strawberheecake

In which Yn met an unknown pack of hybrids living on a land she inherited. Feelings bloomed as the pack helped her weather the storm that is her greedy family.

🗯️ another neat and well-written story <3

Retribution by Babydoll_Blue

The Bangtan Boys were known around campus for being heart breakers, but when they made poor Seul-ki cry, Y/N and Mina decided it was time for retribution. Forming a plan to ruin their images, Y/N sets out to seduce them all.

🗯️ revenge gone wrong... or right? wtf am I typing, just read it guys.

Rose & Thorns by @minniepetals

A lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other, and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

🗯️ a dramatic and warm story. I'm such a simp for soft but strong MCs like this one.

Safe House by SweetBreadFictions

In a dystopian universe where hybrids exist, the government had turned a blind eye to the mistreatment of hybrids. These persons were used, abused and treated in the most unfair ways. To escape the evil owners, hybrids make their way to the rumored district of freedom called Area 613. To help these refugee hybrids, an underground railroad had been developed by kind people. Being sympathetic to these persons, you run a safe house stop for the hybrids during their journey. As you help these hybrids, seven of them decide that your safe house might be better that any rumored district of freedom.

🗯️ I love when the relationships develop one by one so you got attached to allll of them.

Sanctuary by @softykooky

Some people are lucky enough to be born into a family that loves them. others meet their family in a coffee shop while on the run from the korean ambassador, while they’re holding a man at gunpoint and beating him to a pulp for treason against their syndicate.

🗯️ :")👍

Seven by Worldwidehandsomeyouknow

Life is boring. Same thing, day in and day out. Nothing new or exciting ever happens. I just want something, anything to happen! Well something happens alright. Seven somethings in fact

Sheltered by Gracie30102

What Namjoon thought was trouble turned out to be a blessing as he rescued a wounded kitten who would capture his packmates hearts little by little.

🗯️ s o f t.

Soulmate to You by OT7oramI

When a vaccine leads to unexplained symptoms, the world erupts into panic. What happens when one girl finds out she is soulmates to all seven members of the largest group in the world?

🗯️ another well-written soulmate story! this synopsis doesn't give justice to this freaking good story so just read it please.

Spring Day by @nunchiimagines

Becoming a part time english teacher wasn’t exactly the ideal startup you had hoped for yourself when you first moved to Seoul, South Korea. Luckily, you loved working with children and you were grateful to have found a well paying job with housing included so soon after university. Amongst your class, however, are 5 boys who seem to be constantly ostracized not only by the rest of the students but also by the other teachers and staff members. Becoming attached to you fairly quickly, you’re unintentionally tasked to be their permanent caretaker during their stay at school, even staying past the hours you were needed until they were picked up safely. However, what you didn’t expect was to catch the hearts of their seven older brothers, the leaders of a notorious and well known mafia family in Korea.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4 | NAVI

[sidekick-hero]

My heart's desire: you

(steddie | 1.7k | mature | written for @steddie-week day 3: holding me by Warlock | AO3)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 04, Eddie Munson as Kas the Betrayer (Dungeons & Dragons), Monster Eddie Munson, Protective Eddie Munson, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug

Eddie never expected much from life, if he was honest.

Sure, once upon a time he had dreams. Big ones. Go to LA, become a rock star, leave this shithole of a town behind. Find his people, a place where he belonged. Not a freak, but someone worthy.

Deep down he didn't really believe they would come true - not for people like him - but it was nice to have them. They helped him fall asleep at night and even more to get up in the morning.

All those dreams bit the dust when he did. The dead don't dream, right?

Right.

It's just that he's not exactly dead. But he's not alive either. So what does that mean for his dreams?

He doesn't sleep anymore. Doesn't need to. Sometimes he manages to drift, his body completely still while his mind is somewhere else.

But when that happens, he's not dreaming. He just remembers.

Remembers his mama and how she used to dance around the house with him to Elvis or Roy Orbison. Blue Bayou was her favorite.

Remembers his father's pale face as he left Eddie behind, running from the law while Eddie stayed behind to take the fall, just because he couldn't let a cop bleed to death because of his father's schemes.

Remembers Wayne, his gruff voice and warm hugs. His unconditional love and unwavering support. The one person who always believed in him, who gave him a home and a family when Eddie had nothing.

Remembers practicing his songs with the boys and endless afternoons filled with music and campaigns and laughter. His own little corner of the world where he was free to be himself, loud and unapologetic.

Remembers Dustin and Mike and Lucas and Erica. Red and Buckley and Wheeler. Their fierce determination, their selflessness, their love for one another. He had been helpless but to join them, even when everything inside him screamed to run, to hide, to never look back.

Most of the time, though, he remembers Steve. Which should be weird, since they only spent a week together, him running from an angry mob, Steve helping him while also trying to save the world. Sure, he remembers the looks they shared, the touches, the pet names, and the flirting. But it was stolen time, stolen moments without real substance - the reckless abundance of someone who never expected to make it out alive.

He didn't. And yet here he stands, hidden among the trees surrounding the Harrington estate, watching Steve through the windows of his kitchen as he makes himself a sandwich.

It's not the first night he's spent like this, and it won't be the last.

Ever since he clawed his way out of the Upside Down, he's been watching over them. His friends, he thinks. They had been his friends. When he was still human. Can you still have friends when you're not alive, or are they like dreams, out of reach when your skin grows cold and your lungs stop breathing?

He doesn't know. All he knows is that when he came back different, wrong, he still had his memories. He remembers the love and affection he once had for them. That's why he watches over them, he tells himself. Because he had loved them once.

A few months ago, when the portals to the Upside Down were wide open, everyone had gathered here at Steve's, so Eddie had been there, too. Not inside the house, of course, but watching. Guarding it.

Not being alive makes him almost invincible. He has claws on his hands and fangs in his mouth. He's faster and stronger than ever. Any monster that tried to sneak up on them was killed in seconds, a few minutes at most. Soon they didn't even try anymore.

It's as if they somehow know that Eddie is the strongest predator around, and that these humans are his.

They defeated Vecna in the end, closing the gates once and for all.

And Eddie is still here. Still not alive.

Still watching over Steve, with the full moon above him and the warm late summer wind blowing through his hair. The clouds covering the moon provide enough cover for him to come closer, still hidden in the darkness as he continues to watch.

Time feels strange sometimes, but he thinks he has been watching Steve for as long as he can remember.

A lonely boy with strawberry blond hair, waiting to be picked up from preschool long after everyone else has left. A gangly teenager on his first day of middle school, looking lost and alone again. The same boy, taller now, finally filling out his form, sun-kissed skin and windswept hair. Popular, attractive, but still lonely deep inside.

The Eddie he had once been had been intrigued by Steve Harrington. The boy had been an enigma, even more so when Dustin and Lucas, and sometimes even Mike, sang his praises as if he were their greatest hero. And then he had seen again and again how badass Steve was, how brave and self-sacrificing. How much he was willing to give for the people he considered his own.

Back when his heart was still beating, it had been beating for Steve. Can you still love someone when your heart is no longer beating?

Eddie doesn't have an answer to that question. All he knows is that the sight of Steve brings a warmth he can almost feel, a flicker of something that might have been hope if he still had the capacity for it. And for now, that flicker is enough to keep him watching, night after night, hidden in the shadows.

Tonight, however, something feels different. Eddie watches as Steve steps out of the kitchen, his eyes scanning the darkness, almost as if he senses a presence. Eddie tenses, ready to retreat further into the shadows, but something holds him back.

Steve takes a few hesitant steps towards the edge of the property, his gaze unwavering. "I know you're out there," he calls softly, his voice carrying a blend of fear and determination. "I don't know who or what you are, but I know you're watching."

Eddie's breath catches—or it would have, if he still breathed. He remains still, his eyes fixed on Steve, who continues to inch closer. The moonlight breaks through the clouds, casting a silver glow over the yard, and Steve's eyes widen as they meet Eddie's.

"Eddie?" Steve whispers, disbelief and something else, something Eddie can’t place, coloring his tone. "Is that really you?"

For a moment, Eddie considers fleeing. Every fiber of his being screams at him to retreat into the safety of the shadows. To hide his monstrous self. But the look in Steve's eyes, the raw mixture of hope and sorrow, roots him to the spot. He steps forward, emerging from the shadows, his form illuminated by the moonlight. "Hello, Steve," he replies, his voice rough from disuse. "I'm... different now, so you be the judge if it's still me."

Steve stares, taking in Eddie's altered appearance—the fangs, the claws, the otherworldly aura. Yet, despite the changes, there's something unmistakably Eddie in his eyes. "How?" Steve asks, his voice breaking. "How is this possible?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I don't know. I woke up in the Upside Down after you all left, not alive but not dead either and clawed my way outta there. I've been watching over you, all of you, ever since."

Steve takes another step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively. "But… Why didn't you come to us? We thought you were gone. I - We missed you. Dustin -"

"I didn't know if you'd accept me like this," Eddie admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not the same person I was. I’m a monster now."

Steve's hand finally makes contact with Eddie's arm, and the touch sends a jolt through both of them. Eddie's skin, cold and unfeeling for so long, seems to come alive under Steve's touch. The sensation is overwhelming, flooding him with emotions he thought he'd lost. "You're still Eddie," Steve says firmly. "And that's all that matters."

For the first time since his transformation, Eddie feels something akin to hope. Maybe, just maybe, he can find a new place in this world, even in his altered state. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to watch from the shadows anymore.

As they stand there, bathed in moonlight and the warmth of newfound connection, Eddie allows himself to believe that he can still be part of something, that he can still matter. And for the first time in a long time, he feels a glimmer of peace.

But more than peace, he feels a longing, a deep-seated yearning that he can no longer ignore. The way Steve looks at him, with such trust and acceptance, stirs something inside Eddie that he thought was long dead. He realizes that he's not just watching over Steve out of a sense of duty or lost affection; he's watching because he still loves him, with a love that doesn’t need a beating heart to stay alive.

"Eddie," Steve whispers again, his voice softer now, filled with an emotion that Eddie can't quite name but feels deep in his bones. "Stay with me. Don't disappear again."

Eddie's heart, or whatever remains of it, aches at Steve's words. He wants nothing more than to stay, to be close to Steve, to feel that warmth he's been yearning for. He’s been so cold for so long. "I'll stay," Eddie promises, his voice trembling with emotion. "For as long as you'll have me."

Steve's eyes shine with unshed tears as he pulls Eddie into a hug, their bodies fitting together as if they were always meant to. In that embrace, Eddie feels more alive than he has since he died.

And so, under the silver light of the moon, Eddie and Steve stand together, holding onto each other with a love that defies the boundaries of life and death. For the first time, Eddie dares to believe in a future where he doesn't have to hide in the shadows, where he can be with the person he loves, and where he can finally find a place to belong.

As long as Steve is willing to hold him like that, he doesn't need to be alive. All he needs is to be here in Steve’s arms.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 3

Again the winner of last week's poll! There won't be a poll this week because I'm planning something a bit different. I hit 1000 followers this past week and have been wracking my brain about how to celebrate! Wasn't up for doing prompts or adding more projects to my list, though, so I didn't want to go that route.

But I did come up with something that I think everyone will really enjoy. Especially those of you who have been voting for Carry Your Heart (I see you in the tags!). So look out for that post.

In addition, I've just posted the first chapter of Arc 2 on AO3! Link below.

Story Summary: Jack and Maddie install a new ghost shield on the house which activates the moment Danny tries to step into his home. His secret is out and his parents are determined to excise the ghost from their son.

Luckily Danny isn't alone. The Young Justice, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz aren't going to leave him to suffer.

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: AO3 (incomplete); Tumblr - First, Final

Arc 3: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Fire rushing through him jolted Danny awake. His back arched as he cried out. He screwed his eyes tight, not wanting to see what torture his parents were going to come at him with next when he realized what the sound of his cry meant: the muzzle was gone.

As were the restraints. And he was lying on something soft. Trying hard not to hope, he opened his eyes.

Sam and Jazz were leaning over him, concern clear on their faces. They were in some sort of ambulance or van.

“How are you feeling,” demanded Sam.

Danny took a moment to answer, his chest was pure agony. He didn’t even want to think what it would feel like to sit up. And even past that, everything was sore. Though the fire that had woken him up had dissipated, the tell-tale feel of ecto-dejecto. “Pretty much the worst I’ve ever felt,” he answered honestly.

Sam and Jazz both winced and his sister grabbed his hand. He squeezed her fingers weakly.

At the foot of his bed stood Tim in full Red Robin getup and Kon as Superboy.

He couldn’t hold back the smile as he met Tim’s gaze. “You came,” he said.

Tim didn’t smile back, but some tension eased out of his shoulders. “I always will,” he said. “Been telling you that since we were ten years old.”

“I know. I’ve always known. Thank you.”

Jazz squeezed his hand again and he looked at her. “Red Robin and Superboy are going to take you away from here. Robin will help you recover.”

Sam nodded. “Yep. And the rest of us are gonna focus on making sure Amity is safe for ghosts once and for all.”

Danny shook his head. “I should be there with you guys, fighting.”

“Nope!” interrupted Jazz. “Not even a little. You’re going to focus on getting better, got it, Danny? That’s all we want from you.”

“But the ghosts—”

Sam covered his mouth with her hand. “Stop it right there. Tucker is working with Impulse and Wonder Girl to get the portal locked up. No one will be coming through. No one—ghost or human—will be in any danger while you’re gone. I promise.”

Danny slumped into the bed. Even the slight change in position caused waves of pain to radiate from his chest even through the healing ice he could feel implanted in his body. He whimpered and closed his eyes until the throbbing receded just a bit. “I trust you. I do, it’s just…”

“You’re used to taking care of everyone,” finished Jazz for him. “We know. So let us take care of you for a change. We love you, Danny.”

“Love you, too, Jazz. Sam.”

“Be good for bird-brain there, got it?” ordered Sam.

Danny gave her a half-smile. “Are Tim and I ever good together?”

She laughed. “Well, don’t burn down Gotham, capiche?”

“Capiche.”

“We have to go now,” said Jazz.

Danny gripped her hand tighter. “Don’t leave me.”

Jazz winced, but leaned down to kiss his forehead. “We need to make sure the Guys in White aren’t going to get involved further. And you need to get someplace safe.”

Danny huffed a half laugh. “Gotham is safe?”

Jazz rolled her eyes at his poor attempt at a joke. “For you it is. Now, I’m leaving Red and Superboy with a case full of ectoplasm for you and our entire supply of ecto-dejecto. I just gave you your first injection. Please try and eat something and drink your ectoplasm regularly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Jazz.”

Jazz sniffed and it was only then that Danny realized it was wetter than usual and her eyes were watery. He tried not to feel bad for his jokes when she replied, “Yes, it is whatever I say. Glad you agree.”

Sam cackled, and now that he was paying attention, Danny could hear the hysterical edge to it. “You’d better text us multiple times a day, ghost boy. Don’t try and lie to us, either. Kon’ll tell me the truth about your condition. And as soon as we can arrange it, we’re coming out your way for a visit.”

“Course I will, Sam. Give Tuck my best?”

“Duh. He wishes he could’ve come with us, you know.”

Danny nodded. “But he’s better with the tech stuff and that is just as time sensitive.”

“Yeah. Now, get some sleep,” Sam ordered. “You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”

Danny gave the rote answer after too many all-nighters taking care of ghost attacks before school, “I’m dead, I don’t need sleep.”

His sister squeezed his hand. “Ghosts who just went through what you did need their sleep. Love you, Danny. Get well and I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, Jazz.”

She kissed his forehead one more time, followed by Sam. And with another two rounds of farewells and love yous, he was alone with Tim and Kon.

“Thanks for coming,” he said again.

“Obviously we weren’t going to leave you there,” said Kon. “Being a lab subject isn’t fun. Especially not that kinda lab experiment.”

Danny couldn’t quite hold back the flinch at that description. It was accurate, but blunt.

Tim walked over until he was sitting by Danny’s bed. “Just listen to Jazz and get some rest. We’re going to be taking the long route to Gotham by going south to start. If we stop for food in a few hours, think you could handle a smoothie?”

Danny shrugged and bit back a yawn. “Could try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Kon moved towards the front of the vehicle as well. “Looks like it’s time for us to skedaddle. I’ll keep the road from jostling you, ghost-boy.”

Danny gave a small smile and let his eyes close. As he did, he tried to mumble his thanks and he hoped it came across.

---

The next time he woke was more gentle. Someone was tapping on his shoulder and calling his name. But even so, as he was pulled closer to awareness, the pain made itself more and more known. He tried to cling to the darkness, but the tapping wasn’t stopping, nor was the person calling him.

He blinked open his eyes to see Tim’s concerned face. He wasn’t wearing the domino anymore, or his costume. Just a sweatshirt and jeans.

“Hey, Danny,” said Tim. “I’m going to need you to try and eat a bit right now. Kon got us those smoothies I mentioned. I’ve also got yogurt if that’ll be easier for you. But the smoothie will have more nutrients.”

Danny closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to eat. Why did Tim have to bring him back to consciousness for this? He hurt and just wanted to sink back into oblivion.

The tapping on his shoulder began again. “I know, Danny. But you have to eat something. And you should take some ectoplasm, too. So just stay awake for a few minutes.”

“Mm ‘wake,” said Danny without opening his eyes. He shifted his weight, hoping to push himself up to eat, only to scream in pain as his chest protested any movement.

“Shit! Don’t move,” said Tim too late. “I’ve got a spoon here. I’ll feed it to you, okay? So just stay exactly where you are.”

Danny gripped his sheets, unable to do anything else as wave after wave of pain over took him. Tim kept up a litany of reassurances and stroked his hair. Eventually, Danny was able to think past it again.

“Don’t think I can sit up,” said Danny.

“Of course not,” agreed Tim. He held a styrofoam cup between his knees and carefully took off the lid and straw. “Just let me. Take at least a few bites. Swallow as is, don’t try and chew. Just do what you can, okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Danny and Tim fed him the first bite.

Danny hated this. Hated it so much. Here he was being spoon fed like a baby all because his parents… He shut his eyes and took the next bite. He wasn’t going to finish that thought. Tim was here and that’s what mattered.

Danny wasn’t sure how much he ate, but it couldn’t have been much. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and the pull of oblivion stronger.

“Wait, Danny. Stay awake just a little longer, okay?”

Danny groaned but forced his eyes open again.

Tim showed him a bottle of ectoplasm. “Just a few swallows of this, too. Okay?”

He didn’t want to. He’d rather just go to sleep again, but he opened his mouth obediently. By the time he finished his third spoonful, he couldn’t fight it anymore and slumped into the bed. The pain receded back into blackness for a time.

-----

Next

If you want to be notified when I update, please check out the Subscription Post!

Danny is going to be getting all the comfort throughout this. All of them will, tbh. Because no one is happy and they all need a hug or five.

Let me know what you think!

[wanderingaldecaldo]

An open letter to the Cyberpunk fandom in general, and a few people in particular

It’s time to clear the air, and I want to take responsibility where appropriate.

Before we get into the recent drama, a history lesson is in order, both for the newer people in fandom and for those who have been around and just haven’t heard things from my side. This might be long with all the linked posts, so buckle up.

I don’t talk much to people about my experiences in fandom for several reasons — first, I don’t like to talk about others with people I don’t know; gossiping with friends is one thing, but otherwise it’s an undesirable trait. Because I’m human and fallible and absolutely capable of failing to meet my own standards, I have violated that rule, and it rarely does anything good. Second, even when I do share, people don’t tend to believe me because the responsible party, PinkyDude (PKD), has been “so nice” to them. “Surely there was a misunderstanding” is the most common response. 

No, there’s been no misunderstanding. He has harassed me repeatedly, both directly and indirectly, and has deleted most of the posts he’s made or reblogged from his friends/mutuals/followers that would serve as proof of this harassment. I could dig up old screenshots that people sent or I saved myself after being told of a post’s existence, but honestly I don’t want to go through that dreck again; my mental health is worth more to me than that. Instead I’ll present in my own words what happened to me over the last three years. I have spoken publicly about him three times before now — four if you count my response to the anon, which never referenced him or his ship. All of those posts are still visible and will be linked. I told you this would be a long read, but you need the context.

I joined Tumblr in spring/early 2021, back when I only wrote fic and played on console. PKD blocked me the first time I posted my fic, as is his right. As I was new to Tumblr, I didn’t understand the Tumblr app was actually telling me I was blocked whenever I clicked on the links on Discord, so I thought it was just bad software. Spoiler: it’s still bad software (affectionate). When I found out I was blocked, I was upset; I didn’t know about RSD at the time. I sent one anon asking why he blocked people; I was just a lowly AO3 author and he was the big, popular modder, and I was baffled and very upset and should have closed the browser, to be honest. He answered and explained why he blocked people (totally valid!! I will continue to emphasize that!) and shared how blocked people could still view his blog in a number of ways. Honestly, it was too much work for me to go through all of those steps, so I moved on with my life.

Not long after, he did unblock me for a few weeks and posted how someone had shown him how to filter posts. He messaged me to tell me I was unblocked, and we exchanged a few courteous messages. I believe I asked if it would be okay if I followed him. I know he expressed concern about me feeling discomfort at his ship. I don’t remember my exact response but I said I thought they were cute. That was the whole point of me joining fandom — I want to share love for blorbos! Things were civil, as far as I knew, though based on his comments later, it seems he and I had two completely different experiences. Where I believed I was polite and tried to be respectful to someone who had established boundaries, he accused me of being spiteful and vengeful. Soon after I started taking my own VP (with Mitch) he blocked me again. He sent a message to apologize that he needed to do it, and made a vague post that was directed to me, I assume, as it was something like “Sorry I tried” or whatever, and I moved on with my life, or tried. I still saw his Mitch pics in Discord servers when people shared them, though I saw fewer that were just Mitch alone.

The first time I spoke about PKD was Fall 2021, during the “not PKD approved” debacle, where someone (a follower of his! Not my follower! I cannot stress that enough!) reblogged a gif of Val and Mitch with the tag “not PKD approved.” I shared a screenshot with friends because, uh, that’s what you do, right? That’s what anyone would do — share a screenshot of an offensive tag with friends. One of those friends, a writer who had published Mitch/V on AO3 and also received anon hate on their Mitch fics, thought it was funny and used it for their Discord status. Someone shared that status with PKD, and he made vague accusations about who started the hashtag. 

I publicly defended a person who thought they were being accused, a friend at the time, and made the only statement about him that I regret and would take back — I commented on his propensity for reblogging posts that emphasize having the right to block people. I shouldn’t have said that, it wasn’t appropriate, and I apologize. Of course everyone has the right to block people for whatever reason they want. I disagree with what I said then and retract it now. 

Back to how I was targeted... Remember that it was my post that someone tagged with another person’s name; another person who had me blocked because of their jealousy about seeing anyone else with Mitch. I never named the person who tagged my post, yet I was deemed the perpetrator. Many months later, Zwei DMed me when we shared a small server to offer the most non-apology apology ever for telling people that I started the hashtag. Thanks, Zwei! Almost makes up for the other lies you told about me!

The second time was my response to the anon I got trying to “educate” me after the Pawel stream. I never referenced PKD or his ship. We’ll come back to this more in-depth later because it’s what PKD keeps using to harass me.

The third time I spoke publicly about PKD was when Silvay (sp?) posted first on Twitter, then later Tumblr. I posted a follow up the next day. I debated not saying anything. I’m an avoidant person. I don’t like conflict. I have a loud bark and no bite. My former team members can attest to this. But when I do... I don’t make public statements I’m not willing to defend, which is why everything I have linked is still published.

I do recommend stopping to read the posts linked here, and even the other posts I reblogged at the time from other people who shared their own experiences with PKD and the fandom. As I said, I don’t make public statements I won’t defend; or at least apologize and issue a public retraction. But, if you want to stay with the present and would rather have the TL;DR: I was regularly vagued about by PKD or his friends/followers, calling me transphobic and homophobic; one accused me of corrective rape; and I got tired of it.

I thought that posting publicly might bring some closure. It was cathartic to finally get it out and stop carrying that shame, and it was reassuring to hear from people who had similar experiences. At the same time, quite a few people made their own posts along the lines of “HE WAS ALWAYS NICE TO ME”. 

Oh, but he’s always been nice to me!

Look me in the eyes. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you truly believe he would be nice to you if you shipped with Mitch. Do you really believe he would? Do you think he would “block and move on” with you, unlike how he did with me?

None of those people shipped with Mitch, or other characters that people in his clique were protective over. A few months later he made a post saying not to tag me with him, and listed off every screenname I had used since I joined fandom, including the very first tumblr name I was assigned in 2021 and kept for several months because I thought it was funny. How’s that for a dog whistle? Want PKD’s attention? Better not tag wash!! [I’m sure there’s a screenshot somewhere but again, I didn’t have the energy to find it.]

By the way, why do I know all this? If I’m blocked, I shouldn’t see anything he posts without circumventing “the system”. We are mutually blocked and I don’t spy on him, or have my friends spy on him. I always knew what was going on because people were always quick to let me know anytime he was vaguing about me. “Friends” who were really concerned about the latest thing he said about me, or thought it was just terrible how people were always attacking my ship and wanted to share that feeling with me, but they only shared those thoughts in private. Slowly I separated myself from people who felt the need to keep me updated on drama, or some of them separated themselves from me and became friends with PKD, to the point that either nothing happened for some time or I just stopped seeing it, at least until last fall.

The last time I talked about him publicly was when I wrote about Fem V Friday in Fall 2023. Through the usual chain of vague posting about vague posts, a third person wrote a vague post and cast aspersions on the origin of Fem V Friday, suggesting it was created out of jealousy. PKD helpfully weighed in about a person named “W”  starting FVF from jealousy and spite, and implied he’s seen things I’ve said about him. I’d love to know what I’ve said, the context in which it was said, and the context in which he was told about what I said. 🤷

My post in response didn’t reference the vague post that spurred its creation, nor what PKD said about me, even though PKD must know my intentions and history better than me. I wrote about my love for Fem V and what drove my continued involvement week to week.

Despite my attempts to keep to my own corner or defend my name, PKD continues to defame and harass me. He has repeatedly dragged other people into his drama, sometimes my friends, just as he did in May when he brought up my anon response again. 

It was over two years ago now that I received the anon to “educate” me on Mitch being gay. I have never believed PKD sent the anon, despite his implications, and I have certainly never told anyone that he did.

Two years ago, a coward came into my inbox on anon and tried to bully me, and instead of spending a day writing five thousand words on “death of the author” and what constitutes canon and refuting the argument that I didn’t want to have, I used that energy to write about my ship in my favorite genre (smut) and published a fic on AO3. Neither my fic nor my response on tumblr referenced Mitch being gay or PKD’s ship. Before we go further, I encourage you to watch the relevant clip from the Pawel stream. It’s only 30 seconds of your time, but those 30 seconds are what PKD and others have used to justify their harassment of me.

The transcript for anyone not inclined to watch:

PKD: Am I right to overanalyze every detail in every place like the gay romance novel in Mitch's tent? Is that intentional? Pawel: My friend, on this stream, you could have learned already that everything is intentional...

The “gay romance novel in Mitch’s tent” is 1000 Beats Per Minute, a shard found all across Night City, nay, the continent as the shard/prop can be found in such locations as All Foods just after you meet Dum Dum, the foot of V’s bed in A10, and So Mi’s Brooklyn apartment. 

The contents of the shard are worth reading, if only for recognizing that the narrator is an ungendered person named “Alex” who is experiencing love for a man for the first time. Is Alex a man or a woman or neither? Whoever they are, Alex is having a queer experience, and to insist that the shard can only be about gay men is to erase a lot of other queer experiences.

Back to my anon response, PKD once again called my response transphobic and homophobic, though I will give him credit for saying he wasn’t calling me trans/homophobic, which is an upgrade from previous posts. He claims that I used the smut that I wrote as my response because I referenced writing “the smuttiest pussy eating smut I could”. I said “pussy eating” not in relation to anything about the claim that Mitch is gay, but as response to the intentions of the anon, which were never good.

The full context of my words: 

Not entirely sure what you were trying to accomplish with this message, anon. Should I pack up my words and keyboard and go home? See if it's too late to return my gaming PC because I can't take screenshots of Mitch anymore? Whatever your goal was, you pushed me to write the smuttiest pussy eating smut I could imagine. You know who wins today? - I do, because I wrote a shitload of words in one day and finished a piece that didn't even exist 8hrs ago - people who want more Fem V/Mitch content do - my meat husband does bc damn, I wrote 1800 words of smut today - not you

PKD is claiming that my description of smut I wrote about my ship is trans/homophobic.

The description of the smut I wrote about a cis bisexual female (Val) whose pussy was eaten by her cis bisexual male partner (Mitch). 

The smut I wrote about my ship, in which no one is trans or gay. 

You cannot apply the lens of PKD’s ship and characters to my writing and call it transphobic or homophobic. That’s not how literary analysis works. That’s not how social justice works.

The truth is that PKD and his mutuals/friends used his ship and beliefs to harass me. 

If that were me and it were my beliefs being used to harass someone on anon, I would demand whoever it was to stop immediately, not only because harassing people over fictional characters is awful and wrong, but good lord, to use me as the excuse? I would be mortified! Instead, PKD and his mutuals/followers used it as evidence of my being a bad person, and after several months of that, I borrowed Silvay’s courage when he posted on Twitter, and shared my own experience.

Now that we have the full background, let’s move on to recent drama and address the Flat Chest body and the wearable pecs mod, and what part I played in the process and when. This next part is for motherherbivore. I wish you had talked to me first. I thought I’d rate high enough for a DM. 

A Brief History of The Flat Chest Body Under Curation of Wash

I reached out to Na in March about helping update the Flat Chest body. I specifically wanted to update it to dynamic to take advantage of AXL’s dynamic clothing and, more importantly to me, reduce the number of clothing overrides I had to install for Hilary; plus I wanted to add toggle feet so I could have better options for shoes. Also I had another OC I’d been kicking around in my head, Grem, that I wanted to make using the flat chest. Grem did debut recently, but he changed drastically from my original vision for him.

Sharing the news with Kitty (shared with permission)

I started working on updating the mod in April but got stuck because I didn’t understand resource patching, even though I was sure it would be easy. :hidethepain: I tried adding the feet too, but everything I did resulted in a seam at the calves. As is all too common with my ADHD, I moved onto something else after getting stuck.

As I mentioned I was interested in dynamic AXL, and wanted to update my custom tee framework for Pride. With dynamic AXL, someone could generate all colors with all logos at once! (220, do not try this at home!) I included the dynamic version of the Flat Chest mesh in the upload to Nexus, even though the Flat Chest body wasn’t ready yet, but as a goal for me to also have it done in June.

I had the UV version working in early June, before the Angel body came out. I don’t remember if we already knew about the body’s existence at that point, but the community outcry against yet another unrealistic and fetishistic body mod sustained me in updating a mod that appealed to a small subset of fandom.

The message I sent to Na the morning I got it working

I got the UV version working first, since that’s what Hilary uses, then took a look at toggle feet again. After further investigation using both UV and VTK bodies, I realized there would always be a seam because the bodies were drastically different from the current body; they were completely different meshes underneath, and the seams would never line up properly. 

At that point I decided to release the functioning dynamic version without toggle feet, as I wanted to get it out for Pride. I reached out to mhb to test, as had always been my intention. For me Sanctuary is the most iconic OC to use the Flat Chest. After some technical difficulties I figured out that she used the vanilla version, and came back a few days later with a functioning vanilla version. I released my update once I had assembled the necessary files and pics from the testers, mhb included.

Later when PKD released the refits for his pecs, someone commented that the vanilla refits worked for the Flat Chest body. That’s been my only interest in his pecs mod — because people who use the Flat Chest were interested in having more clothing options. The release of the so-called “Flat Chest Detector” meant that Flat Chest body users wouldn’t be able to use the clothing refit for his wearable pecs, because it required using his pecs, which clipped with tattoos and cyberware — as is expected because it’s not a body mod, as he himself said on the mod page.

As the representative for the Flat Chest body, I agreed when streetkid-named-desire (Rat) asked me to be involved in the conversation with Berdagon about adapting their “Flat Chest” detector to recognize the Flat Chest body. Rat drove this conversation. I don’t say this to dump responsibility on them. In fact, I visited them last weekend and we talked through the situation. I suggested to Rat that I could have urged them to slow down, but they refused to let me take that responsibility, and at the end of the day they’re right — I can only control my own actions.

I do have one regret and one opportunity where I could have acted differently: when Rat asked Berdagon about the original script, Rat very explicitly asked whether the script was commissioned by PKD, and if so, Rat stated they were willing to pay to make changes; Berdagon never answered the question, and I wish I had pushed for an answer. Perhaps that could have prevented the entire situation; we could have stopped right then. While Berdagon never mentioned payment, Rat was so excited by how quickly they implemented the requested changes that they tipped them for the work.

Berdagon, the original script writer, owed PKD the responsibility to check in before modifying something that PKD paid for. Yes, Berdagon does have responsibility here as a professional who took money for a commission. When they didn’t answer the question, I could have stopped the process and pushed for an answer. I would have stopped things immediately upon hearing the answer that the script had been commissioned by PKD. PKD could still have been outraged at Rat asking for changes, but there wouldn’t have been fandom-wide drama about a body that only a dozen people use.

That’s the responsibility I will take — I, as a professional who works with consultants and freelancers, could have taken steps to ensure that everyone was acting professionally, including the person who received money twice to work on the same script.

Because I feel the need to be thorough in my explanation, here’s a simplified timeline of the release of the Flat Chest mod compared to the wearable pecs:

Late March - I receive files from Na for Flat Chest

April - I get stuck, stop working on it

April-May - I figure out dynamic AXL and convert tee framework

June 3 - I have a working dynamic UV Flat Chest

In response to outcry over the Angel body, PKD makes a poll asking what body types people want refits for and excludes Flat Chest body as an option

In response to people commenting over why Flat Chest wasn’t included, PKD explains he won’t support the body and that he would support a different Flat Chest body if someone made it

June 10 - I share the UV version for testing with several people. Two of those people, including mhb, use vanilla. I didn’t realize that, and because I didn’t name the file `UV` it took a long time to troubleshoot why things weren’t working

PKD releases the pecs

I share vanilla for testing

I post Flat Chest 2.0 before the end of June

I didn’t use you, mhb. I asked you to test because, like I said above and on Nexus, Sanctuary is the Flat Chest character for me. I asked you to test because I make mods for my friends first and foremost, and I thought you were my friend. I thought you were my friend because we’d known each other for several years now, and because of shared experiences and conversations we’ve had. I’ve been wrong before about who is a friend, and this one stings a lot.

I’m tired. I am 30 or 40 (or 50) years old and I do not need this. I have a career and a job I love, and an amazing partner who I’ve been with for a third of my life now. I have friends and hobbies in meatspace and friends who share those hobbies, and the real truth is, if I was actually trans/homophobic, well, that number would be tiny, but it’s not. I have a life that I love and that is full of joy. Most people in fandom only know the smallest fraction of the real wash, and I do not take pleasure in being targeted in a public fandom “feud”.

PKD, I say this with all the kindness I can muster for another human being who is clearly hurting: please get help. Go to therapy or see a psychiatrist or use whatever tools you can access. This obsession you have with me and my ship is not healthy for you, and your repeated pattern of bullying has hurt me and people close to me, just as your need to rehash old fandom drama hurts the community.

[safarigirlsp]

Never Whistle in the Woods

Flip Zimmerman x OC

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Violence. Monster Action. Cryptids. Creepy things that happen in the woods. Backcountry flavor. Just a nice getaway with Flip. Those never go according to plan. I’m willing to continue this and write more if people like it!

Note: Going forward, I'm going to write characters from now on instead of Readers just because it's really annoying trying to switch back and forth for the non-fic writing I do. However, the female characters will be totally physically vague aside from having a name, so they can still easily be read as an insert by anyone who chooses to insert themselves.

Based on two requests I combined then butchered from @rynwritesstuff and @lumberjack00fantasies

AO3 Link

One of Flip’s favorite things was spending a secluded weekend out at his cabin, nestled in the forested mountains, away from the noise and mayhem of town. And away from people. Nothing cured a man’s love of humanity better than working with them. He enjoyed having a beer and a burger with his friends after work and he enjoyed taking his girl out to dinner. But he liked it a helluva lot more to take her with him into the mountains and not see or hear from another person for a couple days. Actually, it had become his favorite thing.

Knowing this, his girl, Kate, had booked him a nice getaway right up his alley. A solid week squirreled away in a truly remote cabin about as far away from humanity as he could get. It had taken a little online spelunking for her to land on the small town of Kitwanga, British Columbia, but its selling points of having a population of less than five-hundred, being a prime location for hunting and fishing, and being a true gateway to the wilderness with scarcely an outpost North between the little town and the Yukon, had sealed the deal. Besides, for the shrewd outdoorsman who wanted a less touristy experience with a friendlier populace for about a third of the money, British Columbia was a superior option to Alaska with all the same appeal.

Over-the-counter hunting licenses were available for all sorts of game that required a lottery draw or exorbitant fee in the States. Flip laughed when he read in the game regulations that it was strictly prohibited to shoot Bigfoot and that, should a sportsman encounter him, he was to be considered a protected species.

“How many big, hairy Canadians do you reckon had to get shot in the ass before they added that regulation?” He grinned at Kate, sitting with her legs curled under her on the seat of his rented truck as they bounced down the terrible excuse for a dirt road, sloshing in the mud and hitting potholes by the hundreds. Flip had twice hit his head on the bolt of the rifle secured in the headache rack above his head on the ceiling of the truck’s cab. He would have left the rifle inside their cabin, but they had been stringently warned not to take a step outside without it. Bears were a real threat and the animals here had little experience with humans, which meant little fear of them.

“Sounds like you better watch your own ass if you’re out wandering around in low light,” she teased back. “You’re big and lumbering enough to be mistaken for Bigfoot.”

“Yeah, but I’m a lot better lookin,’” he winked at her as he pulled into the only gas station in the tiny town. He filled up every day on their return in case the owner decided to take a day off. Electric pumps were a novelty that hadn’t reached this far north, it seemed. He was in a teasing mood, returning from a day of hiking and, as he put it, takin’ pictures of every goddamn thing in Canada.

“Depends on who you ask,” Kate laughed warmly. “I’ve waged a losing battle for quite a while trying to convince my friends you’re handsome. They tell me I’m blind or brainwashed.”

Five businesses in the tiny town were booming, frequented by most if not all of its citizens on a regular basis: the grocery store, post office, church, bar, and the gas station. Actually, Kitwanga boasted two bars. Flip figured this was a good insight as to the favorite pastime of the locals, especially since it doubled the churchgoers. There were no restaurants, but the bars had all the haute cuisine a man could want, so long as what he wanted was a cheeseburger or a sandwich or some chicken fried steak. However, one bar generously offered to cook anything a person brought in, provided the thing was somewhere between alive and kicking and starting to turn, and provided that gastronome paid in cash. Flip had already taken the owner and bartender up on this offer and handed over several trout he had caught that day to the owner’s wife and cook to fry for dinner. He had to admit it was some of the best fried fish he had ever had, and it paired wonderfully with the potent Moose Knuckle stout beer on tap.

The sign at the gas station read, Headed north? Need gas? It’s now or never. Two lonely gas pumps sat on a rectangle of cement on the otherwise muddy ground – the kind of pumps a person usually only saw on postcards from the fifties, with the rounded tops and numbers for cost and gallons that ticked by on a dial like an old one-armed-bandit style slot machine. A hand-scrawled sign in the window listed the hours vaguely as open from dawn ‘til dusk. An uninformed observer could easily mistake the business for being abandoned, or even condemned, a relic lingering in a ghost town. But for the metropolis of Kitwanga, it was a thriving business. There was even another vehicle at the pumps, a ’79 Ford truck with a lift and a winch on its bumper and a fat man in overalls leaning against the bed, pumping gas.

Flip stepped out of his truck and lifted the nozzle of the gas pump with a rusty squeal. He admired the view of his girl as she trotted into the gas station to forage for supplies. A brisk wind rustled his hair, tinged with chilled moisture. Above, low clouds in a grayscale palette churned in the sky. The snowy tops of the mountains were hidden inside the clouds and rain slashed across their facades in a grey haze. The rain hadn’t yet reached the foothills where the town and Flip’s rented cabin were nestled, but fog was creeping in from the base of the mountains and off a nearby river. Between the thunderclouds and the fog, it was as if the world was slowly closing in, like the vignette on a Bogart movie narrowing in on the dramatic eyes of a starlet.

Tilting his face up into the chilly air, Flip smiled. He loved rain and thunderstorms, and found peace in their chaos. Mainly, he loved holding his girl while a storm raged outside, or having a drink with her while they sat on the porch and felt the electricity in the air, and making love to her and feeling her shudder thunderously beneath him. His smile widened as he anticipated the evening ahead.

“Storm’s comin,’” the man at the pump said to Flip as he spat a string of brown tobacco into the mud. “You here for huntin’ or fishin?’”

“I’m mostly just here to take a break from everyday bullshit,” Flip replied in a friendly tone. “But I have tags for fishing and tags for bear and moose in case one happens to wander in front of me.”

“Storms are bad for fishin,’” the man said, nodding knowingly. “But they can be good for huntin.’ Storms bring the animals down from the big mountains. Moose especially like the mist and bears like to hunt in the rain when their prey can’t hear and see ‘em as good.”

“Good to know.” Flip smiled as he replaced the nozzle and turned to go inside and pay his tab.

“That your girl?” the man asked with a suggestive nod toward the gas station.

“That she is.” Flip turned to face the man, wondering if he’d end up getting in a fist fight while on vacation.

Not taking the hint, the man whistled appreciatively.

Flip decided the rube meant it as a compliment, so he simply agreed with a “Yup,” and went into the gas station. Kate had been suspiciously long inside anyway, something that nagged at the part of his mind that was always an officer on duty.

Inside the dingy little gas station, Flip saw his girl leaning against the counter engaged in an affable conversation with the attendant behind the counter, a squat older man with a heavily lined face and long silver hair in a braid hanging over his shoulder down to his gut. Flip wandered through the store, grabbing a few items that struck his fancy, some beef jerky, chips, candy bars, and other assorted junk food. At the back of the store, a menagerie of terrible taxidermy watched him with glassy eyes. Above the beverage coolers that lined the wall hung several deer and caribou and two enormous moose. A life-size grizzly bear stood on its hind feet in a corner, frozen mid-snarl, its head a solid three feet above Flip’s. He looked at its paws that were larger than his head and vicious curling claws, longer and thicker than his fingers. Facing such a beast, the gun he had in his truck now seemed very feeble. He grabbed a six-pack of stout beer bottles and an over-sized bottle of cheap wine and took his loot to the counter to pile it alongside Kate’s items.

“Have you heard about the wendigo?” Kate asked Flip when he joined her at the counter. The lilt in her voice told him she was highly amused. “My new friend was just telling me about it.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that the name of that stripper I arrested last year for blackmailing the mayor?” Flip smirked. “Wendy-Go?”

“He’s an idiot, I’m sorry,” Kate apologized to the man behind the counter, simultaneously elbowing Flip in the ribs. “Please ignore him and continue.”

The attendant gave Flip a sideways look and continued talking to Kate in a slow, backcountry drawl, “It is said the wendigo were people once, but now they are cursed. A wendigo is born during times of famine or in the harshest winter. When men are starving to death in the cold. When a man is weak, and he chooses the black path of cannibalism over death, butchering his fellows to save himself. When a man eats the flesh of another, he takes a curse upon himself. The wendigo lives in constant starvation, its body emaciated and rotting, only growing hungrier the more it eats. Its hunger can never be sated and it becomes a crazed beast with an insatiable bloodlust.”

“Is this insatiable bloodlust specific to tourists?” Flip asked sarcastically.

“Sometimes,” the man shrugged, unbothered. “It looks to punish those with greed in their hearts. Or, depending on which stories you believe, it seeks people who are like-minded to itself to build its own tribe.” He eyed Flip narrowly. “So, if a tourist is out greedily mining or wantonly slaughtering game, then yes, the wendigo will come for him.”

“Slaughtering is one of the few things I never do wantonly,” Flip deadpanned and slapped some cash down on the counter.

“You should be careful, son,” the old man told Flip seriously. “There are many ways a man can be greedy. He can be greedy for his woman and covetous of her.” Then he shrugged again. “But these are nothing more than old tales.”

“So, you don’t believe in the wendigo?” Kate asked.

“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind he’s real. I’ve seen a wendigo twice. He has antlers taller than a caribou and wider than a moose, teeth like a wolf, and only skull sockets for eyes. But they glow. It’s the glow I remember most,” the man said genuinely as he counted out change. “I just don’t know if he was once a man, or something that was never human at all. Maybe the people who first came here created a myth to explain the monster rather than created a mythical monster themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a convenient way to scare pretty, gullible girls.” Flip smirked at Kate. Then he returned his attention to the cashier. “Let me guess, there’s something that wards off the wendigo? A silver crucifix or whatever? I bet we can buy it right here.”

“Nothing wards off the wendigo,” the man scoffed. “And he is far older than your crucifix. Why would a forest god bow to a stranger on a cross? Fire can stall him, maybe even frighten him, but it can only buy you time.” He looked outside the window at the building storm. “Not good weather for making a fire if you need it.”

“Damn shame.” Flip shook his head and began collecting their provisions in his arms. There were no courtesy bags.

“We do have flares,” the man suggested innocently. “They burn in any kind of weather, even underwater. All the bush pilots carry them.”

“Probably inside their emergency monster-hunting kit alongside the stakes for vampires and silver bullets for werewolves,” Flip laughed. “Go ahead. Load us up with some flares. Consider it a tip for a good campfire story.”

“It’s always smart to be prepared,” the man agreed as he placed two bundles of six red flares apiece on the counter and rang them up. They looked like bundles of dynamite.

Kate took the flares because Flip’s arms were already overfilled. She thanked the attendant and turned to leave.

The old man grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her and causing Flip’s hackles to rise. He spoke seriously, “Don’t whistle when you’re out in the woods. Whistling will summon the wendigo. Sometimes people hear whistling too, before it comes for them.”

“And these people who hear the whistling before it gets them,” Flip said as he edged his body between Kate and the counter and nudged her toward the exit. “They walk out of the woods to tell their story, huh?”

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

Their log cabin for the week was almost an hour’s drive from the gas station. It wasn’t that far as the crow flies, but the road was serpentine with switchbacks as it climbed the foot of the mountains and made even slower by soupy mud. It was set deep in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees with trunks as thick as the truck’s bed. The sun set on their drive back. As it dipped below the mountainous horizon, the landscape glowed a shade of hazy purple only seen in the alpine. The clouds were the color of gunpowder and the rainy vapor was periwinkle. The spruce turned into an army of nearly black silhouettes with a light mist writhing among them as moisture rose from the damp ground as well as drizzled gently from the sky. The drifting mist made everything look as though it were moving. It gave the illusion of eldritch shapes in the trees creeping along the edges of vision and tree limbs grasping like clawed fingers as they swayed in the breeze.

Flip hit the brakes suddenly, slamming Kate forward in her seat and knocking her out of the reverie the gloaming forest had cast over her. A black shape froze in the muddy road a few yards ahead of them. Its eyes sparked cold white in the headlights and the fur on its back was raised aggressively.

“A wolf!” Flip said excitedly. “I’ve never seen one this close.”

The huge animal was coal black, its amber eyes reflecting white in the headlights in the way wolves eyes do. It stood frozen, staring down the vehicle, acting like the truck was a new creature intruding into the wolf’s territory. Something was wrong with its silhouette. Something with its mouth. It took several seconds for Kate to realize what it was. The wolf turned its head uncertainly, deciding whether it should continue on its way across the road or turn around from the metal beast with offense headlights. A dead rabbit dangled from its jaws, its legs swinging lifelessly and ears flopping limply. Its lifeless eyes glinted a dull red.

The simple reminder of nature’s brutality unnerved Kate unexpectedly and her hands felt suddenly cold. She gripped Flip’s hand, digging her nails into his palm with irrational harshness.

“Nature, red in tooth and claw,” he teased and grinned at her, but he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Some redneck at the gas station told me that predators liked to hunt in the rain. Guess he was right.”

Night had veiled the forest with its velvety black cloak by the time they parked next to the porch of their cabin. It was silent enough to hear all the noises of the forest, from the chattering birds to the subtle rustling of deer browsing in the brush to moisture pattering lightly on the ground. A great horned owl as large as a man’s torso sat perched in a tree branch hanging near the roof of the cabin, its yellow eyes glittering like moonlight as it hooted an eerie cadence. It followed them with its yellow eyes as they unloaded the truck and carried their loot inside, its head turned almost fully backward like a creature possessed.

There was no light pollution and on a clear night, the moon and stars lit the forest bright enough to see easily. On a rainy night, moisture in the air brought out all the smells of the forest, the crisp spruce, the earthy soil, the embers in the fireplace. The cabin had no electric lines and was powered by a temperamental generator and a wood stove. A woodpile was stacked against the back of the cabin, complete with a large timber axe embedded in a nearby stump. Cell service was laughable. Flip loved everything about all of that. He was pleased it had running water, however, mainly because it would have greatly impacted his sex life if it didn’t.

Flip grilled steaks outside that night before the rain hit and they had dinner on the porch, counting lightning bolts. Then they tangled around each other in front of the fireplace, making love as the flames crackled and danced and the thunder rolled. Between dinner and fooling around several times, they finished the bottle of wine and opened another. Night fell early this far north in the autumn and the nights were long. The cabin was equipped with a tv, but it was one of those terrible old boxy things with a tiny screen and antennas. The antennas were only for show since there was no service. Instead, there was a vcr and a selection of campy nineties movies and some even campier porn. It seemed to defeat the purpose of being there to even bother with the tv. They hadn’t turned it on once.

“I’m wide awake,” Kate mused, propped up on Flip’s bare chest, looking down at him. “Let’s do something.”

“I have plenty of ideas,” Flip said huskily. “They’re all sure to wear you out.”

“We’ve tried your ideas. Several times. And I’m still far from worn out.” She smiled. “We’re here in a cabin, basically having a sleepover. Let’s play some sleepover games, the kind you play as idiot teenagers or in sororities in college.”

“I think girls have a lot wilder sleepovers than boys. And my experience with sororities is limited to sneaking in and out of them, so you’ll have to be more specific.” He ran his fingertips along her spine and kissed her throat, doing his best to interest her in another round.

“Later, you animal,” she laughed and shoved his face away while pushing herself up and off him. “You know what I mean. Sleepover games. Like Bloody Mary, or playing a Ouija Board, or the Midnight Game.”

“Packed a Ouija Board, did you?” he teased. “That would explain why your suitcase weighs fifty fuckin’ pounds.”

“I don’t think ghosts care whether or not you use a name brand.” She pinched his chest, making him flinch.

“What ghosts are you gonna find out here?” He squinted as he rubbed his chest. “The Donner Party?”

“Don’t you think they’d be fun to talk to? We can try Bloody Mary. I don’t think she has a centralized location,” she teased and pulled on her discarded pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. She threw Flip’s grey sweatpants at him. “Put that thing away or it might scare off the ghosts.”

Flip grumbled more protests under his breath, but he dressed in his sweats and a thermal henley. “How about we each stand in front of the bathroom mirror with the lights off. I’ll ask for Candyman. You ask for Bloody Mary. And we’ll have a Celebrity Death Match between vengeful ghosts?”

“You know the ghosts always get the cynics and the cocky shitheads first, right?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a faux reprimand.

“Is that a rule?” Flip grinned. “I think the ghosts go for the morally corrupt woman who can’t keep her legs closed first. You’re in trouble, sugar.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said with finality.

“How about we play a fun game, like spin the bottle or truth or dare?” He winked at her. “I always pick dare. Do your worst.”

“I can’t imagine where a game of truth or dare with you would lead.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

Flip puffed his chest and stepped closer to her until their bodies were almost touching. “I have a better idea. You have some pretty big balls for a pretty little girl. Let’s see how big they really are.”

“Oh my god, Flip, if this is another ploy to explore that region further…” she laughed.

“Everything I do is some kinda means to that end.” He smirked. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, let’s go outside and whistle at the wendigo. There should be some of those sonsabitches around these parts.”

Flip went to the door and stepped into his muddy boots. He leaned against the doorframe, casually cocky, and raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge. “How ‘bout it, hot stuff?”

“I think we’d be better off trying to summon Bloody Mary than a wendigo,” Kate said hesitantly. “Plus, it will be cold out there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he teased. “How do you figure that trying to summon a ghost through our bathroom mirror would be safer than trying to call in a wendigo? At least a wendigo will stay outside. Besides, I know how psycho you’d get if I let another woman into our bedroom. Dead or alive. Don’t try to set me up, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kate pulled her coat on and slipped her phone into its pocket, feeling the bundle of flares she had absently pocketed at the gas station. There was no service, but its flashlight might come in handy outside. Grinning, Flip picked up the rifle that was leaning against the doorframe and slung it over his shoulder. Cocky though he was, he took the advice serious about the threat of bears and always having a gun on him out here in the wilderness. He held the door open for Kate and ushered her outside.

The air was thick with humidity but the rain had stopped for the moment, leaving the moisture on the air to chill their skin and turn their breath into ghostly thick fog. The porch was covered in slushy frost as bright as diamonds. Their boot prints left skeletal black outlines on the otherwise pristine frosty canvas as they descended the steps and walked into the forest that awaited them only yards away.

Flip offered Kate his arm and led her into the trees. The old growth forest felt like being inside a fairytale, surrounded by enormous tree trunks and relatively open ground at their bases. The roots of those great trees were so thirsty, they leeched most of the nutrients and left little for brush and scrub to encroach. After the rain, the ground was muddy and slick, with frost growing denser by the minute as the temperature dropped through the night.

Filling his lungs, Flip began whistling a terribly off-key tune as he walked through the woods. His casual swagger was the same as if he were taking his girl out for a stroll in the park. Kate winced when he struck a particularly loathsome note, and squinted her eyes at him, “What in the hell are you whistling?”

“Season of the Witch,” he replied, acting offended. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I like the song, I don’t appreciate what you’re doing to it,” she laughed. “We’re not going to find any wendigo if you scare them all off with that horrendous noise.”

“I don’t hear you doing any better,” he scoffed.

Mainly in an attempt to save her ears from his screeching, Kate started whistling. She teased Flip first with her best wolf whistle. Smells were heightened in the damp air but sounds were muffled. In the silence of the forest, the whistle sounded unnaturally loud. Now that Flip wasn’t making noise himself, he found himself focusing more on his surroundings. He didn’t feel right, something he couldn’t put his finger on tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn’t just that noises were muffled by the dampness in the air, but something else that he found indefinable in that moment. He told himself it was just the product of being in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar vegetation that he found unsettling. The size of trees still seemed monstrous to him, and the smell of spruce instead of the familiar smell of pine must have been unsettling to his subconscious. And it probably didn’t help that he had cultivated a little buzz drinking wine for the past few hours.

A light gust of wind blew into his face and all of his senses sparked with alarm. He froze in place, seizing Kate’s arm to silence her whistling. The unmistakable scent of a wet animal hit his nose with the force of a slap in the face. Quickly evaluating his surroundings, he unslung the rifle from his shoulder and held it across his chest in high port. It would take him less than a second to aim and fire. But the forest was close around them, visibility limited to fifteen feet or so in any direction. If the animal was a predator, a bear or a mountain lion, it could cover that distance in less than a heartbeat if it wanted. He could still see the faint glow of the cabin’s lights. They hadn’t gone far, but there was no chance of outrunning an animal back to safety.

A heavy footfall sounded inside the trees ahead of them, muffled on the wet ground but distinctive. Straining his ears, Flip thought he heard a branch being brushed aside by something passing by it. Whatever it was, it was very close ahead of them. Flip’s thoughts raced, less cohesive and more a rush of images of nightmare scenarios that he weighed in an instant. He could hide himself and Kate behind one of the huge tree trunks and hope the animal passed them by. But whatever it was had to already know of their presence. If his feeble senses could hear and smell the animal, it had no doubt smelled and heard him much sooner. In that case, he decided it was best to hold his ground and meet whatever it was head on, straight down the barrel of his rifle. That would give them the best chance. Flip would have to make his shot count, and he’d probably only get one, but it was a decent chance.

Stepping in front of Kate, Flip raised his rifle to his shoulder. He kept both eyes open, not limiting his focus to only what was past the end of his barrel, but trying to expand his senses to the full spectrum of forest in front of him. He heard a heavy breath, something panting. Closer now. Flip clicked off the safety and tightened his finger on the trigger. The hardest skill for a hunter to learn, especially when hunting game that hunted him back, is to wait long enough for a good shot but not so long as to let it get him. He wouldn’t waste his shot until he saw his target clearly and could be sure of putting the bullet where it would matter most. His hold on the gun was rock steady, his breath stalled, his eyes unblinking.

The panting grew in volume until it seemed to drum in his ears. Odd for a stalking predator. Before Flip could reconcile that, a bear burst from the trees only feet in front of him. A huge grizzly bear lumbering toward him on all fours, the top of its humped shoulders taller than Flip’s head. His finger tensed, less than a millimeter of movement was required to fire. But something was off with the bear. It was panting heavily, saliva dripping from its open mouth and fog snorting in bursts from its wet nose. The bear stopped short at the sight of the man with a gun right in front of it, clearly surprised, very unlike a predator who had been stalking the man. Flip hesitated. If he didn’t kill the bear immediately with one shot – drop it right in its tracks – it would maul them both before it died. If the bear wasn’t hunting him, it was a foolish risk to take. Grizzlies were not commonly hunting predators; they were scavengers and fishers. Most people who were mauled by grizzlies had either gotten between a mother and her cubs or a bear and its food, or they had startled it like waking a grumpy old man.

Sniffing the air, the bear looked at Flip. He was so close he could see the small particles of moisture the bear blew out of its nose along with steam when it snorted. The bear’s little round ears flicked, one turning backward to listen behind it. The bear’s eyes were wide, showing white, in a nervous gesture that was common to both man and beast. The bear looked back over its shoulder and then broke into a gallop. Flip’s rational mind told him to shoot, but his instinct prevented him. The bear altered course enough to avoid running straight into Flip. It paid him no further mind at all, instead running right by him. Flip followed it with the barrel of his rifle as it passed by him so close that a string of white saliva landed on the rifle’s blue-black barrel.

Turning around about face, Flip followed the bear with his sights until it was well past them and showed no signs of turning back around. He looked back toward the place the bear had come from, still holding the rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t look at Kate when he told her, “Walk back to the cabin. Don’t run, but go now.”

“You want me to follow the bear?” she hissed. “He ran toward the cabin. I don’t want to get near him again.”

“Follow the bear,” Flip gritted. “If a bear’s runnin’ from something, we’d best do the same. He didn’t care about us anyway. Now, move.”

Uncertainly, Kate turned and retreated toward the cabin. They hadn’t gone that far, after all. Flip backed after her, keeping his rifle aimed into the black forest from which the bear had run. A shrill scream splintered the silence, starker than a bolt of lightning. Kate shuddered and Flip ducked, hunching his shoulders like he had taken a punch. The scream shrilled for several seconds, wavering on a blood-curdling note before trailing away. It echoed around them, seeming to float on the mist.

“That’s just an elk bugling,” Flip said, trying to calm Kate. Maybe it was in fact an elk, a sickly, ravenous elk. “Keep moving, slowly.”

“I’ve never heard an elk that sounded like that.” Kate shivered against more than the chilled air. “This is starting to scare the hell out of me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off of it when we get back,” Flip tried to joke but he couldn’t muster the required lewdness, his mouth was too dry.

The howling scream burst again through the forest. It was something like an elk bugle, but more howling and rasping, with a sort of growling mingled in at the end as it trailed away. It was closer now. Flip felt as much as heard it reverberate inside his skull.

“Whatever that is, it’s not an elk.” Kate had her arms wrapped around her body, trying to prevent herself from being overtaken by tremors.

“Sure, it is,” Flip lied. “They probably just grow ‘em bigger up here.”

Kate blew out a shuddering breath, fighting to keep her steps slow and steady.

“Pick up the pace a little, darlin,’” Flip rasped.

“You said not to run,” Kate hissed.

“I didn’t say to crawl either!” Flip gritted. “This is one hell of a time for you to start listening to me.”

Instead of moving faster, Kate stopped short. So suddenly, Flip bumped into her as he walked backward. A branch snapped somewhere inside the forest. It was strangely loud. Flip realized then that the snap only sounded harsh because the forest had gone utterly silent. The hundreds of small noises from birds and insects were gone. Even the drops of water falling from tree branches seemed to have stopped. The forest felt like a living thing around them, possessed of a presence all its own. Now that presence was altered into something darker and ominous.

“What the hell are you doing?” Flip’s voice had dropped to a whisper without his conscious approval. “I said keep moving. We’re not far from the cabin.”

“Turn around.” Kate’s voice trembled.

Dropping the rifle for a moment, Flip looked back over his shoulder. His nerves must be playing tricks on his eyes. He turned fully around, holding the rifle at high port across his chest. The view of the forest that met him was foreign. It wasn’t the same forest they had walked through only minutes before. The trees were more skeletal, their grasping branches more cloying. Moss hung from the branches like the lank hair of a corpse, and the ground was spongy underfoot, as if the forest was rotting around them. Even the air smelled stale and moldy. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning illuminated the forest in patches like a stop-motion movie. Most unsettling of all, the comforting glow of the cabin lights that could be seen through the trees had vanished or been snuffed out.

“What the fuck…” Flip’s voice trailed away as he took in the strangeness of their surroundings. A burst of lightning brought the forest into focus for a gleaming second. Bizarre shapes hung in the trees like a macabre abomination of Christmas tree ornaments, figures made from twigs lashed together with sinew to form pentagrams and humanoid shapes and horned beings. Flip swallowed thickly and ignored them. “We couldn’t have gotten turned around so fast.”

“We didn’t.” Kate looked around frantically. “I could see the cabin lights, then I heard that horrible bugle and looked around for it. And then the lights were gone. They couldn’t have all gone out, not all at once.”

“Lightning must have struck the cabin,” Flip lied again. Nothing about the forest looked familiar to him now and everything about it felt wrong. “Must have shorted out the lights.” There was no reason to scare Kate more than she already was. “It’s alright, we don’t need lights for what I have in mind when we get back.”

The scent of wet dog hit Flip again on a gust of wind, yanking his attention in the direction of the odor. He saw a heap of dark fur, glistening from the spotty rain and aimed his rifle at the creature. It didn’t move. Steam rose from the furry mass. Flip noted another smell on the air, something with a coppery aftertaste that coated the roof of his mouth. He edged forward, looking at the steaming animal down the barrel of his rifle, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire. He recognized the beast when another bolt of lightning revealed the horror to him.

“Don’t look,” he said to Kate, but it was too late. She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream from escaping.

The huge grizzly bear they had encountered minutes before lay on its side in a broken heap of matted fur. Steam spiraled into the air from its torn-open belly, its entrails protruding from the mangled tissue like uncooked sausage. The gaping wound was only minutes old. The bear’s body temperature would plummet rapidly in the frigid air and it was still warm now. Even as they stared, the steam began to abate. Hanging in the branches of the tree nearest the bear carcass were several more bizarre figures crafted from twigs.

The screeching growling bugle erupted again, very close this time. Flip nudged Kate ahead, keeping his rifle at the ready, but not knowing where to aim it.

“Which way do we go?” Her breath came in shuddering puffs of fog.

“I don’t know,” Flip admitted. “Away from here.”

Amid a stand of spruce to his side, bare tree branches swayed in the wind, their spiky fingers waving ominously. Flip hadn’t noticed the wind pick up. Looking at the oddly swaying branches, he realized there was no wind. The air had gone as still as the inside of a crypt. The strange branches were bare, glistening wet and pointed upward, still swaying.

A flash of lightning illuminated the creature and Flip flinched so hard he almost fired accidentally.

What he had taken for bare branches was a set of enormous antlers, shaped somewhere between a moose and a caribou and as large as an Irish elk, with wide paddles and long spiked tines spurting out non-typically like broken fingers. It had a dark mane like an elk with a tawny, painfully emaciated body. Flat tines of several spinal processes protruded through the hide at the top of its high withers and one hip bone showed through the skin. But its head was the most terrible of all. Its face was in an advanced stage of rot, dregs of sagging flesh barely clinging to the skull. White skull bone gleamed in exposed patches, and its sharp, lupine teeth were long in the exposed jawbone and ragged. Its nasal cavity was bare, the fleshy nose rotten away, leaving only the pointed bones and a black hollow. It had no eyes that Flip could see, but there was an evil gleam inside its sockets, like embers inside a pile of ash. The monster shook its head, slinging water from its great spiked antlers. Then it leveled its head like a bull about to charge and fixed its glowing eyes on Flip.

“Shoot it,” Kate whispered, her eyes wide with terror.

“I don’t think it��ll do any good.” Flip looked down the barrel at the rotting flesh covering the walking skeleton and white bone peeking from beneath. The monster’s glowing eyes were not something found among the living. Without lowering his rifle, he looked at Kate and met her eyes. “It’ll come for me first. I’ll make sure of that, and I’ll stall it as much as I can. Get to the truck, darlin.’ The keys are in it. Run like hell.”

“I’m not leaving you!” she said vehemently, her voice losing some fervor when the creature took an ominous step closer, its enormous antlers swaying with its gait.

She felt for her phone, hoping there might be service. Not that another human could even reach them in less than an hour, making any idea of help hopeless. Her hand closed around the lumpy bundle of flares. With an excited breath, she freed a flare from the bundle and fumbled with lighting it.

The monster bugled angrily, a sound so shrill it felt like it grated along their spines. It rushed toward them through the trees, its teeth bared and eyes aflame. Flip fired, sending a bullet right between those glowing eyes. He even saw the bullet strike and tear away more rotting flesh, leaving a pearly white hole in the skull. It didn’t slow the monster or even make it flinch. He bolted another round into the chamber on instinct, staring down the barrel at the demonic eyes that were fixed upon him.

Kate popped the cap off the flare. The cap had an abrasive tip like a matchhead and she struck it to the end of the flare, holding it high as it burst to life. With their eyes accustomed to the darkness, the flare seemed as bright as sunlight, searing black pulsing spots into their vision. The monster squealed again, shaking its head with pain or irritation. Its antlers caught in the tree branches, stalling its advance. The flare burned and popped, hot on Kate’s face even at arm’s length and blindingly bright.

The landscape around them crackled and wavered, like a tv signal trying to come in through static. The trees looked less skeletal and more normal, like they had been before, and the strange twig figures vanished. The cabin lights glowed through the trees, yellow and warm, not far from them.

“It’s in our heads!” Kate shouted. “It’s making us hallucinate, but I can see the cabin and the truck now.”

“The light bothers it,” Flip said as he reached into her coat pocket, grabbing three flares and leaving her the remaining two. The monster wrenched its antlers free of the branches where it was tangled and lurched toward them in a shambling gait.

Shouldering his rifle that was of no more use than a club against the monster, Flip bit the cap off a flare with his teeth and struck the head. He rammed the end into the muddy ground at his feet, leaving the tip burning. The beast reared, shrieking with rage and clawing the air with its cloven hooves as Flip backed away. He could see the glow of the cabin lights now too. It was hard to resist the urge to run to the light.

Flip lit the next flare. Kate was a few yards ahead of him, gaining ground toward the truck. It would take whoever reached it first a minute to start it. Flip had a good throwing arm and even better aim. The monster lunged at him, rage overriding whatever else had been driving it to pursue them so far. Flip drew back his arm, took a second to aim at the gaping black jaws, and threw the lit flare as hard as he could. The flaming tip cartwheeled through the air like a throwing knife before the fiery head struck the monster right where its nose should have been. But it had no nose, its nasal cavity was exposed in its partially skeletal head. Robin Hood could not have struck a finer bullseye. The flaming tip sank deep into the nasal cavity, embedding itself there.

Screaming terribly, the wendigo shook its head and stomped its hooves, rearing and bucking like a horse that had stepped on a hornet’s nest. It couldn’t shake the flare free from its skull. The flames spread, shooting out through holes in the rancid flesh of its cheeks and jaws. It looked as though it breathed fire when it screeched, belching flare fumes and flames out of its hacking mouth.

“We’re not gonna get a better chance than this!” Flip roared at Kate as he burst into a run toward her. She had a few paces head start on him and sprinted ahead toward the truck.

Kate reached the truck first, yanking the driver’s door open and jumping inside. Flip could bitch about her driving all he wanted, but she dared not spare the extra second or two for him to take the wheel. Not with the eldritch monster galloping toward them, bugling terribly, flames bellowing from its mouth and nose. Flip had his one remaining flare in hand when he reached the truck. The engine roared to life.

Instead of joining Kate inside the cab, Flip vaulted into the truck bed and shouted for her to drive. Kate slammed the truck into gear, throwing Flip against the side of the bed. Regaining his balance, he dropped to his knees and planted his back against the rear window, making himself as steady as he could. Kate was speeding as fast as she dared down the muddy, winding road, and it wasn’t fast enough. The wendigo pursued them, galloping after the truck and gaining ground. Striking the tip of his flare, Flip held the flaming tip aloft, casting the entire truck in a halo of searing red fire. The wendigo allowed more distance between them, smart enough to keep outside of throwing range of another flare.

Kate took a slippery curve too fast, the truck fishtailing as she recovered control, slinging Flip from one side of the bed to the other. The flare was nearly whipped from his hand, but he clenched his fist tight to keep his hold. Gritting his teeth, he composed himself, using all his strength to keep his balance and keep his arm held high. He couldn’t afford to lose a flare. They only had three flares left, and it was going to take every last burning second of each one to reach town.

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

 © safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some buddies!

@babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrszimmerman24 @iamburdened @gabesprincess @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @reylokisses @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @thepalaceofmelanie @reveluving @vedavan @queen-of-elves @srorgana1 @kyloremus @lumberjack00fantasies

[minniethemoocherda]

Just A Friend To You

A/N: Thank you so much to @pkmndaisuki for agreeing to be my beta reader for this fic! I never would have spotted any of my spelling mistakes otherwise lol! Please go check out their amazing X-men art! I hope you guys enjoy the fic! I know I don't post that frequently but I am trying my best to help keep this ship afloat! Xxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

From across the diner, Morph watched as Jubilee and Roberto inched ever closer to one another, neither of them quite yet taking to leap to touch.

Ah, the perils of young love, Morph thought. Although it wasn't as if the perils of love stopped once you became an adult. Something that they knew all too well as they turned their attention to the man sitting opposite them.

When Logan had learnt that the two teens were going on a date, he had demanded that he chaperone them. After many protests, Jubilee had agreed, on the condition that Morph also came along to make sure Logan didn't stab anyone, namely Roberto.

Which was how Morph came to find themselves that Saturday afternoon, watching a date, whilst on a not-date with the man they were in love with.

Most times when they and Logan were hanging out they would be roughhousing, or watching TV, or playing basketball. But here there was nothing to do but just enjoy each other's company. It was nice.

Morph wore their usual human form but with dark jeans and a pink crop top that they may or may not have borrowed from Gambit's wardrobe.

Wolverine was reluctantly wearing a buttoned shirt, because Jubilee had demanded that if he insisted on stalking them then he should at least look presentable. Morph was pretty sure that Logan had stolen his shirt too, probably from Scott, especially given that it was at least three sizes too small for him. He'd had to roll up the sleeves to hide how short they were and left the two buttons undone as it wasn't wide enough to fit across the expanse of his chest. Not that Morph was complaining about the view.

Nor were they complaining about the sweet potato fries that came with their burger.

"You should try one of these," Morph told him as they dipped one of those said sweet potato fries in ketchup.

The next second, Logan leant over the table and bit the one that Morph had been holding between their fingers. Which under different circumstances could have been romantic, but instead reminded Morph of when their old family dog would steal scraps of food from the table.

"I didn't mean that one you animal!" Morph cried, throwing a fry at his face.

But Logan bit that one too, catching it in his mouth, which then spread into a wide grin. With the ketchup dripping from his teeth onto his white shirt, he really did look like an animal.

In retaliation, Morph stole one of his onion rings which Logan protested with a "Hey!" But didn't otherwise complain.

Of course, that was when Roberto finally got the courage to make a move and draped his arm over Jubilee's shoulder.

Morph heard the familiar snikt of Logan drawing his claws from under the table.

"Calm down Wolvie." Morph said, reaching under the table to wrap their hand around his wrist. "I doubt he's gonna try to jump her in the middle of a diner. And even if he did, Jubilee can handle herself."

"She sure can." Logan said, his snarl turning into a proud smirk as he put his claws away.

Now, Logan might say that he didn't like kids, but Morph had seen how he interacted with them.

He always gave into Jubilee's demands to go shopping, or play video games with her, no matter how much he said he wouldn't. And when the teenager needed a non-judgmental shoulder to cry on, he was always there.

Morph knew Logan didn't want kids of his own, and in their line of work they couldn't really blame him. But still, they couldn't help but think it was a shame. He really would make a good father.

It was just one of the many reasons why they loved him.

Suddenly the waitress appeared next to their table and Morph realised that they were still holding Logan's wrist. They quickly retreated it back.

Thankfully, the waitress appeared not to notice, too busy trying to balance an overstuffed bowl of ice cream, sauce and sprinkles in her hand that she placed on their table.

"We didn't order that, lady," Logan told her.

"I know. The girl over there did," the waitress replied, pointing over to Jubilee where a similar looking desert was placed upon her table. When Jubilee caught them looking her way, she waved a cheeky grin and Robert just looked confused.

By the time Morph looked back, the waitress was gone and Logan was digging a scoop out of the ice cream.

"What?" Logan shrugged, shoving the spoonful into his mouth. "I ain't gonna waste free food."

Melted ice cream dripped down Wolverine's chin adding to the collection of stains on that poor shirt, and Morph took a scoop themselves to try to distract themselves from that train of thought.

They had to admit that the dessert was pretty good, not too creamy yet not too solid with a perfect balance of ice cream and toppings.

Logan must have thought so too because as he licked his spoon he let out a low rumbling moan. Morph knew that in this form, they had to have been blushing at pink as their t-shirt. Not even Logan dipping one of the left over fries in to it could lessen their blush, so they did their best to hide it by ducking behind the large bowl as they ate the remainder of the monster of a dessert.

But try as they might, Morph couldn't distract themselves from the thoughts in their head. Logan had to know how this looked right? The pair of them, sharing a dessert. Morph swore they had already seen some of the other diner patrons giving them funny looks. Maybe Logan didn't care? Or maybe he wasn't as hyper-aware about appearances as Morph was?

At least their internal breakdown didn't last for too long, thanks to Logan's never ending appetite.

Morph glanced over at Jubilee's table to see that they had finished too.

Now all that was left was to pay the bill.

"I'll get it." Logan said, grabbing some bills from his trouser pockets. "I'm the one who dragged you into comin' with me."

"Wow, a burger, some frees and a free dessert. You really know how to treat a girl." Morph teased, as if the idea of Logan ever treating them to a real date would be a complete joke.

"Fine." Logan snorted, handing the money over to the waitress. "Next time I'll persuade that Roberto kid to take Jubilee some place fancier."

Next time? Morph felt their stomach somersault.

"Well, if you insist on taking me somewhere fancier then we will have to get you a new shirt," they said, pointing to where a third button had now snapped free. They tried to hide the fact that they felt left like they were about to puke up their own gloop.

"Why? You not likin' the view?" Logan said through a smug smirk.

"I like not getting kicked of restaurants more."

"So you do like it," Logan stated, that smirk turning predatory.

Wait, was Logan actually flirting with them? No, of course not. That could not be happening. This was just their usual banter. Right? Morph must have gotten so caught up in how the pair looked that their brain must have tricked itself into believing that Logan was flirting with them. Yes, that's what must have happened.

Of course that was when Jubilee decided to interrupt.

"I thought I told you to wear something decent!" She cried, grabbing Logan's leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of his chair and throwing it over the exposed expanse of his chest.

"I wore a shirt didn't I?" Logan protested, shrugging the jacket on properly. "Besides, Morph said they liked it."

Jubilee turned her accusatory glare towards them.

"Okay first of all, I never said that. Also I was the one who told Logan that shredding his only shirt wouldn't get him out if wearing one in the future so this-" Morph waved their hands in Logan's general direction. "Is not my fault."

Jubilee stared up at the ceiling but she was unable to stay annoyed for too long as Roberto placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and when her gaze once again found his and a smile once again graced her face.

"Whatever. Me and Roberto were going to go to arcade if you two insist on stalking us."

Morph glanced towards Logan and was surprised too see him shaking his head.

"Nah, you kids go ahead. We got our own plans."

Jubilee looked between them, a suspicious smile on her face that had Morph's stomach churning. But for once she chose to keep her mouth shut simply waving them both goodbye.

"You kids have fun!" Morph called after them.

"But not too much fun." Logan grinned making Roberto's brown skin pale as the teens headed for the door.

Despite their teasing, Morph truly was happy for Jubilee. Robert was a good kid. They were good for each other. Roberto helped to keep her grounded whilst she showed him the light around them.

Morph watched as Roberto reached out his hand and Jubilee didn't hesitate to take it in her own. Morph knew that it wasn't easy for the pair of them easier. As an Afro-Brazilian and Asian-American couple, they too drew their own fair share of less than happy looks. But the two teens ignored the stares, only having eyes for each other.

"Not that I'm complaining about getting out of babysitting duty," Morph said getting up from the table. "But I wasn't aware that we had any plans."

"We're going bowlin'." Logan stated, getting up himself, when he suddenly refused to meet their eyes. "If you want. 'Cus we still haven't been since- I mean we ain't been in a while."

Morph chose to believe that Logan's uncharacteristic fluster was because he had reminded them of how they still hadn't gotten the chance to go bowling together since they'd been freed of Sinister's control, and not the fact that he'd accidently made it sound like he was asking them out on a date.

"I'd love too." Morph quickly covered up the sincerity with a joke. "As long as you promise not to act all stabby when I beat you."

Logan snorted.

"As long as you promise not to act all bratty when I win."

"No promises."

As the two of them left, Morph couldn't help but glance down at Logan's hand as it swayed between them. They hoped that one day, they would have the courage to take his hand too.

[sandwitchstories]

A Father's Love- Shinjuro Rengoku HeadCanons

Welcome back to Witch's head canons! This week we are serving sexy dilf - Shinjuro Rengoku!

I had planned for this to be one of my father's day posts but hey better late than never!

If you prefer to read on AO3, please click here!

Divider is by @plum98

These are my headcanons about Shinjuro getting a second chance at happiness: Shinjuro is now sober and has rejoined the land of the living. There are far too many miracles happening before his eyes for him to ever lose even another second to the Sake. His first born son is alive against all odds. His second born son is growing up to be a fine young man. He met and fell in love with you. And then when he thought you couldn't be any more amazing, you blessed him and his boys with a precious little one. A/N: I do not (and will not) write Shinjuro Rengoku as an irredemable monster. He is a broken man that was thrust into the role of being a single parent to two young children while working a job that is demanding in every way something possibly can be and puts his life in jeopard constantly, all while trying to process and grieve the loss of his beloved wife. He is a very 'human' character. A deeply feeling, broken person in a heartless messy world. Giving Shinjuro the happiness he too deserves makes me happy. :)

WC: 650

CW: Reader is AFAB. Mentions of pregnancy. Mentions of past alcoholism, mentions of guilt. That's about it. This is SFW which is a rarity for me! I hope njoy it :)

Dad!Shinjuro - who cried when Kyojuro came home after Mugen Train. His first born surviving what he absolutely should not have and losing an eye really put things in perspective for him. He quit drinking Sake that day.

Dad!Shinjuro- who took it upon himself to speak to the Master and began taking missions in his son’s stead. After all, demons don't stop being demons because the Corps is down a Hashira. (For the record, not a single Hashira uttered a single complaint. You were not surprised. I mean, come on, the guy literally gave a demon PTSD. He is a Legend.)

Dad!Shinjuro - who trains with his sons as Kyojuro heals. He is taken back to when they were little every time. Dad!Shinjuro - who is trying so hard to make up for the years he had lost to the sake

Dad!Shinjuro - who stared at you like you had 4 heads when you told him you were pregnant. He had a 20 year old and a 13 year old already… wasn’t he too old for this?

Dad!Shinjuro - who was surprised by how excited his sons were at the news of another sibling

Dad!Shinjuro - who grappled with guilt about moving on and loving another woman. He knows in his heart that Ruka would be happy for him, but it takes some time for him to truly believe it.

Dad!Shinjuro- who kisses your belly and tells you he secretly hopes it is a girl who looks just like you

Dad!Shinjuro - who has the biggest smile of possibly his entire life on his face. It is a baby girl alright, just like he had hoped for, and she already favors you except for a couple things… those big sunset eyes and that flaming hair! She’s a Rengoku alright! 

Dad!Shinjuro - who holds his little girl as if she is a precious gem, his gaze on her scrunched up little face is so full of love it makes your heart swell.

Dad!Shinjuro - who endures endless nights of babbling, crying and pacing with a daughter who refuses to sleep until she is exhausted and just… passes out. According to him, it’s Kyojuro all over again.

Dad!Shinjuro - who watches his sons with their baby sister and can't help but smile at how much those boys love her

Dad!Shinjuro- who watches you holding your daughter against your chest, swaying and humming to her softly, smiling down at her face. Something in his soul heals a little bit more every time he looks at you. 

Dad!Shinjuro - who watches his family together and can't really wrap his head around the fact that he has been given a 2nd chance to fix so many things. 

Another chance to have happiness. To have a sober life, to work at rebuilding his relationship with his sons. A 2nd chance at love with someone as incredible as you, and a beautiful baby girl with a smile that lights up the darkest night.  

He will never touch the Sake again. The words that leave his mouth will be better thought out. He cannot promise he won't get angry and yell, as quiet and shy as he can be, he is still the same hot headed Rengoku he has always been. But even if he does get mad, he will never again utter words that tear his children down in any way. He will guide them and support them. He knows now there are better ways, and with you at his side he knows he can see this through.

Dad!Shinjuro does not know why the universe chose to give him this blessing, but he is going to do everything right from here on out. 

[nekovmancer]

Heartless

Pairing: Ramattra x f!reader Summary: It was never in your plans to love a heartless being, and yet there you were: aching for something you could never have  Warnings: pure angst ‘cause I like to suffer over things I create in this silly head of mine. Insecure & rejected reader etc etc to not mention it’s been a while since I wrote anything in English so… maybe the poor writing is a warning itself thanks to insecure writer also lol Word count: 685 A/N: just found this in my drafts, which was supposed to be the fic I would post for my comeback but- before being such a drama queen, I am a shameless slut and always needy for a big robot guy who would surely ignore my burning passion… anyways, delight in the pain as much as I did while writing. Also posted at AO3!!

Sat alone on the bed, hearing your own hasty heartbeats as a requiem to your daydreams, you felt miserable once again as memories cursed you, echoing in your head until they ached. A common sentiment over the past few weeks, maybe months, since you’ve come to realize something that scared you to death: you’ve been in love with someone who could never love you back. 

Omnics, especially those like him, weren’t made to feel, only to destroy. And Ramattra was being formidable in crushing your feelings without a clue. No, maybe not so bluntly. The Null Sector leader surely wasn’t stupid, just as he wasn’t one to care about humans, mostly their questionable emotions: hate, disdain and anger he could cope with, but affection? That was too far from his purview.

Since you’ve met a long while ago, you had stood by his side like a pet, a very obedient one for the record. Once a discarded experiment from Talon who was staring into the precipice of loneliness long before he came along, now more like a tool with something akin to a porpoise. He gave you something to live for, to love, so you fought along Null Sector, gave them your blood, sweat and tears, and none of it seemed enough for you to be loved back, or cherished at least. So, why sacrifice your heart over a lost cause? They, or better, he would never, ever express any kind of gratitude for your commitment.

Or nothing at all, to the matter. 

You actually envy Ramattra. His faceplate is unable to conjure any emotion that could betray his feelings, if he held any. Your face, on the contrary, had plenty to show whenever your feelings threatened to flood from every pore of your being. That’s where the problem began. It was any morning like many others, after so many sleepless nights, but instead of holding back, you’ve made a decision, one that would cost more than you thought at first. 

It began with slightly flushed cheeks, a restless tremble on your fingertips, and that uneasy sensation on your stomach, sometimes cold, sometimes warm enough to heat your skin to a fever pitch. Feeling more exposed than ever, like your chest was being ripped open right in front of him, you thought he deserved to know, to recognize every little thing you felt… so you vocalized them, without a single hesitation. For what? A cold quietness followed.

Maybe he was thinking, maybe he would consider everything you had sacrificed… maybe you’re the one to blame. And still, you came to him with nothing but your bare passion, and returned to your solitude with something else: shame. 

“Why would you say that, human?” his tone was nothing like you thought it would be. Surely wasn’t amused, nor mad.Thing is he acted like it was nothing at all, remaining placid and untouched, as everything you just said meant nothing at all, despite the aching in your heart threatening to consume your very being. “Whatever you have in mind, forget it immediately. You should not be distracted by such frivolous sentiments.”

Shrinking, your mouth fell agape, but no words were poured. Instead, they found themselves stuck to your throat, and the overflow you’re expecting turned to your eyes, sight now blurred thanks to the tears. Your last efforts are invested in holding them back, only a single drop finding its way through your cheeks, meeting your lips with a salty taste that turned bitter on the tip of your tongue. “But, I–” your voice was shaking, lips also trembling to pronounce those two simple words.

“Enough,” Ramattra cuts you off, so sharp his words could be a blade. “I do not wish to hear about it. I can’t have whatever you think you’re feeling interfering in Null Sector’s plans.”

And with that, he buried your heart. Rest in peace, this terribly broken thing, whose shattered pieces may never come together, and shall the endearing pain haunt you from now and forever as you lay in your bed, alone to revive that moment again and again. 

[limitless-haven]

Those Ocean Eyes

Synopsis: When you’re called upon by Tokyo Jujutsu High for an opportunity to study under the renowned Shoko Ieiri, you gladly accept the offer, leaving behind your old school. Here you start your new adventure, excited to learn and see where this life will take you, but what you don’t account for is that here is also where you truly fall in love for the first time.

Satoru Gojo is a charismatic enigma that captures your heart right away. As time goes on, you come to truly understand the pain behind those ocean eyes of his. The scariest part? His truth doesn’t terrify you like he expected it to. If anything it makes you fall more intense for him. You want to help shoulder the burden of his pain for the man you’ve come to love.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Just some very light flirting

A/N: Hello! This is my first time posting here. I've been a silent reader/reactor but decided to give it a go! Please let me know what you think so far and if I should continue. All feedback is greatly appreciated.

***This is a slow burn. Eventually there will be some spicy scenes but I will give a warning before hand.

***This story does contain elements, scenes, and dialog from the manga/anime.

***This story was influenced by the song Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish. Every time I hear the song, I cant help but think of Gojo and what a complex character he is. He is such a lovable character who deserves the world. Honestly, I could cry right now thinking about it.

***This is also posted to my AO3 account under the name “kookie0807”

Chapter 1: Pretty Girl

Just like your parents, you attend Kyoto Jujutsu High. Your dad was a cursed technique user and your mom is a teacher of cursed techniques. Your father was killed in battle by a curse a couple of years ago leaving behind a grieving wife and a devastated daughter.

From that moment on, you wanted nothing more than to pour yourself into learning about your own cursed technique. It just so happens that what you possess is the ability to use reverse curse techniques, a rare find among Jujutsu sorcerers. To your knowledge, there is only one other person who is capable of using the same technique as you, and her name is Shoko Ieiri. She just so happens to be an astounding doctor on top of that, which is why you look up to her so much. You’ve dreamed about being able to get to poke her brain about your shared ability. But as cruel as fate would have it, she’s the doctor for the only other jujutsu school, Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Hearing about everything Shoko can do, made you want to learn about your own ability that much more. She had mastered her technique seemingly overnight, hell maybe she was just born with it. But you? You haven’t been able to attain the ability on Shokos level. Rumor has it, she could regenerate a missing limb from a person and more. Yes, you could help with healing surface-level wounds and a broken bone or two but what you are absolutely itching to do is have the ability to bring someone back from death if needed.

This all started when your father died in battle. If you were just stronger, and more advanced in your technique, you could have possibly saved him. It eats you up that you couldn’t save your father, you were so close yet so far off from unlocking the true potential of your reverse cursed technique. When you saw your father cut in half, you poured every ounce of your cursed energy into trying to save his life but to no avail. You vividly remember sitting in the morgue as your father’s body lay on the cold, metal, embalming table. You remember the heartbreaking guttural cry coming from your mother’s lips as you exited the morgue, covered from head to toe in his blood. That is a sound that will forever haunt you. A sound no human should ever make. A sound so piercing to the human soul. You couldn’t look up at her, you could barely see the floor as you walked out due to the tears, your ears were ringing and you just felt cold. You collapsed on the floor but your mother was there to catch you. You cried and cried into your mother’s arms as she cried along with her baby girl.

Your mother went through a really bad depression for the next couple of years. There was nothing you could do but give her support, how do you help someone who’s lost the love of their life? It was a challenging time but you two managed to get through it together. Seeing your mom so heartbroken, so utterly miserable, it made something inside of you snap. You never wanted to experience this again with anyone.

---------------

You’re sitting in on a lecture your mother was giving some underclassmen about cursed techniques. While the information was vital to the up-and-coming new sorcerers, you’ve heard it before. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, the school doesn’t offer too much in terms of helping you unlock the true power of reverse cursed techniques. Unfortunately, this is one of the two places for the next generation of sorcerers to gather and train. Once you “graduate” a jujutsu school and become a full-fledged jujutsu sorcerer, you’re then put into the position of either becoming a teacher or accompanying other sorcerers on missions. Don’t get it wrong, you love being surrounded by people who somewhat understand the life you live. Not everyone is born with cursed energy so those far and wide who are tend to stick at the schools. Think of it as a college campus of sorts. Everyone has classes, a 'dorm room', there is a field to practice hand-to-hand combat on, a sparing room, and well you get the idea. From the outside looking in, as someone who knows nothing about curses or the use of cursed techniques, this looks like a regular school. Hell, you guys even have uniforms! Anything to blend in with society so the (as you like to call them) “normies” don’t suspect a thing.

As you're listening to your mother teach, you see your phone vibrating on the desk in front of you. An unknown number is calling. Wonder who that could be? You look up at your mom and point to your phone. She nods as if to say go ahead and step out to take the call. You get up quietly and head out the door. You walk a little away from the door so that you won’t disturb your mother’s class any more than you have. With a raised eyebrow you answer the phone.

“Um, hello?”

“Yes, is this (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” A deep voice says on the other line.

“Yes, this is she. Mind if I ask who’s calling?” You say, your curiosity is piqued.

“Yes, this is Masamichi Yaga. Principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High.” He says rather sternly.

“Principal Yaga? Nice to hear from you, sir! But why are you calling me?” You asked with a confused look on your face.

“I’m calling because I’ve been in talks with Yoshinobu Gakuganji. He has reluctantly agreed to an idea of mine that involves you.” He says.

“Oh, well in that case I’m all ears! How can I help?” You say. Whatever could he want with you? You wouldn’t even put yourself in the league of Kyoto's best sorcerers.

“I would like you to transfer to Tokyo as soon as possible. I hear you’re the only other person who can use reverse cured techniques.” He says. Of course, Principal Gakuganji would have been in talks with the other school about you. After all, there are only you and Shoko.

Your heart starts to beat into your throat. WHAT? He wants you to come there? But for what exactly? But before you can calm your nerves down to answer him, he continues.

“I’ve also had a conversation with Ms. Ieiri and we would like you to come study under her. She wants to help you in any way that she can. We’ve heard about you wanting to unlock your true reverse cursed techniques' power. This will be a very valuable asset to both of our schools.”

HOLY SHIT. You must be dreaming! You have wanted nothing more than to be able to meet Shoko in the flesh and ask her all your burning questions! You can’t believe the opportunity of a lifetime just fell into your lap!

“I-I would love nothing more sir!” You stammer out but Principal Yaga can tell just how excited you are over the phone.

“Great! I’ll inform Gakuganji and Shoko of your decision. I look forward to you joining the Tokyo branch.” He says back with some underlying excitement in his voice as well.

You hum a response and tell him goodbye. He told you to be there tomorrow sometime in the early afternoon so you can get set up in your new room and meet the group.

Your heart is pounding. There is a smile on your face so wide that your cheeks hurt. You clutch your phone close to your chest and breathe slowly. You’ve never been more eager for anything in your life! Finally, you get to study under the renowned Shoko Ieiri. This is what you’ve always wanted. This is what you have gone to bed every night since your father died praying for.

The loud roar of the underclassmen being released for their lecture startles you back to earth. As they pass by you, moving on to their next class, you walk towards the door of your mother's room. She’s standing there, flipping through some book. You walk in and stand in front of her desk. She looks up at you and smiles.

“Well, what was that phone call about baby?” She asks with genuine curiosity.

“It-it was Principal Yaga from the Tokyo school.” You say as your heart starts to beat fast again.

“Oh, whatever could he want?” She asks raising an eyebrow.

“He-he wants me to transfer to Tokyo so I c-can study with Ms. Ieiri.” You say excitedly. You can’t believe this is real.

“Oh? Congratulations baby!” Your mother says enthusiastically as she makes her way around the desk to hug you.

You lean into your mother’s hug. Her arms feel like one of the safest places to be. You can’t help but squeeze her tightly and she does the same back. When you let go of the hug and look up, you see your mother is crying. You raise your hand to wipe her tears. It makes you uneasy to see your mother cry.

“What’s the matter? I’ll call him back right now and tell him never-“ but you couldn't get the sentence out as your mother shushed you.

“No baby. These are happy tears. I’m so thrilled that you get the opportunity to learn from Ms. Ieiri.” She says with red eyes.

You smile at your mother. She has always been so supportive of everything you’ve ever wanted to do in your life. That woman is your rock, your reason to live.

“Thank you mom. Thank you for always being here for me.” You say as you lean back in for another hug. Her hugs make you feel like a little girl again. Nothing is quite as powerful as the love between a parent and their child.

She hugs you more before pulling you back and looking at you.

“When do you leave out?” She asks.

“Principal Yaga said he would like me to be there early tomorrow afternoon if possible.” You say as you wipe your own eyes from the few teardrops that fell onto your cheek.

“Well, then we better head back to your room and get you packed up! My baby is flying the nest!” She exclaims.

You laugh at your mother’s reaction. She has been there for you in your darkest of times and it makes your heart so happy that she is here for the brightest of your times. You two clean up the classroom and head out the door to your dorm room. You spend all night packing and talking with your mother about your future.

—-------------

The next afternoon arrives and you head out to Tokyo Jujutsu High. On the car ride there you wonder how the new school will be. Is it the same as Kyoto? Will you make new friends fast there? Is your dorm room going to be as comfortable as your last? What kind of food do they have? Will you be able to unlock your true reverse cursed techniques' power?

As you pull up, you see a tall man standing there with dark glasses on, short brown hair, and a goatee. He’s pretty muscular and looks very intimidating. Is this Principal Yaga? You think to yourself. Sure enough, when you get out of the car and walk up to him, he introduces himself as Principal Yaga.

“If you’ll follow me, we can get you set you. Don’t worry about the bags. Megumi and Yuji will get them for you.” He says as he starts walking to the entrance of the school.

Megumi? Yuji? They must be students here at Tokyo you think and follow along right behind Yaga but not before saying goodbye to your mother You hug her one last time and smile at her. You inform her that you will indeed call later tonight to tell her all about your first day!

He shows you around the school, especially the medical lab where you will be working with Shoko. He informs you that you will be in a group with the first years, even though you are about 10 years older than them. He wants to gauge your talents, not just cured techniques but also hand-to-hand combat. He hands you your student ID. It reads “(Y/N) (Y/L/N): GRADE 3.” You’re not surprised in the slightest. Grade 3 sources are of average jujutsu ranking. Most jujutsu students get assigned this rank upon enrollment to Jujutsu High. Grade 3 sorcerers are not allowed to go on solo missions and are almost always accompanied by someone of a higher grade. Without the full completion of the reverse cursed technique and very basic, bare minimum hand-to-hand combat skills, this is all you possess. At Kyoto, you worked in the medical field healing other sorcerers and hardly ever going on missions that would put you in danger. Principal Gakuganji always told you that your talent was too precious to risk in actual curse batters thus resulting in your grade ranking remaining at 3 since you graduated the program. Honestly not that you were complaining though. You’ve been there to heal some of the students and sorcerers when they’ve come back from missions. You can’t count how many times you’ve healed enormous cuts and broken bones. That did not look pleasing to you in the slightest. When you finish your tour, Principal Yaga leads you to your dorm room.

“Here is where you’ll be staying. Shoko and Gojo's rooms are just down the hall if got need them for anything.” He says.

Suddenly you hear a loud commotion from down the hall. You look up to see two boys, who can’t be older than 16 carrying your bags and bickering.

“Hurry up you dumbass, Principal Yaga, and the new kid are probably already there!”

“Yeah, yeah. Calm down don’t get your panties in a twist, my man.”

A tall-ish boy with black spiked hair, pale skin, long eyelashes, and dark blue eyes rounds the corner first. He’s wearing a standard Jujutsu High uniform with a dark blue jacket, matching pants, and low-top brown shoes.

“Shut the hell up Itadori. I’m not going to get bitched at all because you wanted to stop at the vending machines on the way here.”

A second boy comes around the corner. He’s tall-ish too, tanner than the other boy, with bright pink hair, light brown eyes, and these weird markings under his eyes. He’s got on the same uniform style as the other boy but his is highlighted with a red collar and the same red shoes to match.

“Fushiguro you know I can’t pass up on a banana milk, man!”

Both of them stop in their tracks as they see you and Principal Yaga standing in front of your door. Principal Yaga just huffs at the boys.

“You two stop the bickering and get (Y/N)’s belongings in here now!” He says as he raises his voice.

The boys bolt for your room at the speed of light. You follow them inside and tell them they can just put the bags down on your bed and you’ll deal with unloading them later.

“(Y/N), this is Megumi Fushiguro and Yuji Itadori. They are two of the three first years you’ll be training with. Nobara Kugisaki is the other first year.” He says as he leans against the doorframe.

The black-haired one introduces himself as Megumi and the pink-haired one greets you and tells you he’s Yuji. You shake both of their hands and thank them for all the help, you have a lot of stuff so you know the trip wasn’t light

He then sighs. “Unfortunately you’ll be under the watch of Satoru Gojo along with Shoko. He’s going to be teaching you more martial arts and how to control your cursed energy better.” He exhales heavily and looks at the two boys in front of him. “Have either of you seen the idiot?”

. “Don’t know where Gojo is but knowing his lanky ass, he’s probably running late,” Megumi says as he rubs the back of his head. “God sometimes I want to punch that guy in the face.” He says in a low breath.

Itadori laughs and puts his hand on Megumi's shoulder. “Oh come on, we should be more grateful to have Gojo-sensi being the one teaching us. After all, he is the strongest.”

“You two help (Y/N) get accustomed to things around here. I’m going to find Gojos ass!” He said with some bass behind his voice. Remind you never to get on his bad side? Check! Principal Yaga gets off the doorframe of your room and takes off down the hall.

You’ve heard about this Gojo guy through the students at Koyto. Apparently, he is the heir to the Gojo clan and is the first person to inherit the six eyes and limitless technique in over four hundred years. That’s pretty impressive if you do say so! You wonder what kind of teacher he could be if he was considered the strongest already. His students must be some of the best among the Tokyo group.

“(Y/n) don’t listen to Itadori. Sure Gojo's strong but he’s a pain in the ass to deal with,” Megumi says as he slaps Yuji's hand off his shoulder.

Yuji just rubs his hand, giving Megumi a side-eye. “Anyway, come on (Y/N). We’ll introduce you to Shoko!” He says rather cheerfully.

Those two are completely opposite yet you can tell how much they care for each other. You wonder if you’ll fit into their group well. Also, where the heck is the other first year at? And more importantly, where is your 'teacher' at?

You leave the room with the boys and head down the hall to Shoko's room. Megumi knocks on her door and waits patiently to see if she’s in there. The door opens and out walks the woman you’ve been dying to meet. She has long brown hair that passes her shoulders, her eyes are a soft brown with dark circles underneath them and she has a mole under her right eyes. She’s wearing pretty normal-looking clothes except she spots a white lab coat over them and cream-colored heels. She looks at the boys and then at you. You think your heart just might stop.

“Hey, boys. And hello (Y/N) I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” She gives you a soft smile.

You immediately bow your head. “Yes, ma’am I’ve been looking forward to this day as well! It’s so nice to finally meet you Ms. Ieiri!” You say enthusiastically.

She gives off a little laugh before putting her hand on your shoulder and raising you so you're looking at her face. “Please hon, just call me Shoko. We’re close enough to the same age.”

You look into her eyes and smile widely. “Yes Ms. Iei- I mean Shoko! It’s been a dream of mine to be able to even talk to you.”

She lets out another soft laugh. “Well, I hope I can live you to your expectations (Y/N). I’ve known about you for a little while now and I can’t wait to see what we can do to help you unlock that technique of yours!”

You can’t help but keep smiling at her. “Oh yes! I’ve been dying to figure it out. I’m so thankful to you and Principal Yaga for giving me this opportunity! I promise I won’t let you down!” And you say that with all honesty in your heart. You want to show these people that they didn’t waste their time bringing you here.

“I have no doubt you will accomplish great things here under our guidance.” She smiles at you and then looks at Megumi and Yuji. “…has she met Gojo yet?” She laughs.

You hear Megumi tsk. “No. Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s in for. Yaga went to find him. Of course, his dumbass is running late.”

Shoko laughs at Megumi's distain for Gojo’s tardiness. “Yeah, that goof is always late for everything.”

You hear Yuji laugh at Shoko's comment. Was this Gojo guy really that late to everything?

Before you could ask them anything else you heard someone coming down the hallway. You can tell it’s a man from the voice. It’s loud, really loud actually. Almost boarding on annoying….

“Yea, yea sorry Yags. I told ya, traffic was bad. Not m’fault I got stuck.”

And then he rounds the corner. He’s very, and you mean very tall, lean, muscular, and looks to be in his late twenties. His hair is snow-white and spiked up due to a black blindfold covering his eyes. He’s wearing a Jujutsu uniform which is a dark blue zip-up jacket with a high collar that’s significantly wide, fitted matching pants, and black boots.

He steals your breath with just how attractive-looking this man is. God, even his voice was alluring. He spots you all standing down by Shoko's room, his room is just down a bit farther, and waves. He starts to walk over. You don’t think he notices you at first because you're blocked a little by the others.

“Well well if it isn’t m’precious first years and the doctor. Heard we got some new meat today. Where’s he at?” He asks as he finally gets over to the group.

Megumi tsks again. “You idiot. The new first year is a girl and she’s literally right here.” He says as he steps out of the way.

There is enough space created between you all that the white-haired man now has plenty of room to check you out. You look up at him, you mean really have to look up. He just stands there for a second, what you assume to be staring at you because you can’t see his eyes. And then he grins. A big shit-eating grin. He bends down so he’s at eye level with you now. You can feel your heart in your throat. God, this guy seems to not know the meaning of personal space. But damn, is he one attractive-looking man.

“My, my, you’re a pretty little one.” He says smirking at you.

You can feel your cheeks start to heat up under his gaze. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable by any means, more squeamish because this unfamiliar yet charming man has called you pretty. Does he really think you’re pretty?

He can’t help but give a small chuckle. His breath ghosted over your face. He smells like sweet candy and honestly, you wouldn’t mind a taste. “Gotta name, pretty girl?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side giving you a sultry smirk.

Your cheeks heat up again and you feel your palms starting to sweat. You probably look like a lovestruck schoolgirl right now but honestly, it’s not far off from the truth. Before you can answer, Shoko interrupts his blatant flirting.

“That’s enough Satoru. Jeez, don’t scare her away just yet.” She says with a roll of her eyes. “She's from the Koyto school, the transfer student…wait did Yaga not tell you anything?”

Wait…so this man..is the Satoru Gojo? The same guy who’s going to be your teacher? The same one who you find terribly handsome!? Oh god. This is going to be a rough time for you.

He laughs again before standing up to return to his full height. “Nah, the ol’gezzer told me about her as he was jumpin’ my ass ‘bout bein’ late. I was jus' messin’ with ya.” He smiles a toothy grin.

You hear Itadori laugh. “See Gojos not that bad (Y/N). He’s actually a really cool teacher.” Yuji then wraps his arm around Megumi's shoulder and pulls him along with him down the hallway. “We’re gonna go find Kugisaki. See y’all later!”

You faintly hear Megumi tell Itadori to get his slimy hands off him before they are gone. Now left standing there with Shoko and the oh-so-handsome tall guy, he chuckles. “I got it from here Sho. I’ll show her the classroom an’ all the other fun stuff.” He says as he puts his gigantic hands in his pockets.

Jesus was everything about this man big? Oh god. Great now you’re blushing again. ‘Get it together!’ You say to yourself.

“Fine just don’t be..well don't be you Satoru.” Shoko rolls her eyes. “If he creeps you out too much, run to my room and I’ll save you.” She says with a chuckle.

You can’t help the chuckles that comes out of your mouth. So far Satoru doesn’t seem like a creep, but who knows? Stranger things have happened.

Satoru huffs like a child. “M’not a creep. I’m perfectly capable of bein’ a gentleman.” He says as he looks down at you. “Well, unless you wan’ me to be a little rough with ya pretty girl.” He says with a smirk.

And there you go again blushing like a lovesick teenager. God, is this guy always this flirty? This was gonna take some getting used to.

Shoko knows there is no point in trying to stop him. She just sighs and says she heading down to the medical room. She tells Gojo to bring you there when he’s done. He nods and you two start walking over to the classroom. He hasn’t said anything else to you and you start to wonder what he could be thinking. Is he excited to get a new first year even though you’re much older than the other three? Is he going to be a good teacher? Why did he become a teacher at this school when he could have easily just been a normal run-of-the-mill sorcerer? All these thoughts swim through your head as you’re walking and then he abruptly stops in front of a door that you can only assume to be his classroom. He opens the door and holds it open as if to say ‘after you.’ So you walk in. It isn’t much different from the Koyto classrooms you’ve become accustomed to. There is a blackboard, some desks, a couple of bookshelves, what you assume to be his desk and a very expensive-looking black chair.

He sits down in said expensive black chair and crosses one excessively long leg over the other. He’s then looking at you and smiling. You feel your cheeks heat up again under his glare. Why does he have to keep doing this to you? Does he enjoy teasing you? But you think you already know the answer to that...

“So, pretty girl, ‘bout that name?” He asks smirking at you.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Carved Into Flesh

Pairings: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x Reader

Word Count: 3075

Summary: With your ex-mate challenged by the Monarch, he has no choice but to fight. With nowhere to go, you were rooted in your spot and forced to watch. To watch as this random female demolishes and wipes the floor with Dwainet, quite literally. He stands no chance against someone who holds themselves with such pride and confidence that leaked no falsehood. There’s a reason she is Monarch.

Author Note: Part three is here! Writing this new story is so much fun! I've had time to draw up a few more pictures of her as well. I'll have to post them later though, they're not finished yet.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

From her spot on the mat that’s slicken in blood that’s not hers, We’ar-ow begins to circle. Dwainet starts to mirror her actions. The same, safe distance continuous placed between their high strung bodies. Your eyes couldn’t look away from your ex-mate’s face. Between the young lines on his sculpted face, you read the worry. In those stony cold eyes that shone in the day and night, you saw his fear. Not for you. His gaze was far from yours; pinned on the hunk of pink scales in front of him. The one who initiated this. All for you.

You.

A meek human who fell in loved with another just to get heartbroken a year later.

Someone who was abandoned.

You. Out of everyone.

The Monarch wanted you.

She was willing to risk her hide to claim you.

The skin on your body pebbled with bumps, form shuttering. You swallowed thickly, eyes flickering between their two frames. The only stable thought on your mind was: who did you want to win? Your backstabber of a mate who left you for hole to bury his penis in. Or, the Monarch who without hesitance, pulled you under her wing. The one who wanted you.

It seemed like your mind was already made up. But your heart wasn’t there. Yet? Maybe.

Thoughts began to fill your mind. Thoughts of escape. The Monarch had powered. Does that po- a powerful, earthshattering roar interrupted your thoughts. Your whole body jumped. No one was paying you mind. No, they were focused as the battle finally began with a domineering start.

What you first saw once your eyes focus was a barreling force of Dwainet rushing We’ar-ow. He was done waiting for her to start this. A young blood mistake. With one step, We’ar-ow dodged his simple rush with her hands clasped behind her. The stance enraged the male Yautja all the more. His thick claws on his feet dug into the durable mat as he spun around to try again.

As the female Yautja danced around the bull like fight that Dwainet created, she let her eyes flick over to your meek form. The moment they landed on you, you felt a piercing gaze and looked at We’ar-ow. The fact she let her guard down enough to peer at you, it made your already unstable heart to pound fiercely in your chest.

All the while Dwainet believed she was distracted, he took the false opportunity to barrel at her once more. A tactic he should learn wasn’t going to work, no matter how much he tried. It was like that was the only move he knew. We’ar-ow scoffed at the thought.

With her eyes still on you, she sidestepped the fumbling idiot, arms finally twitching into movement. One muscular foot stuck as he raced past her. In that same instance, a blur of pink smashed into his back. The male was sent sprawling like an imblice onto his front. He slides a couple of feet before he was scrambling back to his feet.

The false confidence he once grasped onto drained from his body. An open book to be read. To everyone in this room.

Behind you, all around you, the room erupted with an uproar of thundering voices. The translator screeched out, trying to fulfil its job while being overwhelmed. You hissed from the high pitched sound and clawed at the device behind your ear. Former scars met your nails smooth and light colored.

Your nails caught something just below the skin, slightly tearing the skin but flipping something in the process. The screaming stopped, just the ringing in your ear and the roars of the surrounding Yautja.

Despite them all being wrapped into the fight, none stepped a foot closer. Something you took note of. A low, final hiss escaped your parted lips. The pain lingered but drawn away enough to refocused on the fight.

Things turned up two notches by the time you looked back at the mats. We’ar-ow still played with the young blood, drawing this out for what ever sick reason she had. But a new mark painted Dwainet’s right arm with neon green blood. A flesh wound by the way he dismissed it and still used the limb. If this was a human though, there wasn’t enough adrenaline in the human body to drown out that pain. You shook at the thought.

He was wounded. Blooded. Your broken heart still ached for him, not just for the pain he caused but the fact he was hurt. You worried at your bottom lip, ignoring the tangy taste of metal. Now, your eyes focused on Dwainet as he received another harsh blow from We’ar-ow.

Dwainet snarled out his agony as more blood pearled to cover the new wound. Your heart jumped into your throat then, tears pooling to the corner of your eyes. As much as you wanted to step in and stop this madness, you held no courage to even move a single muscle towards the brawling duo. All you wanted was everything to go back to normal. Back to yesterday morning when you woke up in your mate’s arms.

Titled as pet to his kind. To him, you were his lover, the one he shared his bed with. The one he would make love to me in all different kinds of ways. Here he was, fighting the Monarch.

Was this my fault? It resolved arou-stop it! I wildly shook my head to clear of my thoughts and narrowed down on the fight. There was a time and place wallow in my sorrows. Not when I’m surrounded by predators as meek prey. I steeled my nerves, pulled back my shoulders, and stared up at the two battling giants.

From this far into the one and only round, it was clear as a sunny day who was going to win. This morning, you knew. Deep in your bones, you knew. As much as your heart craved for the things to return to two days ago, this was life. You’ve come to learn the harshness it spat in your face and lived with the life given.

We’ar-ow had finally stepped up her game and officially joined in. Her lethal claws already have been used time and time again. Dwainet didn’t slow and let his new wound affect him too much. He kept the same war plan running and We’ar-ow grew bored.

When the young blood came at her, took the full brunt of the hit with pride. A pink hand snatched the male around his neck and smashed him into the mat. A choked cry rang in the tense room. The air forced out of his chest. Dwainet  gasped for his lung to fill but the hold she held on his throat stopped him.

Panic grew in his movements as all of his limbs kicked out to strike at her. Anything to get her off. For the fun of it, her hand released him. A foot was swiftly heading toward her head, aiming to knock the giant away.

For once, We’ar-ow showed off. Her thighs used their strength to spring her entire body up and off the ground. She leaned back in the air, arms out, and hand meeting the ground. Once more, she pushed off and came to land on her feet. The jutting movement from the usually calm Yautja stilled the room for only a moment.

Even though Dwainet had his back to you now, you could read him still. He had to be saying ‘oh, shit’ in his mind like a mantra. His entire body tense, either to run or meet his maker, you didn’t know this.

The female picked up her head to keep her pink chin level with the ground. That look in her orange eyes had you ready to bolt yourself. And it wasn’t even directed at you.

One moment, there stood the pink wall of muscle. The very next millisecond, Dwainet was promptly lifted into the air. All that kept him there was We’ar-ow hand connected to his exposed throat. One tense move of her hand, and he would be dead. The females stronger, bigger, more intelligent, and cool minded their male counterparts.

“Dwainet!” you called out without thinking. A trembling hand reaching towards the smaller Yautja.

Everyone’s eyes were on you. Everyone’s. At the very moment, you wanted the ground and swallow you whole. To take you far from this room.

Hiss and chittering filtered into the air. Shit, the translator. You reached behind your ear and swipe through the blood’s origin to feel that same switch. A flick of your nail had the thing back on.

Words of disgust and distain rang through the air like a cold, threatening wind. As if it was real, you shiver and drew back your hand. Clearly this was a huge mistake on your part. You had nowhere to run. As prey cornered by predators, your heart thundered in your ears, on the verge of jumping out of its bony cage. There was no place to even more to get away from any of them.

The mat was encased by Yautjas. Not an inch given, not inch of hope of freedom. Not like you could make it far if one gave chase.

Her eyes were pinned solely on you now, head cocked just slightly to the side. “Why speak his name?” The translator rumbled deep in your head. “Are you defending him?” You flinched when the device screeched halfway through.

You shook your head to rid of the pain before lifting it up to peer at her. The Yautja was a good twenty feet from me. But with the way her piercing gaze studied me, it felt like her skin was on me.  That’s when you found the ground a far better place to look at. No words came to me.

Hisses of displeasure had your skin spiking, mind screaming to run but no place to slip through. But a clip snarl quieted the area. “Pet, I asked a question.” Of course, she wanted you to answer. Of course. Of-fucking-course. You steeled your nerves and swallowed. Now to either speak truth or lie straight through my teeth.

“N-no.” You stopped yourself from cringe at how pathetic that sounded.

We’ar-ow scoffed, head tipping just enough to peer over her mandibles at you. For a moment, you thought this was her exposing her throat to Dwainet foolishly. The Yautja was too cowardly to react let alone know what she did. He was still kicking like a captured kitten in his hold. “Then tell me why you have interrupted.”

All just a demand. Just the Monarch commanding you. You took a shuttering breath that raked your torso. “Please, do-don’t hurt him. He’s le-learned his lesson.”

Bickering and snarky remarks throughout the crowd started. A thundering presence appeared next to you, starting you from the safety of the shy half circle of space given to you. Before the Yautja had a chance think of any harm towards you, a knife was embedded into the male’s shoulder. He hissed from the pain and was swift to back off.

“Don’t touch what’s not yours,” We’ar-ow’s voice entered your ear alongside the monotone of the translator. Then, her attention was returned straight to you. “He is dishonorable, though in a low crime, he has yet to learn true punishment for what he’s done. Oomans are foolish. You do not understand nor will you. You try to defend someone who has abandoned you despite taking responsibility for you. I’m curious.” It was a silent question. Another one.

More quiet talking caught your translator. Many were surprised that she was allowing a chance to speak, something a pet doesn’t have the right to do.

“I-I love him, okay?”

There was another uproar of displeasure but what you heard over all of it was Dwainet snarling… in disgust. “Nothing more than a pig.” That last word, the translator struggled to find a word for a moment. Your lips parted. There was nothing to stop the barrage of tears that started to pour down your cheeks. Nowhere to run.

A deafening roar shook the ground before the sound of skin slapping harshly met your ears. Your sight finally caught up to see what had happened. We’ar-ow had slammed the squirming male down to the mat with a death wrapped firmly around his neck. She snarled like a raging female. The first time you’ve seen her show emotion.

“You are dishonorable! No female will allow you to mate with them this season or any upcoming seasons for the time being. You hold no true heart of a warrior,” she barked, the words almost drowning out the translator. “Yield like the scum you are and I won’t cut off your penis.”

Fuck… Your eyes widened at the threat. The male pushed his thighs together as if that would stop her from fulfilling her mission. “Yield! I yield! You can have the damned thing!”

His words cut through you like his sharpest knife. He gave in, so easily. He called you ‘thing’. A thing. You hiccupped back a sob and cradled your hands to your chest. More hot tears stung at your eyes. A never ending cascade of your sorrow.

For a tick of a moment, you thought We’ar-ow was going to snap his neck after he yield. Something that didn’t need to be taught to know was completely dishonorable.

The pink Yautja released her hold completely and stepped away from the dishonorable male. Her steps light, calculated she beelined for her new prize. You. Her movements weren’t registering in your brain until you felt the hot breath fan over the top of your head. You snapped your head up to find her gaze upon your trembling form.

Before you had a chance to think, her hand held a strong grasp on the back of your neck. Next, with a sliver of strength, the Yautja had you pinned to the ground. Face down into the mat with neon blood smearing into your skin and new clothing. Your prey instinct drove you to fight, to kick, to bite, to scratch. Anything to get her off of you.

But she didn’t even flinch a single centimeter. She captured both of your arms then straddled your back, pinning both limbs to your side. You sobbed for escape and looked over at your ex-mate who has sat up. His eyes met you in a brief encounter before he looked away. Abandoning you all over again. He got up and slipped through the crowd.

Everyone was far too enraptured with what We’ar-ow was doing to do you than the male leaving with his tail between his legs.

The muscles in your neck grew too sore to hold up your head anymore. Your face pressed back into the slick mat, sobs wracking your body. “Stop it! Get off of me,” I demanded as if I had a place to do so. No matter that she had control of my upper body, I still fought. A deep instinct drove me. Maybe it be a prey instinct or not, I kicked my legs to the best of my ability. Nothing coming close to hitting her.

A hand lined with blacked tipped claws cleared the space at the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. You instantly froze. The threat of death so close with a lethal predator sitting on top of you. Yet, her four hundred pound body was relatively off me, letting me breath but not escape. “Wh-what are you doing?!”

Pain zapped at the spot cleared. A scream tore at your throat. Your efforts for escape double, muscles flexing and straining against ones thrice their size. You thrashed your head about, any efforts to get away. You felt her weight shift above you, long thin tresses scrapping over the skin on your back. “My pet does not writhe in pain! My pet is strong! Silence yourself and earn the title as my pet,” her voice harsh, close to your ear. Soft enough not many could listen but enough for your translator to pick up on.

You take her words in and bite harshly at your lip to silence any noises. While the white hot pain continued, it registered in the back of your mind that We’ar-ow was carving something. Straight into your skin.

The only thing you could not control was the tears. Which, We’ar-ow either didn’t notice or reprimand you about it as she continued. Then, her weight was lifted off of you but you did not move. Your skin far too hot for you, breaths labored as you tried to gather yourself internally.

“Come along, my pet,” We’ar-ow’s voice carried out in the quiet room. Your chest ached. You rolled onto your back and gaze upon the plain ceiling that made up this mothership. But, We’ar-ow didn’t give you a second chance. Her feet swiftly carried her towards the exit, acting as if she didn’t just best your ex-mate and carve something into your back. When you have the chance, you needed to see what she had done to you.

Right now, you needed to your ass off of this stupid mat.

Trembling limbs barely listened to you. One arm after another, you placed your palms on the ground and pushed, muscles straining. Next was drawing your knees up enough to get into a kneeling position. That allowed all the weight on your chest to slide right off. You finally were able to breathe fully.

Through the crowd that still hung around, you spotted your mate through the sea of people. Unlike any time you’ve seen him before, his gaze caused your entire body to shutter. Death. All you could see was death. Your gaze dropped swiftly to the floor. You struggled to get to your feet, but you made it.

With one last fleeting glance in his direction, you stumbled out of the sparring room. Blood coating your skin, some yours and not. One a bright, flashy green while the other dark in contrast. Red.

Like a good pet, you followed your master. The blockade of Yautjas spilt like the sea to Moses. You paid them no attention as you tried to reel everything back in. All you felt like is a hollow person of yourself after today’s events. Worse than yesterday. And you still didn’t have any clue to what was the next step in your new life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

[ikkosu]

CRAZY CHICKS

(pharma x gn.reader)

oh my god, Tumblr won't let me save the thing and I deleted the entire post my accident 😭😭😭 thank God I already uploaded the fic to my AO3. anywhoo!! I adore the song omg it's got a new spot on my playlist <333

THIS is fine.

Oh, this is totally fine. What more could a few hours do? You've toiled through haggard days of insomnia, wrought yourself off from your dry, unmade bed that’s likely rotting in that basement (Pharma doesn’t seem to understand the prospect of human comfort “I’ve slept on metal. You’ll fare well, darling.” ) and inhaled cold breakfast that’s rooked from a can.

Surely, this proposition isn’t all bad?

The devil — he who sits before you now — has his servos in a delicately intertwined lattice. A chesire grin, glimmering white rooks clear on his face, with blue optics that creased into a half-moon.

Disconcertingly enough, he’s got the mien of a charming salesman and the only difference between those two is that at least one of them doesn’t have unethical usage of medical malpractice written all over.

"You see, darling I'm not exactly holding you hostage, here." A digit taps the datapad.

The screen flares brightly and a myriad of texts warbled into view. They’re Cybertronian and much to your un-surprise, through the quick minutes of skimming, it's a contract.

He forged your signature?

"What I'm doing, to be succinctly accurate, is providing you an opportunity a human like you is not often so offered with." He drawls. Then, catching your gaze, placating servos shoots up with feiged sympathy. "In a rather un-delicate manner, of course. Apologies."

You blink slowly. "Unethical labor." Was all you said.

"Ethical. Doesn't have to be labor, either. We're both surgeons."

"I'm a nurse."

His lips keeled over his teeth and the latticed fist clocks the desk with a vexed thump. A   polite miffed look eased over his face, that very well meant displeasure.

“Nonetheless, you're fully able to grasp Cybertronian medical procedures, no?” He hooked up a brow.

“I guess. I— what does this have to do with me strapped to the chair, though?” He leans over, almost boredly, to peer at your gesture around the ropes curled over your flesh, taut and tight, docking you to the chair.

“Ah, I figured you’d be more convinced if I had handled you this way.”

You look to the ground. Up. Down. Then, up. “I’m not getting out of this aren’t I?”

“No. You’re not.” He smiled. Politely.

“And, if I run you’re still going to catch me?”

“Without a doubt, darling.”

“And if you catch me you’re going to kill me?”

He hummed. “That much, I can agree on.”

Wonderful. First, you’re stalked by your boss, now captured by your boss, now threatened by your boss. Can this day get any more absurd? Who are you kidding. Absurdity lies at an abstract form when comes to Pharma.

But you can say this, though : he’s not all bad of a fighter, and a protector is what you needed after meddling with a few of his rather unruly patients. And, so you relent— not without an amused grin which is something you should’ve clocked yourself in the skull for.

“Something funny, darling? Do indulge me in your amusement.” He leans over, the smile is now taut. almost forced. “I’d love to know the source of your pleasure.”

Don’t say it like that that, you grimace but towed on, anyways. “Nothing, you just reminded me of something.”

His wings flare up. The smile, brighter, child-like. Ah, his ego. You forgot. He lavishes himself in praises like they were gold. “Oh?”

You’re not sure if you should continue, given he’d probably keel over and die the moment you’ll concede, but he seemed so eager it was infectious.

And, strangely (you’re going to kill your self for this) you found it adorable. You could use that to an advantage. Like, getting yourself out of this poorly undisguised bondage kink, for example.

“….A song, preferably.” You said.“Can you loosen the straps? It’s kind of hurting.”

“Not a poem— but a song? Oh, I’m incredibly flattered.” He prods you on, almost giddily, with a servo. “Not often do I have the pleasure of pleasing you. Do continue. This is getting rather interesting.”

You cringed. “….Its a pop….song?”

The grin falters, but the benign, persistent streak teetered on. “I see. What’s the, ah,” He gestures vaguely, like he’s convincing himself that whatever you said meant something important. “…Name of this song, you’re willing to divulge?”

You wince. Oh, god. Should you lie? Are you kidding, he’ll dig you a grave deeper than the Himalayas can go. He’s a master manipulator, a concierge to deception, deception at his hands handled with care , and white as they were — it’s never pure. You licked your lips. Your throat is dry.

Here goes nothing.

“Crazy Chicks.”

A slow blink. The optics fizzles out. Dim for a moment, then bright. The smile thinned. “Crazy Chicks.”

“You heard me, right.” You said nervously. “It’s a banger.”

“I am not a banger, or whatever you call it in your human, fleshie terms.” He seethes, cutting off your surprised stammer at his sudden aggressiveness. “How utterly insulting. Are you seriously diagnosing me, with this— this— unearthly, poorly fledged ailment, whoever the pitiful doctor is, inclusive of the features of a poultry?”

“It’s slang for women.” Should you say often offensive? No, he’ll gut you for that— oh god his chainsaw is sheathing. (It’s not, you’re just seeing things.)

“Why would they—“ And, he halts, staring at you for a moment before closing his optics. He kneads his face then sighs, figuring that maybe it wasn’t worth an explanation for. He leans back, a lethargic look on his face. “I appreciate the sentiment darling but I don’t see how this would remind you of me. I’m far from an organic, and I’m far from an unbridled, unculturally deranged Cybertronian.”

So you say. Was your inner deadpan. “The context does.” And, a little squeak of : “Maybe you should try listening to it?”

He seemed offended at the prospect and leans forward, staring you down with his unusually baffled optics. You’re about to call it off , even offering to grovel, when — whether it was the strange flattery that he’s, to you, reminiscent of an object to your liking, or another reason entirely — relents with a grimace.

“Fine. If you’re so insistent.” He mutters. “The least I can do as a compensation for your cooperation.”

A quick tap of his digit to his helm, you can hear the thrum of the familiar tune against his audio processors.

Oh, dear.

Where should you start. At first, the digit tapped along. ‘How typical’, he mutters before, you think he’s finally got the gist of the lyrics, rooked on the most abstruse look you’ve ever seen him don.

Worst three minutes of your life.

You’re here, strapped to this rickety wooden chair Pharma probably pulled out of someone’s ass, sweating, andrenaline pulsing at your throat. All the while your boss is left listening to your inner turmoil poorly disguised through a song, blatantly disparaging his very much unique disposition.

Pharma leans against his chair. The song is done. You’re too eager on the prospect of sudden death to look up. A vent eases out.

“Thats certainly something new. I never thought I'd be addressed this way, more so by a human, of all kinds. Ah, though it’s hard to admit…” His voice was strangely seductive, bordering on a purr, and a wide grin curled the corner of his mouth.

“That's something I can get around with.”