#i just have to call so fi to do the thing they claimed i could do where i pay a one time tax thing

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 6

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 4.5k words

Chapter Warnings: language, fluff, smut implied

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The Men of Letters bunker was full of many wondrous and wacky things. From weapons to ancient texts, to objects that looked like they’d been pulled right out of a sci-fi movie. 

Some were dangerous, plenty were extremely so, and others, Dean wouldn’t touch even if he was wearing a lead-lined radioactive safety suit. Screw ten-feet poles. 

Sam would say the same about the vast collection of handwritten reports and records the place had, too, but he would be wrong. Dean did, in fact, read on occasion. And it wasn’t just in times of researching for cases or when he had the mark. 

Sometimes he simply got bored.

It’s how he’d stumbled on one particular document regarding mated pairs from another world and learned that not all of Chuck’s creations had heats, ruts and knots like they assumed. Although he should’ve known that without reading it in a file. He always knew there was something funny about the doppelgangers in the Fiat besides the other Sammy’s man-bun. 

Douchebuggery aside, somewhere in God’s vast universe, there were humans who weren’t categorised by secondary gender and thus alpha males who didn’t have bulbous muscles at the base of their dicks. 

Yup. There was at least one Dean Winchester whose junk was the same width the whole way along, except for the tip. That perv Sinclair, who’d written on the subject the most, had actually drawn a picture of one. Not his, per se, but some random guy’s. Dean hoped.

There were also no marks or claims. No soulmate’s even. Just straight up male and female pairs, shacking up together, sometimes casual, but when serious, showing off their unions with rings and a piece of paper. 

This world and its marriage thing sounded so much simpler in some ways. No marking meant no biting, and no knotting meant you could fuck off once you were done. That had to be convenient for one-night stands. 

Who’d complain about that?

But this society had another thing Dean remembered, and it was something that seemed to fit what the past two weeks had been like for him and you.

The honey-days period. 

At least, that sounded about right. He wasn’t about to reread the file again because the dick pick had scarred him for life.

Whatever the name was, after meeting four weeks prior, that was the stage he was at in his relationship with you, minus the swanky hotel and room service. 

Every moment you had been together had been spent well, together. And Dean hadn’t had enough. 

Was he whipped? Maybe. Obsessed? If that label satisfied Sammy, then sure. But as he looked down at you, lying satiated on top of him, he didn’t care, because the word that came to mind for him was happy. And the happiest he’d been in his life to date that he could recall.

He’d slept like a baby last night, and your wake-up call earlier had been awesome. Exactly what he needed after another long hunt away. 

His arms wrapped tighter around you, basking in the afterglow of your latest romp in the sheets. Not that they were anywhere nearby. One half had ended up tangled in his ankles, while the other was on the floor. 

He nuzzled his chin into your hair. The smell of cinnamon, a touch of apple and a nip of whisky from his lips, reminded him of his favourite dessert, and his mouth twitched. Those movies had gotten it right. If only his stomach wasn’t rumbling beneath you like a crazed animal, he might have gone in for a second helping.

He was starving. Wasting away to nothing and needing to do something about it real soon.

“What do you say I make us a big breakfast once we’ve cleaned up?” he asked. It wouldn’t be as fancy as room service, but he’d put in the extra effort for you. He knew how to whip up pancakes, bacon and eggs and would even add some fruit in it for you if it’s what you wanted. 

But who was he kidding? What he had in mind wasn’t for your benefit at all.

Still, he hoped you’d agree to it. While not heavy, your hips were pressing into his bladder, and taking a leak was fast becoming the top thing to do on his imaginary list.

“I think you mean lunch,” you mumbled.

Dean strained his neck to look at the alarm clock on his bedside. Fuck. It was close to twelve. No wonder he was feeling pangs from both organs. Normally, he’d be up and about by now. “I haven’t slept this late in a long time,” he said.

“Last I recall, you weren’t sleeping.” You chuckled and raised your head up to meet his eyes. The cool morning air rushed straight to his nipples, nipping at them, and yours, sending signals to his still deflating knot. 

Damn bunker was always cold. 

There must’ve been a few drops left of his release because he definitely felt a pulse at the root of his shaft and you quirked your brow.

“I just spent three days without you, sweetheart.” He shrugged. 

He’d missed you every second of them, too. Though, unlike the case in New Mexico, his insecurities had become more lax. 

You now had an anti-possession tattoo, and you knew how to shoot a pistol and shotgun, sort of. 

The revolver he kept under the war room table was a start. It was loaded, cocked and ready to use, which yes, he was well aware went against every piece of gun training his father and Bobby had ever taught him, but precaution was key. He needed to protect you, even when he wasn’t there to do so. 

“You just got home,” you said, finding a sudden interest in his own ink. “And you’ve been working a lot. How about you let me make something for you?” 

His fingers brushed through your hair, tucking the strands behind your ear that had fallen down. “Last I recall,” he said smugly, “you were working, too.”

“What? Reading text books. You and Sam had it all figured out.” 

You pushed away from the mattress and crawled back to sit upright. But his hands found your hips, and he stopped you from moving any further. He didn’t like your tone or the way you frowned. 

“We didn’t know we had to light it up,” he said, hoping praise was what you needed to hear. 

It was the truth, and he and Sam had been grateful. They could’ve spent longer away from home if you hadn’t found the solution. The damn thing, that still had no name, had similarities with vamps, but it still wouldn’t stay put, even after a machete to the neck and the rounds of lead and silver they blasted into its torso.

But you scoffed. “How often do you guys burn things?” 

Without hesitation, he opened his mouth to speak. Only you had him stumped. His brain had no words to counter with. 

They burned shit all the time, vengeful spirit or not. If they were ever in need of disposing of a body real quick, it was digging a hole and lighting her up, or finding a wood chipper. And it wasn’t like he had one floating around in Baby’s trunk. 

That answer wouldn’t help him or you, though, and there was more to this than you being upset about the method they’d used to get the job done.

He saw the pout, the subtle nod that you’d made your point, and the way your fingers continued to trace the lines of the pentagram on his chest. Any idiot could tell that something was wrong. He just needed to know what. 

You were his mate after all, with or without his claim, and his current bodily function issues aside, it was his duty to look out for your welfare, both emotional and physical. Yet, he was hesitant to open up whatever rabbit hole he was about to. 

Luckily, his inner Sammy was having a conniption. ‘Talk to her,’ it said. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions like you always do.’ 

And for once, rather than saying something stupid, he listened. “Is everything okay?” 

“I just—” You bit your lip. 

His stomach had decided it was the perfect time to gurgle in protest. 

“You know what, nevermind.” You patted him gently. “We should clean up. You haven’t eaten yet.” And you swung your leg off of him and moved to the edge of the bed.

Fuck. Guilt crept in on him. Something was bothering you, but things were getting desperate for his stomach and his plumbing, and the last thing he wanted to do was wet the bed, so ultimately, his own predicament won out. 

He sat up, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you down onto your back, catching you by surprise. Your squeal of delight telling him distraction was key.

Dean captured your lips with his, placing all of his feelings into it to soothe whatever was troubling you. Promising himself that he would work on fixing things as soon as the horde rumbling in his insides had ebbed. 

Sam had been busy himself that morning.

So far, he’d searched the web for anything resembling a case, and found nothing. He’d also gone for a run, taken a shower, and was finishing up in the bathroom when he received the text.

Where are you? It read.

He didn’t think much of the message. Why would he? 

It wasn’t unusual for Dean to use his phone rather than look for him. The bunker was large, after all. Three levels, multiple halls and passageways, and those were just the areas they’d discovered. Who knew how expansive a place could be when it had a giant telescope and a shooting range amongst other rooms?

While he found some interest in that stuff, Sam still prioritised cataloguing the library. Something he hoped to get you on board with, because Dean never helped him, and you had some experience with your former job.

He sighed as he picked up his phone to type out his response - My room. At least he would be when his brother arrived at his bedroom door. It wasn’t far away and Dean liked to go slow on rest days. Especially now with you around.

Unfortunately for Sam, however, he had misunderstood Dean’s intentions, and dawdling by account was the last thing he should’ve done. 

He took his time, putting his boots on, getting the socks into position so that the seams didn’t annoy his toes in the corners. He threw his dirty clothes in the hamper, making sure each piece was turned the right way out and separated. Finally, he returned his damp towel to the metal rung he kept it on, folding it just so that the edges lined up, and stepped out into the corridor with a wave of steam close behind him. 

Swivelling on his feet, he strolled back towards his room, continuing with his leisurely pace. 

He had not a care in the world.

That was until he rounded the curve and found himself in front of his brother, carrying you over his shoulder, and he did a double take.

“Sammy?” 

“Dude! What the hell.”

Unlike Dean, you had some shame and scrambled to make sure the sheet you’d been wrapped in covered your body, though you had done a fair job of that before Sam had run into you both, and he appreciated it.

He liked you. You seemed kind and sweet. Too good for Dean if he was honest, but he respected the soulmate thing and knew that for whatever reason, even if it was unknown, you already had a profound bond.

With Dean, however, he’d rather not have shared as much as what he was seeing. It was bad enough he’d heard things the past two weeks since returning from New Mexico, but this? “Please tell me you’re wearing something.” He sighed.

“Why’d you think I sent that message for?” Dean grinned, and Sam shook his head. 

“Because you were looking for me?”

“No.” His voice was higher than usual. “I wanted to know where you were. There’s a difference.”

Fucking hell. He may have been awake for a good six hours now, but it was still far too early for semantics, especially with Dean. “Well, here I am,” Sam said, his arms and chest jerking forward in frustration. 

“This ain’t your room.”

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. Why did he bother? It was days like these he wished he’d stayed at Stanford. Or left Dean alone to succumb to that djinn in Illinois. Either way, he would’ve saved himself some crap. “I was headed there!”

“Well, keep heading there. I gotta take a leak,” Dean said as he sped past. Your hands reached down, doing their best to cover the parts of him Sam didn’t want to see. 

“Sorry,” you mouthed, and he shook his head in return.

He knew he liked you. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to handle his brother with you around. Especially if what he’d just witnessed was about to become a regular occurrence.

Dean jiggled, flushed and flipped the lid. He was a courteous guy. And just maybe, had learnt his lesson a long time ago while living at Lisa’s. 

You were already in the shower waiting for him when he padded across the tiled floor to wash his hands.

You’d been quiet ever since he’d mentioned their recent case in Iowa. Quieter still when he’d made a joke about Sammy, having the personality of the Mountain despite being younger after he’d lied about where he was, and Dean was growing concerned. You normally laughed along with him about this stuff, and sure, it had been only four weeks of knowing you, but this was different to how you usually were around him.

Were you really upset that they’d ganked the last d-bag by lighting ‘em up in flames? Had you wanted to help more on the case? Did you want to, Chuck forbid, hunt with them?

Over his dead body. 

There was no way you’d ever take up that life. The guns and tattoo were only there as a precaution, nothing more, so he hoped there was another explanation.

But what else?

Your heat was due soon. 

Maybe this change in mood was a sign it was starting? 

‘You ain’t asking that,' he chuckled silently to himself. He didn’t have a death wish. Though he was screwed if this was going to become daily life for him.

He pushed those thoughts to the side. He was being a douchebag just thinking of them, and that wasn’t him. 

That belonged with man-bun Sammy and the version of him that wore dress shirts without a suit and tie. The guy was one good looking fella, he’d give him that, but Dean didn’t need a fancy-ass shirt to pull off the same amount of charm with you, or anyone else. He was like Swayze. Better with age.

He glanced over the reflection of his torso in the mirror, catching your silhouette behind the glass screen sitting just above his shoulder.

The room was quiet besides the shower and splashing noises made as you washed. There was no sound of tears or smell of them, and he took that as a good sign. Great, when you smiled warmly at him as he entered the cubicle with you.

“Better?” You squinted through the stream.

“I am now,” he said as he stepped closer to steal the warm water from you, earning himself a wet slap and you a cheeky grin.

His hardened chest pressed against your soft one, leaving barely any room for the spray to flow. 

There was something sexy about slippery skin. There was something sexy about your skin. Who was he kidding?

Still feeling playful, Dean’s hand moved to perch on your hip. He leaned in as if he were about to plant a kiss on your lips, but swooped behind you last second, reaching for his body wash on the inbuilt shelf. 

That earned him a firmer smack. One he revelled in. Violence was never the answer. He’d made that clear when he screwed with Dick. It told him his shenanigans were working, though. 

That, and you hit like a girl.

He caught your arm and poured a generous amount of soap into your palm, proceeding to use your hand to wash himself. 

“I need to teach you how to throw a punch,” he said as he draped your fingers around his neck first, then down over both shoulders and pectorals. All guided by him, and his even bigger grin.

“Why? I’m not a hunter.” You scoffed.

You weren’t interested in being one, either, by the sounds of it, thank fuck. 

Your hand pulled against his movements. “You thought I wanted to be?”

How did you do that? “I was worried you might.”

“What made you think that?” 

Now that he was being asked, he didn’t have the answer. “I, ah… I dunno. Something’s bothering you ‘bout the last hunt.”

You took a step back and hit the wall with a soft slap, looking at him as if he’d just told you werewolves weren’t real, even though you very much knew they were. He’d ganked one in between the witches and their most recent case. 

“So you thought I wanted to join you? It…” You shook your head. “I thought you were hungry?” 

You would be wrong. He had lost his stomach minutes ago and now had Famine banging around in there instead. But he didn’t tell you that. You’d think he was crazier than you already did if he started bringing up the apocalypse. That was a discussion for another time when he brought up their not so straightforward relationships with God and the King of Hell.

“I am.” He laced his fingers between yours and pulled you back to the centre of the shower, watching as the spray hit your shoulders. “But it can wait. There’s something you’re not telling me here, and I need you to tell me.”

Your head lowered, drawing him down, too. 

Bad move. The water now ran over your breasts to your pert nipples, the curves creating tiny waterfalls that captivated his attention with the way droplets pooled at the edges. He had to swallow hard.

“I want to make you breakfast,” you said.

Uh… The statement would’ve made him revert back to eye level, but when you bounced on the heels of your feet, it didn’t help his resolve. The words, though. What? “You wanna cook?” You cooked all the time.

“No.” You shot back up. “Well, yeah. That came out wrong… I want to…help more…around the bunker. You know, earn my keep.”

Earn your keep.

Do more?

“You do plenty around here.” You’d been cooking for them almost every meal since you’d moved in. Organised the kitchen and kept on top of the use by dates in the fridge. He hadn’t drunk off-milk or been in the laundry room in over a month. Maybe even two for the latter. But he wasn’t about to admit that.

“No, I don’t.” You shook your head. “Not enough. I know hunting doesn’t exactly pay the bills, but you and Sam go out there and save people, and here I am, making the occasional meal for you guys when you get home.”

Your hand came up to his stomach and smoothed over the creases that highlighted where his muscles lay beneath. “I wanna help more,” you said. “Dick took all my—” 

Dean smirked at your usage of your ex’s nickname. That was his ‘endearment,’ not yours. 

“Don’t do that.” You swatted him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it. I felt you smile.”

You did? Well, that was new. But he didn’t question you. He had no heart to. Your mind was on a one-way ticket to that spark he knew. 

“…Ritchie took everything I have, and now I don’t have a job to help pay my way.” You reached for the soap and squeezed out another dollop onto your palm and started running it over his body once more. “I can’t even help you with your cases. I just…don’t want you to think I’m mooching off of you guys.”

So that’s what was wrong.

Dean had forgotten all about that dickbag bleeding you dry. Too happy and lost in the life he’d been building with you to realise that your baggage was still weighing you down.

“It ain’t mooching if there’s nothing to mooch, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist while his hand came up to cradle your head. 

“But I’m used to working. Contributing. And I’m going stir crazy not doing that.”

Dean sighed. There was that guilt again, only now he had cause for it. He and Sam always had each other, but they were leaving you here for days at a time, with no transport, no respite, no purpose, while only his phone calls kept you company. 

It’s no wonder you were struggling.

This place must’ve felt like a prison to you, compared to the life you’d had, even with that abusive fucktard. It was still cold in the warmer months. Creepy, as you’d complained about when they were in New Mexico, and you had no nest here, or space to call your own so you could make one. 

Dean could relate to all of that if he was honest, minus the nesting thing. There’d been times in his life when he felt frustrated because he couldn’t do jack. A broken leg. Heart problems because of some crazy-ass ghost. Sammy in hell. Okay, that was a little out of the present perspective… All in all, though, he didn’t know what to do to help you.

That was until you said, “How about you let me make you breakfast?” with a smile, and while he was perplexed once again by how the fuck you’d done that, he kissed you on your forehead, and smiled against your skin in return.

“We’ll do it together,” he whispered. And then grabbed your hand and moved it to wash his ass cheek.

Dean fumbled through the contents of the fridge. His fingers and ears were now at risk of frostbite on account of how long he’d been searching in there for. "Where’d you say it was?” 

“Top shelf,” you said over the sizzling of bacon in the pan. 

He’d looked there already and there was no fucking butter. 

He raised his head and pushed past the milk, juice and whatever the hell vegetable Sam had blended into liquid this time. If smoothies weren’t meant to be green, they probably weren’t meant to be brown either. 

Yes, it could’ve been melted chocolate…

But it wasn’t. 

Cocoa, or anything else associated with its candy form, did not smell like the contents of his stomach after cheap whiskey. Nor did it have lumps. Or take on that specific colour.

Gross.

And no closer to finding the damn butter.

He shut the fridge with a sigh louder than the metal doors creaking and went to the pantry. Oil would have to do. Surely they had some of that lying round the bunker. The kind he used for Baby’s engine was a no go, obviously, but he wouldn’t say no to blessed pancakes if he got desperate enough to take the holy stuff from her trunk. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked as he scoured the open shelving.

“Wasn’t any.” There was, however, canola or olive oil, and he picked them up and turned around to show them to you. “Which—”

Your hands were already on your hips. 

You scrunched your nose and channelled your inner Samantha before spinning on your heels, searching for the ingredient yourself.

It was no surprise you found it straight away, but in his defence, Dean hadn’t expected it to be in the container Jody had ‘leant’ them a few months ago. The last time he’d seen the thing, there was gravy inside that was definitely gravy and not something he questioned as chocolate.

“Where’d you find that?”

“In the fridge. Top shelf.” You deadpanned.

“Smart ass.” He grinned, but pulled you close anyway when he stepped up next to you. “I didn’t know you’d put it in that.” 

His chin dipped down to your shoulder and nuzzled his initials hidden beneath the fabric. The hiss you made between your teeth brought a smirk to his lips and a familiar pang to his own body. 

“It keeps better. Though I had to clean it out first. I dunno what was in there, but it wasn’t edible.”

He moved to your mating gland and chuckled into your skin, peppering kisses over the sensitive flesh. “And you thought you weren’t helping ‘round here.”

“Cleaning out Tupperware with a living ecosystem growing inside of it does not make up for a nine to five,” you stated.

Though he heard you, his mind focused on the change in your pulse that had taken on a life of its own. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was pulling his into a similar rhythm.

Your skin was hot to touch, warming the surrounding air, and everything started to make sense. “How much longer till your heat, ‘mega?” (And here he swore he wouldn’t be a douchebag.)

Your “Hmm?” was distant, and he grazed his front teeth over your neck, drawing away to find lust filled eyes turning to meet him. 

“Do I need to stop takin’ the suppressants?” His brows wagged, hopeful and just as driven as you had been lost in his attentions. 

“It might be a good idea,” you said, patting his cheek. “Probably best to think about your poor brother too…shit.” Your focus returned to the bacon that was fast becoming a little too crispy even for him. When it spat back at you, you flinched. “Well, excuse me for not letting you burn,” you directed to the pan.

He rubbed a placating hand over your rear, then got to work whipping up a batch of pancakes. It was now past noon and while he may have been hungry before, he was close to eating the raw ingredients he churned the spoon through.

‘Sammy?’ his mind repeated. He’d rather not. But Dean recognised you had a point after this morning.

If things were reversed, there’s no way he’d be sticking around during your first heat. It was surprising Sam hadn’t lost his cool with him earlier, and he wondered if he should send his brother on a fake milk run. All he needed to do was find a suspicious enough murder a few states over. Maybe get Donna or Jody involved and… 

Dean looked down at the butter in the container. Another wider grin spread across his face.

“What?” you asked. Not moving an inch.

“How many days do you think we got?”

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Ahhhhh - any guesses what's happening next?

I started to gain a rather large interest in the concept of nesting as I worked through this story, and the first little signs of it are coming up next chapter (it's in the preview below). As someone who's made a career in retail, it was only natural that my sales brain came up with stores having nesting departments, and it will feature again if you catch my drift.

I won't give too much away, but I'm on the edge of my own seat waiting to give you guys the next chapter to the point I’m considering uploading it earlier! Are you guys ready for him to claim her?

Until then ❤️

Chapter 7: Honeydayimg 04/04

“Are you sure we need all this stuff?” he asked as you passed another couple with only half the things you had.

“This coming from the guy who had two slices of pie on top of his burger at lunch?” 

Point taken, he supposed, but you’d eaten just as much. You’d had more than him, come to think of it. Lunch, breakfast, the night before. So when you patted his stomach, and he looked down at you grinning at him, he couldn’t help but return a knowing smile.

“You’ll thank me later,” you said.

He knew he would. In more ways than one. 

Still on your way to the front, you passed the nesting department located opposite the cash registers. Of course, it was just another convenient ploy to gain some extra impulse buys from naïve omegas who hadn’t realised they needed that new blanket or another stuffy until they saw the giant pile of fluff.

To Dean’s distaste, you were also won over by the gimmick and he was pulled along for the ride. 

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[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

made a phone call i'd been putting off for like two months, please clap

[writingoddess1125]

Roger and Jessica Rabbit Effect pt. 3

Buggy Headcanon. Buggy x Reader

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Some Angst, Action, Pirating

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<<< Previously. Part 4 >>>>

• Buggy knew being a Warlord while was a massive benefit added a new target to his back- However he would take advantage of these privileges to protect you- His Darling seamstress wife.

• Buggy with his new status made sure no one knew of you- insisting that he had claimed the island that was his home as his territory and even renaming it entirely to Blue Edge Island- Just so people didn't sniff around the spot.

• However it seemed not everyone got the memo-

• You were in the shop, finishing up the latest thing for Buggy. A wedding anniversary gift for your darling- A nice big coat for him that was white and orange, and styled similarly to his idol and former Captian Gold D Roger's. It was probably your best work yet and you were proud.

• Forced from your creative mind as you heard crashing outside. Quickly walking out confused that a light post or building had fallen you stand out in the middle of the street- Others doing the same as you. That was till an unfamiliar pirate ship could be seen and hoards of the aggressive crew yelled and began to slice through your home- Ripping through your Unprotected people like paper.

• Your eyes widening as you turned to run back into your shop and call Buggy- But you were yanked back by a rough hand, A man with a wicked grin

• The pirate snatching the gold necklace from around your neck and shoved it greedily in his pockets- Not even bothering to check the emblem on it.

• "Captian take a look at this one!" He screamed out, Easily overpowering you as he showed you off. The Captian as grimy as he crew jeered at you and ripped you from his lowly members hands and stared you down.

• "Shes pretty- Find the treasures and other fine specimens like this one! And Take her to the ship!" The man yelled, Tossing you towards other crew members and dragging you away to their ship-

• A act they would regret in time.

• Not far from your home in the East Blue Buggy was sailing- he was less then day away from the home he shared with you, planning to visit in his own way. But He had some errands to run however, mainly to stash some of their recent earnings.

• "Buggy Sir!" A Pirate ran up to the Warlord in a total panic, Buggy who was laughing down at his 'employees' working away after another well done job.

• "What What?!" He yelled, The young pirates hesitanting.

• "From the Transporter snail and a surviving resident of the area- Someone raided Blue Edge Island, a women by the name of (Y/N) and several other villagers have been reported stolen by the pirates who did this" The young pirate babbled out-

• "Blue Edge Island?- Is that the little tourist area in the East Blue?-" Mohji mumbled, remembering Buggy ordering for people to keep away from it entirely. Cabaji nodding at this-

• However what was noticed was how oddly silently Buggy was- they all silently looking at each other then at Buggy whos hands were digging into the wood railing- his eyes dark and he was grunting it teeth so hard it sounded like he was chewing sand-

• "....change course...We are heading to Blue Edge Island Now-" He said in a eerily calm voice.

• No one moved a muscle- All just staring at the Warlord who looked ready to explode.

• "I SAID NOW!" His voice roared, loudly- Everyone feeling a rush like they were being strangled in this moment as they felt true fear pour in their vain.

• "YES CAPTIAN!!" Everyone Shouted in unison before rushing off to do as told-

• You were loaded into the unfamiliar ship like cattle, you and other pretty things the Grimy pirates had ripped from your village.

• The crew members shoving a cloth in your mouth as they loaded you and the other scared villagers into the cells. You and the others bound in rope, shivering in fear.

• Feeling the rocking of the ship as the pirates sailed away from your home, after what felt like eternity a man came down- staring at all of you before opening the cell and yanking you out by force. You screaming against the restraints as he pulled you through the halls of the ship before tossing you into what you assumed was the Captian's quarters.

• The Captian staring at you with a wicked grin, fear coursing through your system as he reached forward grabbing the front of your blouse and tearing it open. You crying at this, he groaned and ripped the fabric from your lips.

• "My husband is gonna kick you as-" You started but he backhanded you quickly to shut you up.

• "Silence! You will be perfect, My perfect little bed slav-" The ship suddently rocked harshly, Him staggering as he looked around confused.

• "The hell?!" The angry man yelled as he pulled his hand away from your ruined blouse. You sat there shaking and terrified as you heard loud fighting from outside. Flinching as the doors were slammed open, fear bleeding into you as you expected the pirates from before to return-

• "B-Buggy?" You say softly, Seeing your husband standing there as he sighed in relief at seeing you tossing what seemed to be a man behind him. Rushing to you quickly and Reaching down to quickly cut away the Ropes that held you in place.

• His glove hands running over your face, Wiping the blood from your busted lip from the slap and his face worse then a storm when seeing the ripped blouse and the bruise around your neck from the necklace being ripped away.

• "Are you hurt (Y/N)!?- they didnt-" Be asked carefully, you shaking your head no which seemed to ease your husband greatly as he scooped you up in his arms with great care.

• The second you were in his arms you began to sob, Pressing your face against him as you babbled incoherently 'I was so scared' You managed to wheeze out as Buggg held you close. Rubbing his gloved hand on your back- You didn't see his face but it was twisted in pure rage then..

• Picking you up fully, Buggy carefully walked you out of the Captian's quarters they had you confined in. The other stolen villagers already safely on his ship to get treatment for their injuries.

• No one had ever seen Buggy this pissed off before- It was terrifying. The other pirates beaten within inches of their lives laying there staring at the Warlord once he returned from tucking you into his bed.

• "I-It was just a village!" The Grimy Captian manages out, wheezing through his broken ribs- Buggy scoffed at this and kicked the man square in the mouth shattering his teeth and making the man scream in agony.

• "THAT Village belongs to me- THAT part of the East Blue belongs to me-" Buggy yelled in rage, Pressing a boot into the screaming Captian.

• "and.. THAT women you tried to violate was My Wife-" Buggy said calmly, that's when everyone seemed to understand all at once. The color draining from everyone's faces drained of color.

• Buggy messed with his gloves, a new set you had just sent him and stained with the blood from your lips- he silently listened to the babbling and bloody Captian at his feet begging for his life- 'I didn't know' 'My apologies' and more sprouting from his busted lips- Buggy ignoring them as he stared at the man.

• "You ripped the necklace from her poor neck that had my Jolly Roger on it- You disrespected my Village and My Wife- However I have more important matters for now... So I won't personally rip you apart with my bare hands!" He hissed, But a wide smile that was clearly forced.

• "Set up the Firework Show-" He Said calmly as he turned to walk back to his ship. Buggy's crew seemed to immediately understand what this ment-

• The beaten crew tied to the mast of their own ship as crates of fireworks were loaded on the ship and forced away from the Big Top, Buggy's Canons aimed at the ship as he stood and watched calmly. Already hearing the screams of the other pirates begging for their lives or trying to escape- However that was a foolish thought.

• "FIRE!" Buggy roared once at a safe distance and a massive Buggy Ball was fired at the rival ship- Hitting directly as it exploded in a devastation of colors and screams.

• The Big Top crew all watching the fireworks in awe despite the carnage.

• "Why the Fireworks sir?" Galdino Looking to his Captian who had an unreadable expression on his face.

• "My Wife likes fireworks..." He said simply before dismissing himself while everyone watched the exploding ship and colorful sky-

• Down below Buggy checked on you, Seeing you were asleep wrapped around his pillows. Clearly having cried yourself out.

• Buggy sat on the corner of the bed, His hand rubbing circles on your leg as you laid there- Thinking silently to himself what he needed to do, guilt eating him alive as he stared at you.

• When you woke up you found yourself surrounded...

• By hundreds of Balloon Flowers. Different types and different sizes all scattered around you. Paired with a fresh outfit laid out perfectly on the bed. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had done this.

• You smiling as you touched a balloon sunflower so carefully placed next to you and holding it as a giggle left you-

• "So cheesy.." You whisper out softly and smile.

• Once dressed and holding one of the balloon flowers you walk up to the Main Deck, never having been on Buggys ship before the array of colors surprising you. There were also so many people- Everywhere who would stop for a moment to stare at you, Clearly surprised by your presence.

• Spotting Buggy rather quickly by his inflated size you call to the man. Who turns around red faced and comes to you immediately.

• "Get Back to Bed! You shouldnt be up walking around!" He yelled at you, However you knew this was just his pride and worry for you coming out at the same time. Waving him down to be at your eyelevel, he complies without a thought or word.

• Reaching forward you grab his face gently, giggling at the new scruff there and pull him down for a nice kiss over his lips.

• He gave a Goofy Giggle at this, as red as his nose as you smoothed your hands over his parted hair.

• "Thank you for Rescuing me Buggy Boo~" His eyes soften at this, smiling softly.

• "Anything for you Doll" He all but purred out as he peppered kisses on your cheeks and held you close making you giggle happily.

• His eyes widened however as he saw everyone staring at him with their jaws on the floor he awkwardly coughed.

• "Doll-l um let's get you back to the room okay? It's best until we get back to Blue Edge for now-" He said with the gentlest voice and had one of his hands escort you back to his quarters.

• "What are you looking at?" He growled in defense as everyone scrambled back to work.

• Alvida giggled at this point and looked at him "Whats with the Buggy Bo-"

• "SHUT UP!!"

• It soon spread like wild fire that The Infamous Warlord Buggy had a Wife that was WAY too hot for him-

[ckret2]

Chapter 50 of by this point human Bill Cipher is almost relieved to be imprisoned in the Mystery Shack again: Bill tells Mabel about his adventures, and Ford and Dipper tell Fiddleford about theirs.

But first Bill's gonna die for a bit.

"Guys! You're okay!" Mabel flung her arms around Dipper and squeezed him. "We were worried you were floating around and broke your legs when the gravity came back."

"N—no, we were fine," Dipper said. 

Mabel let go of Dipper to hug Ford next—and then drew back, looked him up and down, and looked at Bill. "What happened to your clothes?"

Bill said, "We fell in the lake."

"Ha!"

"Tate was kind enough to loan us dry clothes," Ford said.

"You look like big dorks." She turned to Bill last, took in his dirty haggard appearance, and said, "And you look awful. Where have you guys been the last two days?"

"Thanks for asking! I've been in..." Bill glanced at Stan. "Am I allowed to say the name of the place I've been?"

Stan shook his head. "Not in front of the kids, you don't."

Bill sighed. "Agony. I've been in agony."

"Aww!" She hugged Bill last. "I like your stupid Fishmas sweater."

"Consider it yours as soon as I can change." He wriggled out of her embrace to point at his feet. "Check out the shoes, though!"

Mabel cracked up. "Omigosh, fish slippers! Fi— Fishlers? Fishppers?"

"Fishoes?"

"Fishoes!"

Soos said, "What did happen out there?" He was in the kitchen, cleaning and reorganizing after zero gravity had tossed everything out of order. "Did you heroically save Gravity Falls from imminent multidimensional devastation?"

Ford said, "No. Aside from the effects on gravity, it... turned out to be a benign phenomenon."

"Oh," Soos said. "Like... what Bill said?"

Ford grimaced. He managed to just nod instead of saying afraid so.

Again, he expected Bill to gloat; again, Bill said nothing. He didn't even look at Ford.

"It wasn't an eclipse, though," Dipper muttered, shooting a dark look at Bill. "It would've been an eclipse if it had gotten between us and gravity. It was basically the opposite."

"What do you want from me." The question was more sighed than spoken. "It was called an eclipse when I was growing up, I dunno what to tell you."

Ford, Dipper, and Mabel all looked straight at Bill at the mention of his childhood; but he didn't say anything more. He just trudged to the kitchen and leaned tiredly on the doorframe, watching Soos work. "Grab me something from the fridge."

"Sure thing, dawg." Soos opened the door. "What do you want?"

Bill was silent for a moment. Slowly, like a spirit medium channeling a faint message from the other side, he said, "I think... the body wants a vegetable. Gimme some guacamole."

"Sorry, dude, we had the last of it with dinner."

"Fine. Just give me an avocado and salsa, I'll make do."

"You got it."

"Two avocados."

Soos started rummaging through the jumbled mess in the fridge. "So if everything was okay, what took you guys so long to get back?"

"Yeah, I've been wanting to ask," Stan said. (He hadn't been able to in the car; when everyone realized Bill had passed out as soon as he'd sat down, they'd fallen into an awkward silence.) "Was the demon making trouble or what?"

Dipper and Ford exchanged a glance; who wanted to share the embarrassing news? Ford said, "Actually, under the circumstances, he was... well behaved." Ford resisted the urge to add the modifier "tolerably." It seemed mean-spirited. Bill had constantly complained, sure, but in retrospect could Ford say the complaints were unjustified?

"Then what took you so long?"

Now Ford felt Bill's gaze on him, watching him sharply. Ford understood now. This was why Bill hadn't mentioned saving them. He was holding it in reserve—offering a deal. If Ford and Dipper didn't embarrass him, he wouldn't embarrass them. If they mentioned his breakdown, he could cut in, claim it was natural for him to be in shock after performing such a difficult, heroic deed.

It wasn't blackmail, per se. Revealing the truth wouldn't cost anybody anything but a bit of momentary self-consciousness. But wasn't that just like Bill—only passing up an opportunity to boast so he could use it to shield his ego.

"It was Bill's fault," Dipper said quickly. Ford's heart leaped into his throat. "Because—we had to climb up and down the tunnel to Gravity Peak, and he only brought dress shoes and dumb fish slippers. We kept having to slow down."

Ford felt the pressure of Bill's gaze slide off of his face as he turned away, staring back into the kitchen. Bill said, "Yep. Guess I should have brought my hiking shoes—oh, wait."

Stan said, "You could've got some better shoes when we were at the mall! You're the one who wanted those dumb dress shoes."

"In my defense, I didn't think you paranoiacs would ever let me wander around in the great outdoors—much less force me to." He leaned more heavily against the doorway with a groan, muttering, "My legs are still jelly. Worthless human body."

Dipper glanced at Ford, as if checking with him to see if he'd made the right decision. Ford gave him a tiny nod of approval. After the day they'd had, humiliating Bill just for the sake of humiliation wouldn't have served any justice; it would have just been mean.

For the past three decades, Ford had always felt that Bill deserved the strongest possible punishment, both for his prior atrocities and to prevent future ones; but, he wanted to deal with Bill swiftly and efficiently. No gloating, no torture—just one quick shot. Sure, he got some grim satisfaction from knowing Bill was unhappy—knowing that Bill's vile intentions were being thwarted—and if anyone decided to treat Bill cruelly for cruelty's sake, he couldn't say they were wrong for it... but the thought of committing it himself made him uneasy.

He tried to remember if he'd felt that way when Bill had first arrived.

"I found the salsa!" Soos called from the fridge. "Somehow it all floated onto the highest shelf? Which kind do you want?"

"That one with a picture of a sobbing baby on it."

"Extra spicy it is!"

When Soos handed over the salsa and avocados, Bill said, "Hey, Hick Junior said his father was making announcements about staying inside and low to the ground? You didn't happen to have anything to do with that, did you?"

"Oh—yeah, I called Old Man McGucket and said I had a hot anonymous tip about what was going on," Soos said. "You said it was this whole public safety thing, so I figured the whole town should probably know? He's the local respected science guy now, I thought he'd know what to do with that kind of important information."

Bill grunted. "Terrific, he gets credit for my help. But you'd all be giving me heck if I'd said nothing and half the town broke their necks, so... whatever, net zero. Here." Bill took off the Monster-Mon backpack and swung it over to Soos. "Your reward. Good job."

"Whoa, haha, this is heavy. What's in here, a bag of rocks?"

"No, just one." Bill pushed off the doorway, wheeled unsteadily around, and trudged toward the stairs.

Soos unzipped the bag. A drugged geodite blinked sleepily up at him. He gasped. "Dude! A real Monster-Mon! Is this my call to epic adventure with a lovable animal sidekick?"

Ford grimaced, remembering watching Bill feed a geodite cold medicine. "Ah."

"I think I'll name you... Rocky," Soos said.

"That—really shouldn't be here. Its natural environment is caves, I don't know if it's safe for it to be out here—for it or us." They had been known to bite.

"Aww." Soos cradled the backpack like a swaddled baby. "Do you think it would be okay if I made it a fake cave to live in?" He gasped. "I could make an exhibit for him! I'll say he's a living meteorite! People love aliens."

"I'm not sure that..." Ford sighed. Well, none of them were going back to the cave today. "Maybe you should put it in the cellar where it's darker."

"Great idea!" Soos carried the geodite through the living room. "Hey, I've already got a mattress down there. You're gonna love it, lil dude..."

Ford hoped Soos didn't get attached to that thing. He shot a glower at Bill.

Bill was already on the stairs. "Now everybody leave me alone. Except you." He pointed at Mabel. "I don't want to do anything but lay on the floor and talk about whatever Mabel wants to talk about for the next three hours."

"Cartoons and boy bands."

"Yes," Bill sighed in relief, already preparing to turn 95% of his brain off. "Wow, yes, that's exactly what I want to talk about. I can't wait." He grabbed the handrail as he climbed heavily, leaning against it for balance as he dragged himself upstairs.

Before Mabel could follow him, Ford put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, before you go—there's something I wanted to tell you and Dipper." Voice low, he said, "You remember when you told me that Bill had mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop?"

"Yeah? When we were drawing our houses."

"Something Bill said while we were out shook a memory loose. It reminded me of a book I read as an undergraduate—Flatworld, written by Edward Bishop Bishop."

"Aww," Mabel said. "Not an artist?"

"No, although he did illustrate the book," Ford said. "It's a novella that combines Victorian social commentary with a primer on higher-dimensional mathematics by using an allegory about sentient shapes living in a two-dimensional world."

"That's what you were talking about in the boat, right?" Dipper asked. "When Bill said something about..." He scrunched his face, trying to remember, "'Up in the sky'...?"

"Upward-but-not-skyward," Ford said, "to describe something that isn't higher than us in the third dimension, but rather, in a higher dimension relative to us."

"How do you know about it?" Dipper asked. "The first time it came up, you said the name Edward Bishop Bishop was familiar, but..."

Ford sighed in irritation, "I read it as an undergraduate—in a haze of sleep-deprived exhaustion just before finals week—to get extra credit in a course on the history of mathematics. I immediately forgot ninety percent of it—which I'm sure is why I never thought of it in relation to Bill. If only I'd remembered the book thirty years ago, when it might have done me some good..."

"It's okay," Mabel said. "I forget almost everything I've read for class basically as soon as I've taken the test. I think it's pretty good that you remember anything about Flatworld at all!"

Ford smiled awkwardly. He was afraid that might say more about Mabel's study habits than about his. "Thank you, Mabel."

"And you did have a lot on your mind thirty years ago," Dipper said. "Like, Bill. Literally. On your mind."

Mabel added, "Doing creepy possession things!"

"I suppose that's true, too." What would he have done if he had remembered the book during that frenetic, delirious period when Bill and Ford had wrestled for control over his body? He'd been in no fit shape to go to the library. "I did think about it a couple of times in the multiverse—when I was visiting Exwhylia, for instance—but at the time I'd brushed it off as a lucky coincidence that I'd read a book that invented a society of shapes. It wouldn't be the first time science fiction predicted science fact. But now that Bill's mentioned it twice, I'd say it's less likely a coincidence and more likely that Edward Bishop Bishop was another of his 'students.'"

"Is there a way for us to find out?" Dipper asked. "If he was Bill's student, would he have left behind any... hints? Coded messages?"

"Like secret society conspiracy things?" Mabel asked.

"Yeah!"

"I suppose it's possible," Ford said. "If Flatworld happens to feature a one-eyed yellow triangle sharing the secrets of the universe, we'll know for sure. But, there's only one way to find out: now that I do remember the book, we can pick up a copy for research."

"That's great," Dipper said. "If Bill told the author about his home dimension... there's no telling how much we can learn about him by reading it."

"So it's basically a math textbook disguised as a story?" Mabel groaned. "That's just like doing word problems! The most confusing kind of math problems. Why does Bill keep making me have homework this summer?"

"You know what he's like," Dipper said, elbowing her with a grin. "Dastardly villain."

"Pure evil."

Ford huffed. "If it helps, as I recall the book teaches you about math concepts, but it doesn't make you do any math."

She let out a longer, more theatrical groan. "Fine. But if there's a cousin Throckmorton I'm throwing the book away."

"I dunno, sounds kinda neat," Dipper said. "It might give me a leg up when we start geometry."

"I don't remember the details of what it covers, but I bet it could," Ford agreed. "I have to visit Fiddleford this evening to return the equipment he loaned us, and... discuss the events of the last couple of days. If the library's still open when we're done I can go by and see if they have a copy of Flatworld."

"Can I come along?" Dipper asked.

"Of course. Just give me a moment to..." He looked down at himself, "change into something a little less ridiculous."

Dipper tried not to laugh. "Okay. I'll wait here. Mabel, do you want to...?"

"No thanks!" She pointed upstairs. "I've got a captive audience to teach about boy bands. I'm going to make him listen to Sev'ral Timez's entire discography."

"He's already had a pretty bad day. Don't torture him even more."

Mabel blew a raspberry. "He'll love it." She bounded up the stairs.

Ford headed to his and Stan's guest room. Dipper took off his backpack, dropped it in the living room, and stuck his hands in his pockets—then pulled one out in surprise.

The enchanted friendship bracelets. They were still in his pocket. Bill hadn't had them on since Dipper's out-of-body experience that morning.

Dipper stared at them uneasily; then hung them in their usual place on the entryway coat rack and resumed waiting for Ford.

####

It was a rare opportunity that Bill was allowed in the kids' room; but with Ford and Dipper out of the house, the one person most likely to complain wasn't around. So after having extracted a strict promise for him to behave himself, Mabel had let him in, for ease of gossip and CD-switching.

But even if Dipper had been in the room, he wouldn't have found much worth complaining about. Once Bill had finished his snack (he'd eaten the avocados like pears, skin and all, and drank down the salsa like a chunky smoothie), he'd laid down on the floor, and since then had remained a dead lump. Face buried in his crossed arms, curled up in the oversized Fishmas sweater and a set of loose stolen-from-Soos sweats to replace the towel skirt, he might as well have been a pile of laundry that had sprouted curly golden hair. Mabel had put Sev'ral Timez's first album on the boombox, sat herself on Bill's back, and started brushing out his damp, knotted curls without asking as she talked about each track.

To her delight, Bill started insisting they skip past the slow, emotional love ballads, saying he preferred the bouncier dancier tracks; she thought the fact that he was displaying a preference rather than begging to turn the band off was a good sign. He was actually listening to the music. Possibly even liking it! Maybe she'd manage to convert him into a fan. She recounted her experiences with the band's cloned members and Bill threw in the polite "Mhm" and "Uh-huh?" where appropriate without lifting his head from the floor or opening his eyes. She'd thought he might have had something to throw in about the cloning thing, that seemed like the kind of conspiracy nonsense he might have a hand in; but if he knew anything, he wasn't up to sharing it.

When she'd wrangled his hair into some semblance of order, she got to work on his fingernails. His arm was like a dead weight in her hands, loose and unresisting but not helping, either. He shifted his head over to rest on his other arm and otherwise didn't move.

"Your fingernail polish is destroyed," Mabel said. On three fingers the paint had been all but completely scraped off. When he'd left a couple of days ago, it had just been lightly chipped. She started stripping the remainder with nail polish remover.

"Is it?" Bill mumbled. "Mmh. Yeah, probably from clawing in the dirt."

"Pfff. What did you do the last couple of days?"

Bill slowly sucked in a breath so deep that Mabel felt his back lift her a little higher off the ground; and then he just as slowly let it back out. "Do not," he said, "get me started."

He got started.

He began with a tirade about the contempt that both Ford and Dipper had shown him and his far superior subject matter expertise for the last two days; and then about being hauled out and exposed during totality after repeating over and over how dangerous it was and how much he would prefer to not do that—Ford had even admitted he'd dragged Bill out into open air just because he knew how much he didn't want that!—and from there Bill looped back to listing a whole litany of gripes against what he perceived as egregious and undeserved disrespect from Ford over the last couple of weeks—"Youmight have lied to me about that glass pyramid, but at least you didn't laugh in my face about it!"

(Mabel thought Ford pretty much had the right to be as disrespectful to Bill as he wanted, after everything Bill had put him through. Lying about a silly imaginary cult was less mean than lying about taking over the universe. But part of being a good friend, she knew well, was lending a sympathetic ear to your friend's venting without suggesting that said friend might be in the wrong. She had a Color Critters episode about being honest with your friends she could show him later.)

Bill seemed to gain strength as he aired his grievances, bolstered by Mabel's encouraging "mhm" "uh-huh" noises. By the time she'd finished repainting his first hand (she'd picked a glittery purple polish she thought would complement all the yellow he wore), he was sitting upright and Mabel had to sit in front of him to start on his other hand.

"—and my stupid feet hurt," Bill griped. "Since Stanford made me traipse halfway through the mountain barefoot because he wouldn't let us go back down before the gravity returned and I don't even own shoes for spelunking. And my knees hurt, and my back hurts, and I could have killed for a walking stick but do think they'd have allowed me one if I asked? Because I don't think so! I tripped over—I don't know, a hundred roots."

"Worst hiking trip ever." Mabel finished painting his second hand, and started looking through her miniature sticker sheets for some fun stickers to put on Bill's first hand now that it was dry.

"Worst in the history of your planet! Even the Donner party had a better hike! At least some of them got something to eat," Bill said. "All I got for two days was a handful of cereal and Stanford's liquid meat in a toothpaste tube."

Mabel stuck out her tongue.

"And Stanford walks too fast. And your brother kept trying to squeeze through gaps between trees I couldn't get through. And Stanford kept fiddling with his—stupid—useless antique Civil War lantern he's so proud of, and he's just lucky that I thought to bring a way to find a light source even though I didn't even need one, because I knew he would bring that stupid Civil War lantern..." Bill's complaints petered out.

And then, voice oddly quiet, he said, "And I saw my corpse." 

Mabel looked up from carefully placing a yellow butterfly on Bill's middle fingernail. There was a dark look in his eyes. "Oh," she said. "Oh, Bill. I'm so sorry."

This wasn't just a bad camping trip. This was serious. She had to treat it seriously.

She ejected the current CD from the boombox, put in another Sev'ral Timez album, and skipped to track 4: "This goes out to anyone having a bad day. Ladies, this one's for you. 'Girl, today has been—straight whack. You don't know how you're gonna—bounce back. But any time you're down, I'll always be around; I'll drive your heart back to Happy Town'..." Oh yeah. That was the exact energy Mabel was trying to channel.

"And I didn't feel anything when I touched it." Bill was staring down at his hands like he barely recognized them. "No energy, no connection—nothing. What if there isn't a connection anymore? What if I'm just a human now?"

Did that weigh on Bill? Clearly, enough that he'd decided to endure imprisonment in the Mystery Shack rather than kill his body to see if there was still a triangle inside.

But he'd never talked about it before now; she'd thought maybe he just didn't worry about it.

But that was dumb. Of course he worried about it. He was just like her. When something scared him, he just pushed it down and hoped that if he ignored it enough, everything would be okay! Until he couldn't pretend anymore.

And she'd never heard him sound this scared before.

She took his hands and hoped that would help.

He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. His still-wet nail polish smeared on her hand. "What if I'm really gonna grow old and die in this rotting meat doll, what if I never go home again—? There's so much I haven't done, I was going to throw an eternal party, it would have been beautiful, everyone would have loved me, but now— and now—" He let out a choked noise, head bowing over their joined hands, posture broken. Hot tears landed on the backs of Mabel's hands. "And I didn't even get to, just, die and be done with it, I have to know I'm dead, I have to know everything I was going to do..."

"Hey—come here." Mabel tentatively wrapped her arms around Bill's neck and shoulders, compressing his bouncy curls. She half expected him to pull away.

Instead, he buried his face against her shoulder and hugged her back like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

After spending the last two days suppressing his grief and fear so hard his body couldn't function through it—after spending over a month suppressing his grief and fear—finally, finally, he peeled the tape off his cracked shell to let it leak out. He couldn't hold it together anymore. He'd barely put himself back together long enough to get on his feet and make it to the shack. This was the only place it was safe to fall apart. He muffled his sobs in Mabel's sweater.

And Mabel—who was used to being comforted by adults but who had never been called upon herself to comfort anybody but her brother and the occasional friend—had no idea how she was supposed to comfort a zillion-year-old almost-definitely-adult alien through an existential crisis.

Not for the first time, she wondered whether she might have gotten in over her head.

She pushed the worry down. Everything would be okay. Bill needed her—she could feel him trembling—and he didn't have anybody else in the world he could trust. And if she didn't know what else to do, at the least she could keep hugging him.

Voice so tight it almost squeezed out as a whisper, Bill said, "I was going to make a utopia here, but now I'm just gonna die here."

"I'm so sorry." How do you comfort someone processing the fear of mortality? She'd never processed it herself, she was thirteen, it was just another scary future thing she'd deal with when she had to. The best she knew how to do was be nice. "But... I'm here, okay? For—for anything you need." (Anything that wasn't evil, anyway—but now was not the appropriate time to make Bill feel like her support was conditional.)

"Tell me I won't die."

"You won't die! You're never, ever gonna die." Mabel hugged him tighter. "I'll fistfight Death. I'll—break his bony kneecaps."

"Thanks."

"I'll swing at the reaper with a baseball bat."

Bill laughed feebly. "With nails in it?"

"Yeah! And barbed wire! Connected to a battery!"

"Oh, we're taking Death down. Nobody's dying ever again."

"Everybody lives forever!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out. "But... I'm not gonna let you die. You're my friend, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Bill's trembling had stopped, and his embrace was less death-grippy. "I owe you one, Shooting Star." From Bill, "thanks" sounded hollow, but "I owe you one" really sounded like a thank you.

"Hey. If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to do anything evil with it?"

"Sure. Promise."

Mabel doubted it, but that was as good as she was gonna get. "I've always thought you're still a triangle on the inside. You've got those creepy cat eyes that see the future and stuff! If you were just a normal human, wouldn't you have normal human eyes?"

Bill made a noncommittal noise.

"Plus, if you'd really been turned into a human on the inside, then being in a human body wouldn't feel so bad—right? It'd just feel normal."

Bill was silent for a moment. Voice hoarse, he whispered, "I hope you're right."

####

Fiddleford answered the door himself. "Stanford, Dipper, come in! I was just cleaning up." He had a broom, and the great hall's floor behind him was sparkling with broken glass. Ford was relieved to see Fiddleford had put on shoes. Unfortunately, they were fuzzy slippers. "Pardon the mess!"

"Think nothing of it. The shack's been turned upside-down, too." Ford stepped around a broken chair. "Don't you have anyone to help you clean, though?"

"Oh, I do, I do! I built me a Janitorial Executive Drone to tidy up," Fiddleford said. "I'm just cleaning up the mess JED left."

Ford and Dipper looked around at the shattered glass, broken furniture, scorch marks around the fireplace, and torn curtains. Dipper asked, "Did... JED make this place any cleaner?"

"Not at all!"

Ford and Dipper caught Fiddleford up on their scientific findings of the last couple days. Ford was almost embarrassed to admit they hadn't found any noteworthy quantities of micro-rips, as if he were confessing to a personal academic embarrassment—even after Fiddleford pointed out that it had been his own theory, not Ford's. (All the same, Ford hated to be so wrong, even by association. Being wrong felt like a moral failing.)

In return, Fiddleford told them what he'd been up to. He'd confirmed with them NASA fellas that the odd gravity effects weren't detected anywhere but Gravity Falls. At their behest, he'd set up some sensors around town, and when gravity suddenly reversed, the measurements they'd taken had allowed him to make a very loose model of the shape of the force that caused it. He showed Ford and Dipper the model on a computer in his lab, black screen with sharp glowing green lines forming an armature in the shape of a force. It looked like an enormous flying sausage that tapered down at one end. Too little detail to tell exactly what it was; but it certainly could have been an axolotl.

It was turning to look at the cliff where they'd stood.

Fiddleford wasn't pleased to find out the information he'd passed on from Soos had originally come from Bill; but he'd suspected it and already done all his soul-searching before reluctantly sharing his advice with the masses and hoping it wouldn't come back to bite him. "He didn't bother to warn us that gravity would actually disappear today, though," Fiddleford said indignantly. "So he could crow about being right and still get to see some folks get hurt, I reckon."

"Actually, this time I don't think he was hiding it. I kinda think he just made a mistake?" Dipper said.

Ford nodded. "Dipper's right. Bill was incredibly alarmed this morning when it became clear our estimates were wrong. It only made more trouble for him."

"I suppose," Fiddleford said grudgingly; then gave them a sharp look. "This mornin'? You took him camping?"

Ford and Dipper winced. Ford mumbled, "Not for fun."

"Stanford Pines—!"

It took a minute of hooting and hollering before Ford could calm Fiddleford down enough to explain the circumstances: that they'd only brought Bill because of just how much he explicitly did not want to be brought; that it had been a thoroughly unpleasant experience for everyone and Ford had never expected it to be otherwise; and that Bill had proven useful—Ford decided not to share the details—but he hadn't forgotten that Bill always made himself useful before he betrayed someone. If a man helped a little old lady cross a street, opened her door for her, put up her groceries, and then knocked her out and burgled her house, only one of those actions mattered.

(Dipper fell silent rather than help reassure Fiddleford. Ford supposed that was because he'd objected to bringing Bill, too.)

Fiddleford grudgingly admitted that under the circumstances, bringing Bill had been logical. "But that's just the thing—sometimes your logic don't account for the fact that you've got human emotions, too."

"Ah, yes, those human emotions. One of my worst flaws," Ford joked.

Fiddleford didn't laugh. "I mean it, Stanford. The most logical plan in the world don't mean nothing if he talks you into throwing it aside."

Ford thought of all the times he'd let his temper get the best of him over the last couple of days. Could he really say he'd made the logical decision when he'd made it out of anger? "Yes. I... see what you mean."

"Just be careful," Fiddleford said. "I saw you under that demon's oppression for months and never thought it was anything worse than how you always got around finals week—heck, for all I saw, I reckon he coulda started possessing you without me noticing—and I don't want that to happen again!"

Dipper winced. Ford found somewhere other than Fiddleford's face to look.

"What?"

"He... did. Possess me." (Dipper didn't pipe up with his experience. Ford didn't blame him.)

"He what? When?!"

"Remember toward the end of the project? When I started pulling all-nighters to finish the calculations...?"

Fiddleford smacked his forehead and sank down into the nearest chair.

Ford winced again. "I should have told you." During their talks over the past year, he'd been very reluctant to mention Bill or the fallout at the end of the portal project. They both had. "But—I assumed you'd guessed by now. What did you think was happening?"

"Frankly? I thought you'd started taking something illicit."

Ford snorted. "I—all right." He'd done stupider things during finals week.

"If he was possessin' you, why didn't you ask for help? I could've found somebody who knows how to do exorcisms. Did he not let you? Or—or did I miss you trying to tell me...?"

Ford shook his head. "No, I didn't want an exorcism." He wasn't sure Bill was the kind of "demon" that responded to exorcisms anyway. "At the time, I thought... that he was helping me."

Dipper reluctantly piped up, "He... possessed me once too. I didn't know that's what he was doing until too late, but... Even after you know he's a bad guy, he's really good at making you think he's just helping."

Fiddleford didn't immediately say anything to that. Ford couldn't meet his gaze.

Finally, Fiddleford said, voice low and worried, "Just tell me you won't let him get into your head again. Either one'a you."

Dipper shook his head. "Definitely not."

Ford said, "As he is now with all his powers gone, I don't think he can enter my head. Anyway, I had a metal plate surgically installed—"

"I didn't mean that way."

Right. "I won't. I promise."

Fiddleford nodded. "Didja really get a metal plate installed?"

Ford knocked on it demonstratively.

"Hmm." Fiddleford stroked his beard thoughtfully. He pointed at a contraption in the corner that looked like a ten foot tall tuning fork with electricity arcing between its tips. "Try not to get within five feet of that thing."

Ford eyed it nervously.

####

Fiddleford insisted Ford and Dipper stay for dinner. It was the first proper meal they'd had after two days of tubes mushy meat and mushy vegetables; so they tried not to show their disappointment when they received mushy meat and mushy vegetables. Fiddleford's automatic meatloaf-and-mashed-potatoes maker did its job more competently than JED did its, but Ford suspected that was partially because it didn't have legs to let it go get in trouble.

As they drove back into town, a stoplight turned red at the intersection with Main Street. Ford glanced down Main toward the library and asked, "Do you still want to stop by the library?"

Dipper, who'd nearly nodded off, blinked sleepily. "Huh?"

"To pick up Flatworld?"

Dipper yawned. "Honestly, I kinda just wanna go home and sleep."

"I hear that." He'd almost drowned today. He was exhausted. "Perhaps this weekend."

"Aren't you going to that concert with Mabel?"

"Was that this Saturday?" He'd lost track. Mabel had won four tickets from some radio contest to see Phrancisco in Portland and had asked Ford if he'd like to come. "I'm undecided. I'd like to go—I've been a fan of Invisible Plastic Yellow since they formed." He was the one who'd told Mabel about the band after their Portland trip and gotten her their albums. He'd had a phase when he'd really gotten into cutting-edge underground new wave music. It had made him feel conventionally cool, which not many things did. Now, all his musical tastes were three decades behind. He hadn't even known Phrancisco had a solo career until Mabel came home with tickets.

"But she's bringing her friends, and whoever has the fourth ticket needs to chaperone; and I'm afraid an old man escorting around three young girls would look... odd. It may be more appropriate for one of the other girls' parents to go." But he did want to see Phrancisco. "Perhaps I'll wait and see whether Mabel talks me into it."

"Better pack your bag now, then."

Ford laughed. He had a point. "If I do go to Portland, maybe I can stop by a bookstore to pick up Flatworld. If it tells us anything useful about Bill, I suspect we'll want a household copy for reference."

He was eager to reread it. He'd forgotten so much of it since college. He only recalled the vague, overarching plot: something about a third-dimensional sphere teaching a second-dimensional square about realities with higher and lower dimensions—from zero dimensions up to four—and a stuffy society based on what geometric shape you were... but that was it. He probably never even would have remembered the phrase "up but not north" if Bill hadn't referenced it. He wondered how much it could have helped him if he'd reread it sooner.

Dipper yawned again. "Sounds good."

The light turned green; and Ford drove past the library and headed on home.

####

(After going full tilt for two months, we finally get a breather lol. I hope y'all enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!)

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |BNHA Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Shouta Aizawa, Dabi/Touya Todoroki, and Katsuki Bakugou

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: NSFW themes. Straight up fucking, leading to sex, foul language, you get it. Reader in Dabi's is NOT of sound mind lol.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Shouta Aizawa

He doesn't know what prompted this line of thinking. Nothing had happened, no one had mentioned anything. No, this was all 100% his own doing, and that almost made it worse.

Over the years, you'd occasionally claim to have something called 'baby fever'. There would be days when you'd send him videos of babies babbling, playing, wearing silly outfits, whatever of the sort. You'd tell him your ovaries were aching, that you wanted nothing more in that moment than to have one of your own.

Being the man of reason he is, he'd always tell you that now wasn't the time. Hero work was grueling and your studies kept you busy. You'd assure him that the feelings were always (mostly) fleeting, hormones and all that, and the conversation would end there.

It had always been one-sided, that is, until a few weeks ago when he'd finally gotten a taste of said fever. Let's just say he was not a fan.

Nothing had changed, yet he found himself hyperaware of every little human in his vicinity. It's like his brain did a complete turn around. Brief glances quickly turned into longing stares. He'd internally coo over their tiny socks and bright smiles. Hell, he'd even caught himself waving at a little girl in her stroller the other day and was still living off the high he felt when she giggled and waved back.

He'd only been getting by on the idea that this was temporary. That like you, it'd be all better soon and he can go back to enjoying the simple things in life without his brain badgering him.

But that was weeks ago, and the feeling had only solidified further into his mind.

He tried to reason himself back to normal, but was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. You graduated two years ago and have a great job in your field. He had long surpassed the rookie stage of his career and was thriving. You lived in a decent apartment in a good neighborhood. Money was no longer tight and you'd built quite the safety cushion.

And then there was you. Again, nothing had changed overnight, but he was suddenly plagued by vivid visions of you. How easily he could get you pregnant. How you'd look so sinfully pretty with a round belly. How he'd love nothing more than to take care of you while you gave him the greatest gift he could ever hope to receive.

And he knew you'd love nothing more.

Honestly, he was having a hard time finding reasons not to cave into his desires. Which is how he suddenly found himself in such a position.

He's hovering above you, his red tinted face illuminated by the moonlight. He has your hand pinned to the mattress at an awkward angle, but neither of you are willing to move to fix it. He's darting between your eyes, words caught in his throat and no way to get them out.

Thinking and doing are two very different things, and he hadn't planned on bringing this up at all, let alone right now.

"Don't."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, not quite understanding what's going on. One moment he's rolling on top of you, kissing down your neck and over your collarbones. You're fumbling around, trying to reach for the top drawer of the nightstand when his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

"Shouta, what-"

"Don't bother with it."

He leans down to recapture your lips, but you use your free hand to stop him in his tracks. Your eyes narrow a bit as you try to get a read on him. He usually has little tells that give away how he's feeling, but right now you can't decipher any of them. He looks just as lost as you feel.

"I haven't been taking any kind of birth control."

"I know."

"Then why are you-"

"I want a baby."

Your eyes widen and breath falters. Your hand falls from his shoulder to lay flush against your chest.

"I don't understand. You said we weren't ready."

"That was then, and this is now."

"Shou."

Despite the serious look you give him, your insides are on fire. Sure, the intense and urgent feelings associated with baby fever were always fleeting, but that didn't mean that was the only time you'd felt the desire. You always wanted a family- a husband and kids to love and cherish- and Shouta knew that.

Now here he was, telling you that after a lifetime of friendship, four years of dating, and four more years of marriage, you could finally have what you've always wanted.

He leans back enough to sit on his calves and stare down at you. He seems more sure of himself now. Whatever turmoil he had been going through earlier had subsided, and he was left more confident in his decision. He swallowed hard and fiddles with his hand a bit before deciding to rest both of them on your open thighs.

"I can't stop thinking about it. I thought it would pass, but it just got stronger. I tried talking myself down, but there's nothing stopping us anymore. We're both willing and wanting, so just..."

He's leaning back down, and this time, you don't stop him. You let him kiss you, let him trace his rough hands up your sides, let him claim you with no reservations, all while the condoms sit untouched in the nightstand.

Touya Todoroki / Dabi

Dabi had a tendency to ramble. Sometimes to himself, sometimes to whoever would listen, and sometimes he didn't even realize he was doing it.

Sex was no different.

What he says all boils down to the kind of mood he's in. If he's angry or frustrated, he'll degrade you. He'll call you a whore, tell you that you're desperate and whiney, and will shove your face into the pillow in an attempt to shut you up so he can hear himself speak. If he's in a decent mood (or being generous, as he puts it), he'll praise you. He'll mumble sweet nothings in your ear, tell you how pretty you are, how lucky he is to have you.

All of that is fine. You're more than willing to take whatever he wants to give, but lately he'd taken on an entirely different type of rant.

The first time he mumbled something about getting you pregnant, you didn't think much of it. All men succumb to their instincts at one point or another, and Dabi wasn't excluded from that. But then he mentioned it again a few days later, this time with a little more heat behind it.

You didn't say anything, instead deciding to live in your own little fantasies as long as he wasn't being reckless. Maybe that was a mistake on your part, because it's only a few weeks later that he's completely invested in the idea.

Knees pressed firmly to your chest, he's drilling into you with a new kind of passion. His forehead is against yours, his eyes screwed shut as he clutches at the backs of your thighs. You can't hear all of what he's saying over the sound of skin on skin, but it's enough to have you slightly worried.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up so full."

"Bet I could get you pregnant on the first try."

"I'd take such good care of you."

"I'd be everything he wasn't, give my kids the life they deserve."

Desires to fuck you full have quickly become promises to succeed. Your fucked out brain is urging you to stop him, that he sounds a little too serious right now, but you can't find it in yourself to comply. Dabi is, without a single doubt, completely fucked in the head. This is something you're entirely too aware of and should be the thing willing you to fucking stop him, but it's not.

So you let your mind relax. You throw yourself full force into the feeling of him hitting that spongey spot deep inside. You let him kiss you and touch you and listen to all the little promises he makes.

It's no surprise when he doesn't pull out. You don't say anything when he moves to lay beside you and he doesn't bring it up. Maybe it's some kind of unspoken agreement, or maybe you were thinking too far into what very well may just be a kink. Only time will tell.

Katsuki Bakugou

"Did you seriously not pack any condoms?"

"Why the Hell would I?"

"Is that a serious question?"

You shoot him an incredulous look. He ignores you as he enters the bathroom and begins to strip out of his suit. You follow him, careful not to snag your dress on any of the luggage stacked against the wall.

You glare at him, even as he motions for you to turn around and unzips you. The white fabric bunches at your ankles and he's quick to pick it up and hang it inside the plastic dry-cleaning bag.

"Is that a serious question? You're my wife now, I'm not wearing any more fucking condoms."

"Well, you should've said that before we got here so I could've prepared something else!"

"Why the Hell would you need to do that?"

He scoffs at you and continues hanging his suit up, folding it as nicely as possible to avoid damaging the expensive material. Any sort of frustration you're feeling has been replaced by confusion. You feel like you're having two entirely different conversations.

When he finally turns back around to face you, he's staring down at you like you're the one being unreasonable. Like he doesn't understand why any of this could possibly be an issue.

"So, what? You planned on hitting raw for the next two weeks and just praying for the best?"

"No. I planned on hitting raw for the next two weeks and prayed we'd go home pregnant."

Your mouth snaps shut. Any fighting spirit you possessed is gone in an instant and you're left at his mercy. He places one hand on the wall near your head and sets the other on the counter. He's looming over you, using his size to intimidate you.

"That's what we agreed on all those years ago, right?"

At first, you don't know what he's talking about. You racked your brain for any semblance of the topic, but when you came up short, you couldn't help but think he might be bullshitting you. Just as you're about to ask him for clarification, you remember a conversation you had not long after graduation.

You'd both had sidekick positions lined up right out of high school. Your careers were up and coming and your relationship was strong. While you were happy with the pace things were going, it didn't stop his parents from pestering you about next steps.

It was probably the hundredth time Mitsuki had asked you about grandkids. You'd given her plenty of reasonable reasons why kids were most definitely not in the cards right now- career opportunities, money, not to mention the fact that you were both nineteen and not even married yet- but none of that seemed to deter her.

"If not now, when can I expect some grand-babies, hm? I'm not getting any younger and neither are you."

"How about we focus on getting engaged and married first, then we can start talking kids."

She accepted the answer, albeit reluctantly, and backed off a bit. Later that night Katsuki had cornered you, asking how you had finally managed to get his mother off his back.

"I told we'd have to get married first."

The memory is foggy after so many years, but it's there. It was a passing conversation, an unimportant day, but it's the only time either of you had mentioned a 'when' regarding kids.

"You know, when I said we'd have to get married first, I didn't mean we'd start the same day."

He scowls and closes in on you further. He adjusts his position so you're pushed against the bathroom counter and you're suddenly very aware of just how little clothing you're both wearing. His hands land on your thighs and slowly make their way up. He grips your waist and lifts you onto the cool marble so he can stand between your legs.

"I think I've waited long enough."

Let's just say you end up with two very bold, very pink lines on the pregnancy test a few weeks after you return home.

[agirlandherkinks]

Hypnovisor: Beta Test (TGTF, Hypno)

James had always been a tech super-fan. The newest phone, newest headphones, shiniest laptop, he had to stay abreast of and on top of the current trends. So when he read about some fancy new VR company that wanted beta testers for a headset, provided for free (minus shipping), his vision blurred and he signed up before he even considered finishing reading the ad.

Three weeks of anticipation and waiting passed until his doorbell finally rung, accompanied by the corresponding buzz of an email notification on his phone. Scrambling from his couch he flung the apartment door open, and to his mild surprise saw that the postman was nowhere in site. There was just a nondescript cardboard box labelled "Fragile", which fortunately bore none of the expected dents and scratches one would associate with the postal service and delicate freight. Practically bouncing with undignified delight, James scooped his parcel up and dashed back inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

The headset looked even better than he had imagined. Sleek plastic curves surrounded a central visor that was just translucent enough to see through, meaning you could walk around safely if you turned a program's opacity down. It fit beautifully when he tried it on, more comfortable than anything he'd ever worn. Wearing it felt wonderful and... right, somehow. His only complaint was that the black headset was decorated in hot pink highlights, although it still looked futuristic enough to sooth his fragile masculinity. His roommate and best friend Erik certainly agreed, interspersing James' insightful comments with appropriate "Ooh's" and "Aah's". Waiting for the battery to charge seemed to take a thousand years, although chatting with each other about what it could do replaced their boredom with swiftly growing excitement.

Two hours later, a soft buzz from the headset in the corner signified its charge was complete. Erik cheered, his sandy-blonde hair bouncing behind him, and even James couldn't suppress a soft whoop of excitement. Erik unplugged it and handed it to James with a flourish and a bow, who accepted it with a suitable stuffy speech. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he was so giddy with anticipation he felt he could match Erik's goofiness for once. The advertisement had promised unmatched realism, a luxurious fit, and cutting-edge, groundbreaking technology. Normally James would have discounted claims like that as corporate claptrap, but the headset fit so well he actually believed the rest of it.

Booting up the headset brought a perky, relaxing jingle in his ears and wall of settings text in his vision. He would have read it, but between his own excitement and Erik's infectious enthusiasm he left the settings on default and skipped to the main menu. The feedback for the buttons was amazing, it felt just like he was pressing down on them whenever he touched one! Another little jingle sounded as he confirmed his choices, and a few games and applications bubbled up into his view, imposed over a hot pink background.

"So Erik, what do you think I should try," James asked. "We've got a music player, interior design app, some sorta idle monster game, and a few RPG's." "Surely try out the RPG's man! You've gotta see that high-definition you were yammering about when we called." Erik's voice came back surprisingly muffled, as if he was speaking down a long tunnel. "Bro, I can barely hear you, the noise-cancelling on this headset's insane! It's like I'm in a world of my own!" James took a deep breath, recovering a little of his composure. "Alright, an RPG it is. Fantasy, sci-fi, or modern day?" "Go fantasy! You know we've both got a thing for elf chiiiicks. Hell, with the kind of feedback you were telling me about, you might even get to grab her" Erik's distant voice sounded playful, with a ting of desire and jealousy. And it did make James hard, at the thought of getting to look and squeeze and fondle some busty elf bitch, made entirely to his wishes~

To James' horror a quiet moan escaped his lips, accompanied by faint hysterical laughter from his friend. Brushing it off angrily, he slammed the icon for 'Silverflame: A Magical Journey' (the button felt like thick moss to his touch). Instantly a soft flute begun to play in his ears, accompanied by the gentle lull of a harp and a quiet sparkling. James felt himself relax, all the tension draining out of his body. Erik must have noticed too, because James heard his laughter die down to be replaced with a slightly concerned silence. "Don't worry man," James said, "music's just really pretty..." He trailed off with a slight giggle, but heard Erik give an affirmative just before a silky, sultry voice started to speak.

"Welcome traveler, to the beautiful world of Silverflame. An untamed paradise where strange beasts roam the land, noble adventurers go forth in search of treasure, and the most wonderful magic [James shuddered] is woven. You are the latest brave, beautiful heroine [Heroine? Shouldn't I get to choose my character's gender first?] to step foot into this land. But first, tell us a bit about who you really are."

Pink sparkles rained across the screen, superimposing his view of a vibrant meadow with a series of stats. Physique, IQ, Wisdom, and Charisma, fairly standard stuff. And next to it, a human man with a blank, slightly happy expression on his face [...did he look familiar?]. James gasped, he looked just like a real person! Erik was suitably impressed by this information, and urged him to pick some stats so he can get to the body modification. "You can always change them later man, might as well pick a couple of stats now and get a move on. Sounds like you're not gonna get to pick your gender for a while, which kinda sucks. Buuut if we're being horny about this, you might as well go for a slut scaffold so you make less changes later." James chuckled at this, remembering the build they discussed one night while both sloshed beyond belief. For this game it would be high Physique and Charisma, low IQ and Wisdom. James touched the slider for Physique, and gasped as he felt himself feel... better than he had in a long time.

Not trusting his senses any more, and worrying about Erik being exposed to whatever was happening from the other side of the headset, James brushed off his concerned questions (which he could barely hear now, past the soothing, soothing, music) and suggested he went to the toilet, since he'd been holding it in since he got here. Erik grumbled at missing out, but mercifully left. James was actively sweating from what just went through his body, but couldn't muster the energy or concentration to feel the level of panic he knew he should be. The music was just so, so calming, that fear was harder to feel than usual. The prompt told him he still had to change two more stats, so he decided to turn down Wisdom. He gasped again and his vision went blurry, and when it cleared he felt a bit, fuzzier? In the head. But it wasn't too bad, in fact it was perfectly manageable. He felt even calmer now, so maybe changing another stats would make him feel better. Why not IQ? He tapped the slider.

He groaned as an immense pressure wrapped around his brain. Thoughts, aspirations, memories felt like they were melting from his head faster than they appeared. The pressure seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually it trailed off and he was left panting in his chair. It had felt, really good? Like, tots good, even. James giggled to himself. Something was different about him, but he couldn't think what. Oh well, it'll probably come to him later. He squealed in delight as he realized he could get a step closer to the body modification page, although he looked longingly at the IQ slider. He could come back to it later, for now it was time to make his super-hot elf slut a body!

James clapped to himself with delight as a cute little melody played, a shower of sparkles spiraled [spiraled...] across the screen, and the man on the side moved to the center of the screen. "Firstly", the sultry voice said, "choose what race you want to be." That was an easy choice. He clicked on the 'Elf' button, and shivered as he felt tingles run through his body, intensifying in his ears. Reaching up to touch them, he inhaled as he felt long, pointed tips. In fact, his whole body seemed a bit slimmer. This doesn't quite feel right... he thought. Oh I know! It must be making me an elf too! Maybe we'll be in a party together! Between the strange fuzziness and the pulsating heat in his groin, James quickly flicked to the next page and made his choices. Long, silver hair, gorgeous big purple eyes, and some giant perky lips. "Combination unlocked!" the narrator exclaimed, "+1 Charisma, -1 Wisdom!" James giggled again as the mental fog settled a little tighter around his brain and naughty thoughts about cute girls and boys filled his brain. Boys? Well I guess I've never minded swinging both ways... This felt natural to him, because of course he'd always been bisexual. Next screen!

"Choose your voice young heroine," the woman commanded. James felt a little strange, like her voice was echoing around his head. And why were the sparkles still there, spinning and spinning around the screen. He felt confused, but knew he had to obey that voice. He picked the sexiest combination for his own voice; high pitched, breathy, perky. "Combination unlocked! +1 Charisma, -1 Int." He moaned as that wonderful pressure wrapped his brain and his weekend plans changed to eyeing hunks at the beach. Girls were cool and all, but men had always been more interesting to him [and their pulsing, hard...].

"Now heroine, can you tell me: Are you a girl, or a boy?" The question sent shock waves through his brain. He was a he... right? Why did it feel like there was some longing, some need to acknowledge the woman in him... her? The fog, the music, the spirals, all the feelings he had been having, James could hardly think. Maybe he should think less. Being a girl sounded fun, it's just a character after all. And he needed to be sexy. "Wonderful choice young lady! Now, are you a dominatrix, a super-switch, or a bimbo slut?" Bimbo slut~ James giggled as the words echoed in her brain. She was a bit of a slut, now that she thought about it. It felt odd to pick it, but why not for funsies? "Bimbo slut selected! Wonderful choice, just wonderful. Hold still while your stats are adjusted, and then we'll begin on giving you the perfect, sexy body you've always wanted."

The spirals filled her view and began increasing in speed. James was taken aback at first, but quickly felt oddly calm and receptive to that sultry voice.

"Physique +1, Physique +1, Physique +1." James felt wonderful, like every ache and blemish in his body had faded away.

"Wisdom -1, Wisdom -1." Thinking was fuzzy, but Jamella felt so content she didn't care.

"Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1. Charisma +1." Jamella gasped as visions of sexy men, pecs and abs and juicy, throbbing cocks filled her mind. A desperate heat filled her, and she began touching her groin against her will to try and ease it.

"IQ -1." She moaned, feeling light.

"IQ-1." Empty. She was so, wonderfully empty.

"IQ -1." This was like, so much funsies! She didn't know what was going on, but everything felt so nice~

"IQ -1. Congratulations Ella, you now have the 'Bimbo Slut' build."

Ella giggled absently. Thinking was like, so hard, and she felt like, so hard~. The fun spirals had disappeared... But the nice lady was talking to her again! With great effort, she listened in. "Now that your mental changes are complete, it's time for the physical changes!" Ella rubbed her thighs together and cheered in excitement. She couldn't wait to have more fun! "Unless you choose so now, the process will be au-to-ma-tic [...why was she using such big words?]. You can choose to take over at any time, or wait until the end and adjust as you please [...please. That word felt funny in her brain]".

"No user input detected. Body adjustment commencing."

A nice shiver went through Ella's body as she felt her headset warm against her face. Looking at the boring young man she'd begun to customize (her reflection, of course), she couldn't wait to begin! She sighed happily as waves of pretty silver hair drifted into her view and cascaded down her back. It felt especially nice against her smooth, soft skin, and she couldn't help but gently shake her head to watch it sway. A cool feeling brought her attention to her face, and the alluring amethyst eyes now set in it. Her face itself became much more elegant [but cutesy, too!], and she puckered her lips as a lovely pressure made them swell and bulge out, giving her a sexy and kissable pout [the boys'll love this look! boys~]. She felt herself shrink a few centimeters, gulping as her Adam's apple disappeared into her body. In fact, her whole body had become even more slender, with narrow shoulders, adorably small hands [pretty purple nails!], and a tiny little waist. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. Her voice was so high and cutesy! She couldn't stop herself from giving out tiny, high-pitched giggles, just to hear how cute she was!

"Basic body structure altered. Adjusting outfit in preparation for primary and secondary sexual characteristics."

Ella ooh'ed appreciatively as a stream of sparkles enveloped her body. And when they disappeared, she squealed in delight! Her drab t-shirt and denim shorts were gone! In their place was a beautiful silver mini-dress that shimmered like starlight when she moved. She frowned in vexation, though. The plunging chest and shoulder-less design was very pretty, but her chest was flat! [shouldn't I have tiddies? The boys won't like me like this...] And the way it clung to her waist and hips would have been sexy, but as it was there was barely any difference between them! Her ass wasn't nearly big enough to justify how the dress cut off barely past it, and with how tight the fabric was Ella could see how achingly hard she was [wait, why do I have a cock? I'm supposed to get cock! In my mouth, in my ass, in my tight little pussy~]. It wasn't right!

"Thank you for your patience sweetie. Optimal figure calculated. Prepare for adjustment of sexual characteristics."

Ella let out a moan as a wave of heat and pleasure washed over her. With how horny she was she could barely keep her eyes open, but she knew she wanted to watch herself become the sexy little [cum] slut she was meant to be [I want it... I want to be~]. The heat settled in her hips, her ass, and her chest, and she moaned again as the changes begun.

Her nipples grew first, more than doubling in size and stiffening through the soft fabric of her dress. Tentatively touching them induced a gasp of pleasure [so nice~] and sent her rocking backwards. The motion made her giggle, because in that time she'd grown a cute pair of B-cup breasts that jiggled when she rocked. Jiggle makes me giggle. I like giggling. I like jiggling. Ella nodded thoughtfully to herself, feeling very wise. Her boobies grew to C-cups. She jiggled some more. She giggled some more.

A tightness around her hips distracted Ella from her tiddies. They were growing! She groaned as fabric and flesh tightened around them, too euphoric to feel pain. Sliding her hands from her waist to her hips made her squeal happily. She had such a sexy hourglass figure, she knew any girl worth her money would be jealous [and the boys would wanna hold me and squeeze me and fuck me raw]. Thighs thickening dramatically in response to her growth, she slapped her ass in impatience. Why won't it get bigger already!

But get bigger it did, swelling out in response to her touch. She fell forward as sheer pleasure blanketed her mind and weakened her knees. Squishing her boobies against the ground made her feel even nicer, until she was panting and moaning for somebody to help, to hit her again and make her bigger~

A slap landed on her booty, and she groaned in delight as it and her thighs swelled again. More. More! I NEED MORE! She moaned in ecstasy as blow after blow landed, making her swell and grow and grow and swell and feel so gooooood! Her tits inflated to D, then E-cups [good for the boys. I can jiggle so well for them~]. Her hips widened and thighs thickened, until she looked ridiculously large compared to her waist [ridicu... ridic... really, really sexy...] And her ass kept growing, and growing, and growing and growing and growing and growing! Tighter! Around my cock! Cock... I... oh~ Too... too... much! Too much! I'm~ I'm!

OooOOoOoOOooOoOoooOOOOOHHH~

Ella screamed in delight as she came, just cumming and cumming and cumming her tiny little brain out.

"Wisdom -1. IQ -1. Charisma +1. Charisma +1."

She was desperate, humping against the ground as the flow of cum abated from her cock. Everything she had been was flowing out of her messy stupid brain, and everything that she should be was coming in. Boys... Cock... Need fuck... Breed~ I'm such a dumb little cum slut~ She giggled to herself.

"Final adjustment required."

Ella stood up shakily, the bottom of her dress a cum-soaked mess. She squealed with delight as the mental fog settled even tighter and she felt an intense heat in her groin. She could see the tops of nipples trying to break free from her dress, and could feel the air drift over her ass, which had mostly escaped the fabric in her growth. So sexy. Hehe~ Boy can take me~ Don't even need dress off~ Thinking hard... Her ass and hips had pulled up so much fabric that her cock was visible now, deflating and still leaking from her orgasm, but she gasped in pleasure as it began rising up again. And, as she felt something long and hard brush her booty [cock? Boys? Fuck?].

A pressure like hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, and she whimpered in desire as she felt an unseen cock touch her cheek. At the same time, something began intensely stimulating her own. She reflexively opened her mouth in a moan, but was cut off as she felt the cock shove inside [Feels~ Feels!].

All thought stopped.

Her mind was blank, full of pleasure and desire and happiness. Her cock felt good like it never had before, and the dick in her mouth tasted wonderful~ This was what Ella was made for, what she was meant to be. Feeling good, feeling sexy, feeling a pleasant emptiness that could only be filled with cock. Her haze reached a crescendo. Dimly she was aware of her own cries of ecstasy, muffled by the cock fucking her mouth and mind, as she came harder than she even had before. And as she came, her dick shrunk with each spurt until it went inside her [inside me!]. The cock withdrew from her mouth, filling her with a desperate longing. Emma moaned for her unseen hero, then gasped as she felt him once more. And blinked in surprise as the pretty meadow and her sexy reflection disappeared.

She was kneeling on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Shaking off a little of her confusion [don't need know much anyways...], she gasped as the tell-tale smell of pre-cum filled her nose. There was a man standing in front of her!

Sandy-blonde hair. Body like a surfer hunk! Naked. With a massive, sexy cock, dripping with her saliva and it's own juices. Ella moaned in desire, falling on all fours. Visibly trembling with lust, he tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly moved behind her.

Touching her with his [cock!].

Ever so gently, on the edge of her [...pussy!!!!]

He rammed inside her, and she screamed as an absolute feeling of rightness, of sexiness and pleasure and single-minded happiness rushed through her [MORE! HARDER! COCKKKK~]. Riding his dick she felt herself go into a trance, with nothing, absolutely nothing, disturbing her feelings. Ever. This was right. Ella moaned and surrendered to herself, drifting away on her lover's cock and mindless pleasure.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 19] Moving Out

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“That’s all, I think.” Toji says as he loads up the last box into the moving truck. The day has finally come, Toji is finally moving out. You’ve been dreading this moment more than anything. You really can’t do anything about it, either way.

You’re still in a relationship with Toji, and you’re happy with him, you shouldn’t be upset. He’s just moving away, and he promises that he’ll see you as much as possible until you finally get married and move in together. That’s what he says at least, and of course you choose to believe it.

“Are you staying with us for the weekend? You know we’d love to have you.” Toji asks, watching as you awkwardly stand by his car. You agreed that you’d drive his car to his new house while he drives the moving truck that he rented for the day. 

“I didn’t pack anything, so–” You begin to answer, but that’s not a good enough excuse for Toji. He doesn’t care how long he has to wait, he’ll wait for you. 

“So, you have to go upstairs to get some stuff for the weekend. Megumi and I will wait for you, isn’t that right, bud?” Toji looks down at his little one, and Megumi nods in response. Megumi will do just about anything to have you by his side, it’s no surprise. You smile at your boys before turning on your heel to go upstairs. 

You’re only staying for a night so you shouldn’t really go overboard with packing but you still do. You could last a week in Toji’s house with clean clothes, and you take your sweet time packing as well– Toji grows impatient, and he shows his annoyance when you go back outside. 

“Did you go to the store too or something? Why the hell did it take so long?” Toji’s clear annoyance makes you laugh. 

“I thought you wanted me to accompany you? Does waiting a couple of minutes make you change your mind?” You respond, and Toji rolls his eyes. Megumi runs to your side, and you take his hand. “Let’s go, baby. This old man is getting annoying.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll see you two later.” Toji says, walking to the truck. You chuckle as you lead Megumi to his father’s car. You get the little boy into his booster seat (although he claims that he’s old enough to sit in the front with you), and you begin your drive to Toji’s new home. You have no idea why or how Toji trusts you enough to drive to his new house with his son nonetheless; he gave you a couple of driving lessons over the past couple of months, and during a very lucky day, you got your license. You’re still not the best driver although Toji claims that you’re a good one.

“Are you excited to live in your new home, Megumi?” You ask, your eyes going to the rearview mirror to look back at Megumi. He’s looking out the window, watching as the familiar passage turns unknown.

“Will you be with me?” He replies, and you chew on your cheek, wondering how you’ll answer that. Yes… But no. Not in the way that you are now. You won’t see Megumi everyday anymore and you won’t be next door to him so he can run to you whenever he needs something. But you’ll still be one call away, and you’ll find the fastest route to get to him whenever he needs you. And Toji too.

“I will be, Megumi. I just won’t be a door away.” You answer, and that’s good enough for Megumi since he stopped listening after you assured him that you will be with him. You’re still seeing him on weekdays since Toji is still leaving him at daycare with you. Things are changing, but it’s not a drastic change. The only main difference is that Toji won’t be next door. You’re still upset about the changes though.

“Can we listen to music?” Megumi asks, and you hum in response before turning on the radio. 

Toji’s new home needs some renovations, at least that’s what you notice at first glance. But it has potentia, and without noting the defects of the exterior, it’s a beautiful home. When you get to the front, Toji is already unloading his boxes and putting them in the garage. 

“Where are we?” Megumi asks, his little eyes staring at his new home.

“This is your new home, Megumi.” You inform him as you turn off the car. He tilts his little head, his hands and face pressing against the car window. He fogs up the window as he breathes on it, and you notice it when you get out of the car and open the door for him. You get him out of the car, and ask him, “Do you like it?”

“It’s big.” Is all that he really notices about the home. Toji told you that the house also has a big backyard, and you know Megumi is going to be over the moon when he notices that it’s part of his home.

“You two are so slow!” Toji yells when he finally notices you and Megumi. You can’t help but laugh as you grab Megumi’s hand and walk to the garage to join Toji. Toji crosses his arms when you’re next to him, and he clicks his tongue before shaking his head in disappointment, “I’ve been waiting here for a while.”

“But were you really?” You respond and Toji lets out a chuckle, which is your answer. He just got here as well. Toji picks up Megumi from the floor, kissing his forehead before asking,

“You want a tour of your new home, buddy?” And Megumi nods in response. Toji holds Megumi with one arm, while his free hand goes to your own, intertwining your fingers together before Toji drags you inside. Megumi has an option to decline, you don’t. Your first stop is the kitchen, and it’s extremely nice– You expected the rest of the home to be like the exterior, but at first glance, the interior is almost perfect. It’s rather colorful, with sage green cabinets and white oak floors. Toji then says, “I’ve been working on the inside myself… And with some help.”

“I love it.” You tell him, which brings a smile to his lips. He seeks for your approval more than anything, so hearing that you like the place overfills him with joy. 

Toji drags you around, showing you the living room, the dining room, his bedroom, and Megumi’s bedroom which he painted Megumi’s favorite color (which Megumi still doesn’t comprehend it’s his room). Everything is bare for the moment, but you know that they’ll make it their perfect home in a matter of days. Megumi notices the big backyard from the view that the sliding glass door gives him. He runs to the door, dirtying it with his hands as he looks outside.

“Can I play there?” Megumi asks, and Toji has the biggest smile on his face because he can say yes. Megumi can do absolutely anything he wants. Well obviously not anything he wants because Toji will enforce rules, but if Toji didn’t want to enforce those rules, Megumi is free to do whatever.

“Yeah, you can.” Toji answers, opening the door to let Megumi outside. There isn’t much that Megumi can do to help, so it’s best to just let him outside to help. Toji looks at the dirty glass door, clicking his tongue, “That little rascal is already getting the house dirty.”

“He’s just really excited, Toji. You know how he is.” You tell Toji, wrapping your arms around his waist, nestling into his embrace. Toji kisses the top of your head, hugging you back with so much adoration.  If it weren’t so soon in your relationship, he would ask you to move in with him.

“His excitement better not ruin my new house.” Toji says, and you chuckle. You look up at him with a smile before you press your soft lips against his. Toji feels his cheeks get hot– And fuck, he hates it but he also loves it… He’s just embarrassed that he would fold so easily for you. Toji licks his lips before clearing his throat and telling you, “There’s one room that you have yet to see.”

“Is there?” You respond, knowing damn well that you’ve been staring at the door that’s right next to Megumi’s room. You know it isn’t the bathroom since Toji gave you a thorough tour of the house. Toji grabs your hand and leads you to the final room, and you’re not exactly impressed when he opens it. Just another empty room. It’s similar to Megumi’s room, but it lacks color. You raise your brow before asking, “A guest room?”

“What do you think about a nursery?” He replies which makes your eyes go wide. You then furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“A nursery?” You ask, and he nods in confirmation. A lot of questions run through your mind but the first words that leave your lips are, “I thought you didn’t want more kids.”

“I’ve thought about it and… The idea of having a baby with you makes me happy– Whether it’s our own or adopted or whatever. Just another member of the family… Plus, Megumi wouldn’t mind having someone to play with.” Toji tells you, and a foolish smile comes to your lips. Yeah… Toji and Megumi are your family now. And you’re so happy with that. You clear your throat before saying,

“Let’s go. You have a lot of boxes to unload.”

Toji doesn’t have a lot of furniture, which is how you find yourself sitting on the floor, watching a movie that Megumi picked up. Toji doesn’t have the money to get all necessary furniture right away since he’s saving up for other stuff that’s more important than a couch. Either way, Megumi doesn’t mind sitting on the floor in his pajamas to watch a movie, and neither do you. 

You lay your head on Toji’s lap, your eyes feeling heavy as you watch the kids’ movie. Toji caresses your arm, focusing on the movie which he has taken a liking to. If it was up to him, he’d throw a few curses here and there but it’s not a bad movie– At least not compared to other stuff that Megumi has put on the TV. 

“You like the movie?” Toji asks, looking down at you. You’re almost falling asleep, and it makes him chuckle. It’s not even late, you’re just so tired after helping them out (even though Toji doesn’t think that you did all that much anyway). 

“Yeah… It’s good.” Your words come out slurred as your eyes shut on their own. Within minutes, you’re asleep on his lap. He looks at his son, and he’s surprised that Megumi is still wide awake, though maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked because they’re watching a movie that Megumi picked.

“Are you almost ready to go to bed, Megumi? I’m getting tired.” Toji fakes out a yawn since he’s not really tired, but he just wants to put you to bed and lay down with you. Of course Megumi knows that it isn’t his bedtime yet, so he shakes his head in response. One thing about Megumi is that he’ll refuse to go to bed until his bedtime, even when he’s halfway asleep. 

“I’m not tired. It’s early.” Megumi responds, which makes Toji roll his eyes. It feels like Toji can’t assert authority without being mean to his son, which is not something that he wants to do but it’s the only way Megumi listens. But Toji has learned of the great art of bribery, and maybe it isn’t the best way to raise his son but sometimes he needs to make his life easier.

“If you go to bed now, I’ll let you have ice cream for breakfast.” Toji says, and Megumi takes a long second to think about it. That’s a tempting offer, but is he willing to turn off his movie for it? “You can finish it tomorrow morning, c’mon, let’s go to bed. Your old man is tired.”

“Fine. But you better add sprinkles!” Megumi finally agrees, and Toji will take as much as he can get. He does have to wake up earlier than Megumi to go to the store and get the ice cream and sprinkles, but he’ll get it. Toji takes the remote and turns off the screen, and Megumi pouts as he stands up. 

Megumi begins to walk to Toji’s room, and Toji doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they’ll be sleeping in different rooms from now on. Well, it’s not necessary for them to separate so early. Toji doesn’t need a lot of privacy anyway, plus he loves sleeping with his baby boy. Not that he’d ever admit that, he’d just accuse Megumi of being a scaredy cat and having nightmares.

Toji picks you up and carries you to his bedroom, though you’re lightly sleeping so you’re awakened by him. He’s looking down at you, watching you open your eyes. He smiles at you– Fuck, his smile is awful but you love it. You could watch him smile all day long.

“Go back to sleep.” He tells you as he puts you down on his futon. You keep your eyes on him, for some reason not being able to look away. He’s about to walk away to get you a blanket, but your hand wraps around his ankle to stop him from walking away.

“Toji…” You begin and he looks at you with pure confusion. You really didn’t want to be the first one to say it, but you’re half-asleep, realizing how lucky you are to have him with you. Toji is the ideal man for you. “I love you, Toji.”

His eyes widen, completely shocked at your confession. It takes a minute for it to process in his mind before he kneels down beside you and begins to kiss your face. Megumi, who watches everything, has to stop his father before he kills you with all the kisses. Toji grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze before responding, “I love you too. So so much.”

It’s a simple confession, yet his heart is overfilled with joy. He never expected to hear it again from a woman, much less from a woman he loves so dearly. 

“What about me?” Megumi cries, somewhat interrupting the sweet moment, but he makes it sweeter. Toji shifts his attention to his son and attempts to hug him, but Megumi pushes him away. Megumi wasn’t talking to Toji.

“Come here, Megumi. Lay down next to me.” You pat the space next to you, and Megumi lays down beside you, allowing you to hug him. You kiss the top of his head. “I love you, my little gumi bear.”

“I love you too.” Megumi answers. You stare at the back of his head before looking at Toji, a smile on your face when you realize that he just kneels beside you in awe.

His family feels complete again.

Somewhat.

[starsfic]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Girlfriend of Ladybug

Summary: During another invasive interview pushing her towards Chat Noir, Ladybug panics and claims that she’s dating someone. Who? Oh, just her civilian identity. Dominos unexpectedly topple.

Ko-Fi

-_-

It was a heat of the moment thing.

Ladybug really couldn’t blame herself. Well, technically she could, considering she had agreed to another hour-long interview with Nadja and Chat Noir. Where, of course, the topic inevitably turned back to the nonexistent romantic relationship between her and her partner, not helped at all by the fact  that Chat kept egging it on and nobody seemed to notice or care about her discomfort. The moment Alya appeared on screen and asked “So when are you going to admit your feelings for each other?”

She snapped.

“I have a girlfriend.”

Dead silence encased the studio. Chat gaped at her, Alya gaped at her, Nadja gaped at her, everyone gaped at her. It was only until a hand reached out of the audience that noise came back in. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, I have to agree,” Nadja said, a flustered blush making her cheeks red. “Excuse me?”

Welp, she had already said it, so might as well. “I have a girlfriend,” she repeated. Chat and Alya continued to gape at her. She took a deep breath in and plastered on a stern look. “Nadja, did you ever think the reason why I don’t confess my feelings for Chat is because I don’t have any?”

Silence encased the studio, but it was the silence where people were muttering to each other. Ladybug waited. Chat continued to gape, but Alya shut her mouth and made an odd squeaky noise.

Nadja finally took a deep breath in. When she opened her eyes, she seemed to be staring at her in a different way. Not as an icon or an idol or a celebrity, but as if Ladybug was a real person. She hadn’t even realized that she hadn’t been looking at her that way. “No,” she said. “I’m…so sorry, Ladybug. I hadn’t considered that.” Ladybug nodded but didn’t say a word. “May I ask who it is?”

Well, crap. She hadn’t expected that. She was tempted to say, “No comment,” but then it would be possible that people would catch on to the fact that she was lying. She needed someone. Ladybug thought for a moment and then prayed Tikki wouldn’t be too mad.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Once again, the room descended into muttering silence. Chat was pulling out his staff with the angriest look she had ever seen on his face. Ladybug couldn’t help but raise a brow at that. But then Alya spoke with a “NO WAY!”

Ladybug raised a brow. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes!” Alya said, seeming to not care about the fact that she was being televised live. “She’s in love with Adrien Agreste! He’s her soulmate, I’m sure of it!” Geez, Alya, thanks. Chat’s muttering stopped. “She’s been struggling to confess to him since the attacks first began! He’s-”

“A boy, Miss Cesaire,” Ladybug cut her off, keeping her voice bored. Yes, she did have a crush on Adrien once. But her feelings had faded over time, especially when she thought of how he reacted to Chloe and Lila hurting her. “A boy that is well-known and popular with the female population of Paris. A boy that would be expected if a person asked about a celebrity crush.”

Alya stared at her. She could practically see her put the pieces together. “What about Luka Couffaine? She dated him for…a few months!”

“Her and Luka Couffaine, I have discussed with her,” Ladybug said, keeping her voice calm. Her mind raced- she would definitely need to talk to Luka after this. “I will not pretend to be a good girlfriend, Miss Cesaire. Marinette does not know who I am under the mask- if anyone says that they do, they are lying-” Hopefully, that dealt with Lila. “Our relationship had to be kept secret. I cannot take her out on dates or meet her parents. So, we agreed to an open relationship.”

Nadja cleared her throat. “She does not know who you are?”

Ladybug shook her head. “No. We agreed that, after Hawkmoth is defeated and I can retire, I will reveal myself to her and discuss our relationship from there. I’m only being open with my relationship now since she knows I am uncomfortable with people trying to ship me with Chat Noir-”

“Because they know we’re meant to be!” Chat burst out. Honestly, she was surprised that he hadn’t spoken up sooner. He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her close. “My Lady, think about it! We have so much more in common than some random civilian!” His eyes were dark, sending shivers up her spine. “You’re lying about Marinette, right? There’s no way you could fall for some random person-”

“Hey!” Alya spoke up, her voice bordering on fury. “Marinette’s not just some random nobody!” The camera shook as something slammed, most likely Alya’s fist slamming into the desk. “Marinette is the smartest, most creative person I have ever met! She’s probably the greatest actress of all time, and I would say that she has done so much more for Paris than you ever have on your own!” She took a deep breath. “Ladybug, you have great taste.” And with that, Alya’s camera cut short.

Nadja nodded. “Okay, next question,” she said, her voice still a touch strained from the bombshell that was just dropped on her.

Hopefully, this didn’t blow up.

-_-

It blew up.

Tikki, thankfully, didn’t seem mad. “It was clever,” she said before encouraging Marinette to go to bed.

When Marinette woke up surprisingly early, it was to a ton of messages on her social media and email. By the time she left for school, it was a flood that she was too afraid to look at. Her parents were surprisingly happy for her, with her dad apologizing for blowing up in such a way on Chat Noir. “It’s okay,” she said, hugging him. “It was awkward, but it kept Chat from following Ladybug.”

“Which I can’t believe he did!” her mother groused. “You think he would know better!”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, old annoyance flaring up. “Me too.”

Thankfully, there wasn’t a crowd of reporters- yet. So Marinette wasted no time in rushing over to school before one did form.

Once she was there, she found herself pausing. A large portion of the people she saw were wearing Ladybug’s spots or LGBTQIA+ merch, from full outfits to just hair clips. Several stopped to smile and give her friendly waves, while others looked starstruck. This was a bigger reaction than she was expecting.

She waved back and headed to her classroom. She sent another prayer to the surprisingly quiet Tikki that nothing happened and opened the door.

The classroom was surprisingly quiet, with Lila sitting in the back looking like she had all the life drained from her, until Marinette stepped inside. “Marinette!” Alya said, jumping to her feet. She had switched her orange flannel for one bearing the pan colors. She wasted no time in rushing up and practically scooping her up in a hug. The shock meant that it took a second before Marinette realized that Alya was apologizing into her hair. “-so sorry, I should’ve thought more about Ladybug’s feelings, I never meant to hurt her, swear-”

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, pulling away to smile at her bestie. “I know how people can get with superheroes, I think Ladybug forgives you.” She poked Alya’s nose. “Although I’m annoyed that you tried to air out my crush on Adrien to all of Paris.”

Alya sighed, nodding. “I know. Now that I think about it, it was super not cool.” She tried for a smile. “I’m sorry, girl.”

Despite herself, Marinette couldn’t stay mad. “I forgive you. But, don’t do it again.” Alya nodded and with that out of the way, she could move on. She looked around and couldn’t help but raise a brow. “But what’s going on? Why is everyone either wearing Ladybug stuff or pride stuff? If I had known, I would’ve dug my pride stuff out.”

“Oh, haven’t you checked online?” Nino called, his headphones decorated with bi stickers.

Marinette shook her head. “I’ve been too afraid to,” she admitted. “My social media has been flooded with messages and emails.”

“Oh, I can sort those for you, dudette.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, handing over her phone. “The code’s still the same.” Nino nodded as he began to fiddle with her phone.

“Anyway,” Kim said, wearing a transmac hoodie instead of his regular red hoodie. “The entire queer community adopted Ladybug as a queer icon after her interview last night. People have been debating for hours whether she’s a lesbian or bi.”

“Uh huh,” Well, at least the community was supportive. “I’m glad people are supportive.”

“Of course they are,” Alya said, leading her to their seats. “It’s Ladybug and you, the biggest sweethearts in Paris. If anyone isn’t, they look-”

“RIDICULOUS!” Chloe stormed in, wearing her normal clothing. Her gaze could’ve set Marinette on fire as she marched up and slammed her hands on her desk. On closer inspection, her eyes were rimmed red. “Break up with Ladybug.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you deaf?!” Chloe shrieked, slamming her hand down. “Break up with Ladybug! There is only one girl that is perfect enough for her to date, and it’s certainly not you!”

“And I’m guessing that’s you?” Alya scoffed before Marinette could figure out a proper response that wasn’t not in your life. “Please, everyone knows Ladybug hates your guts.”

“She does not!” Chloe shrieked, tears beading up in the corner of her eyes. “She thinks I’m great! She chose me to be a hero! She knows I’m great! She-”

“Lost the Miraculous by accident, and you refused to give it back.” Marinette interrupted. Chloe’s jaw dropped, and she gaped at her. “Yeah, she told me about that. She thought you would do better, be better if you understood how your actions affect Paris. But you didn’t.” She leaned forward and that angry spark in her, the one that had been burning in her since Adrien pouted and moaned, burned. “Your actions are why people were celebrating that you were leaving Paris when you decided to go to New York.”

“Marinette!” Adrien called, also dressed in his normal clothes, but she held her hand out.

“You are nothing to Ladybug. Just a hazard and a safety risk.” Marinette leaned back in her chair. “The only reason I made that party for you is because Adrien asked. Nobody else.”

Chloe shut her mouth. She looked around the room. Sabrina looked away. Nobody else did, staring her down, bonded in silent agreement. Marinette expected her to rage, to scream, to throw a fit. Instead, she straightened up and walked to her seat. The moment she sat down, she hid her face.

“Marinette!” Adrien barked. “That was horrible! You-”

“Told her what Ladybug thought of her and what she needed to hear,” Marinette said, interrupting him. She leaned forward, allowing the anger brewing in her at him to burn in her eyes. “And if you don’t stop and think about your actions, so will I.”

Adrien stared with wide eyes. Without another word, but a nasty glance back, he turned and sat down. Nino scooted away from him before turning and holding up her phone. “Here, Nette,” he said. “There was some hate mail from people like Chloe,” Chloe flinched. “But a lot more of people supporting you.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Marinette said, taking her phone back.

The rest of the school day passed in silence. Twice, Adrien tried to get her alone, apparently undeterred by her threat, but Alya and the rest of the girl squad made sure there was a bodyguard nearby until Adrien had to leave for a photoshoot. (Rose was tiny but fierce in her desire to protect Marinette.) The rest of the school left her alone, excluding a few people who asked for her autograph and pictures and a whole bunch of gifts and letters in her locker. Marinette tried to ignore the heat in her face with all the love and care. 

Finally, the school day was over. Marinette walked out and breathed a sigh of early relief. She could see a few news vans waiting outside the bakery, so she had that to stress about, but she had gotten through the school day relatively unscathed.

The sound of a guitar met her ears and she paused, coming to a stop on the stairs.

Right. Luka.

She meant to talk to him after the interview, but Chat Noir had been following her, insisting to talk more about them, that she hadn’t been able to. So, here she was, standing on the steps, trying her best to not be seen by the musician as he strummed his guitar, probably waiting for Juleka.

It was tempting to run. But Marinette had to be braver than that. 

She took a deep breath and marched down the stairs, coming to a stop right next to him. Luka paused in his playing, staring at her. Marinette couldn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, she found herself staring at her feet. “Hi, Luka,” she said and immediately wanted to facepalm. Hi, Luka? Just that? Not, hey Luka, did you see the interview where Ladybug revealed I was two-timing you with her even though we’re the same person-

“You should’ve given me a heads up that we were poly,” Luka’s voice broke through her haze. She glanced up. Luka smiled at her, although it was edged with something. “I have a cute boy in my class, his name’s Felix, and I think you two would love each other.”

Marinette’s mind blanked, at first wondering what he was talking about, and then realization. “You…you aren’t mad?”

“I…I don’t know how to feel,” Luka admitted, and it was strange to see him admit that. Luka was the only boy she knew who was best in touch with his emotions. “On one hand, it makes a lot more sense than you pining over Adrien like everyone thought. On the other-”

“I lied,” Marinette admitted. “I lied, a lot, to you and everyone.” She gripped the edge of her shirt. “I kept ditching dates for something dumb, not related to her,” Luka raised a brow, but she continued on. “Sometimes I wished she didn’t exist because I trust you, Luka, I trust you so much but I keep having to lie because I care about her too and hurt you and and and-” Warm arms engulfed her but she couldn’t allow it, she needed to say it. “I’m so sorry, Luka.”

Luka didn’t say a word, just held her. Finally, he sighed. “I’m sorry too, Marinette,” he admitted. “I should’ve been better, maybe then-”

“No!” Marinette shoved him away. Luka stumbled back, looking hurt, but Marinette wasted no time in gripping his shoulders, staring him down. “You were wonderful,” she said, making sure he understood. “You were wonderful. I was the one who should’ve been better. I should’ve communicated better, I should’ve explained better about why I was leaving you in the lurch.”

“I was the one who got akumatized,” Luka said, staring back with wide eyes. “I went after you.”

“It was my fault you got akumatized in the first place!”

“No, it was not-” And now Luka was holding her shoulders, making sure she was looking at him. They probably looked strange, gripping each other’s shoulders like this, but Marinette didn’t care. “It was not your fault. It was Hawkmoth’s fault.” Right, right, Marinette needed to remember that. He was the one who took advantage of people. “We’re both crappy at communicating. We can work on that.”

Wait…

“You…want to try again?”

Luka paused and then nodded. “Now that I know more, enough to possibly understand some things,” He took in a deep breath. “Only if you want to?”

Marinette nodded back. “We can try,” And isn’t that what they all could do? “Maybe you can introduce me to Felix, and I can introduce you to…” She held up her hand at the sight of a familiar red car. “Hang on real quick.”

Luka blinked but nodded. Marinette smiled as they released each other before she turned and marched up to Kagami, who paused with a raised brow. Much to her delight, she wore gloves marked with the queer pride flag. “Wanna go on a date?” she asked promptly.

Kagami blinked. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then hummed. Marinette waited patiently. If Kagami had to think about it, than she was willing to wait. “Yes,” she finally said. “If your girlfriend is alright with it?”

Marinette nodded, feeling her face heat up. “Luka and I are trying again,” she admitted. “So he’s introducing a friend of his on our date. I wanted to introduce you to him, because I think you guys would be good friends, if not datemates.” She wanted to be honest where she could.

Kagami’s eyes brightened at the mention of friendship. “Then I certainly will come,” she said. “You have my number, so let me know the details.”

“I will.” She held out her hand and Kagami didn’t hesitate in giving it a squeeze. “Maybe after practice today, we can have our first date? At our usual spot?”

Kagami smiled. It was awkward, but it was sincere. “I would love that.” With one last squeeze of her hand, Kagami marched into the school.

Luka was chuckling when Marinette returned. “I guess we’ll have a full table,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll talk to Felix and figure out a good time for us.”

Marinette nodded. “Let me know the details.” She paused. “And, thank you, Luka.” Before he could respond she took off running.

Lying about her girlfriend went better than expected!

[aesethewitch]

Advertisement Adversaries #2: "Gender Swap Spell"

Hello, and welcome to the second installment of Advertisement Adversaries! This series aims to dissect unethical, unfair, deceptive, and just plain Not Good sales strategies found in the witchcraft community. We also cover legitimate sellers to highlight good marketing, listings, and business practices! The goal is to improve the legit witches' businesses and educate folks on scams, grifts, and marketing manipulations.

You can read more about this project here (Tumblr) or here (my website). You can also read this post on Ko-Fi or a better-formatted version on my website. (Note: Some images just wouldn't upload to Ko-Fi for some reason, so I strongly recommend using the website!)

Each entry covers one listing from a seller's catalogue. I score the listing on a scale of one to five in six categories: Clarity, Transparency, Presence, Genuineness, Verifiability, and Morality. Legitimate sellers get an extra category of Attractiveness/Advice for Improvement.

Please Note: I had so many screenshots for this listing, I've had to cut out a handful because of Tumblr's image limit. To see ALL of the images I captured, please pop over to my website for the full experience.

Now, let's have a look at today's entry into this series:

Advertisement Details

Who is the advertiser -- or who do they claim to be? Who is their apparent primary audience? What are they selling? What's their tone? What's the vibe? What are the first impressions?

Spell scams on Etsy are a dime a dozen. This one I've chosen has just about everything a scam boogeyman like me could possibly want. But let's start right from the top, shall we?

Now, this is a total scam, so we're naming and shaming, but I have another reason for naming this one. (Note that all other names, such as reviewer names, have been redacted from screenshots or otherwise omitted for their privacy.)

This listing comes from an Etsy shop called "MariahSpells." They last updated their shop announcements on September 6, 2024. The listing we're focusing on is one for a "Gender Swap Spell." Yeah, that's right, I'm fucking going there.

A lot of Etsy spells targeting trans people look like this. Many of them make it seem like it's a spell for a physical transformation, but really, you're getting an ~emotional transformation~ to help you along your ~spiritual journey~ and make you ~feel things~. But again, they market like it's a physical change and then pull this to prevent complaints or required refunds.

Not so with MariahSpells! No, no! This spell is going to change you physically. No HRT required. You want a dick? Envision it. Write it out. They're gonna make that happen for you. Let's fucking go.

God, I wish it worked that way.

No frills, no bullshit, and a 100% success guarantee. This Ancient and Powerful Spell is going to Fix You. No refunds.

Normally, I have to make an educated assumption about who these scams are targeting. But MariahSpells is doing my work for me:

Specifically and deliberately targeting vulnerable trans people who are desperate for a change. Nice. Note also the emphasis on "opposite sex" throughout this listing. We love erasing intersex and non-binary people, don't we?

But I can really see a depressed, desperate trans person buying this spell. And someone did.

Fucking tragic. This review was put up after I decided to cover this listing but before I started working on this. Someone bought this, perhaps because they can't access HRT safely where they are or because they want quicker results from their transition. I don't know for sure, but that's the kind of person this listing (and listings like this one) are targeting.

This shop, according to the main page, has received over 2,000 sales since it opened. Two thousand sales. Most of the other services in this shop aren't as exorbitantly priced as this one, but many of them are. One is, I shit you not, seven hundred dollars. ON SALE. To become a vampire -- yes, a real one, immortal and all. (But don't worry, that listing says you won't incur bad karma for it. Yippee!)

And that's all just on the surface. Let's do a smidge of digging.

Based on the shop name, you'd think that the seller's name is Mariah. But in their listing, all the way at the bottom in the "waxing poetic about themselves" section, we see this:

Why would your shop be MariahSpells if your name is Sayran? Now, I thought this was odd until I found a particular review with a link to a different Etsy shop that appears to have been forcibly shut down -- with the same qualifications listed in the description.

So, this isn't this person's name, and they've reopened a shop despite being shut down on another... which also wasn't their actual name. It makes me wonder how many times this person has done this, and whether they have other shopfronts they're running at the same time. Classic scam behavior: Change shop names after being reported/marked as a scam/taken down and keep on selling the same empty promises.

Admittedly, I'm not super familiar with Syriac magic or its traditions, so I'm staying away from commenting on that. If anyone reading this knows anything about it and is willing to dig into it, please let me know in the replies/reblogs or tag me in a separate post - if you've got the details, I want to read them! I did a little reading, but I had to put it down to focus on the rest of this review.

However, even without knowing about Syriac magic, I can't confirm anything about this person's practice or even their existence, because they have no social media. There are no links on the shop page, in the about section, or elsewhere. Even a wider search (using the current shop name, the prior shop name, and both listed seller names) brings up nothing. This seller doesn't exist outside this shop. Red fucking flag.

The overall tone of this listing is superior. It takes swipes at "fake wizards" and "everyone presenting themselves as a witch" in order to make this particular seller appear more legitimate.

The seller also takes time to shit on other listings that rely on the buyer's "positive thinking" to make their magic work -- or, really, to blame the buyer for spells not working.

I agree with them that it's scummy to blame the buyer and use their "negativity" as a scapegoat. Hilarious to see it on such a blatant scam.

Now, let's take a second to talk about the price and this sale that's going on. I took almost all of these screenshots on February 18, 2025 (others had to be redone due to formatting issues or because I forgot to grab a couple). I'm doing a first draft on the 19th, and as of literally right now as I'm typing this, the sale has about an hour and fifteen minutes left. I'm keeping an eye on it.

This is an exorbitant price for a service where your only verification is a photo which can easily be fabricated. You can't verify the services via reviews, either, because all of the reviews for spell services are premature ones giving five stars before any results are even given. (And for another reason, which I'll talk about later!)

This is now me, a couple hours later, returning to the listing. Lo and behold:

The sale is still on. It's still 50% off. But hey, it still has that "biggest markdown" banner on it. That's strange... a glitch, maybe?

Nope. Check the prices. The seller knocked a couple cents off the original price to make the sale price the "new lowest in 60 days." They're artificially forcing that message to keep up the sale hype. It's why the price is such a strange amount; they've been doing this since at least October 2024, maybe longer.

This isn't something you'd notice unless you were obsessively checking on it... like me. Gotcha, bitch.

Overall, the impression is fuckin' bad. Obviously. Between the bootleg Sims AI generated listing picture, the putting-down of other sellers, the product description, and the "sale" rug-pull, this listing is an incredible, pristine example of an Etsy Spell Scam.

Let's talk nitty-gritty.

Clarity

How clear is the language? Does it use a bunch of obscure terms or talk in circles? Is it obvious what the buyer will receive based on this listing alone?

I mean, it's pretty obvious what you're getting on the surface. It's a spell that's going to cause a physical transformation to you based on your specifications vis a vis gender transition.

But here's the thing: You don't actually know what's happening. What kind of spell is this? What ritual is being done? What concern is there for the buyer? It says this spell is permanent, but what does that mean? Does that mean it can't be undone at all? And if that's the case, how is this spell being bound to the buyer?

The seller says they're a Syriac magician, but that's a pretty niche tradition. The average person isn't going to know anything about it. You'd think they would take the opportunity to play up the exotic, exclusive nature of their magic by explaining a little more about the spell or ritual... but that would require there to be an actual spell happening, wouldn't it?

This listing is constantly talking in circles about how great the spell is and how powerful the magic is and how the effects are worth the price. But note that it doesn't detail what effects you're going to see. Note, again, that it's just repeating the same shit over and over and over again: "it's gonna work, I'm gonna do the spell for you, it's super powerful, you want this spell, it's gonna work..."

The only proof you're going to get of this spell happening is a photo, and only if you demand one. Based on reviews, buyers apparently get a short blurb stating that the spell has been done and the picture. Immediately after purchase, you get a JPG thank you message to download. You get the rest later.

My issue with "photo proof" of spells is that they can easily be faked. They can be stolen from the internet. They can be a set of photos that are being reused over and over again for different buyers. They can be real... but the setup may not be a true spell. It would be pretty easy to light some candles and draw a circle and take a picture to claim it's a spell when it's just... candles and a doodle. You know? Clarity for this listing gets a 1/5. It gets a singular point for saying what the spell is for and generally what it's intended to do, but most of the listing is sucking their own Very Ancient And Powerful dick instead of giving actual details about the spell.

Transparency

Is the seller honest about their refund/returns policy? Is it obvious where materials are being sourced? Is the seller being honest and clear about their credentials and/or qualifications?

On the surface, this seller is upfront about their refunds policy. As in, they don't do refunds. Their policy and other disclaimers are clearly stated at the bottom of the listing.

Standard stuff overall. We love to see a 100% guarantee followed up by "but I'm not responsible if it doesn't work." It's required, yes, but it's still funny. Also incredible to have a disclaimer about not providing medical advice on a listing about, y'know, a medical thing. (They also have a weight loss spell. Take that as you will.) The swap to "we" in the disclaimers is a little strange. It strikes me as something they've copied from another seller's listings or a different source and then edited to their liking.

As for materials, I have no idea where they're getting their stuff. They say that they use only the highest quality materials, but who knows?

We don't know what materials are being used in this spell, so there's no way to fact check this. This is on purpose.

And, once again, there's absolutely no way to verify this person's credentials. I can't even verify that they're a real person who practices magic! So, I can't say one way or the other if they're telling the truth.

It really seems like their refunds policy and general disclaimers are the only verifiably transparent things here, huh? That's worth a point, probably...

Except it isn't. I took a couple hours to read through every single review this shop has ever received, because I was curious. I found a couple strange things that I'll talk about further along in this review, but right now, I want to focus on this:

(For more examples, please see the version of this post on my website.)

Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite grifter behavior, the old-fashioned bribe for better reviews. What this seller has done is offer refunds, exchanges, or other services in order to convince low-star reviewers to change their ratings. And it seems that at least a handful of people have taken them up on this offer. These folks have said that this is what happened, as you can see. I can't help but wonder how many of these other five-star reviews are fake, now, too.

Peeking at the listings those reviews are from, their prices are significantly lower than this listing we're focusing on. But you can imagine the draw of getting a $200 refund when you realize you've been scammed, right? Wouldn't you update your review to get that much money back? I would be tempted, I'm not gonna lie.

Then again, I'd probably update it again once I had my money back to be as close to zero stars as possible. Because fuck this behavior.

Transparency gets a solid fuck-you 0/5. They're actively lying about not providing refunds to cover their ass and bribe unsatisfied customers while hiding their identity and details of the spell.

Presence

Is the seller present anywhere other than their shop? Do they share anything about their process, method, or practice anywhere? Are they actually part of a community, or are they just selling something?

As mentioned way up above, I did a lot of digging. This seller has no social media that I can find. My guess is, because this is a scam shopfront using an alias, that I'm not meant to be able to find them anywhere else. Because they don't exist. This is a scam attempting to get as much money from you as possible before Etsy finds them again and shuts it down. They're not part of any community.

Also, interestingly, while I was trying to find anything about this shop, I found a couple Reddit threads that had been deleted talking about the shop. I couldn't recover any of the contents of those threads, unfortunately. Shame. It is interesting, though, that all of them were scrubbed. No idea if there's something bigger going on there or if it's just a coincidence. But it's interesting.

I found something else really interesting while combing through all of those reviews. There's a period from roughly February 2024 to August 2024 where this seller received a ton of one-star reviews in a row. All of them say that they never heard from the seller and never received their services.

The most recent of these one-star reviews is this one, followed by the reply left by the seller:

I can neither confirm nor deny the tragedy of this, because again, they have no other presence, and no lasting messages available other than the complaint reviews on the shop. And yet, I'm inclined to believe that this is at least somewhat true. Something happened in this seller's life that caused them to abandon this shop for several months. They'd been making steady sales before this with really positive reviews.

But Etsy has a vacation mode. Sellers can temporarily suspend their shops in the event of vacation, emergency, illness, or whatever else. Why didn't this person use this feature? It could be because of the "star seller" thing, since that's assessed on a three month cycle, and if a shop isn't active at all during the grading period, it'll lose star status. But neglecting the shop for seven months does the same thing! What the hell??

I'm uncertain if these people got refunds. According to the seller's review reply shown above, they apparently reached out to everyone who ordered from them. One person came back to amend their review to be five stars, stating that they spoke to the shop owner and giving their condolences.

One thing I'm certain of, though, is that this sale thing is surely a result of that low period. The shop's seemingly genuine and astroturf-like reviews resume around September/October 2024, and I know that these sales were going on then because of a review talking about "taking your $30 elsewhere." That's the approximate price of the service they bought.

So, either this "sale" tactic has been happening for a long time, or it's a newer scheme to boost the shop back up to where it was previously. I imagine the seller was desperate to get back to their five-star status after all those nasty reviews. No wonder they're bribing for stars and burying those negative reviews under mountains of premature and potentially false praise. Even if it's because of a genuine tragedy, this is gross behavior.

Presence gets an obvious 0/5. Even off-site reviews are non-existent.

Genuineness

Are listing photos genuine? Are any images AI, or is any copy written by an AI? Is this a real person selling something, or is this a bot account?

So, this listing has a bunch of images attached to it. The first one, the one you see in the Etsy search, is AI generated. Take a close look at it and note the blur on the earrings and the frames of the glasses melding into the eye/eyebrow shapes on the right.

Two of the images provided are collages of five-star reviews. I'm ignoring these, because I think it's gauche to do this when you're a legit seller. Doing it when you're a full-blown scammer is just ridiculous.

The rest of the images in this listing seem real, though! They're real pictures. What a refreshing and reassuring thing that is. (Very heavy sarcasm.)

I have three problems with these images, listed here in order from least to most bothersome.

First, these images don't really... match the spell at all. A couple seem like spells to bind two people together, like the ones with the figurine candles and the two poppets tied together. The others are generic spell circles.

My second issue is that every single spell listing in this shop has the same exact images. It quickly becomes obvious why they don't match the spell in question -- they're being reused again and again because they're eye-catching! The average consumer isn't going to be combing through every single listing, they're using the search bar to find specific spells and clicking the one(s) that catch their eye.

The third issue is that every single one of these images is stolen. Several are images that have been commonly reposted for the past decade (like the voodoo doll one). But a couple of these are kind of strange. Take this one, for example:

This image, as far as I can tell, comes from this article, which is about Syriac magic. It is, if Firefox's translate feature is to be trusted, a beginner-level article about Syriac magic. The image in the listing is the same one found on this article, just zoomed in and with a weird lightning filter overtop. This makes me wonder if this seller searched "syriac magic ritual picture" or something similar to get this image. I tried a couple ways, but this is a niche website in Turkish, so I'm not surprised I couldn't get it to populate in my search results.

Let's see this one also, since it's similarly stolen:

This one seems like it might be from this website, which is a French psychic's personal website advertising various spell services. I'm not 100% certain about this image's origins, but this one made the most sense out of the options.

A common thread between all of these images is that they were, at one point or another, reposted to Facebook. All of them, even the obscure one from the Turkish website. Not sure what exactly that means, but it is a pattern.

Well, with that reveal out of the way, let's go ahead and give Genuineness a score of 0/5. Not a single thing here is legitimate or genuine.

Verifiability

Is it obvious how a buyer will know their service is completed? Is it possible for the buyer to know? Are there any reviews verifying the quality/existence of the products or services? Are there negative reviews available?

All of the spells being provided, this one included, are "service only." That means you don't get a physical item, which means there's no tangible proof of service. You get a photo, as previously mentioned, and a reportedly brief summary of the spell's completion. I've already stated my issues with this, since there's no way to be certain that the service was done with just a short summary and an easily-faked photo.

Almost all of the reviews in this shop, and the one review on this particular listing, are positive. There are a sprinkling of negative reviews from 2024 complaining about not receiving what they paid for, a lack of detail in communication, and lack of results. The majority of reviews mention quick, attentive communication and fast turnaround for service completion.

And most of the reviews are premature. Nearly every single one of these reviews was left before the customer could see results, and most of them admit it.

I have two big problems with this. The first is that scammers like this will ask for positive reviews immediately, even when the supposed results might take months to manifest. The second is that a lot of these reviews come from the same person, all saying roughly the same thing about different services, all on the same day. It is possible that these are genuine, but it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility to call this astroturfing. Plus, with the proof of the seller bribing reviewers for refunds/other services, this reeks of falsified reviews.

So you can't trust the images, you can't trust the positive reviews, and you can't even tell if the seller is a real person. To me, that's textbook scam material. This seller gets 0/5 for Verifiability.

Morality

Are they offering services related to health, mental health, legal services, or other dubious subjects? Are they knowingly targeting a vulnerable audience using buzzwords and inflammatory language? Is the listing sharing misinformation or encouraging belief in conspiracy theories? Does the listing contain debunkable information? Does the listing participate in bigotry, cultural appropriation, bioessentialism, or anything of that nature?

I would like to fistfight this seller behind a Walmart.

Targeting vulnerable populations with impossible magical results and charging hundreds of dollars for empty promises is deplorable. It's disgusting. The intense "BUY NOW!!!" language coupled with sales that go on seemingly forever while being teased as "limited time" just compounds the scummy nature of this listing.

Not to mention the blatant erasure of intersex people and non-binary identities! "Opposite sex," my fucking foot. Obvious scam aside, if you don't know enough about trans people and the biology of gender to realize that it's more complex than one or the other, you're not qualified to cast spells like this.

This is a scam, plain and simple. It's designed to catch the eye of someone desperate enough to take a chance on wasting over a hundred dollars on the body of their dreams. They are continually adjusting the prices and renewing the sale to keep the urgency of "this BIGGEST SALE EVER is going to end soon!!!" going as long as possible. It's a scam.

Fuck you, Sayran/MariahSpells/whoever the hell you are. Morality is an extremely obvious 0/5.

Average Score & Summary

The average of all six scores comes to a whopping 0.2/5 (rounded up). I'm not surprised. With five zeroes and a single one on the board, this scam really does have everything.

I went into this review knowing that this was going to be a bad one. I wanted to cover this one specifically because it has all the hallmarks of an obvious scam. Because we can look at this and go, "Well, who the hell would fall for this? It's so obvious that this is bullshit, isn't it?"

But people do fall for it. People fall for it all the time. I went to the listing to copy some text for alt text descriptions on February 25, 2025, and saw this:

Another sale and another review, so the listing must be gone now, right? Only one left, and all that. Nope.

Of course not, because this is a scam. This asshole is going to keep doing this as long as they can, because it's making them a shitload of money.

Knowledgeable, considerate, genuine people buy this shit, because they want to believe. They're desperate for something they can't otherwise attain easily or safely.These scams are deliberately curated to fool the unwary, the hopeful, the desperate, the naive.

You are not immune to scams.

Let's summarize, quickly, the big warning signs found in this shop that mark it as a scam:

No social media, website, or other presence outside the shop

Big promises without explanation of how they're possible or how they're going to be fulfilled; minimal proof of completion promised

High prices slashed with sales throughout the shop

Sales that don't end to create an extreme and fabricated sense of urgency

Negative reviews with five stars, reviews edited in exchange for refunds, reviews edited by other coercion

Multiple positive, samey reviews from the same person on multiple products all on the same day

A listing that is mostly bragging about power and prestige rather than explaining the product/service in any kind of detail

Mismatch between the tradition/practice of the person and the services being offered and/or the language being used (being of an "ancient tradition" and yet using very modern New Age terminology)

Stolen listing photos, AI-generated images

It's a lot, but like I said, I picked this one because it has pretty much everything.

I believe that magic can help a trans person along their transition journey. Absolutely. Sure. Make your meds work faster, prevent misgendering, protect you from harm, smooth coming out conversations, etc. I've done all of these things successfully myself.

Magic cannot force an impossible change. If something isn't physically possible, magic isn't going to make it happen for you. A spell won't change your chromosomes. In my paradigm, this is explained by knots of Fate and Being that can't be untied.

This spell would not do anything. Even if the seller was genuine, this spell wouldn't do anything for you. Maybe if it was a spell intended to help your HRT act quicker or more effectively, or help you find a surgeon more easily, or something else like that, I could believe it. But a magic spell from Etsy isn't a replacement for medicine.

It can be fun to perform these spells, though. Spells to transform yourself into a fucking dragon rule. They're fun experiments. The day one of these spells works, you'll never hear from me again, because I'll be a jellyfish floating in the deep depths of the ocean forever and ever.

Have fun with magic. Just don't spend $150 on an Etsy scam for a scrap of false hope.

And, just as a final note, fuck Etsy for letting this kind of thing go. Fuck Etsy for giving scammers like this one (and many others) "Star Seller" status. You'd think they wouldn't just award that to anyone. You'd think that kind of recognition would come with some oversight for quality assurance, but no. Etsy lets scams like this thrive because they make a huge profit. Etsy's quality has been dropping across the board for years now, and I would genuinely encourage legitimate sellers looking for a place to hawk their wares to go elsewhere.

Know that I've reported this shop to Etsy. We'll see if that goes anywhere. I'll update if it does.

Final Notes

Many sellers in this series anonymous for a reason. Please do not go find these people. Even if I'm exposing a blatant scam to warn people about it, do not harass anyone. Harassment of any kind will not be tolerated. When appropriate, I attempt to contact the seller(s) to discuss their ads and listings or report them where possible. Again, do not attempt to contact or bother the sellers, even if my coverage of them is negative.

If you spot an ad or a product listing in the wild that you want me to see or cover, send me a link, a screenshot, or the name of the shop. You can send it via ask or DM on Tumblr or to thewitchaese@gmail.com. Or, if you're a legitimate seller and want me to take a look at your listings (anonymous or not), shoot me a message or an email to chat about it! Examples of what to do are just as important as examples of what not to do, after all.

And, if you enjoy this series or my other work, please consider dropping a couple dollars in my tip jar! Writing is my full-time gig, and contributions help keep this boat afloat.

Thanks for reading!

[kurishiri]

Excerpt (and some summary) of Jude’s main story chapter 1

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ any pretty translation you may see in here may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. this is a sort of summary as well. if you enjoy, though, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

ok so like the chapter starts off with jude and ellis beatin some dudes ahh bc breach of contract. ig thats sorta like the prologue so to speak.

since jude is an act 2 route, vogel is featured in here. darius is like “hmm jude jazza huh. p interesting. nica” and nica comes in like “yeah you want me to look into him? sure, im interested in him too (/p likely)”

its revealed that since her time as fairytale keeper, kate had accompanied basically everyone on a mission? except jude and ellis. ellis wants to accompany her tbf but judes like tf hell no.

needless to say, kate has…less than positive first impressions of jude.

but she finally sees some light when harry gives her a memo telling her to go to the pub at 22:00 bc there’s gonna be a mission with jude and ellis. but turns out by the time she gets there, the missions already done and rogers there at the pub lmao

kate goes to jude whos smokin in the back like “you lied to me :(“ and jude kinda doesnt get all that fazed abt it like “never told ya the mission would start at 22:00.” he reveals that basically he hates it when its all like the “lets all get along” sorta gist yk.

then they have like this back and forth thats smth like “no point in being liked bc i got no gain from that.” “does that mean youre ok with being hated?” “what, do ya wanna be liked by everyone?” you get the point. they just do not. see eye to eye. like at all.

and so, we come to this point where kate makes a promise with him like “i’ll find smth i like abt you by the time my tenure as fairytale keeper ends!” (this is around where the first cg is, which btw is called the first promise we made was wrapped in white smoke)

Jude: Hah, alright then. if ya goin’ that far then do what ya want.

After our back and forth, like walking on eggshells, i finally succeeded in getting him to say those words.

Kate: Okay! Then I’ll do just that.

I used my hand to wave off the smoke that seemed to separate us two and took a step toward him, when…

Jude, while veiled in the white smoke, laughed with scorn.

Jude: But there’s one thing ya should keep in mind, princess. …My promises don’t come cheap.

J: If ya break ‘em, I’ll make ya go through so much o’ hell you’ll be wishin’ for death.

Amid the refined scent of sandalwood, far removed from his image, and the sweet scent of tobacco that burned my chest,

Jude and I made our first promise.

other impt events? is that jude literally comes out with a contract after victors like “i heard youre gonna be judes exclusive fairytale keeper!” and kates like what. but kate signs the contract in the end.

another thing; kate thinks “theres no way i could ever like him” 📸

ko-fi☕️ ┊ comms🤍

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 23

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: what up my slutty butties!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You help Leslie bring out the plates. You set one before Mr. Laufeyson as Leslie puts one down before an empty chair. You can hear your dad muttering at his puzzle. Your boss is unfazed as he smugly sits waiting.

"Offer him something to drink while I get your father," Leslie lowers her voice, turning her back to your guest, "I know you didn't have a mother around but have some common courtesy."

You flinch, injured by her unnecessary remark. Sometimes she says things that sting, just like your father. You suppose that's why they get along so well. She sidesteps you and enters the front room, announcing her presence gaily as she calls your father's name.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you face him sheepishly, "would you like something to drink?"

"I suppose you haven't any cabernet," he snorts. You clamp your lip tightly in humiliation. "I am driving so I suppose it wouldn't matter, you have water, yes? It will suffice."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you answer and spin away, fleeing to the kitchen behind the shield of the simple task.

You take a glass from the cupboard, checking to make sure it's clear and clean, and fill it from the filtered jug in the fridge. You return to the dining room as Leslie helps your father in. He bats her hand off his arm and grunts as he drops into an empty chair across from Mr. Laufeyson. You put the water in front of your boss and peek over at your dad.

"Dad, do you want something--"

"No," he barks as he snatches his fork, poking at the seasoned turnip, "what is this shit?" He sniffs, "smells like garbage."

You sit and balance at the edge of your chair, not paying any mind to the food before you.

"Charlies, don't be rude," Leslie claims a seat of her own, "Loki's mother was so kind to send this over to us."

"I don't know her," your father growls.

"Can't complain for free food, can we?" Leslie girds gently and sends a smile to Laufeyson, "it's been a tough day for him. The humidity really bothers him."

"Would you be quiet?" Your father snaps, "I can speak for myself and I'm just damn fi--"

Your father breaks out into another storm of coughs. He hits the table and braces it, his fork clattering as he struggles to catch his breath. Mr. Laufeyson sits placidly, picking up his knife and fork, and cutting into the pork loin.

"My, you do sound rather terrible," he says as he pokes a morsel of meat in the air on the tines. 

"He'll be fine, he just needs to catch his breath," Leslie assures.

"Mm, have you thought of an air purifier? It might do this place some good?" Laufeyson suggests with a curl of his lip, biting into the pork.

"Mr. Fucking Fancy Pants," your dad slaps his own chest as he finds his voice, "what do you know? You ain't some doctor walking in here telling me how to breathe."

"I have several degrees so I could claim the title, I suppose," Laufeyson taunts, "I always thought it a bit pompous, however."

"Ah, go off and buy another set of tits," your father snarls.

"You are such a loving father, aren't you?" Laufeyson goads.

"Good enough to know yours never smacked you hard enough," your dad retorts.

Silence. You look at Leslie as she peers between the men, a frigid smile frozen on her face. You bat your lashes as you teeter and grip the table.

Your dad takes his fork again and scoops up a soft chunk of turnip. He puts it in his mouth, making a face as he tastes it then gags and spits it out. It flies across the table onto Laufeyson's plate. Your brows rise as Leslie's expression mirrors your shock.

"Tastes like garbage too. That mother of yours must be just as much a disappointment to your father as you," your dad chortles at his own insult, hacking into another fit.

Mr. Laufeyson sets his fork down. He sighs and slides his plate away. He stares down your father as he sets his back straight.

"As much as you are to your daughter, I'm sure."

"Mr. Laufeyson," you squeak.

"Get--" your father coughs and chokes, fighting to get to his feet, his stomach hitting the table and rattling the dishes, "the fuck--" cough -- "out of my house."

"Is that what you call this place?" Laufeyson remains seated, glancing around derisively.

Leslie gasps, "sir, now you are too much, we welcomed you in--"

"I wasn't aware your job included nursing his bruised ego," Laufeyson shoots in her direction, "don't remind me of etiquette. I brought you all more than the scraps you have in the back of that dingy fridge. Of course, you wouldn't have the taste or sense to know good food."

"I said GET OUT!" Your father hollers so hard he sways, his voice scratching at its peak.

"Dad," you stand up, "Mr. Laufeyson, please, you need to go--"

"Take your own advice," he stands and scoffs in your father's direction.

"Stop, please, he's my dad--"

"Oh yes, I've heard it before," Laufeyson sneers, "and I heard you beg him just the same before he--"

"No!" You exclaim, "no, leave. Now. Please--"

"You needn't convince me further," Mr. Laufeyson strides around the table, "Chuck," he stops next to your father as he puffs, grasping the chair for support, "try not to choke on your own vitriol."

He pats your dad arm, causing him to recoil and fall onto the chair. Leslie rushes over to him as you stand dumbfounded. You hoped the day wouldn't get worse and yet, you can't say you didn't expect it. Even so, it hits you like a car at full speed and knocks the wind out of you. You don't know what to do.

"Have a good night," Mr. Laufeyson says at the door, "however pleasant it could ever be in a rat-infested hole like this." He looks at you, "thank you for this lovely dinner."

He turns and struts out. You shake your head as adrenaline courses through you, burning around your lungs and hammering in your chest. You look over at your father as he continues to cough violently.

"Dad..." you try to go to him.

"Haven't you done enough?" Leslie snaps as she lashes you with a glare. You wince and stumble back.

"I didn't--"

"He's right about you, isn't he?" She snarls, "you're just an ungrateful brat."

"No--"

"Go!" Your father forces through his choking gasp, "you little bitch!"

Your lip trembles as the room spins. You twirl away without a second thought, horrified and humiliated. You run out into the hallway and barrel up the stairs, sobbing by the time you get to the top step. Mr. Laufeyson has ruined everything. Your job, your family, and your entire life.

You thought you had nothing before, how wrong you were.

✨

 You cry yourself to sleep, just like many nights before. Your head swirls with rippled visions of angry eyes and shadowy figures. You drown in the thick unconscious, nearly suffocated with terror as you're paralysed against the virulent nightmares.

You wake only as a crash splinters your sleep. You sit up, heaving for air as you see a dark figure eerily similar to the one in your dreams. You blink until you can, the light of the hallway glowing in the limn your father's portly figure.

He drags out the next drawer from your dresser and dumps it over the pile mounded on the floor. He staggers as he drops the plywood and kicks it aside. He leans on the handle of his oxygen tank as you reach for your lamp.

"Dad? What are you--"

He struggles to reach for the bottle by his feet. He lifts it and wobbles as he untwists the cap. He overturns the bottle of bleach onto the heap of clothes, kicking them around as the stringent chemical spills out. You watch as he ruins the layers of new clothing and cry out as you bounce to the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing!?" You shriek.

"Whore's clothes," he tosses the bottle on top, "you... bring your pimp in here like the slut you are--"

"Dad," you whimper but have no words. He's not so far off after all. You look down at the clothes and the pale stains of the bleach patching across the fabric, "dad, I'm sorry. I tried-- I was only--"

"I don't care," he grits, "I'm done with you. You been..." he takes a deep breath, clasping his chest, "mooching off me for thirty years. You sucked the life outta me--" he gasps again, "look what you done to me," he tugs at the tube that trails down his chest, "this is your fault. You killed me just like you did your mother."

"No, no, no," you touch your cheeks as they burns and your tears fall free, "please, don't say that."

It's another nightmare. It has to be. You're still sleeping. This can't be real.

"Dad," you stand and reach for him, "don't be mad--"

He hits you. Not hard, he can't. He's too weak. You flinch and back away, cowering as you cradle your head. He looks around, his head bobbling and grabs the hardcover book from atop your dresser.

He nears you as you shrink down, stunned into helplessnness. He grips the book with both hands and swings it at you. The first strikes doesn't wake you. It's real. 

He hits you, over and over, the sharp corner jabbing into your cheek and chin, then the side thumping across your shoulder and against your side. He keeps on until he can't.

He drops the book and coughs, bending over as he slips to one knee. You watch him, tears streaming into your hands as you babble like a child. 

"Daddy," you murmur.

"You get out or I'll call... the goddamn... police," he braces the oxygen tank and forces himself up. "This isn't your home no more." He limps and drags the tank to the door, "it never was.”

✨

You don't know what to do. You can barely stop crying long enough to think. The heavy bags weigh down your steps as you wander mindlessly to the corner and stop, the reality of the moment crashing down like thunder.

You drop the duffle bag and sit on it, letting your work bag hit the pavement by your feet. The sun has barely come up as you sit in the dim hue of dawn. Where do you go?

You feel yourself sinking. Your lungs are reading to shrivel and your head is going to cave in. You're lost. You have no home, you have no father, you have nothing... well, you still have a job.

You cry a little longer, until you hear the first sign of life from across the street. You get up as a man comes of a house. He doesn't notice you as you hitch up your work bag and grab the duffle from the sidewalk. You just need somewhere for a night or two. Let dad cool off and you'll apologise. It will be okay.

You walk down to the main road and catch the first bus. You have no direction, no destination. You get off as you see the marquee of the Holiday Inn. You've never stayed in a hotel, hopefully they have room for you. It seems like no one does.

You shuffle inside, tired and worn out. There's a woman behind the front desk, sitting on a chair so you can only see the top of your head. You hobble over under the weigh of your bags and wait for her to notice you. When she doesn't, you tap the bell on the counter.

"Eh?" She stands up, almost tipping over, "sorry," she yawns, "didn't hear you come in."

"Mm," you hum and chew your lips, "that's okay. Erm..."

"Do you have a reservation? Bit early... or late, to be checking in."

"No, uh, I don't," you lower your eyes, "do you have anything available?"

"Sure we do," she answers chipperly. You look at her name tag; Mindy. "I got a few singles clean and ready."

"Okay, that's good," you answer, "how much?"

"Hundred and twenty for tonight. Credit on file or three hundred cash deposit."

"Oh," you try not show your surprise, "okay, I er, think I have enough but I don't have a credit card."

"Now worries, there's an ATM," she points across the lobby.

"Thank, can I leave my bags here for a second?"

"Sure, sweetie," she turns to the computer and clicks around.

You cross to the machine and dig out your debit card. You slide it into the slot and push the firm metal buttons. Your stomach plummets as you punch in the custom amount for withdrawal. You were saving that for the mortgage and Leslie. You hit Yes and the machine whirs, spitting out a stack of bills and a receipt.

You return to the counter and hand it over. Mindy asks for your name and phone number. You give her your info, growing more weary by the moment.

"Here are your keys," she hands over a tiny paper folio, "checkout is 11am tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Wifi info is in there, along with information about breakfast. Coffee in the room and a kettle. Oh, and microwave."

You thank her one last time and collect your bags once more. You go to the elevator and check the folio for your room number. You hit floor six and wait for the box to rise. You step off, following the wall plaques to the matching door. It's yours, just for a little bit.

You swipe the card several times before it unlocks, struggling to make it register. You push your duffle inside with your feet and put your work bag beside it as the door shuts on its own. The room is small, the walls are pasted in faded wallpapers and the bed is made with sheets that remind you of another decade.

You put the keys on the table against the wall and drag yourself to the bed. You don't really have any time to nap, you just need to get off your feet for a little.

Your restlessness doesn't let you sit long. You wear some of your old clothes, of the few pieces you salvaged from the ruin. You check yourself in the mirror. You don't bother with the makeup. Mr. Laufeyson will be disappointed either way. Besides, you shouldn't care so much what he thinks. You're just his house manager after all. You're there to do a job.

If only believing it would make it true.

You find a route that goes towards his neighbourhood. It lets you off a few blocks away and you take your time. You almost don't have a choice as your body is achy from your father's attach, new bruises rising tenderly to the surface.

You're early despite the fractured night. As you pass the cafe, you slow and glance through the window. Just one more quiet moment before you face the inevitable.

You push inside and see the same woman as last time. You give the same order as you doubt she even recognises you. She hovers her finger over the touch screen of her till, "we have a special, a rose tea latte, if you're interested."

"Oh?" You scrunch up your lips, you've never been good at saying no. "Sure, I'll try that."

You got the change to pay and frown. You shouldn't be spending what's left on a tea. You should be smarter. Maybe if you were, you wouldn't be such a loser.

You sit and stare at the pink foam. You don't know if you can do this but what other choice do you have? You could just disappear but for how long? You'll run out of money. As hard as it was to get this job, you don't think a new one would be any easier when you have one reference. A reference who you don't expect a shining review from.

You sip carefully. It's delicious. You drop your forehead into your hand as hot tears brim your eyes. You fight to constrain them, nearly quaking with the effort. Your eyes are swollen enough as it is.

You continue to drink, keeping your head down, and finish before you resign yourself to fate. To face Mr. Laufeyson. You can do this, not because you're strong, but because you have to.

[withleeknow]

MASTERLIST © WITHLEEKNOW

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying in any way is not permitted. minors dni.

updated: 06.03.2025 · latest: lemuria

request & blurb masterlist bts masterlist

schedule + wips · taglist · requests · faq  · ko-fi

come claim an emoji ₊˚ʚ ᗢ���˚✧ ﾟ.

♡ = fluff  ·  ♤ = angst  ·  ♧ = smut

the fics are sorted from most recent to oldest.

⌜ BANG CHAN ⌟

💌 DRABBLES:

outside clothes ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.5k ⤷ he’s warmth and happiness personified.

like you used to ( ♤ ) — est. relationship; 0.6k ⤷ “kiss me like you did the first time under that shitty street light near the corner of my old apartment.”

⌜ LEE MINHO⌟

☁️ ONESHOTS & SERIES:

moonstruck ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 4.7k ⤷ years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail.

wishful thinking ( ♡ ♤ ♧ ) — friends to lovers, friends with benefits au ⤷ the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

💌 DRABBLES:

lost cause ( ♡ ♤ ) — est. relationship; 0.6k ⤷ it would be so easy, wouldn’t it? for him to pack up before he realizes somewhere down the line that he’s wasted his time and effort on a lost cause?

october 23rd ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 1k ⤷ his big eyes, usually keen and sharp, always soften to a dizzying degree when they look at you.

lifeline ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.7k ⤷ there’s a touch that minho is familiar with, one that makes him drop whatever it is that he could be doing just to be there for you.

whiskers ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.6k ⤷ sometimes he calls them whiskers, sometimes he calls them moons.

seasons of you ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.7k ⤷ minho falls in love with you four times a year.

anchored ( ♡ ♤ ) — est. relationship; 1.0k ⤷ in those instances, you don’t necessarily need him to say anything back, you just want to feel seen and heard.

sweeter ( ♧ ) — est. relationship; 1.4k ⤷ “say it, bunny. make me happy.”

happy place ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.8k ⤷ every pretty color he sees and every beautiful adjective in his vocabulary? that’s all you.

magnolia ( ♡ ♤ ) — est. relationship; 0.4k ⤷ there are some things that you just have to process on your own, some motions you have go through by yourself.

thirteen percent ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 1.2k ⤷ it was beyond endearing, but it was also fucking 4:18am.

my moon and stars ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 1.1k ⤷ he’s full of surprises today, it seems.

forgetful ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.9k ⤷ no matter how callous his facade is, he is still the type to love you quietly. tenderly. completely.

remedy ( ♡ ♤ ) — est. relationship; 1.2k ⤷ “you don’t have to talk to me. just… stay with me for a while.”

away from you ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.9k ⤷ absence makes the heart grow fonder - maybe there’s some truth in that.

fujifilm x100v ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.3k ⤷ your fujifilm x100v, minho always says he hates the thing.

endgame ( ♡ ♧ ) — est. relationship; 1.1k ⤷ the thought of ever loving anyone else seems like an impossible one. he’s it for you. this is your endgame, right here.

quiet ( ♡ ♧ )— est. relationship; 0.6k ⤷ “i always like your voice. you know that.”

in the dark ( ♡ ♤ ) — friends to lovers; 0.6k ⤷ he’s too stubborn for his own good and he’s too good for his own sake.

fold ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.9k ⤷ “you lasted 58 minutes. so close. almost made it a full hour.”

to build a home ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.5k ⤷ home isn’t always a place. sometimes, home is a person.

⌜ HWANG HYUNJIN ⌟

💌 DRABBLES:

lemuria ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.7k ⤷ it’s saturday morning, and hyunjin is your favorite person in the world.

the nut graph ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.8k ⤷ your boyfriend loves the rain; there’s something so charmingly idyllic about the rain and he’s nothing if not a romantic.

rue de rivoli ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.9k ⤷ any city is love when you’re with him.

⌜ HAN JISUNG ⌟

💌 DRABBLES:

parallel lines ( ♤ ) — best friends au, unrequited love au; 1.3k ⤷ so quick, so easy. the process of leaving you, done in mere minutes.

⌜ KIM SEUNGMIN ⌟

💌 DRABBLES:

six minutes ( ♡ ) — friends to lovers (?); 0.8k ⤷ “i don’t think a kidnapper would get up early and google how to soft boil eggs either.”

⌜ OT8 ⌟

letters i didn't send to you ( ♤ ) — est. relationship; 0.7k ⤷ take me home, will you? let's go back to new york.

somewhere only we know ( ♡ ) — est. relationship; 0.6k ⤷ maybe it’s just being with him, maybe it’s just being in love.

[slight-gaming-addict]

Hello! Can I please request for prompt 6 one shot with Idia x reader please? Idk if I’m doing this right so please ignore this if I am

~ you're unaware of the past inhabitant still living in your newly bought house ~

pairing: idia shroud x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of a dead body and blood, supernatural elements, gunshot wound, possible grammar errors, probably more warnings

word count: 1.4k

event masterlist | main masterlist | ko-fi

ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ

Everyone you know called you crazy for even thinking of getting a house like this. The cursed house that hasn't had a single owner keep the house for more than a month before it was back on the market again. The real estate agent was ecstatic as she led you through the house after your interest in it, showing you each and every thing that's been done to it over the last year that it's been on the market to try and attract new buyers.

With all the new modern renovations that have been done, you would've thought that it would be at least double the price than it was, and you soon learned why it was so cheap on the market.

Some years ago there was apparently a gruesome murder of a young man that happened in the house, and it's never been the same ever since. Every single person that's stayed in this house has left as quickly as they arrived, claiming that they'd awake to things being thrown around the house and voices echoing throughout making it known that they were not wanted there.

You've never really had a paranormal experience before, but you'd be lying if you weren't the slightest bit curious if the stories about the house are true. You don't have another option anyway, the house being the only place in the neighborhood that's in your budget, and you don't really see the appeal of sleeping in your car.

The real estate agent is practically bouncing on her feet as you officially sign the deed to the house as well as the check for the down payment that you still feel should have been higher, but you're not going to complain.

A couple of weeks later, you have practically everything unpacked—not that you had much—and are settling into the house nicely. You haven't had anything that they said has happened in the house happen to you, so you figured the rumors were just that, rumors.

It isn't until late one night that something happens. You're rinsing off a dish in the sink when a mug that sits next to you on the counter suddenly falls off and shatters to the ground.

You jump, dropping the dish you had in your hand into the sink. You look down at the smashed pieces on the floor next to your feet and take a step away from the glass. Looking around the room, you see nothing out of place that would cause it to happen, and you didn't think it was that close to the edge of the counter, but after a couple minutes of contemplating how it happened, the only reason you come up with is you accidentally bumping it, even though you don't remember doing it.

The next day, you're back in the kitchen making breakfast when the blender suddenly starts from across the room. You jump once again at the sudden noise, turning around from what you're doing. You walk up to the blender with confusion, not even remembering plugging it in. Trying to turn it off, you hit the power button, but the blender continues to whirl. You hit all the buttons, but nothing seems to turn it off. Eventually, you reach behind it and yank the power cord out of the wall, letting the blender finally come to a stop to plunge the room into a sudden silence.

You shake your head, trying to rationalize it, but not knowing how. You guess faulty wiring could come into play, though it's not that likely it's the only excuse you have. Your mind wanders to the rumors of the house and the reasoning why countless other people have left previously, but you don't have a choice right now, needing somewhere to live. You just hope you don't regret the decision to stay later down the line.

A week passes and small things keep happening around the house, things being knocked off counters, lights turning off as soon as you flip them on, and furniture being shifted from its position. The thought of leaving crosses your mind a couple of times, but all the things that happen seem so minor that you don't feel like you're in any real danger.

It isn't until one night that it changes. You're walking into your bedroom from the bathroom, getting ready to go to bed when you hear a low voice emitting from the corner of the room.

"Why won't you just leave?" Your heart jumps into your throat as you turn to face the noise, letting out a small scream as you see a figure in the corner.

Idia lets out a small scream similar to yours when he realizes that you can actually see him in the room. "You can see me?" He asks in disbelief as you push yourself against the opposite wall with wide eyes.

"How did you get in here?" You say, his questions not even registering in your mind that's completely scrambled at the moment. You would have probably recognized him from the images online from all of the articles about the house if you weren't too busy thinking someone broke into your house.

"Hey, wait-" He tries to speak, but you're preoccupied with grabbing the first thing you can and swinging it directly at him. You watch the object phase right through him and hit the wall behind him before dropping to the ground. Your eyes widen as a puff of light smoke covers the area where he just was before dissipating completely.

"What the-" Your eyebrows crease in confusion, looking at the now empty spot where the person just was.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't throw things at me." His voice sounds from next to you this time causing your body to jump and spin around, finding him standing next to your bathroom door this time.

"How did you-" You look back at the spot he just was in wonder as to how he got across the room without you seeing him. Looking towards the person once again is when his appearance finally clicks into your brain. "You're Idia..." As soon as the words leave your mouth, he's groaning out in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the poor guy who was murdered in his own home because he couldn't hear the intruder walking into his room from his stupid noise-canceling headphones." You just stare at him, trying to process the information of you physically speaking to someone who's not alive.

"But, how are you here?" You ask, your voice quiet as if you're scared of scaring him off.

"I wish I knew." He sighs out folding his arms over his chest in almost a defensive position. The last thing Idia remembers was sitting in front of his computer, ready to drown out the world around him and finally use his noise-canceling headphones when suddenly everything went dark.

He didn't hear the person breaking in through the headphones and the next thing he knew, he was staring down at the scene in front of him. His body was lying face down on the keyboard, blood dripping down onto the floor from the gunshot wound in his head, and even from seeing all that, he was the most upset about his brand new headphones getting blood all over them, and the very expensive keyboard getting completely ruined.

He's been wandering around the house ever since, watching the police come in and do their investigation, and the first people to move in since the incident. He didn't even mean to do it at first, but he knocked a painting off the wall when he saw them get settled in what was once his room. He saw their reaction and figured he could continue to move and knock things over, trying, and succeeding to run them out of the house.

He'd do it for every single person that would move into the house, working flawlessly, until you that is. He's not even sure how you're able to see him, no one else could.

"You're the reason why no one's been able to stay in the house." You say, everything starting to come together in your mind, like seeing a ghost, or spirit, or whatever you'd call it, standing right in front of you is an everyday occurrence.

"Yeah, well they were loud. Especially the ones with a newborn, it was like a screaming fest in here, I couldn't even hear myself think." Idia speaks out in a small huff.

"You realize every time you scare someone off you're just going to have to deal with more people coming in to check out the place." You say, looking at him expectedly.

Idia opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again.

"Fine," he says after a few seconds.

"So I can stay?" You ask with a small smile. Idia just sighs out before disappearing through another light mist. You're taking that as a yes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

buy me a coffee ♡

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you make it | Part 4

‘Boundaries’ were harder to settle on than they'd expected them to be. Eddie didn’t seem to want to put anything on the “strictly no” list. Even when Steve suggested sex should be on there Eddie just wiggled his brows and claimed a week in a cabin with him might change things.

Steve found that hilarious enough to laugh at (much to Eddie's adorable pout) but also too fair to disagree with.

They were two healthy, queer, adult men! What was a little consensual nookie between fake boyfriends?

Plus he couldn’t tell if Eddie was joking or not so he put that on the mental ‘maybe a boundary’ list that may or may not be tested.

Steve wasn’t about to completely rule it out either! He had a healthy libido and Eddie wasn’t unattractive. He… actually was pretty damn attractive.

Nice eyes, nice hair, nice lips, nice voice, nice han— anyway, they had a whole week together in a romantic chalet, pretending to date.

Anything could happen. Especially if they didn’t rule anything out. And ruling it out only made it seem more exciting, like it was dangerous. Best to just not rule it out.

“What about kissing?” Steve pondered aloud, a small frown on his brow

“If I’m not ruling out sex, Harrington, I think kissing should be fi—"

“No, dumbass, not ruling it out, I mean… it’s gotta seem like a thing we normally do right? An you gotta stop calling me Harrington, it’s Steve. Boyfriends don’t call each other by their last names.”

“I’ll have a mental list of pet names prepared before the day ends, don’t you worry, Stevie, but what do you suggest? Are you thinking we should practice?” Eddie leaned forward a grin stretching on his lips that almost seemed predatory, like he was expecting Steve to stumble through a rebuttal, expecting him to back down or to apologise, but no, Steve wasn’t some simpering maiden who’d bashfully turn him down.

Steve was an experienced ladies man with a reputation for being… for lack of a better term, a bit of a hometown slut.

Even if he had no practical experience with men, that didn’t stop him from exuding confidence as he moved onto his haunches and crossed the very short distance between them, forcing that mischievous little shit right back into his spot as Steve basically climbed from his hands and knees into Eddie’s lap, watching in satisfaction as all that mischief just kind of…

Drained from his face.

Drained and replaced with wide-eyed rosy cheeked surprise, his hands extended out either side of himself to avoid touching Steve’s body. Adorable.

“Maybe we should.”

“Ah—uhm—heh—y-yeah I mean—m-maybe not here though, yeah?” He talked a good game, he put on a damn fine front, but Eddie Munson wasn’t exactly swimming in cock. Wasn’t even paddling. Or wading the cock waters.

No he was mainly just suffering in queer silence on dry land with just good ol leftie and a few skin mags to make himself feel better. Although the image of Steve Harrington in his lap? Oh yeah that’d do him for a few months.

Sad that it ended so fast though, with Steve backing his perfectly plush ass right back into his seat quickly after, holding his hands up in mock surrender, accepting the stuttered rejection like a champ.

“Wherever you feel comfiest, man, but I suggest we figure that shit out fast, we don’t have long before this trip an you’ll have to meet them before we go so we’re going to have to be comfortable with each other, especially if it’s an environment where we have no excuse to not be comfortable.” If they were in public? Absolutely they’d have many excuses readily available.

The chalet? Not public. In fact it was quite big, the only reason he was so sure his parents would bring someone for him was because it was big enough that they could do their own thing for hours without crossing paths. Sure the bedrooms were close to each other but there were other rooms to fuck around in.

Damn thing had two Jacuzzi’s and a sauna. Not to mention a home cinema to fool around in.

They’d be hoping that he’d spend some easily obtained alone time with this mystery person. God he’d be being pimped out by his parents. How had his life come to this?

“You want me to meet them before we go?” He was just expecting to turn up on the day and be ‘Steve’s new boyfriend’ that they’d never met and would just have to accept would be in attendance. In that scenario he assumed Steve would just get the okay from them to have him come and that be that but—

Clearly his imagination was not even remotely true to real life. “Uhh… yeah, they’ll wanna know who they’re spending a week with, Eddie, c’mon, fake dating starts like… now…”

“So can I charge you from now?”

“Dude that’d be double—”

“Aren’t you rich?”

“I work minimum wage at Family Video for crying out loud, no I’m not rich. My parents are rich, I make enough to keep the lights on and keep my fridge stocked while they’re away. C’mon man… I can do a week, I have savings that’ll cover a week but two weeks? That’s fourteen-hundred, dude, I can’t—” Two weeks was stretching things uncomfortably far. Like… going into debt kind of far. He couldn’t ask his parents for money because they’d wanna know what it was for and for him to get a receipt and Eddie didn’t do receipts. Or refunds. “I might actually starve.”

“… Fine.” He almost argued, you live in a McMansion Steve, I live in a trailer park, but then… Steve did actually work at Family Video, wouldn’t just do that if he didn’t have to, who’s to say his parents paid for anything for him? Who’s to say they didn’t pull the ‘you’re an adult now, son, we’ll let you live here but you have to pull your own weight’ shtick parents were apparently so fond of? God what if they made him pay rent?

Eddie really didn’t know anything about the Harringtons.

Steve clearly didn’t go to college, so… maybe his dad wouldn’t hire him for a role he wasn’t qualified for? Unlikely but not impossible if recent discoveries concerning Steve Harrington were to be used as a reference point. Couldn't assume anything about him. “Fine?”

“Yeah, fine. How about, instead… we stick with my original rate an call it a flat seven hundred, fifty per day, an we start now? We can head to the trailer park an figure shit out there, deduct today so it’s only six fifty cause we’re brainstorming. My uncle may be home, but he should be asleep now. He works nights. We should be fine… unless you wanna head to yours and go in blind, take a ‘we’re figuring things out together awkwardly’ approach to it?” That’d track, he could do awkward, he could probab—

“Nah, they��d never think I was awkward at dating, even though you are a guy.” Of course they wouldn’t. Their lady killer son would never be awkward about dating… he wasn’t either, that was the kicker. He’d got all the way up in Eddie’s business not five minutes ago and looked comfortable doing it, like he actually would have practiced kissing in the back of Eddie’s beat up old van.

Holy shit he could have been making out with Steve Harrington in the back of his van.

He said not here, yeah?

What the shit was his problem?!

Was he actually completely insane?

He was going to be a virgin forever.

“You good there, Ed?”

“Huh?” He squeaked. Eddie Munson did not squeak, but yet, there he was. Squeakin away. “Oh! Y-yeah yeah, just coming to an abrupt unfortunate conclusion, yep, I am a-ok completely and totally oooone-hundreeeeeee— okay I came to a very real realisation that I could have been basically making out with you for ‘practice’ in the back of my van in the bushes where nobody could interrupt us and that could have gone anywhere cause it’s comfy back here yet i decided to tell you ‘not here, yeah?’ like a perma-virgin so— yeah.”

“Jeez… maybe you could pull off the awkward boyfriend thing.”

“…So about that fourteen hundred.”

Part 6

[adventuringblind]

A Little Sick

Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Sick fic

Summary: Carlos' struggle to take care of his girlfriend who's both sick and regressed. Lucky for him, he knows how to get her to nap.

Warnings: Agere/age-regression, non-sexual ageplay, non-sexual use of daddy, sinus infection, fear of doctors, mentions of past trauma

Notes: Haven't written for Carlos in so long T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Carlos knew the second he heard sniffling that something wasn't right. The way fatigue seems to drip from his lover didn't go unnoticed.

The problem is that was two weeks ago. She'd claimed allergies or a minor cold. Her disgust at anything having to do with sickness and doctors showing through her lack of acceptance.

Carlos has half a mind to just lay on top of her and force her to rest. Alternatively, if he could get her to regress, this would be immesley easier.

He can see her forcing herself not to. The delicate line between headspace getting blurrier with each day.

It's when she wakes up in tears, the Carlos knows something has to be done.

"Princessa?" He rolls her over and bundles her up into his arms. Her entire body is on fire and when he touches her face, she wails in pain. "We should go see a doctor, amor."

She's non-verbal all morning, trying desperately not to slip in headspace. Until Carlos finally take the initiative. He hates doing this, but he's been doing this long enough to see when she needs to slip and let Carlos take care of her.

Carlos starts small by picking out her clothes. Comfortable, obviously, since they are just going to the doctor. Then he puts her shoes on for her and ties the laces. By the time he's done, he can see the look in her eyes. The one that aches with the need for comfort. Desperate to not face the object of her nightmares.

Carlos grabs her comfort item and places it gently into her hands. He kneels down in front of her. "I won't leave you alone, okay? I'll be with you the entire time. Can you be brave for me?" She gives him a shy nod in response.

Carlos gets her into the car and buckles her seatbelt for her. He turns on soft music and she bobs her head along to the words. He coos at her with how adorable she looks at the moment.

She freezes up the second he pulls into the parking lot. The fear in her eyes says everything. She's on the verge of a breakdown, but Carlos is there to calm her. He holds her hand and helps her breathe before helping her out of the car.

He manages getting her checked in since she's still non-verbal and on the verge of tears. Eyes glassy with terror over being in the place she despises.

Carlos runs his fingers along her spine. "You're doing so good, carina."

She freezes when her name is called. Her body trembling in fear and squeezing the life out of Carlos' hand with her own. He swiftly wraps an arm around her and whispers into her ear some reassurance.

She doesn't say a word to the doctor, only watches him with suspicion. He ends up prescribing antibiotics and sending them on their way.

She wails the second they are in the safety of the car. All the nerves she'd been biting back finally able to burst free of their confines. Carlos has to get her to breathe. The hyperventilation nearly making her sick. He doesn't let go of her hand the entire way home.

He carries her inside, still sniffling from the overwhelming emotions from earlier. Carlos feels awful for having to put her through such a thing. The fact he knows full well why she hates it making it even harder to do.

He settles her on the couch. One he can see her from despite being in the kitchen and hastily throwing together soup. The television is playing her movie of choice. The background noise has become soothing to both of them.

He ends up having to feed her the soup himself. Not that he minds, it just means having to change her clothes afterwards. Which is no easy task considering she's deadweight in his arms. On purpose, mind you, but she's giggling about it, so Carlos makes no complaint.

Carlos puts the movie back on afterwards. Her head resting on his lap as she curls up on the couch. The mountain of blankets obscuring her body and stuffed animals she dutifully brough with her.

"I did good, papá?" Her squeaky voice carries from where the blankets muffle it.

Carlos keeps a steady rhythm, fingers running against her scalp in a comforting manor. The repetition has always put her to sleep within minutes. "The best, amor. Sleep now, the more you rest the sooner you'll get better." Ke kisses her forehead. Her eye's drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

[yandere-fics]

♡ How They React To Their Darling Sighing For Attention ♡

(I tried to edit the original one but that one wouldn't accept my edits soooo... Honestly Fixing this fi was a long time overdue because the formatting on this was just not great and I'm pretty sure this was my second or third fic back when I only had the main three on this blog.)

♡ Miriel, the poor thing is panicking. Most of them would anyways but her especially due to her being an elf, the connection is not nearly as deep as it is for the others and so she can't just feel your emotions or know if you're actually sad or not like the others are able to. She worries about how long you've been sad without her even knowing! It could have been forever, really she feels like a terrible mate for this but don't worry she'll do everything she can to remedy this situation! ♡

♡ Explaining you were just being overdramatic for attention is not helping anything either honestly, if anything it actually only makes the situation worse. Did she leave you feeling unwanted and unloved for so long that you felt as though you had to resort to drastic actions? Did you feel as though you aren't allowed to ask her for attention? She really feels as though she's a failure and so obviously she must have been working too much, she needs to take time off and work even less so you can get the attention you desperately need! ♡

♡ Eliza can feel your emotions but that still doesn't make her feel any better about this because at this point she's honestly doubting if her connection to you is strong enough because while you didn't feel sad or anything, if you had she would have rushed over to you, the sigh just sounded so sad so maybe she's not as good at reading her mates emotions as she thinks she is. Werewolves rank second in ability to read their mates emotions, behind Demons who are quite excellent at it. ♡

♡ Explaining it to her will confuse her and make her call you silly all night while she gives you all the attention you could want. Honestly though it is rare there is a moment when you are in the same room with her and her attention is not solely on you, she doesn't even cook because she eats her food raw so there's not many chores or tasks she would be doing to take her eyes off you. This is most likely to happen outside if she's securing your area for a picnic at a park but even then not likely. ♡

♡ Despite claiming to be desperately waiting for her mate, though admittedly not very good at that either, she didn't ever look more into the mate bond or pay attention to what other wolves experienced when they felt the mate bond so she wouldn't know how strongly she can feel your emotions, sure she can have a vague sense at times but beyond that she's lost so when you sigh she thinks you're really really sad and that she can't feel it. ♡

♡ Don't worry she will forgive you for not stating what you wanted directly so just come cuddle with her, she'll give you all the attention you need. Just uhm, forgive her if she gets a boner during your cuddling because she was very turned on by having her mate crave her attention. Much like Eliza though there's not many times her attention will be off you, the only time would likely be when she's out running. ♡

♡ Kassien views this as cute though it's actually very rare you do something that she doesn't view as cute, she might not get to say it very often but you're so cute to her when you actually behave yourself for once and while she would prefer you just ask for the attention, wanting attention from your mate is very good behavior that she would like to reward though she would like to work on making sure you get a bit better at communicating with her. ♡

♡ She can feel your emotions though so she knows for sure that you're not actually sad, just wanting her attention. It does show her that the mate bond is actually working on your side finally and she's extremely smug about that. Come to her lovely, she'll give you all the attention you need or if you won't come to her then she'll come to you because to be honet she does very much enjoy having your attention too. ♡

♡ Nikki actually does know exactly what it is you want. She's a high ranked demon so besides the boss, she is the one who would have the best sense of her mates wants and emotions though she can't always tell why you are having the emotion like when she can sense you're upset and sad because she killed someone but assumes the reason must be because she didn't kill them brutally enough. Anyways she knows what this is for because lower ranked angels will occasionally engage in the same 'play' behaviors with their mates because sighing and acting tired is the faster way to catch your mates attention. ♡

♡ So basically the conclusion she comes to from this is that you wanted her attention to nap with you which she will gladly indulge as long as she doesn't have any paperwork to do. If she does then she'll just soothe you to sleep with her scent and join you as soon as she finishes. She is glad you are finally doing something she recognizes, maybe humans aren't as weird as she thinks they are. ♡

♡ Runa is like Miriel except she's a huge overreactor and assume something horrible must have happened to make you sigh so sadly. She'll kill the problem for you though, Love! She's such a great mate, she'll make sure it's extra bloody too if you want her to! When you tell her you just wanted her attention though she feels like she could cum on the spot, she just kiss you right that second, it's just too exciting! She obviously knew you loved her back but this is just extra proof. ♡

♡ There won't be many times her attention is off of you, even when she's gaming you're on her lap while she poorly explains her game to you so her attention is still pretty much on you and you are her favorite little toy, she likes just watching you in the apartment sometimes, she used to be bored all the time except for when she killed but now she has you to occupy her. Even when she kills in front of you she is paying attention to your reactions. ♡

♡ Nora doesn't know what to do, she's very attuned to your emotions and what you want because she is walking on thin ice to be your perfect girlfriend but she doesn't know what to do with this. She doesn't know how intense she should get with the attention and affection she's giving you because she doesn't want to scare you off because then she'd have to kidnap you. ♡

♡ Honestly she's probably frozen debating all her options and you might think she didn't even hear you but she did, she just doesn't know how she needs to go about this, it's an opportunity for her to make you love her more but she could also screw this up badly. You're much better off asking her to cuddle or kiss you because otherwise she's going to have a hard time. ♡

♡ Sawyer knows exactly what it is you want, she could sense your agitation in the mate bond and while she does think it's cute and does appreciate you wanting her attention, she wants you to ask for what you want directly so she's going to ignore this. You have to be a good girl and tell her what it is you need or she won't give you anything. If you continue to sigh or do nothing then she'll eventually tell you this. ♡

♡ You may not realize this but even when she's filing paperwork all day long, her attention never leaves you for a second, if you're in her office she is listening to every sound you make, it cheers her up actually and she longs for your attention too. If you're at home she hones in on every emotion she feels through the bond and will even order food for you if she feels you're hungry in the penthouse or she'll text you to tell you to order whatever you want to eat. Either way while her attention isn't always apparent, there is never a single second she is not focused on you. ♡