#had to repost this cause i deleted the orignal

[glassrowboat]

Hot to Go. Michi x Baizhu.

Summary: With Baizhu's contract came changes to his very being, some he could never ignore despite longing to. This was just another example.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: NSFT, animalistic traits, fangs, people trying to act as matchmakers, masturbating, mentions of blood

“This contract will end with me.”

That was the promise Baizhu had made in the face of a freshly dug grave, dirt caking his shoes as he stared down at the name embedded in stone; immortalized in the way best known to the nation of Geo. Incense had filled his nose at the time, covering up the smell of freshly turned soil as he made the vow before a memorial to a great man and blades of grass.

Slitted golden eyes had remembered it all.

The way the wind snuck through branches, Jiangli walking off to rejoin her husband with tears in her eyes, how pearlescent scales shifted along his body as Baizhu swore an oath (one not so different from the one he had taken when he first began to learn medicine) not only Changsheng, but his master and all the predecessors that came and passed before him, that he would do his utmost even if it meant breaking and building himself anew in the process.

For he remembered all their names, the medicine they used, and the ways they all perished; having wasted away.

It was no wonder Baizhu spat in the face of fate herself as she held out a hand. To many, it would be inviting, but to him, it was a venom that held only ill will. For he would save every patient that graced his presence and himself.

In the light of a day like no other, Baizhu made a contract he would never take back.

With that came traits he had only seen on his master. Ones hidden away by layers of fabric and a hanfu sleeve tucked just perfectly so that only a single scale peaked out.

Now that scale was on his arm, and just like his master, Baizhu hid it behind a piece of cloth: a single black glove.

Over the years it got worse, more grew in its place, dotting over his arm as if they were freckles rather than a strange condition he had once considered to be eleazar despite the fact it’s native to Sumeru. (Besides, one of his parents could have been from the lush rainforest. Maybe. It was hard to tell when the only memories Baizhu had of those two were hazier than lake water). And then in came his fangs. On a lazy morning where his hair had yet to be tied up, Baizhu had looked into a mirror, ran a tongue that suddenly felt odd in his mouth over them, and nearly collapsed on the spot.

It was obvious then what was happening.

Changsheng finally spoke up and told him this was a side effect of the contract helped, too. He had scolded her then about needing to be upfront about every last detail that day. Nagged her for hours even between a lisp that came with a split tongue he had eventually learned to talk with after hours practicing by chewing the snake out.

That night, he had looked back at that same mirror, the one he already hated to see when Baizhu knew his reflection would be inside and stared.

This was a part of building himself anew.

For that first you must break.

Just like the shards splicing into his ankles, leaving his feet and ankles a bleeding mess after Baizhu had tipped the glass over and watched it fall.

So with another year more snake-like traits blossomed into his very being.

Some, admittedly, are so simple that he can fix them with a new lens prescription. Others… are far from appetizing. From the one time he actually looked at a rat and thought for a split second how it would make a perfect meal all the way to having to lock himself away for an entire week all because of one thing: going into heat.

Another talk with Changsheng had followed shortly after that debacle.

Since then, a schedule of sorts had fallen into place, all around these blasted changes that had him all the more tempted to hang a cloth over every reflected, warped version of him in Baizhu's apartment. For makeup can't cover scales the way they can the dark circles under his eyes from nights staying up studying, lotion can't smooth the peeling skin coming off like he was shedding the same way a snake would, and it certainly can't make Baizhu see anything appealing in the sweaty, almost rabid thing he hates to admit becoming once a year.

It’s unappealing.

It's gross.

It means there's nothing more than a creature staring back at-

Baizhu's grip on the brush in his hand tightened, almost threatening to snap the thin piece of wood as it crackled with restraint to stay together.

Changsheng would have told him to snap out of it, to calm down and breathe just as Baizhu was forcing himself to do now. In and out. Once, twice, thrice. And the words in front of him became clear once again.

It was everything that needed to be done next week, only four days away, and yet the promise of what was to come, again, was already haunting him. Whispering in Baizhu's ear to hurry up with writing every prescription gracing his desk, the list of herbs that need to be either bought or gathered, and anything the pharmacy will undoubtedly need in his absence.

Gui was used to this by now, at least. He would be able to fill in the gaps Baizhu wasn't able to as his own impending doom lingered.

As for Qiqi..? Well, not so much, but it's not like Baizhu could blame the little zombie, not even as he could hear her outside on the patio counting down the time she's supposed to hold her stretches with a “three, two, one,” and release. Then, on to the other arm.

Reminding herself to breathe all the while.

Advice he should take, too, as Baizhu's brush dipped back into the ink pot before him, swirling in the black liquid only to be run along the rim to remove any excess now sliding down the glass bottle in droplets. A poised hand was ready to write again, but it fell just as quickly when someone unceremoniously plopped themselves on the table Baizhu had been working on with an oof causing it to push back along the floor with a screech.

The ink bottle jostled as a mess of green, gold, and platform heels he could recognize from a mile away with their bejeweled wings filled his vision.

“Michi.” Baizhu said plainly, his brows pinched together as he stopped the bottle from tipping over.

“My favorite doctor.” She responded back with a smile on her black lips, and right below them was a new pair of gold piercings replacing the spikes he had long since gotten used to seeing them wearing.

She liked his gift, then. The charm hanging from her lip swayed back and forth with every move Michi made. That was enough to soothe some of the tension in his shoulders, keeping Baizhu’s muscles taut.

“I see you're back from visiting your employer.”

“And you were my second stop after I got back.” Baizhu's gaze traced over their arm to their hand as Michi extended her fingers to count out two. “After visiting my shop, I ran right on over here. Really, you should be honored that I graced you with my presence, Doc.”

“And who would have been your second visit then, if not me?”

As he spoke, Baizhu tapped her leg in an attempt to urge Michi to sit down properly. There was a perfectly good stool right beside him, but of course they opted to sit up where she could look down on him instead; even after all the times he's told Michi to use the furniture for its intended purpose.

“Well, let's see”- she crossed her legs, refusing to budge from her perch- “Beidou, Kazuha, Qiqi, Changsheng, and Gui over there who's failing at being subtle about the fact he's trying to sneak off to the back.”

Gui froze in his spot at being called out, one foot already through the doorway with his brown head of hair ducked down. “Hello to you too, Michi.”

“Yeah, hi.”

“I was just going to put on a pot of tea. It's about the time Doctor Baizhu here takes a break, and I'm sure you wouldn't mind?”

Michi waved Gui off with a reminder to add two spoonfuls of sugar to their cup just how they like it and tacked on a please- just to be polite.

As soon her gaze was turned away from the herbalist, Baizhu caught Gui giving him a thumbs up, silently mouthing out the words “Good luck” right before the door clicked shut.

Slipping off with ease to leave him and Michi all alone.

Or, as close as they can get to it when Baizhu can still hear a soft, deadpan voice counting out her stretches.

Maybe it was about time Baizhu put a stop to both his and Changsheng’s attempts to play matchmaker. He was having enough of it lately between the endless jabs and his worsening mood as doom day approaches. The urge to pick up his xuan brush and add it to his to-do list had his fingers running over the lacquered bamboo wood, tracing the way it was carved by expert hands.

It had to be written down before he forgot. Too many things had to be handled before he could afford to sit back and have a leisurely chat. Still, Baizhu refrained in favor of asking: “Then what brings you to me?”

“Certainly not medicine.” Michi responded, her leg stretching out to tap at the wall with her shoe.

Normally, he'd say, if Michi was anyone else, to visit after the pharmacy had closed. It was a strict rule Baizhu tried his best to keep with anyone and everyone. After all, this was the time for patients, not visits. That could be saved for after hours. It's just with Michi they would hum an agreement, one that never failed to remind him far too much of his older patients who would roll their eyes and bat off his care without a word to return to their old habits only a day later; so stuck in their ways they wouldn't bother to change damaging habits despite the fact they came to him for help. So he didn't bother.

Or, at least, that's what Baizhu has come to tell himself every time she sits before him, and he can see her tongue darting out to trace the new jewelry.

“Though, it seems you might have too much on your plate for a friendly visit.” Michi said as she gestured to the loose stack of papers he was working on, eyes scanning over it.

It took a moment longer than he would have liked to process her words, but when they did, Baizhu was already repeating the same old lie he had used time and time again for these occasions. “I'm going out of town in a few days. On Monday, to be exact. This is all my preparations for the time I'll be gone.”

“Oh yes, we can't have the pharmacy unmanned. That would mean there would be people lining up for you to come back all trying to cough into their fists.”

Baizhu ignored Michi’s fake cough into her curled up hand.

“I doubt anyone is going to suddenly break into a fever and spread it around town while I'm gone, especially when Gui will be here to man the counter, but it never hurts to be careful.” A puff of air bew past his lips, brushing that stray lock of green hair he had tried to tousle into place that morning. Today, it seems to have decided upon being just as stubborn as Changsheng always says he is.

“Fair enough.”

Michi dropped the paper she had only just picked up when Baizhu smacked her hand away, telling her it was confidential.

“Shouldn't be doing this out in the public eye then. You have a back room for a reason.” Michu huffed.

“Or, dear, you could learn to listen to me when I tell you what a patient discusses with me is only between them and I. You always have had an issue minding your own business.”

Baizhu winced at his own tone, hating how it was sterner than he meant to be with her.

“Me? My, I never.”

Not that she seemed to mind. Much.

Besides, there was always the issue of…

“Have you procured any burns since I've last seen you?”

A beat of silence passed between them before Michi mumbled out a “No.”

Holding out his hand, Baizhu waited, staring up at her with a raised brow, until Michi’s own fell into his perfectly. Briefly his touch ran over her callouses, the tough skin almost a comfort at this point, so unlike the scales he hid and the smoothness of his own after lathering himself in lotion day in and day out (they always did start to crack after he washed them too much) as he moved to push the sleeves of their dress up and out of the way to reveal a few spots of burn marks littering her arms; a result of stray sparks, as they have explained to him. At the very least, he could do something about this, for busy hands were better than idle ones.

“‘No'?” Baizhu repeated.

“Okay, maybe.” Michi admitted.

“That's what I thought.”

Baizhu tapped her knee again, encouraging Michi to sit down beside him so he could look over the scabs and patches of pink, irritated skin. This means he will have to make some more of that gel, again consisting of mist flowers, lumitoile, and a single lizard tail. The exact recipe was already pictured in his mind reading out each measurement.

The image of his recipe book, the old binding, helped distract from how her fingers were intertwined with his. A writer's bump nudging against Baizhu’s middle phalanx.

“I can already see your mind toiling away coming up with some wicked concoction.” Michi teased as she nudged the stool closer to him, also with a screech against the hardwood floor, before sitting down.

Their voice was in Baizhu's ear, so close he could hear the strain on her vocal cord as she leaned in closer and closer, all he had to do was shut his eyes and pay attention when she said “You're so cute when you're all concentrated like that.”

Baizhu's eyes snapped open as he felt her breath grazing his ear.

“Michi.” Baizhu tried to warn, only to feel like he was choking on the smell of smoke and gunpowder that always seemed to cling to her, and something that had his slitted eyes narrowing as he stared down at the list of needed stock before him. It made it all the harder to read the text ‘Order 15 windwheel asters’ all the harder even with his glasses perched perfectly on Baizhu's nose.

“Yes, Doc?”

“I'll-” Baizhu cleared his throat, “I'll get to making that salve. Please, excuse me.”

His shoes were padding across the floor, feet taking Baizhu to stand behind the counter before Michi could even reply with what would undoubtedly be some plafuk remark. Baizhu’s hands reached out to randomly grab at whatever he could through an all too familiar haze, fingertips running along the endless shelves lining Bubu's walls, tracing each handle and painted golden leaf as he relied on muscle memory to guide him.

The lizard tails were here.

The lumitoile is here.

The drawers pulled open as Baizhu fished out each item he needed, all while his head swam.

How did Changsheng go through this every year?

Even with the snake currently hiding away, nestled up and waiting for her own week of burning misery with a few extra mice Baizhu had gone out of his way to make sure she had, he couldn't understand. Not when each year since this manifested in the very depths of his bones dragging down, every step was unbearable. Only to be made all the worse as he remembered the feeling of Michi's lips on his. How the spiked piercings she had worn before poked at his skin. How Baizhu faltered as the unexpected pain shocked him to the point he hadn't even taken the time to truly memorize what kissing Michi felt like.

…The hurt look in her eyes when he pulled away.

A mist flower broke Baizhu out of his shock, the cryo energy sending a shiver down his spine causing Baizhu to gasp.

Breathe, he told himself. In and out. Three, two, one, just like he heard Qiqi still muttering from outside.

Baizhu fixed his glasses, pushing them along his nose until the golden and crystal charms hanging off the frames tickled his cheeks. Briefly the scent of herbs had Baizhu calming down, the familiarity easing him, washing over his mind like a calming breeze on a hot day, but it did nothing to soothe the smell of her burnt into his senses. It's just like a stick of incense slowly being eaten up as smoke licks at the air, masking everything else.

Baizhu looked back over at them, watching for a moment as she stared back at him with pursed lips.

“I'm sorry, Michaella,” he could see her nose wrinkling at being called their full name, “but I think it's best to have Gui take care of your prescription today.”

“That so?”

Baizhu fixed the sash tied around his waist, fiddling with the fabric to pull it just so. “As you said: I have a full plate. I know he'll be just as dedicated to taking care of this for you as I would be, but at the present moment, I don't have the time.”

“Right.” She drawled out, saying the word so slowly Baizhu could have sworn she was tasting it on her tongue. “I'll just go, then. After all, I'm a big girl. I don't need some salve for something like a burn or two.”

Baizhu tugged the sash again, trying to ignore how he strained against it. “Please, this is no issue to him at all. It won't take Gui long.”

“No, no, I should have just visited Beidou first. Saved us both the trouble since you're so busy.” Michi spat out.

Baizhu didn't reply even as they stood up, Baizhu didn't tell her to stay for a moment longer as she walked to the door, Baizhu didn't break the barrier he placed between them by going behind the counter to cup her cheek, and Baizhu didn't kiss her this time like he promised himself he would if the opportunity presented itself.

No, instead, his eyes stubbornly found themselves glued to the floor even as the sound of her heels clicking over that polished hardwood switched to stone as she left him behind.

Baizhu’s fingers curled around the fabric in his hands even tighter.

“Really, Baizhu?” He asked himself.

Michi is too flirtatious, he reminded himself; she has a quick temper and is keen to drag anyone into her anger with sharp remarks and harsh actions; she's- she's- Baizhu's eyes raised to catch sight of her in the plaza walking away from him, her abysmally short skirt swaying side to side with every step.

She makes a mess of him.

One he doesn't have time for. Not now, not ever. Not with all of this pathetic moth’s goals still so far from reach as he breaks every day his fingers fail to reach the moon. Not when Michi doesn't even know everything he's promised for the sake of saving others. She doesn't need to get involved in the scales he threw his life at to balance on between life and death.

Surely, she would pull away just like he did (no matter how much he regrets doing so) if his fangs grazed her skin.

The smell of smoke, gunpowder, and her ovulation still lingered.

He was supposed to have four more days, but that thought was for naught as he quickly called Gui to man the counter as he had something to attend to upstairs. The words came out strangled, faltering from what he originally intended to voice just like when Michi was sitting before him, playful eyes looking down at Baizhu with a mirth to them that never seemed to extinguish; blazing with a fire that burned everything in her wake.

The same burn tore at his joints, leaving them aching, as Baizhu ran up the stairs as fast as he could manage when his legs always felt so weak.

The door slammed between him, and Baizhu couldn't even bring it in himself to feel sorry.

Four more days. It always started on an exact date. Always. When did that fact shed away as easily as his clothes as Baizhu pushed the fabric of his pants out of the way.

The loss of friction was both a blessing and a reason to have Baizhu's eyes fluttering shut at the sight of himself. Pink, flushed tip aching to be touched and soothed.

But Baizhu hesitated.

Maybe he could drink some tea and try to calm down, maybe Changsheng could temporarily balance his Qi out just long enough to tamper this urge down, maybe he could force himself to write those prescriptions with shaky hands, anything but this: wrapping his hand around himself.

A groan fell from his lips.

Mumbling to himself Baizhu fumbled over the mattress, trying to completely kick his pants off as he reached over for the box Baizhu kept on top of his night stand along with a few silver jars containing red makeup powder, scented balms, and perfume; they were all pushed aside in favor of a bottle of lube.

Baizhu breathed in as the cold slick hit his skin, sliding over it in thick droplets, threatening to fall down to the silk sheets of his bed.

The image of Michi laid out in the sheets, brown hair spread out on the pillowcase as far as it can go, spent and satisfied with a flush to her face after she's done whatever she wanted with him struck Baizhu.

And what would happen before that….

Baizhu's forked tongue slid out, flicking as he took in the scent of his own arousal.

Michi's legs would be on either side of his waist, black lips parted as they moaned whenever he brushed against her. Three inches deep, spongey, easy to find if you have lithe fingers, and would make her toes curl as Michi rode him. How she'd squeeze around him…

Lube was pressed into his tip, smeared in with his precum as Baizhu pressed his thumb to the pink slit.

“I shouldn't be doing this.” Baizhu muttered to himself, but it did nothing to stop the way his hips jolted just at the mere thought of helping slide that dress over their thighs as she climbed on top of him.

It was always annoying. So short. It would be so easy to-

Baizhu dropped his face to the plush of his pillow to muffle the groan on his lips. It welcomed him in with the soft scent of glaze lily from his shampoo, yet he craved the lingering smell of ash that clung to Michi wherever she went; drifting through the air with ease all the way to him time and time again.

She would sit back, cross her legs as a smirk crept its way on her face and tease him without mercy just like Michi always did when they shared tea together; lipstick marks would always be left behind on her cup. Strangely, he never minded cleaning them off.

Tentatively, Baizhu gave himself a slow stroke against his cock, begging to be satiated by calloused hands.

A drop of lube fell to the linen below as Baizhu swallowed the need to say her name.

The word Michi lived and died in his tongue. Just as the idea of her hands in his hair did.

(Lips on his with the cool metal of their piercings sending shivers down Baizhu's spine).

(Her chest as he teases her nipples until she was batting his hand away because of course she would. Things always did have to be her way even with Michi's lax attitude, and Baizhu didn't see why making love would be any different).

(Hearing her say his name).

Baizhu's teeth dug into the pillow, muffling his apology to her for daring to do this- fucking his own hand- with the thought of her in mind.

Baizhu's hand squeezed his cock, the lube making it all the easier to move it up and down until his fangs were ripping through the seams of the pillow.

Tufts of cotton slipped off the mattress.

Cum joined the drop of lube.

His knees shook as Baizhu stared down at the mess he made, slitted eyes going from the splattered white painting on the sheets to the pillow he would now have to replace.

Torn apart.

The sharp tip of Baizhu's fangs poked at his lip as the image of blood, a torn neck, and wide hazel eyes flashed through his mind. Immediately, he wanted it to stop. Cricopharyngeal muscle contracting as he gagged.

If it had been Michi under him rather than a pillow...

Baizhu's scaled hand, how they traveled over every dip and curve of his knuckles, clung to the bones, had his lips curling back into a grimace as he dropped it from his half hard cock, already begging to be touched again as the burning ignited in his gut.

The tufts of cotton brushed against Baizhu's face as he rolled over to look down at himself: a creature in human skin.

The thought of what Michi would think of him in this state sent the pace of his heart fluttering like the wings of a dragonfly passing by his cheek to leave him in the dust as it flew on and off without him.

“First you must break.” Baizhu reminded himself, hand already reaching out for his aching need again.

[natianrk]

Old Splatoon character reposts

these were orignally on my twt (That i had to delete cause of the platform being stupid..) so yeah, these are old so dont expect the best quality out of them