#not to sound like someone who spends too much time on tumblr

[booksandothersecrets]

One time I was talking to someone who told me they had listened to preacher’s daughter but only as background music. Personally I throw up and eat fistfuls of glass every time it plays but you know, its like, totally chill, whatever.

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

[mr2swap]

Video-quota

Seven missed video calls, 12 messages and a photo of his old, wrinkled cock The title “I'm ready” had lately become more suffocating than usual, he had interrupted my music so many times while I was working out that I was about to block him, but while If he kept his mouth shut the deal was still worth it.

I waited for the locker rooms to empty before starting the show, my locker was in the deepest part of the locker room so that no one would interrupt me, in addition to my exercise routine this was also already a routine for me.

I opened my locker, I started the video call with the guy and put the phone at a good angle, I looked at the young body that I used to want so much, and now it was completely mine, spending all my pension money on that body swapping spell was the best decision I had made in my 78 years of life.

I thought I would have more trouble dealing with the real Anthony who was now inside my old, obese body. I thought I would have to make up a story about why he was obsessed with me and call the police, but I guess something of me was left behind. My body when I traded it for Anthony's, That would make sense why I too have adapted to my new life very well, I didn't even know how to use a damn phone before I became a 19-year-old stud.

When he finally answered I could see my old face -H-Hello, how was the training?- For some reason hearing his voice made me angry So I just ignored him and started with what we were both there, I took off my shirt showing my colossal pecs, Immediately the real Anthony who was now in my room inside the nursing home took out his tiny cock and began to masturbate. I was trying not to look at his face that reminded me of who he used to be, but the sound of his heavy breathing caught my attention.

I started doing the poses he practiced every morning in front of the mirror, I had to be honest. I was turned on too, but I was saving the raging erection showing between my legs for someone better than a fucking perverted old.

-Oh...damn, you're fucking hot today...-

A small arrogant smile formed on my lips when he said that, I had become a little arrogant since I took his body, I placed the palm of my calloused hands on my tanned muscular tits, and began to press them, after a great day of exercises, the strong pressure of my fingers on my pectorals felt very good.

My small nipples were enjoying the touch of my calloused hands, I was still surprised at how sensitive they were. That tickling feeling made me remember the scenes of men who had enjoyed these tits. The last one seemed really excited when he masturbated between them.

The sound of a loud moan brought me out of my thoughts, his greasy old face while ejaculating was disgusting, I couldn't help but grimace with my face as I looked at that face that reminded me of the pig I used to make.

- Thanks, that was... - I picked up the phone and canceled the call before he could finish. I had finally finished my “quota.” I started to undress completely so that after going to the showers, hopefully I can find someone worth fucking and get rid of the painful erection that was moving between his meaty legs.

Hey guys I'm back! If you liked this story and want to see more hot stories check out my ko-fi page, you can support me and have a good time reading a lot of bodyswap stories that I won't post here on Tumblr!

[msbluebell]

How We Fall For People Like James Somerton

We're all joking, but this James Somerton thing has me really fucked up.

I wasn't a huge fan of James. I saw a few of his videos and liked them. In the ones I saw he was calm and explained things straightforwardly and even the one or two times he said things against white women...well, that's language I've been seeing on Tumblr since I joined back in my tweenage years. I thought it was just a dismissive joke pointing out a frank reality.

I didn't watch him too much. Just a few videos. I kept meaning to watch more, but I didn't because sometimes I wanted something easier. But I regarded him sell because of how informed he seemed.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He SEEMED informed. He spoke confidently and sometimes quoted queer sounding articles and I trusted him blindly. And why? Because he was giving me information that SEEMED well researched.

Illumanaughtii too. I WAS a consistent fan of hers before other youtubers came out. Because she presented information really well and I like hand drawn characters and because she read academic sounding quotes. I trusted her and her information was stollen. And I feel like a fool for ever having trusted her now, but at least her stollen facts were apparently accurate. Maybe.

James though, he straight up lied. Todd in the Shadows went through a lot of effort to expose those lies. He did so much research that I didn't bother to do. And he admitted he only did it because he happened to know people more informed than him that noticed the lies and went down a rabbit hole.

And maybe if I was more involved I would have noticed. But that's beside the point. what's getting me is I didn't bother to check myself, I just blindly trusted.

And the worst part is I can see why it happened.

I work.

I work, and then I get home, and when I get home I stress. I stress about work I have to do tomorrow, or classes, or finding a new job that actually pays a livable wage. And to escape that stress I go online to AO3, or tumblr, but especially Youtube.

Because I like youtube, I like to have noise in the background while I work. I like to listen to things while I read. And some of the time it's ASMR videos, or watching someone cook something. But mostly? It's history things or video essays.

And when I'm working, or reading, I'll hear a fact, and I'll look up, and I'll think "Huh, that's interesting to know, I didn't know that." And I won't think anything about it.

Because I'm busy, or I'm tired. I'm tired from work, and I don't want to do more work. Or sometimes it's mental health. This is my coping mechanism. I'm trying to learn things, do something to distract myself. I'm not looking to disprove things.

In other words I'm lazy. Or, if I'm being kind to myself, I'm tired.

Maybe if the topic was something I was an expert in I would have noticed. I'm a former ballerina, I'm a failed history major dropout. Maybe if he'd said something like "Holodomor never happened" or "Boudica is a Finnish folk hero" I'd have noticed. Maybe.

But he didn't, and I didn't notice. I assumed he did the work, and why?

Because surely a gay man wouldn't spend hours on youtube talking about Queer history if he wasn't passionate. Because he, a queer man, would surely know about queer history. Surely he wouldn't want to spread lies and hate. And he's quoting from books and articles so why wouldn't I trust him?

My trust was blind and unfounded.

And now I'm reeling from that. I'm reeling because I'm starting to feel like I can't trust a lot of people. How can I listen to any Youtuber casually now?

I can't, I never should have assumed I could.

Now every informative video feels like I need to do tens of hours of research just to be sure what I'm hearing is true. I feel like I can't trust anything unless I do.

James Somerton took my trust.

And it's not only that either. That's not what scares me the most. It's that there are THOUSANDS of people like me. Millions like me. Who are learning something from a video or a tweet or a tumblr post from someone they assume is an expert and are blindly trusting because they assume they can trust it. They don't intend to do their own research because they're tired, or don't know how. And that scars me. I was a history major, I studied tyrants and misinformation and the rise of propaganda, and I, with all my tools to notice, was still blind.

You cannot blindly trust a video, you cannot blindly trust a tweet, you especially cannot blindly trust a tumblr post.

YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPOGANDA

[ms-demeanor]

sex work is work, no problem with that, but spamming sex work absolutely everywhere now is not okay. bot or not, it is not okay to shove your probably fake/stolen tits or ass into everyone's face even where kids are. it is absolutely the lowest, cheapest trash doing that. are these people showing their barely covered up pussy to school kids on the street to maybe get a customer? because they are doing exactly that on the internet. if you cant find customers and need to lower yourself to std ridden junkey trash standards who missed the way and entitled themselves to begging for money outside trash town, zero support from me!

Yeah you really sound like someone who supports sex workers. That's what I always think when I hear people using words like "disease-ridden" and "junkie" - 'wow, that person must be SUCH an ally. braver than any US marine, thank you for your service, person who believes sex work is work but thinks STIs or drug addiction are 'trash'.'

So, point by point:

It's not absolutely everywhere. You don't see people trying to link their onlyfans on facebook most of the time (i've actually never seen it but i could believe it is happening, though it's not common because FB has real-name policies that are unfriendly to sex workers). You're unlikely to see fansly links as sidebar ads on cspan. People aren't linking their pages in the amazon reviews. You're seeing it "everywhere" because you're not going anywhere. Tell me you spend all your time on two to three platforms without telling me you spend all your time on two to three platforms. Instagram, tiktok, twitter, and tumblr are full of people who are promoting all kinds of brands and one of those kinds of brands is sex work.

Those are also all platforms that have age restrictions and behavior standards, and of all of them tumblr is the one that has the history of being the most openly sexual and the least connected to legal identities. People are linking to their diy porn because of the culture of these websites both currently and historically. I once posted a video on this website of me bringing myself to orgasm in a public bathroom stall then inserting a dildo into my vagina before I went on stage and performed a set with my band. I did it for free and for fun five years ago, the week before the porn ban hit.

What I'm saying here is that the culture of this website has a much longer history of openness about sex and sexuality and the visual presentation of sex than it does of being full of people who think teens shouldn't see nipples. This is an *extremely* reasonable place to post information linking to porn that you make and to use cute pictures of yourself to do so.

It's also really easy to tell that these people aren't bots or using stolen images because the whole point of the live platform is that you can click through and go talk to them. Strange Aeons did just that and you can see what happened. (click on that video for a fun cameo at 6:04) Turns out live users are just a bunch of people (not networks stealing images the way that actual porn *bots* on tumblr do) and the ones who are trying to do sex work on the live platform itself get banned.

But also kids too young to see the occasional boob shouldn't be on tumblr! (like, seriously, define kids. what age is too young to see the kinds of images allowed by the tumblr live tos? how about the ones banned by the tumblr live tos? How old should you have to be before someone shows you an ahegao face on a hoodie in public? What should the punishment be for the ahegao fashionistas for exposing six year olds to anime tongues? What should the minimum age be to go on the beach and see men in speedos? Fifteen, or is that still abusive to children? Maybe we should make it twenty to be safe, or better yet why don't we make it twenty AND ban speedos? this is what you sound like, you fucking asshole). Tumblr has age limits and people under that age limit shouldn't be looking at most things on this website. A smiling woman in a bikini top or a dude with his abs out are fucking nothing compared to the kind of damage you personally and specifically are trying to inflict with your shitty ideas.

Posting t&a on tumblr is not at all comparable to doing street level work and soliciting children for a number of reasons, but I'd just like to really take the time to point out that you just compared the profile pics on tumblr live to sexually soliciting a child. You literally did the "x group i hate are pedophiles" thing, which is exactly why it's such a huge problem that any and all types of nudity have been stigmatized online. We have created an entirely new paradigm of "pedophile" that means "existed around a child while wearing tight pants." You are such a fucking clueless, sanctimonious pile of shit that you can't even see that that's what you're doing. This is literally, exactly kink at pride discourse.

And that's even if I grant you that these people are posting t&a! Go look at the live leaderboards, you don't have to accept the ToS to see the leaderboards! We are talking about *at most* saucy pin-up levels of eroticism. I have seen fucking holiday cards with more visible cleavage than any of the top 200 tumblr live streamers right now.

The only thing in your final sentence that makes any sense is that you are positioning tumblr as trash town.

Yeah. I'm actually not at all impressed by tumblr recently and that has a lot more to do with the influx or resurgence of nuance-allergic, anti-sex, whiny shits like you than it does with a banner that i can scroll past in a quarter of a second.

I want people reading this to really, really sit down and think about what they're calling assault or hypersexualiztion or whatever. We are talking about profile pictures. You are so offended by a bar of 4 profile pictures at the top of your dash that you're comparing regular ass humans (some of whom are sex workers and some of whom are just streamers who took thirst trap selfies) to the real life solicitation and abuse of children.

TOUCHING GRASS IS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU PLEASE GO INTERACT WITH ACTUAL REAL HUMANS WHO DON'T KNOW WHAT DASHCON OR MILKSHAKE DUCK ARE. YOU ARE CRITICALLY INTERNET POISONED AND IF YOU TALKED TO SOMEONE AT THE DMV AND DESCRIBED IT AS ASSAULTING CHILDREN TO HAVE SOMEONE IN A BIKINI ON A BILLBOARD THEY WOULD IMMEDIATELY BEGIN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET AWAY FROM YOU. THINK OF THIS POST AS THE CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTOR TELLING YOU THAT THE SHADOWS YOU'RE SEEING AREN'T ACTUALLY DEMONS BUT THAT YOU ARE GOING TO REALLY REGRET IT IF YOU DON'T GO OUTSIDE.

[prouddogboi]

Stray dog (Part 1)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and forcefully refuses affection from Ghost and Soap even in his sleep.

Word count: 1852

Warnings: It's my first time posting my writing on Tumblr. There are so few CODxM!Reader fics I just want to contribute lmao TToTT. The warning is it can be shit because I'm new.

It was a successful mission. A tough one, yes, many soldiers got serious injuries and had to spend days in the hospital, but still, the mission was accomplished with minimal loss. The people at the base decided to throw a party at a well-known bar in the area. As usual, you stayed close to your team, until they left you all alone again for whatever they were up to: Ghost and Soap went into the dark corridor doing ‘secret’ business except for the fact that everyone knew what that business was; Price meeting up with the Captains of other teams, talking about the ‘kids’ in their care like the good ol’ tired dads and moms they all were; Gaz hitting up on some pretty guy or girl; and Roach just immersing himself in the music on the dance floor. 

“The usual shot?” The bartender smiled at you. He was an ordinary-looking guy, not too tall, not too short, but he was always nice to you.

“Yeah.” You replied, eyes looking down at the empty glass in your scarred hand. Your usual shot was one of the heaviest types served at this bar, you found its bitter, stinging taste and the dizziness it brought about worked wonders for you, helping to repress the strong emotions that always came up to the surface to trouble you whenever you were off the field, whenever you were not having to fight between life and death. Free time and a mind that was offered the opportunity to relax were not something you felt grateful for. Instead, you loved being constantly stimulated when being in battles, since it left your mind no time to overthink unnecessary things other than trying to keep yourselves and your teammates alive.

“A successful mission, huh? Everyone is enjoying themselves a lot tonight.” The bartender said, clearly trying to keep talking to you as he was preparing your drink.

“It was.”

“Did you get injured?” 

“Just some scratches, nothing serious.”

“You seem to do your job very well.”

You did. You were a good soldier. An excellent one even. You were showered with praise from the Captain, the teammates, the higher-ups… just anyone after almost every mission. Even Ghost himself had to admit that you were a good one. However, you didn’t know for sure what made you excel while most others didn’t. Maybe it was because every mission you paid no mind as to whether you would be alive or not. It was true that everyone in this line of work had to come to terms with the notion of death upon themselves, no one could be sure how many days they got left on this planet doing this kind of job, but you were still different. You weren’t actively trying to get yourselves in situations that would get you killed, because it often meant a great threat to your teammates too, but you were not one that would hold on to life that much. You were always ready to sacrifice.

“I notice that you’re always alone. Well, the others do join you, but after a while, they leave and you’re still here.” The bartender passed you the shot.

“They have things to do.”

“Why don’t you? Getting out there and having some fun.”

Fun? It did not sound fitting to who you were. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I prefer it this way.”

“By the way, can I ask for a guy’s number? The one with the mohawk.”

“You mean Soap?” You left out a soft chuckle, “Give up, mate. He already has a partner. A scary one.” 

“Who?”

“The fuckin’ huge one with the skull mask. I’m sure you know well who he is and how scary he is.”

“What? That guy? I’ve always thought he’s into you though.”

This time you laughed out loud. The thought of someone interested in you was just so ridiculous, it felt surreal and impossible, “Ain’t no way, why would you think that?”

“He always looks at you with those piercing eyes, as if he will eat you up in no time.”

“Probably it’s because the Soap guy is always leaning over me. He’s so mad that I dare to get that near to his precious partner that he just wants to end my life right here.” You drank up the whole glass in one breath, then smashed the now empty glass on the bar, resulting in a huge ‘thump’ sound, mainly due to the fact that it was your fist that came into contact with the wooden material. It sent a burning feeling to your skin and fresh, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain you had to endure in battles or the mental one off field, when your mind was free to drift away. 

“Could be. But I still think he is into you.” The bartender shrugged, knowing you so well that he went ahead to prepare another shot for you. Nights like this often led to you drinking non-stop until you were so drunk that you’d pass out, and that masked guy was the one who carried you back. That was another reason besides the intense glare that made him convinced that the guy was attracted to you. Well, the hot man with the mohawk was always there too, but he usually waited in distance and smiled at how the masked guy having trouble carrying you as you thrashed around in his arms, clearly too drunk to know that he was just helping you. But the bartender only thought that the mohawk and the masked guy were close friends. Now that you mentioned it, it was indeed possible that they were in love with each other. 

Wouldn’t that make a love triangle though? The bartender threw a glance at you, studying you with amusement. Everyone loved some drama in their mundane lives. You were a handsome boy with sharp facial features, those damn bright eyes that lit up the whole place when you genuinely smiled, and all those strong muscles. He would’ve asked for your number instead if that scary big masked man wasn’t into you that much.

A few hours passed and the party came to its near end. All those smiling and laughing soldiers slowly hopped on the vehicles, making their way back to the base, clearly not wanting to wake up a mess the day after. They still had training as usual after all. One didn’t seem to care though. You collapsed on the bar, your handsome face grew red with how drunk you were and how much alcohol your body had absorbed. Ghost and Soap assured Price that they would bring you back safe before the tired dad of your Task Force got in the car with Gaz and Roach. They didn’t usually drink too much when they were off base, but you were quite the opposite. The team had no idea why you would pour so much alcohol into your mouth and stomach on these occasions, it was like you were grieving over something rather than celebrating the good news of a successful mission. Everyone in this line of work had their own past and troubles, but there was indeed something different in your troubles as they never felt that you were comfortable to open up. Soap even joked a lot about how much harder it was to get closer to you than Ghost. It was true that you were always smiling, chatting, and gossiping with him and Gaz and Roach over stupid things, but there was this invisible wall that you had built around your heart, unwilling to let anyone in. 

Ghost and Soap got to the bar where you were lying. 

“Come to get him?” The bartender was cleaning all the glasses that you and some other regulars used.

Ghost looked at you as your eyes were tightly shut, clearly not happy with your current condition, “Maybe next time don’t let him drink too much.”

The bartender raised his hands, “C’mon, I’m just serving my customers. He appears to need those shots to handle whatever emotions he’s having.”

Ghost and Soap turned their head to look at each other for a few seconds before Ghost stepped up and got you off the bar. You were too drunk to know anything, but surprisingly tonight you were very silent and cooperated well with your Lieutenant. 

“Let’s take you back to your room, huh?” Ghost was content with this sudden change and Soap just casually used his strong hand to rub your neatly cut hair. 

As Soap parked the car in the base's park, Ghost threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you off the vehicle. However, your tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, they widened as you turned your head left and right to make sense of your surroundings. 

“You’re up early.” Soap said jokingly.

“He’s too drunk to understand your stupid sarcasm, Soap.” Ghost scoffed. 

However, it took both men aback when they heard you sobbing. Soap was quick to cup your face with his palms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sobbing almost uncontrollably, trying to get your face out of his grip. One of Ghost’s arms went to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place and calm you down, but you started to act the usual way when you were drunk: thrashing around hysterically, as if you were striving so hard to escape from something inescapable. 

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

“Y/n, calm down, calm down! It’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap tried to talk some sense into the heavily drunk you.

“Stay away from me!” You didn’t seem to listen. Feeling Ghost’s grip was still firm around your body, you got more and more violent. Screaming and kicking, you definitely hurt him in the process as you finally succeeded in getting away. You stumbled a few steps on the cold cement ground before you collapsed on it due to the perfect dizziness that you hoped the shots at the bar would gift you. You curled into a ball, trembling violently yet not from how cold the ground was. Shuddering sobs still escaped your lips, and your eyes were tightly shut again. Price and Gaz hurriedly ran to where you three were, their eyes filled with worry given how loud and heartfelt your screams were (Roach didn’t come with them because he also drank too much). The two men saw Ghost and Soap standing beside you, their arms were hanging in the air as if they were holding on to something, while you were there, laying on the ground sobbing and mumbling unintelligible words. 

Luckily you quickly fell asleep again, still sobbing but unconscious enough for the men to carry you back to your room. They tucked you nicely into your bed, watching over your now peaceful sleeping face. Soap wiped the tears left on your cheeks with his hand, his mind questioning the reasons why you reacted so fiercely to them taking care of you earlier. When you finally stopped sobbing, they carefully left your room. There were things to be discussed, but they could wait.

to be continued bc I have class tmr and I need to sleep :D

[bunnyreaper]

plush

pairing: soap mactavish x f!reader wc: 1.5k warnings: 18+/nsfw, slight plushiephilia (?), magical fuckery, instalove vibes, shitty ex notes: an unofficial entry to my own valentines writing challenge, for my beloved aj/@kitkatscabinet <3 its short and a bit shit, but its the thought that counts, right? peep my amazing tumblr style valentines day card here!!

You remember the day you got him vividly, recalling every detail like it was yesterday, and not necessarily for the better. 

It was the first Valentine's day you were to have with your now ex-boyfriend, an occasion you'd been looking forward to for months. He wasn't the most romantic man in the world, but he knew how important the day was for you, knew how you dreamed of just having one day where you were spoiled rotten and doted on like a princess.

The day of, the man had forgotten. 

All the build up, anticipation, and excitement for nothing. He'd told you the morning off that he was off to work, with no real acknowledgement of the day or the significance it held for you. 

You had been entirely crushed, only somewhat soothed when he came home with an oversized, fluffy teddy, just for you. 

Despite the gift being mostly an afterthought—the receipt still in the bag told you he'd gone to the store on his lunch break—the bear was just so enchanting, so soft and cuddly that when you had it squeezed in your arms, you couldn't bring yourself to care about much else in the world.

That night, it was your plushie you had curled up with in your arms, your face snuggled into his brown-grey fur. That night, you'd drifted off to sleep, selfishly thinking of what it would be like to fall asleep in the arms of someone who made you feel as safe as your new fluffy friend. 

This year, you were determined for things to be different. Despite still reeling from your breakup, you resolved to make the day exactly what you'd always dreamed of,even if you were alone. 

So you started the day with a bit of pampering, climbing into sexy lingerie underneath a fresh, oversized shirt and barely-there shorts. You glammed yourself up just a little and spent the day at home surrounded by lit candles, heart-shaped balloons and the scent of freshly-baked cookies. 

When the night grew dark, you tucked up into bed to watch more movies until late, spending the entire time snuggled up with your precious plushie. It was normal for you to whisper sweet nothings to the wolf pup before bed, to throw out your usual movie discussion to him, and tonight was no different. 

You drift off with ease, feeling a sense of peace you haven't felt in a long time.

When your eyes flutter back open, you expect to see your vision obscured by fur and your room filled with light. You don't expect to see a pair of sparkling blue eyes twinkling in the dark, a pair of blue eyes you're all too familiar with.

"I'm still dreaming." You whisper in complete disbelief, yet the longer you look into the not-so-stranger's eyes, you find yourself not even believing those words. It's not a dream, he's real, and he's here. 

Your eyes rove over him and his handsome, masculine features, you take in the warmth that radiates off of him. 

"No dreams here, bonnie girl." His smile is wolfish, just like his plushie counterpart—full of mischief and mirth. "Couldnae stand seeing you so sad. It's our day." 

His grip on you tightens, pulling you deeper into his chest for you to cuddle close—to feel at home.

"Our day." You mumble, mostly to yourself, as you tangle yourself within him until you become one. You press your forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut as you embrace every euphoric feeling flowing through you.

The safety you felt when hugging him as a plushie is multiplied, as now he grips at your flesh and his breath brushes across your lips. 

He chuckles, a sweet sound you'd imagined a million times before. "Dinnae tell me you forgot when we first met." He teases. 

Valentine's day, that Valentine's day—when he'd been the only thing that made you smile. It's hard to comprehend that this time last year you were muffling your tears in his plush body, and now you're smiling so unstoppably in his embrace.  

"Of course I didn't." You whisper.

You feel his fingers brush over your curves as he eagerly takes you in, too. Unbeknownst to you, he's been aching for this moment since he first set his eyes on you—biding his time trapped inside the plush, until his love was strong enough to break him free of the curse that held him there. 

He'd watched in anger as you were mistreated, frustration as he witnessed your ex's attempts to please you between the sheets, and sadness as he watched you mend your broken heart. 

Unbridled energy thrums through him, a combination of returning to his human form and the overwhelming feeling of finally getting the woman he's loved from afar all this time. "Been waiting so long to finally have ye in ma arms." 

You bring your hand up to stroke at his stubbled cheek, as you try to ground yourself in the reality of the situation. You don't know how, but somehow all your fantasies had come true. "You're real." 

"Am real, lass, and am all yours." He swears solemnly. Neither of you know how long you have, but you know that no matter what, his words are the truth. "Can I kiss ye?" 

"Please." You whisper, before eagerly closing the gap between you, unable to wait even a moment longer. 

The second your lips touch, something in your heart feels like it slots right into place, and a sense of alignment washes over you, unlike anything you've felt before. This kind of peace is something you never felt with your ex, and barely seems real at all. 

Your lips continue to melt into his as he kisses you with fervour, equally hungry and sensual, deeply passionate and full of pent-up longing. 

You pull away, breathless, head spinning with lust and affection, as well as a lingering sense of confusion. It's obvious that he's actually in your arms, and you're not imagining it, but it's so wonderfully beyond your comprehension. 

"But how--" You start, before cutting yourself off. Too many questions, not enough time. 

"Conversation for another time." You both say in sync, rushing to return to each other's lips as you pour your love into each other. 

His kisses move from your lips to your soft cheeks, the curve of your jaw, the expanse of your neck. He nuzzles against you, nips with his teeth, then soothes them with kisses. You can feel his unrestrained smile against your skin, the eagerness in the way he grips at your hip and ruts into your clothed core with his hardness. "You feel better than I imagined." 

As his erection nudges against your clit, a shaky exhale passes your lips, a name uttered purely on instinct after a year of it tumbling around your head. "Johnny..." 

Something surges through him then, Johnny, something animalistic, as he rolls you beneath him and cages you between his arms. His hips slot against yours insistently, his eyes battle between darkening with arousal and sparkling in delight. "You know ma name." He almost growls. 

"I don't know how, but I do." 

His hands claw at your shirt, pushing it up your body to reveal the lace underneath. You hadn't worn it for him intentionally, but it also seems like the fates had called to you to put it on this morning, to be ready for this moment. 

He purrs, hungry like a true wolf, as he paws at the delicate material. "Need you, lass, cannae take it anymore." 

You push your hips into his, chasing more and more contact, more of the pleasure he so easily gives you. "Me either. Can't wait, please." 

For a moment, your mind flickers to your ex, how even on the rare occasions he tried to warm you up, he'd still struggle to make you feel much at all. With just a few kisses, and the feeling of his body against you, Johnny has you gushing, leaking down your thighs and aching with need. 

Thick fingers make their way across your delicate skin, leaving shivers in their wake. He pulls back enough to rid you of your panties, before his fingers find your sweet spot and start working on melting you beneath his touch. It was easy for Johnny, having seen the way you'd touched yourself so many times before. 

Whilst the sensation feels heavenly, and Johnny's eyes remain focused on yours as he drives you wild. You need more; you need him. 

"Please." You whine, unable to summon much more in the way of words as his fingers dip down to tease at your entrance.

Johnny fumbles with his clothes quickly, and sinks into you with an animalistic growl as his thick cock stretches you open in the most divine way. 

"Feels like home." He purrs, as he lays his muscular body over you and cages you in between the mattress and his cock. Once more, he nuzzles at your neck, as his cock kisses your insides and you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. 

You wrap your arms and legs around him instinctually, willing him closer and closer in to you, entwining yourselves completely. 

His hips remain still inside you, as the two of you embrace the feeling of finally being where you belong. He kisses you gently as he whispers, "All mine. Never letting ye go now." 

[sugarr-moon]

in celebration of my AU slugcar lineup for the 3rd time lets go!

individuals + slugcat bios below cut

Survivor(or viv)

pronouns: any/all

an anxious, paranoid slugcat whos a nervous wreck most of the time. after their fall, their experiences lead them to be much more cautious and wary. they usually need another slugcat to accompany them whenever leaving the safety of their home, and has an irrational fear of being alone.

Monk

any/all pronouns

an optimistic, light-hearted slugcat with an introverted personality. they prefer to spend their time with their lizards rather than anyone else— besides their close friends. they’re under gourmands mentorship and guidance to become a colony healer and inventor. they have a unique tact for being able to bloom karma flowers where they please.

Hunter

any/all pronouns

a skilled fighter and adventurer. the second in command to gourmand, they’re typically indifferent and logical. with the help of monk, NSH, and gourmand, their rot has became much less of a problem, no longer being lethal. however, it still gets in the ways of their duties at points. hunter is headstrong, stoic and skilled— and a much valued member of the colony.

Gourmand(or gourm)

any/all

the up-beat and welcoming chieftain of their colony, gourmand always looks out for others. protective of their home and family, they’re somewhat hesitant to strangers and intruders. they are working on teaching the members of their colony on how to invent and forage. they’re also somewhat of a therapist, always willing to be a shoulder to lean on if anyone needs it. they’re quite stressed with this workpile, but hunter has been a great help.

Artificer(or arti)

any/all pronouns

artificer is aggressive and anti-social. most slugcats stray away from them due to their bad temper and explosive mood(pun intended). underneath the surface though, they do have good intentions. they’re very protective of the ones they love, and do care for the colony. they have a waryness to talk about their past, and a strange aggression towards scavengers. they have a soft spot for the colonys pups, and doesn’t mind looking after them.

Rivulet(or riv)

any/all

energetic, charismatic and curious. they enjoy rambling and sharing anything they find with their friends. their curiosity though sometimes gets them into trouble, and they’re quite reckless. one of the people they’re closest too, though, is of course looks to the moon, someone they consider a mentor figure. they enjoy playing light hearted pranks, and they’re usually seen around artificer— despite their contrasting personalities.

Spearmaster(or spears)

any/all

a messenger on a journey from seven red suns, they’re from an incredibly far away land. they used to be close with rivulet and hunter, before eventually having to return home. they do miss their friends, but they know that where they truly belong is with their iterator.

Saint

any/all

cold, withdrawn and somewhat egotistical. they don’t like interacting with anyone much. though, monk, someone they’d consider their pupil, does have fascinating abilities they think could help on their mission. they’re extremely devoted to attunement, and believe that any act of attachment is vile. though, their latest mistake though, has somewhat sent that world view spiralling…

Nightcat(or cosmo)

any/all

a strange, silent slugcat. they never really speak with anyone besides survivor and gourmand. they’re interested in constellations and charting them. they’re scared easily, and prefer the sound of silence. the third eye on their head belongs to that of an overseer, which can project images, which is helpful to their star charting.

i cant put enots here bc tumblr is bullying me but enjoy!

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

Happy Wife, Happy Life.

Hantengu clones x Fem!Reader [Yandere-Angst-Fluff]

Part one.

Dividers by Saradika

Dividers by Saradika

Synopsis: Another punishment causes her to finally go cold with her 'beloveds'. They finally know what has been bubbling up inside of her after the many harsh punishments given to her.

Warnings: Possessiveness (duh), gaslighting(?), manipulation, coddling, isolation, monophobia, stalking, reader loses her shit at them, ANGST, more suffering! :D

Requested by: luvcOree

Ps: I didn't notice that my tumblr auto updated and I had saved this on schedule only to find out that I couldn't edit it, so I had to delete the whole thing and rewrite it only to find out later that you could edit the post 😭 so that's why I have to reset to this- I'M SORRY

Y/N inhaled deeply before timidly asking him the question. "May I go spend some time with my family for today? I promise I'll be home early! I just... want to see them. It's been too long..." To Y/N, this was nothing more than a simple request and perhaps even a reward for having been the obedient wife they wanted and giving them all an equal amount of attention, keeping them all satisfied. To the Hantengus however, this was a question they all dreaded. Their dear wife asking to go outside, even more so to visit someone? What was wrong with staying home? They provide her with everything she needs, get her everything she asks for one way or another. What more does she want? Cowardly as the demon may be, he could not let his dear go. Not the one who he knows believes in his innocence. Not the one he needs. "N.. No... You can't! W-What if you get hurt and.. and I'm not... there?" "But it's just my family! I'll just be there for today and nowhere else! Please, let me go visit them!" But the wife was desperate. She doesn't ask much of neither him or the clones, much less Zohakuten, who she knows is more strict and harsh. Y/N does as she is told, stays home where she is safe and gives them attention.

Even Urami and Zohakuten on the rare occasions they reveal themselves. Y/N is a good wife, never asks for anything, but this time, she was desperate. She even said that she'll be home before dusk. But the husbands, they disagree. She cannot leave. She'd be out of their sights, vulnerable, in danger. They cannot risk their lovely wife dying, the risk is too grave. "No! You c-cannot go! You'll... You'll get hurt!" What would he do without her? What they do without her? All he would offer is to stay home and spend some time with him which she reluctantly agreed to. Y/N wasn't happy. She could never be happy. Her family! She needs to see them at least once after having left without much of a valid explanation.This morning was no different from the others except for a little bit of harsh weather. Y/N was simply cooking for herself while also being deep in thought. She's been thinking about her family for some time now, especially her sibling. She's been missing her mother and father dearly and it's been eating up at her for too long, she can't take it anymore. After having finished making herself her meal, the woman took a deep, nervous breath and left for the dark room her husbands stayed during daytime.

Walking up the stairs, Y/N was certain that they had already heard her since she was in the kitchen and by the time she arrived, they were all in the darkest corners of the room, or in this case, he was. "Dear?" He was quick to flinch at the mere sound of her voice, but that was just him in general which did not surprise Y/N in the slightest. Hantengu, the main body of the clones, was currently the only one present due to the clones not being seperated. They often stayed merged together with Hantengu to avoid the sun and only revealed themselves at night. This gave Hantengu time to spend with her since his clones would all simply want her attention to themselves (if you like the clones, love him too beuz they're all the same person). "Y.. Yes?" The demon answered timidly to his wife as she entered the room, closing the shōji door behind her.

If they wouldn't let her see them once, then she'll go herself with or without their permission.

For the entire day until dark, Y/N was with Hantengu and didn't really do much. She did have some surprisingly pleasant conversations (and with his constant complaining of the evil around him and that he is an innocent demon), cuddled with him the same way she would with the clones, took a day nap and so on. However, while she was a sweet and loving wife towards him, she was waiting for him to leave in search for humans to eat and to find the Blue Spider Lily for his master. Soon, evening would arrive and Hantengu would go out for his hunt and mission leaving Y/N alone until he would return. She watched him shrink and leave through the dark forest of where their shared home is located. When she was sure she was alone, she too would leave. Y/N would pack her delicious sweets for her parents and sibling before then leaving her home.

After almost forty five minutes of travelling by foot, Y/N finally made it to the home of her parents. luckily for her, her sibling was there as well. Running up to the door excitedly, Y/N knocked and waited for one of her family members to open for her. Eventually, all would go as she had hoped. Y/N managed to see her parents after so long, caught up with her sibling and would finally be able to spend some time with them after not having seen them in so long. She laughed, she conversed, she cooked with her father/ mother, played with her sibling like children once more knowing that Hantengu would return at midnight. But that wasn't the case this time.

___

The clones were beyond furious that their wife was not where they had left her. They were all lucky enough to have returned home early after successfully killing demon slayers and humans, but another unsuccessful scavenge for the Blue Spider Lily. The entire ordeal had left them all irritated as usual and they simply wanted to be comforted by the loving embrace of their betrothed only to find out that she wasn't there. Sekido yelled and threw a fit, as expected from the clone of anger, and in a desperate attempt to have her back, he forcefully fused. The only reasons the others did not have a problem with Sekido's rather daring stunt is of course for none other than Y/N. Once Zohakuten was formed and Urami had revealed himself, both clones immediately went for the search of their beloved wife. They immediately knew where she was anyways and she would return by choice or by force.

___

Both clones watched from afar as Y/N laughed loudly with a person who they assume is their sibling. Neither of them could believe she would ever do such a thing despite having been told that she wasn't allowed to go! Both would soon close in on the home of where she was, but would keep their distance. Zohakuten would hit one of his drums and would command one of his wooden dragon heads to close in and for Y/N to return. He was still quite furious at the fact that she left despite having been told not to and Urami even more so. It wouldn't be long before Y/N noticed a strange piece of wood moving and eventually realise who it was. Soon, she would bid her family farewell and leave as they hoped she would. Without wasting any more time, she went to the forested area where Urami and Zohakuten stood and would timidly approach. Zohakuten gave her a steely glare and simply pointed towards his wooden dragon head while Urami would already begin his scolding. "How dare you leave! You had us all worried sick! Did we not tell you that you could not visit your family? You could've gotten hurt or worse! Do you know how much it would've broken us if you did?" That is all she heard until she arrived home.

Urami carried her inside and placed her down before shrinking back to Hantengu, who began to bawl his eyes out. Zohakuten eyed Hantengu for a moment with pity before returning his intimidating gaze back to her. "How dare you leave me, woman. Have you no shame? I thought you were hurt!" Zohakuten continued to go off angrily at Y/N, blaming her for his anxiety and worry. Being the foul-mouthed boy he is, he cursed in his sentences. "You ungrateful wench! This time, punishment will be longer and harsher! You want to disobey me? Fine! I've been too lenient with your behavior!" Said the boy while dragging her by the wrist to the solitary room. "I'm sorry! I just wanted to-" "Silence! I won't hear it!" The door to her punishment once again opened as Zohakuten then so rudely shoved her into the room, this time without a candle before slamming and locking the door shut. "No... No!" Begging would get her nowhere. Not this time.

"Sweet thing... You've disappointed me."

"When we tell you something, you listen. You will regret disobeying us."

"My little songbird, I thought we had an agreement!"

"... Perhaps a harsher treatment shall remind you not to disobey us again, dewdrop."

And it starts again.

But she didn't beg this time. Perhaps a few tears, but Y/N didn't beg nor did she scream or cry. It dawned on her that perhaps they truly don't care for her feelings and only their own. Perhaps they are selfish monsters who only want to hurt her for their own amusement. At least, that's what their wife began to think. Y/N dragged her futon to the corner and made herself comfortable (as comfortable as she could get in a cold, dark and solitary room), simply staring up at the ceiling in the pitch black room deep in thought of the husbands she loved so much. Before long, the woman fell asleep with a new hatred for her husbands.

The punishment went on for three days instead of the usual two hours. Three entire days of no social interaction, not a word from them and almost no food or water as well. The clones truly did consider depriving her of human necessities, but Urogi had convinced them to be more merciful on their poor wife, having convinced them that she would learn her lesson.

The end of her punishment had arrived. It was over and the clones couldn't wait to hear her say that she had learned her lesson. That she would be a good wife and admit that she will be home where it's safe. That she'll apologise for her misbehaviour. But no, that's not what happened. The clones were absolutely shocked at her behavior when they finally let her out of the room. She was irritable, scornful and suddenly sharp-tongued almost as if someone had flipped a switch and changed her personality entirely. She didn't even want to be in his same room as them, much less have them look at her. Even Sekido began trying the gentle treatment to get closer to her, but that didn't work. "Dewdrop... What happened to her... This isn't the woman I married..." Aizetsu's sapphire coloured eyes began tearing up as he thought of her disrespectful behavior. Y/N would spout hurtful comments at them and express her hatred towards them as if they had hurt her in some way and Aizetsu, he hated that very much. It made him quite sad.

"How dare she speak to us that way!" Sekido growled angrily while thinking of her new behavior towards them. Karaku and Urogi stayed mostly silent about the situation, thinking of what could've happened for her to act like this (hm, I wonder why). They would all continue to discuss among themselves, trying to figure out a way to get closer to her without being met with scorn. "It doesn't matter if either three of us say it, she won't believe us. She'll just shove us away and continue with this." Urogi argues while looking at Sekido. It is true, any apology from either Karaku or Urogi would sound fake and from Aizetsu would sound merely like something to ease her hard feelings. "He's right, you know..." Karaku mumbles quietly while playing around with his uchiwa. Aizetsu knew Sekido would have a huge problem with apologising since he finds it pathetic for someone such as himself, and considering the emotion he is, he would absolutely refuse due to his pride and brash personality. "I already told you fools, I'm not going to apologise!" "Then how do you want her to trust us again, Sekido? If we want our dear back, we have to apologise." Said the relaxed clone in a rather stern tone. Karaku would be the last clone to ever speak in such a stern and serious tone due to his mischievous behavior, but there were times even he knew when it was needed.

He got up from where he said and got face-to-face with his older self, staring at him with a blank expression. "You do it. You'd be the most convincing out of all of us. That or we risk losing her, because then, we'd have to move to measures that we would all like to avoid for her sake." Sekido knew exactly what Karaku meant, he wasn't stupid. If they let her continue this, she would grow more reckless and rebellious, and they couldn't risk that. The vexed clone huffed reluctantly, acknowledging the fact that what his clone stated was indeed correct. He, out of every clone, is least likely to apologise and admit that he was wrong. It's a rather stupid solution in his eyes, but the one that they've come up with currently and they will act on it.So, with a deep breath and some preparation from his clone brethren, he walks to the room where his lovely wife is to apologise.

"Y/N-" "You again? I told you not to even look at me, you disgusting demon!" Those hurtful comments irked him, yes, but if he wanted to get on her good side again, he would have to swallow his pride and apologise like a mature adult. "What do you want from me? Just looking at your hellish eyes makes me sick! How did I even fall in love with you?" Her crude comments continue to flow freely and uncensored as if he were a mere stranger to her. The woman didn't even give him a chance to speak which led him to approach her in the blink of an eye, gripping her shoulders tightly. "Will you let me speak, woman?" Sekido asked and as usual, his snappy tone seemed to slip through. This did not come off well to the wife, as she merely continued to berate him and his clones. Finally, Sekido lost it and yelled at her, shutting her up for the moment. "LISTEN TO ME. I..."

It was a struggle trying to utter those embarrassing words. A demon doesn't apologise, much less an Upper Moon! How dare she make him seem like a fool! How dare she make him be so- so... so weak! This wasn't how things were supposed to be! But... Sekido will play nice, for now, suck it up and apologise. "I'm... sor... I..." Sekido huffs again while interally cursing at himself for being so pathetic. ["It's just a damn sentence...!"] His monstrous grip tightens, but he remembers to tone it down for her fragile human body. After almost a minute of struggling to get out a simple sentence, Sekido does it. It was the simple thought of Y/N leaving him that pushed him to do so. What would they do without her? Who would calm him down when he would have one of his rage fits? Who would Karaku tell his hunts and mission to? Who would keep Aizetsu from sulking? Who would preen Urogi's wings? Who would love him?

There was no one like you. Not in their demented eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Her expression immediately went from annoyed and hateful to shocked and confused. Sekido apologising? What possessed him to do such a 'shameful' act? "I... Understand that what we did to you was too far... My dear wife." It was rough at first, but soon, the words flowed out flawlessly. "My dear wife, I apologise for my and Zohakuten's brash behavior. In a moment of desperation I lost my composure and did not realise what the consequences of my actions would lead to." It was pathetic, but better to seem like a fool than lose the one thing you cannot live without. But she wouldn't fall for it a second time. "How dare you..." Sekido was understandably surprised. "You think a simple apology would have me running back into your arms like the many, many times before? Have you forgotten what you did to me, Sekido? Have you forgotten the many tears I cried because of my fear?" No, he did not. Did they really think she was going to forget it all just like that? All the torture, the punishment just because they did not see whatever she did that time fit? "How many times have you lied to me? How many times have you guilt tripped me into thinking it was my fault even though it was yours?!" "Y/N I-"

"DON'T interrupt ME while I'm TALKING!!"

It was practically trauma at that point and the clones had no one to blame but themselves. What did they expect? The pain and fear would've caught up eventually.

"I'm afraid of you... I don't love you anymore. I-I..." But even then, does she truly believe her own words? Is she that naive that she truly can't see what is wrong here?

"You put me alone in a room without a single thing but a futon and a chamberstick. You're insane...! All of you know I hate being alone! I'm afraid of being alone!! Do my endless screams and cries, begging and hitting the door entertain any of you?" Y/N hoped it wasn't true, but at this point, she was smart to know it was. Her fear entertained them. They were after all still demons and a human fearing a demon is the greatest sight and feeling a demon can get. "No-" "Don't lie to me..." He knew he needed to tell the truth eventually. "... Yes." The thick streams of tears continued more and more like a raging river crashing down a dam and flowing freely. "Get away from me..."

They can't lose you.

She was in their arms faster than she could blink. "Dewdrop... I'm sorry... Don't leave us... please." The sight of his betrothed's beautiful face stained with tears was enough to shatter Aizetsu. He didn't mean to push her this far. What kind of husband tortures his wife? Oh, how wrong they were. "Songbird, you can do anything but leave. You can scream and yell at us, hit and stab us, we will take it all with grace, but please, I beg of you don't leave. I swear on my lord's name we will be better!" The all clung onto her as if she were their lifeline. They will beg, scream and cry if they must in order to get her to stay. She cannot leave. "I'll never laugh at your tears again, I'll never make you cry. Sweet thing, don't leave. I will get on my knees if I have to..." The woman can put them all on a leash if it meant that she'd stay. They might have been all high and mighty then, but the moment she even hints at leaving for good, suddenly they're her lapdogs. It would crush them if she were to leave for good. They cannot lose that one good feeling not even they can describe. It wasn't joy or pleasure... What it was? They did not know, but it felt too good to be let go and she was the cause of this. Neither dignity or pride was no longer of importance to them, only Y/N was.

"You can put me on a leash and I'd say 'Thank you'... Do whatever you want, but you will not leave me." The lengths these psychopaths would go for one woman is near insanity. They were all demented and she was the one person keeping them sane. Possessiveness in a human can only go so far, but a demon is a new thing entirely. Considering their power, they will do what they must for their love, for that one person. They cannot leave, who said they could leave? Some may hurt them and prevent them from doing so, others may become their servants. Whatever works is what they will do. That one person is their entire life. They cannot live without that one person.

"Don't leave me, please."

No, she could never. They had gotten her too far in. She was theirs, she was already claimed by them. Y/N was going nowhere and she accepted that. Horrid as their actions may be, these man-eating demons loved her. They love her.

"I won't."

So it all starts again. Y/N goes back to them, rushing into their arms as they had hoped for. Their arms clung onto to her as if she would disappear if they didn't hold her. They hugged her tightly, not daring to let go of her in fear of her disappearing. They all told her how much they loved her, how they would sell their soul for her to be happy. The clones and their wife cuddled together for the entire night, not daring to let go of her. She was constantly met with kisses, small love bites, licks, whatever, as long as it expressed their love and affection to her.

She wouldn't ever leave them. She was theirs and it was written in stone.

Which still begs the question Sekido had asked last time.

"... Would you like to bear us a child?"

Ps: I added Zohakuten, because he too is a clone. Yes, he does see reader as his wife, but that doesn't mean he engages in those acts with reader. He loves her too, but only in a romantic sense. He has the physical build of a child, yes, but that doesn't mean it's sexual. Just thought I'd clear it up for you snowflakes out there.

Note: Yes daddy, I would love for you to breed me.

[hybbart]

Hi! I absolutely adore your work, I was wondering if you have any advice on getting your ideas and au's out there? Sometimes it feels like no matter how much you post/try to connect with others it's impossible for any posts to break out of the little tumblr interaction bubble

Well, I'm not really the person to ask this, cause any popularity I have at any point is almost entirely dependant on my current hyperfixation, and I'm not one to care much about it.

Mostly I have a good enough appealing and safe art style and good enough sense of humour that's easy for people to like even if they don't especially care about the content, and draw often enough that I don't get forgotten.

My current stuff is fanworks, which have a built in audience, so you're always going to be seen as long as you tag it properly. Especially if you're actively participating in the fandom. I also have the benefit of being obsessed with a rather popular duo like ranchers.

Basically, the notes I get are very predictable and temporary, and not really based on any intentional work. I'm good enough for casual followers to pay attention to as long as it's stuff they recognize. I'd say like 80% of my notes are from casual engagement who aren't really going to do much besides a like and maybe reblog just because they were told they have to reblog artists or they're using the site wrong.

I guess what I mean to say is, having those notes is nice and appreciated but at the end of the day I also have a pretty small little bubble. There's just a wall of passers-by around it making it seem bigger than it actually is. It very quickly dissipates when I draw anything out of the ordinary that I can't put a bunch of popular tags on. So, I'm not really the person to ask about that sort of thing.

That said, I guess all that might sound a bit cynical to most people even though it isn't meant to be, so I guess some actual tips might be in order.

Skill. Art's about communication and expression, which like anything is better done with a larger toolkit and knowledge. And also especially casual engagement just enjoys things of higher quality. Raw ideas aren't usually enough to get people to understand or care unless they care about you. To be blunt, sometimes people just aren't good enough or are too niche for a general audience. That's nothing to be self-conscious or miserable about, it's just something you have to be self-aware about enough to accept that you're not gonna attract people who aren't invested in you. If that's something you want to change by becoming better then you have to intentionally do so, talent is a lie.

Passion. It's obvious when your heart isn't in it regardless of skill level because art is about communication. And passion's what drives us to do better, it's hard to develop and spend time on work you don't really want to do. If you're enthusiastic other people will be more likely to join you in your enthusiasm. If you don't care or are burnt out people will notice. If you're doing things just to get attention people will notice. You have to want to create what you're creating.

Good ideas. To be blunt a good idea that interests people is just going to be more popular than a bad one that doesn't. Sometimes something that interests you doesn't interest a lot of other people, that's why you gotta make peace with caring more about quality interaction over quantity, and being more self-aware.

Making friends. Finding people who are as enthusiastic as you about something is going to go a long way, and people who aren't as enthusiastic are more likely to become enthusiastic or support you if you're friends and you can annoy them in their DMs with 3 hour tangents about your favourite thing. Honestly once you have someone you can do this to you stop caring about the other stuff. Art's about communication, like I said. Participating in events is a great way to make friends, but so is just reaching out to people you like.

Being friendly. This one's pretty simple. If you're a dick people aren't going to take the time to get invested in your project even if it interests them.

Being accessible. This covers anything from literal accessibility to having clean directories and tags, to anchoring/themed extra engagement. 'Do you have any questions about [character]' is going to get more engagement than 'feel free to ask me anything about my au' even if there's less questions to ask because it's less broad and puts less of a burden on the asker to come up with a prompt. It's easier to be broader later on when you have already put out a lot of information and people are more invested.

Being concise: Basically very few people are going to read this goliath of a post compared to a short, information dense, clear post. When I post art I try to avoid too much text, because I want the art to be the focus of the post. When I post writing I put it under a cut so it doesn't consume someone's dash and write something clearer above. The reason writing is going to get less engagement is because it takes more time and effort to engage with than a picture. People who aren't already invested aren't going to sift through 10 paragraphs of loose info. This goes for art, too. One piece is going to catch the eye easier than 10 unrelated sketches or a long form comic. This doesn't mean don't make this content, but be smarter about how you present it to take into account how it engages people.

Tagging things. Don't abuse tags or put irrelevant tags, but finding out what tags are frequented that apply to your art helps. There is definitely still an inconsistent limit of tags that tumblr's search actually pays attention to, so put the most important ones first. I usually put warnings first and foremost and put personal categorization tags last. Being consistent with tags lets people find stuff on your blog easier and makes you show up in a search more frequently, so you're easier to find for people who use tumblr in different ways.

Time of day. This one's finicky to figure out and can change but if you post when there's more people online... well, more people are likely to see it. Apparently other people follow like hundreds or even thousands of blogs and don't even look at everything on their dash, so for those types of people posts might as well not exist unless it's at the top of their dash. This also helps when popping up in more popular tags' most recent when people are actually looking them up. This doesn't affect posts as much as people think but it does enough to be visible. I frequently post things at like 1 am when no one's on so it doesn't get notes until later on and through notifications.

anyways, i hope something in there helps. If not, well... crap.

[genshinluvr]

Seeking Solace

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You're feeling sad and unmotivated. It's hard for you to get out of bed and go downstairs to eat. The twenty-five men comfort you and keep you company. Just when you thought it would happen for only a day, it dragged on to the next day.

Note: A filler fic since this week was my midterms week, and I am drained from this entire week alone. I didn't have much time to think of a specific plot for this week because I was too busy studying for two tests, writing two essays, and remembering my lines for my performances. This week has been nothing but stressful and busy, so this is a filler fic. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Not my best work since I didn't have time to really plan this fic out due to my midterms and performance. It's all comfort. There's no angst, I promise

Word Count: 7.4k

There are days when you feel sad, and you can’t help but feel that way. Even if you’re having a good day and the day is winding down, the sadness will hit you out of nowhere once you lay on your bed. Silence is never a friend to those who have the loudest minds. It’s cruel, and having to hear these loud thoughts almost every night is physically, emotionally, and mentally draining. You try not to let it get to you, but you can’t always be strong. Not when your legs are about to give out from underneath you, causing you to cave in and lay in your bed all day and never step out of your room once. 

“Has anyone seen [Y/N] today? It’s almost two in the afternoon, and I have not seen them step out of their bedroom once today,” Zhongli murmurs.

Venti shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe they’re sleeping in! After all, they did spend countless days pulling all-nighters just to complete this huge project for the Akademiya with Tighnari over there,” Venti says, gesturing towards Tighnari’s direction. 

Cyno looks over at Tighnari. “How was [Y/N] after completing the project?”

Tighnari hums and taps on his chin. “Well, after [Y/N] and I completed the project for the Akademiya, they seemed visibly exhausted. Of course, I knew they were pulling all-nighters, but I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Tighnari sighs, massaging his throbbing temples. 

It’s true. You did pull all-nighters just for this huge project with Tighnari. While Tighnari wasn’t the one that pulled all-nighters, it was you that did it, and Tighnari would always be the one to drag you to bed and stand outside of your door for an hour just to make sure you went to bed. After an hour of standing outside of your bedroom to make sure you were asleep, Tighnari would peek his head into your room to double-check to see if you were fast asleep. Once he confirmed that you were asleep, he would go back to his room to continue his sleep.

Of course, you would wake up not long after and attempt to continue where you had left off, only for Tighnari to stop you from going downstairs to continue with only one hour of sleep. Damn Tighnari and his keen sense of hearing! Although if it’s not Tighnari, then it’s Gorou that will be the one to drag you back to your bedroom. Gorou would give you puppy dog eyes and plead for you to just go to sleep. How could you resist someone as adorable as Gorou?

“Does anyone want to check and see if [Y/N]’s awake? They missed breakfast and lunch!” Thoma says, plopping and sprawling across the couch.

Childe shoots up from his spot with his hands raised. “I volunteer to check on my snookums like the good boyfriend that I am! Unlike you losers,” Childe says, walking toward the staircase. 

The men stare at Childe as he walks up the stairs. Childe looks over his shoulders and sticks his tongue out at the men before continuing his way up the stairs. Compared to the first floor, the second floor is silent other than the sound of his footsteps. Childe stops in front of your bedroom door and presses his ears against the wooden door, listening for any footsteps or sound in general that is coming from your room.

So far, Childe hears nothing. Childe reaches for the doorknob and twists the doorknob before cracking the door open. Childe peeks his head into your room and notices the only light illuminating your once-dark bedroom is coming from the cracks of the curtains. On your bed is a round lump covered by a mountain of blankets. Childe enters your room, keeping the door halfway open.

Standing over the lump on your bed, Childe pokes the said lump. The lump doesn’t flinch or move after Childe pokes the lump for the second time. Childe kneels on your bed and leans over to peek at the lump that is you. Childe grabs hold of the edge of the blankets and pulls it over to see you blinking at him sleepily. You’re hugging a pillow to your chest, curling up into a ball, and your face is puffy from your long slumber. Childe smiles at you before plopping down in front of you, resting his head on his biceps.

You yawn and rub your eyes. “In case you were wondering, I did wake up and brush my teeth, but I was still tired, so I went back to sleep,” you speak, giving Childe a small smile.

Childe doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tucks your hair behind your ears and strokes your cheek with the pad of his thumbs. You close your eyes and hum with contentment. The more Childe looks at you, the more he’s starting to notice some things. You have dark circles under your eyes, your eyes are swollen (not from sleep, that’s for sure), and your eyes are bloodshot red.

Childe opens his mouth to say something, only for it to be interrupted by Baizhu walking into your room. Childe sighs and sits up, narrowing his eyes at the green-haired doctor. Baizhu ignores Childe’s glare and places a cup of tea on your nightstand. 

“Zhongli brewed you matcha tea, and I offered to bring it up to you. How are you feeling, my precious violetgrass?” Baizhu asks, sitting at the edge of your bed.

You take the mountain of blankets off your body before sitting up and stretching your limbs. Dear Archons, it was not wise of you to stay in that position for so long. Now your left arm is sore from laying on it for however long.

“I’m okay! I feel drained and very sad,” you reply, hugging your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “It’s been making it hard for me to get out of bed. Hence why I skipped breakfast and lunch.”

You lean toward the nightstand and grab the teacup and saucer before sipping from the cup. The warmth from the tea sends chills down your spine, causing you to visibly shiver. Silence hangs in the air as you drink your matcha tea, basking in Baizhu and Childe’s company. You finish your tea a few minutes later, putting the teacup and saucer back on the nightstand.

A knock coming from your bedroom door breaks the silence. You, Baizhu, and Childe look up to see the other men standing at the entrance. You give them a weak smile and wave them in.

Kazuha sits across from you, brushing the stray hair away from your face. “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat breakfast or lunch today, and we don’t want you to starve,” Kazuha murmurs.

You give Kazuha a tight-lipped smile and shake your head. “No, thank you. I’m not feeling hungry right now, but thanks for asking.”

“Even if you’re not hungry, can you at least eat a snack? I can go downstairs and cut you some fruits to snack on if you’d like.” Heizou offers.

A snack doesn’t sound too bad. You did drink all of the matcha tea Zhongli brewed for you. Maybe snacking on some fruits wouldn’t hurt. It’s better to snack on something than go all day on an empty stomach. Not only would that make the men worry, but it would also make them scold you for skipping out on eating breakfast, lunch, and maybe dinner. And you’re not in the mood to deal with twenty-five people scolding you over your lack of appetite.

You nod, giving Heizou a smile. “Yeah, I would like that. Thank you, Heizou,” you murmur.

Heizou grins and walks over to you, giving you a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead before exiting your bedroom to cut some fruits for you to eat. Once Heizou left your room, you lay back on your bed and curled into a ball.

Pantalone kneels beside you, running his fingers through your hair. “How are you feeling? You made us all worried by not showing up to breakfast and lunch today,” Pantalone comments, gazing at you worriedly.

“I feel drained and sad. And before you ask, nothing happened that caused me to feel this way. It came out of nowhere, and here I am,” you give Pantalone a weak smile.

Kaveh plops down on your bed beside you with a groan. “Seasonal sadness, I get that. You don’t need to explain yourself,” Kaveh says, rolling over on his side and wrapping his arms around your waist.

Childe scowls at Kaveh and gets off your bed, glaring at the blond man. Kaveh ignores Childe’s glare and proceeds to cuddle you. You close your eyes and snuggle into your pillow while letting yourself relax in Kaveh’s arms.

“If you don’t mind us asking, how are you doing in school?” Diluc asks, leaning on your desk.

Your face pinches up before you turn around and bury your face into Kaveh’s chest. Dear Archons, now that Diluc asked you that question, everything is starting to hit you all at once. Sumeru Akademiya. Huge project. Tighnari. All-nighter. Lack of sleep. All of it is hitting you at the same time. 

“I’m doing decent in school. You know, the usual. I’ve been taking up a lot of projects recently because I’m graduating from the Akademiya soon,” you reply, voice muffled against Kaveh’s chest.

Al Haitham sighs, sitting on the corner of your bed while stroking your calf. “Why are you taking on so many projects? You’ll stress yourself out and overwork yourself to the bone,” said Al Haitham, frowning at you.

You roll over again and look at Al Haitham. “I’m not the best at saying no to people. Especially when they want me to help them with something. Not only that, but the more projects I’m a part of, the more it’ll look good on my resume, and it’ll show that I have lots of experience,” you said.

Now that you think about it, should you start applying for job positions before graduating from the Akademiya? You have a year left at the Akademiya, and you’re not sure if applying for jobs before your graduation year is a good idea. Some jobs take a while to go through job applications, and you’re not even sure if you’ll get picked to be the candidate. 

“Do you have a job in mind?” Aether asks.

You purse your lips and give a ‘so-so’ gesture. You have an idea of what you want to apply for, but the problem is that you’re not sure if any of these occupations are accepting job applications at the moment. Great. You’re graduating in one year, you have no idea if the jobs you want to apply for are accepting new employees, and you’re wondering if it’s wise for you to take on so many projects for the Akademiya.

“Don’t overthink this,” you pull your blanket up to your neck and close your eyes. “There’s still some time left. No need to rush things. Just take it slow, and everything will be okay.”

“Oh! It looks like Heizou is back with sliced apples and sunsettias!” Gorou says, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

Kaveh helps you sit up and ruffles your hair afterward. You grumble and fix your disheveled hair before reaching for the plate Heizou is holding out to you. You take a bite of the sliced apples while the men lounge around in your bedroom. While snacking on the sliced apples and sunsettias, you began to space out while chewing on the fruits mindlessly.

Yesterday you were okay. You went hiking somewhere in Sumeru— you can’t remember where exactly. Still, the view was beautiful, and you remember having a picnic with your beloved boyfriends there after reaching your destination. Now here you are, sitting on your bed while eating sliced fruits because you didn’t have breakfast or lunch today. Why did the sadness creep up on you out of nowhere and decide to strike now?

You stop eating the sliced fruits halfway and stare off into space, not knowing that you are staring at your blanket. The men look at each other worriedly before gesturing to one of the men to nudge you. Itto kneels beside your bed and pokes your leg with his long, black nails. You continue to stare at the blanket in front of you, barely blinking.

Itto pouts before dramatically sprawling over your lap. “Onikabuto booboo bear! Give me attention!” Itto whines, reaching up to your face and cupping your face in his hands. 

You blink at Itto and give him a weak smile. “Sorry, Itto. I didn’t mean to space out,” you murmur, stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb.

Itto lets out a huff of breath before nuzzling against your hand while you stroke his cheek. The men around you and Itto roll their eyes but don’t say a thing. At least you smiled, even if it was a small one. Everyone would rather see your tiny smile than a frown on your face. At least your sadness is only temporary, right?

You and the men all thought the same thing. That your seasonal sadness was going to last for only a day, but boy, all of you were wrong. The next day rolls by, and here you are, laying in bed, wrapped in a blanket cocoon. 

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Dainsleif asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

You nod. “I’m sure, Dainsleif. As much as I would love to eat something, I don’t have the energy to get up and go downstairs. That and I don’t have the appetite right now,” you whisper, giving Dainsleif a weak smile. 

Meanwhile, the men downstairs are pacing in the living room while trying to come up with a solution. The men know they can’t force you to automatically feel better and come downstairs to eat. This was the first time they’d seen your sadness affect you this much to the point where you’re skipping meals and only wanting to sleep in. None of them are against you sleeping in and staying in your room all day, but they are against you skipping breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

“What do we do? Do we bring lunch up to their room so they can eat, or do we drag them out from their bed and make them come downstairs to eat?” Xiao asks, leaning against the railing of the stairs and occasionally looking up the stairs. 

Scaramouche snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Xiao. [Y/N] wouldn’t appreciate being dragged out of bed and down the stairs to eat something. If they want to eat something, they’ll do it themselves.” 

While what Scaramouche said sounded harsh, Scaramouche wasn’t lying. The only time you ate upstairs in your bedroom was when you were sick because you could barely stand up without feeling dizzy and feeling weak at the knees. 

Ayato hums and taps on his chin, sitting across from the Harbingers at the dining table. “I believe we should check up on them. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us keeping them company,” Ayato says nonchalantly while shrugging his shoulders.

Back in your bedroom, you’re sprawled out on your bed while Dainsleif stands at the edge of your bed. You and Dainsleif stare at each other, not saying a word. You just want to lay in bed and go back to sleep even though you have taken a nap four times already. Despite napping four times already, you still feel tired. Which isn’t something out of the ordinary for you. You’re always tired, no matter how much sleep you’ve gotten every night. Three hours of sleep? Tired. Eight hours of sleep? Still tired. Taking naps every other hour on the same day? Still tired. 

Dainsleif opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by a knock at your bedroom door. You and Dainsleif look over at the door, breaking eye contact.

“Come in!” You reply, blindly reaching for your other blanket and draping it over yourself.

Kaeya peeks his head into your bedroom, giving you a smile. “Hey, sugarplum, are you alright?” Kaeya asks, opening the door wider before walking into your room.

You shrug your shoulders. “I feel the same as yesterday, unfortunately. Only this time, it’s worse,” you reply.

You roll over and kneel on your bed, your hair sticking all over the place, and you have marks on your face. You close your eyes before plopping face down on your bed, wrapping your arms around your cold pillow. 

“You don’t look too good,” another voice interjects, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You turn your head to the side and look at Albedo. Albedo walks into your room and sits at the edge of your bed, pressing his gloveless hand against your forehead. Albedo furrows his eyebrows and hums, his hand trailing down to your neck, pressing the back of his hand against your neck. 

You sigh and place your hand over Albedo, smiling at him weakly. “Albedo, I’m not sick. I’m still healthy as ever, but….” you trail off, making a face. “It’s that time of the month. My seasonal sadness lasted way longer than the previous one, unfortunately.” 

“I believe that Albedo meant that you look like you hardly slept despite staying in your bedroom all day,” Pierro interjects, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

You snort and gesture for Albedo to help you sit up. Albedo pulls you into his arms and lets you lean against his chest, your head resting on his shoulders while trying not to doze off for the umpteenth time today. You rub your eyes before turning and snuggling against Albedo.

“Don’t I always look tired? I think ever since I got accepted into the Akademiya, I’ve been lacking sleep way more than I already was,” you murmur, closing your eyes. “Now, if you all plan on belittling me for not getting enough sleep and for staying in my bedroom all day, please see yourselves out because I don’t have the energy to deal with it all.”

“We’re not going to belittle you, kitten. Now, everyone, please leave [Y/N]’s room. We’ll do the visitation in small groups instead of having everyone pile up in [Y/N]’s room. It’ll overwhelm them even more than they’re already feeling,” Dottore comments from outside your bedroom. 

You look at them quizzically as the men in your room start to leave your room one by one. Albedo presses a quick kiss on your forehead before walking out of your room. Once Albedo closed your bedroom door shut, you collapsed on your bed and stared at the ceiling. You feel your stomach start to grumble, making you pinch your face and curl into a ball.

Just when you thought you weren’t hungry, your stomach started to say another. The door to your room opens after a few minutes. You turn your head and see Ayato, Childe, Kaeya, and Cyno walk into your room. You give the four men a weak smile and wave them over to your bed while wrapping yourself in a blanket cocoon as they approach closer to your bed.

“We’ve been informed that you’re in need of some comfort,” Ayato says, sitting beside you.

Childe rolls his eyes. “No offense, Lord Ayato, but the way you said it makes you sound like you have a stick up your ass,” Childe comments, sitting on the other side of your bed.

Before Ayato could retort, you groan and unravel your blanket cocoon. You sit up and glare at Ayato and Childe, your hair standing all over the place while you’re huffing and puffing. You let your hands flop in front of you before looking at Childe.

“Childe, please don’t start anything. I’m dealing with internal battles right now. I don’t need to be dealing with two hydro users duking it out in my bedroom,” you said, closing your eyes and releasing a long exhale.

Kaeya chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not surprised that he was the first one to start a conflict. It’s typical for someone like him,” Kaeya snorts.

You give Kaeya a look, almost as if you’re begging him not to fuel the fire. Which you are. You’re not in the mental state to deal with men and their need to start problems amongst each other. Quite frankly, you’re never in the mood to deal with it, but today is the day when you’re not in the mood for it at all. 

Cyno rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Anyway, aside from those three children, how are you really feeling?” Cyno asks, sitting across from you on your bed.

You purse your lips and run your hands through your disheveled hair. “Honestly, other than feeling sad, I want to cry,” you respond truthfully.

You have an overwhelming urge to cry, but you can’t get yourself to cry, ironically enough. Perhaps you need a little nudge to get the tears to start leaking, but no matter what you’re thinking, the tears won’t come out. The four men remain silent, letting you continue to speak.

“I think that if I were to cry, I’d feel better! But so far, I can’t get myself to cry no matter what I’m thinking. I tried thinking about the time when I was so stressed out during my finals, but nothing came out!” You begin patting your cheeks. 

You’re approaching your final year at the Akademiya. Time has flown by so fast. Way too fast for your liking. Finals week at the Akademiya was so stressful that you nearly fainted from lack of sleep and food because of how much you’d been forcing yourself to study for your final exams. It’s gotten to the point where you would go to Baizhu for IV fluids because you weren’t taking care of yourself. You even begged Baizhu not to tell the other men about it, but Changsheng ended up telling the others about it anyway. 

You lacked the amount of sleep you needed every night during finals week, and your sleep schedule has been off ever since. Baizhu prescribed you melatonin pills to take every night before going to bed. But did you take them? In the beginning, you did take them every night! But did you continue to take them after the first few days? No, because it tasted disgusting and almost like chalk. It was so dry and powdery after you chewed it. 

“I want to cry. I really do. I want to cry it all out to feel better, but I can’t. It’s like my tear ducts are dry, and there are no tears left to cry. I’m sad, I want to cry, but I feel so empty,” you whisper, letting your head hang low. 

Childe wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You close your eyes and let your body relax in Childe’s arms. You feel so tired, so worn out, so powerless. You want this feeling to stop. You want to feel happy, like how you were a few days ago. 

You were so happy and content with your life, but it’s all crashing down around you, and there’s no way for you to stop it. You feel trapped. You feel claustrophobic. It feels like you’re buried under so much pressure, and the light at the end of the tunnel is getting farther and farther away from you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. Remember to breathe and relax,” Childe whispers into your ears, stroking your hair while holding you close to him.

Ayato kneels in front of you while Kaeya and Cyno kneel beside him. Ayato squeezes your hand while Kaeya squeezes your other hand. Cyno rubs your biceps while whispering reassuring words to you.

“It’s okay to cry. I know it’s hard, but you’re subconsciously holding back your tears,” Ayato mutters, stroking your cheek.

You look away and squeeze your eyes shut. Why are you holding back your tears? Isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted to cry it all out to feel better, right? If so, then why are you trying so hard not to cry right now? Is it because it’s embarrassing? Or is it because you didn’t want to cry in front of the men? 

“Don’t hold back your tears. It’s okay to cry, you know that, right?” Kaeya murmurs, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at your face. 

You scrunch your face. “I know, but I’m an ugly crier! You all know that!” You whine, letting go of Kaeya and Ayato’s hands to cover your face. “My face gets all blotchy, and my eyes get so swollen that they nearly shut!” You mumble.

Cyno chuckles. “You may think that you’re an ugly crier, but I think you look adorable whenever you cry. It hurts me to see you cry, but sometimes it’s good to cry,” says Cyno, giving your bicep a squeeze. 

You huff and peek at Cyno from behind your fingers. “You’re lying, I know you are,” you grumble playfully, your lips quivering.

It’s hard to tell whether you want to laugh or cry. This reminds you of that one time when Itto and Kaveh made you laugh so hard that you cried while laughing. And the ‘laughing until you cry’ type of laugh turned into you actually crying and no longer laughing. It was strange, and you and your twenty-five boyfriends have no idea how that happened.

Since then, the men have made sure not to make you laugh to the point where there are tears rolling down your cheeks. Your laughter is cute, and it brings everyone joy. Nobody wants to see tears streaming down your cheeks, even if you were laughing. 

Just when Cyno’s about to respond, the door to your bedroom slams open, startling everyone. You look at the entrance to see Itto standing there with his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the four men in your room before pointing at them.

“Times up, gentlemen! It’s our turn now!” Itto says as he, Gorou, Albedo, and Zhongli walks into your room casually.

You raise your eyebrows at the new guests while Kaeya, Cyno, Ayato, and Childe get off your bed and begin to exit your room. “The visitation was timed the entire time?” You ask, grabbing your throw blanket at the edge of your bed and wrapping it around yourself.

“Yes, the visitation is timed. We only decided on timing it because some people are going to hog you for themselves. We don’t want that to happen,” Capitano says, pulling the last person out of your room before closing the door.

After the door has shut, Gorou immediately latches himself by your side and rests his head on your shoulders with his arms around your waist. Itto huffs and narrows his eyes at Gorou, his bottom lip jutting out into a dramatic pout.

“How are you feeling, dearest? We noticed you didn’t leave your room today and were worried about you,” Zhongli says, sitting beside you at the edge of your bed.

You give Zhongli a weak smile. “If I have to be truthful, I’m sad, and I want to cry. Even though I feel this way, I can’t get myself to cry,” you reply, resting your cheek on Gorou’s head.

“It’s okay to feel that way. It’s going to sound repetitive once people are walking in and out of your room, but we mean it. It’s okay to feel sad and want to cry,” Gorou says softly, grabbing your hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. 

You reach out to Zhongli with your other hand, gesturing for him to come closer. Zhongli scoots over to your side and presses a kiss on the side of your head, lacing his fingers with yours. You squeeze Zhongli’s hands and give him a weak smile. It finally dawned on you that the men weren’t wearing their day-to-day attire. Instead, they were all wearing their comfortable clothes instead of shoes— who in the world wears shoes in the house if they’re not leaving the estate or just coming home from somewhere? Anyway, they’re either wearing slippers or just plain socks around the estate.

Albedo looks at you curiously. “You look like you have something on your mind. A Mora for your thoughts?” Albedo asks, resting his head on the palm of his hand.

You give Albedo a sheepish smile. “Ah, it’s nothing. I’m just glad that none of you are wearing shoes in the estate,” you say, releasing Zhongli’s hands and rubbing the back of your neck. “But other than that, there’s a lot going on in my mind, but it’s jumbled up.”

Itto plops on your bed and grabs the onikabuto plush, and lays on top of it. “Do you want to talk about it? I heard that you’ll feel better once you get something off your chest— the stuff that’s been bothering you, I mean,” says Itto, gazing at you curiously. 

You plop forward on the bed, face burying into your mattress. What’s there to talk about? There are a lot of things you want to say, but you don’t think it's important. You’re sad, and it’s not because of a specific thing like failing an exam, even though you didn’t fail your exams. You aced that shit with flying colors because of the number of all-nighters you pulled. 

Archons, but your success wasn’t for nothing. The countless all-nighters and tears shed while studying was insane, but regardless, you still passed with the highest mark in your class. Granted, you did fall asleep after submitting your exam while waiting for your classmates to complete theirs.

Gorou says, “I don’t want to make it seem like I’ve been eavesdropping, but I heard that you told the others you wanted to cry. Is there a reason why exactly? A-again! I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

You lift your head and see Gorou anxiously scratch his ears with a shy smile, his cheeks almost as red as the streaks in Itto’s hair. You smile at Gorou and roll over on your side, taking the onikabuto plush from Itto’s grasp before hugging it to your chest. 

“I wanted to cry it out. I wanted to cry the sadness out, hoping it’ll make me feel better, but of course, I wouldn’t get myself to cry.” You sigh, rubbing the soft onikabuto plush.

Zhongli chuckles softly and runs his fingers through your hair. “You can’t force yourself to cry. Unless you’re an actor or trained yourself to do it, I don’t think it’ll be easy to do that,” Zhongli comments, lightly pinching your cheek.

“I can force myself to cry! All I have to do is think about something sad, and it should trigger tears! But, unfortunately, my tear ducts are dry,” you said lamely. “Plus, I’m an ugly crier, and I don’t want any of you to see my swollen eyes and puffy face when and after I cry.”

Albedo raises his eyebrows at you, the corners of his lips curving up. “But we’ve seen you cry plenty of times before,” says Albedo.

He’s not wrong. You nearly forgot about this one time when you cried for a week straight because of how stressed, tired, and frustrated you were with the Akademiya. It wasn’t about your grades or studies, it was that there were many opportunities offered to you, but you weren’t able to snatch them up because people would beat you to it because they succeeded more than you did in the Akademiya.

The students that were able to get these opportunities before you did were students of the Akademiya way before you were accepted. That, and they’re also incredibly intelligent and talented; they’re your seniors, and you look up to them. Heck, they were students there before you were thrown into Genshin Impact. Sometimes you forget that you’re in a video game, a video game you love so much because it keeps your mind occupied when the thoughts in your head are getting too loud for you to handle. 

“Still. I’m an ugly crier, and it’s almost humiliating to be crying in front of people, no matter who they are.” You grumble.

The moment was interrupted by the door slamming open again. You sigh and turn to face the door, glaring at the perpetrator that slammed the door open. Venti, Xiao, Kazuha, Aether, and Heizou look at you and the four Geo men sheepishly, rubbing the back of their necks or shaking their heads at one another. Then there’s Scaramouche, looking unapologetic compared to the other five beside him. Classic Scaramouche.

“You guys need to stop slamming doors open. If you guys continue to do that, the doorhandle will punch a hole in the wall someday,” you comment.

Aether points at you. “But it didn’t now, did it?” Aether asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “Not yet, it didn’t,” you grumble before turning to look at the Geo men with a small smile. “Looks like that’s your cue to leave.”

Before Zhongli, Albedo, Itto, and Gorou leave your bedroom, each man kisses your cheek, forehead, and head before walking towards the door. Once the last person left, Heizou closed the door while Venti trotted over to you and plopped on your bed with a smile.

Venti grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. “How are you doing, Windblume? Need me to play a tune or two to distract you from your lingering thoughts?” Venti asks, lacing his fingers with yours.

You close your eyes and nod. “That would be nice, actually. I would love for you to play a few songs to distract me from my thoughts,” you reply, scooting closer to Venti.

Venti throws his arm over your torso and nuzzles up against you, resting his chin on your head, and closes his eyes. Aether, Kazuha, Heizou, Xiao, and Scaramouche sit on the edges of your bed, trying to get a better understanding of the situation.

Kazuha clears his throat. “Thoma would like for me to inform you that he and Diluc will be bringing lunch up for you to eat. You didn’t come down to eat, and it made everyone worried,” Kazuha says, brushing his fringe away from his eyes before smiling down at you.

You crack your eyes open and turn to look at Kazuha, smiling at him sleepily. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll say thank you to Diluc and Thoma when they’re here,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes. You yawn and stretch your arms, letting out a strained groan.

“Oh? Our time with you has just started. Are you getting bored of us already?” Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at you while crossing his arms over his chest.

You blink at Scaramouche sleepily before facing the ceiling and letting your eyelids flutter shut. Now that you think about it, sleepiness is starting to overtake you. You lost count of how many times you’ve napped today, and here you are, on the verge of falling asleep at any moment. You exhale deeply through your nostrils and rub your eyes with the heel of your hands.

You jokingly say, “I’m not getting tired of the others, but I am getting tired of your sassiness, Scaramouche,” you say, peeking at him from between your fingers. “If you were nicer, maybe I wouldn’t get tired of your presence so quickly.”

Scaramouche narrows his eyes at you before reaching forward and pinching your nose hard. You groan and whack his hand away from your nose. Once Scaramouche releases your nose, you rub your aching nose while glaring at him. Xiao gives Scaramouche a disapproving look and nudges the man beside him, making Scaramouche roll his eyes at the Yaksha.

Heizou snorts and shakes his head. “I’m glad to see you have the energy to sass back at Scaramohche. I love seeing the sassy side of you, angel. You never cease to make me smile,” says Heizou, smiling at you sweetly. 

You blink at Heizou, a lazy smile slowly making an appearance on your face. “I can say the same about you, Heizou. Seeing that cute smile of yours always brings a smile to my face,” you say, reaching toward Heizou.

Heizou grabs your hand before kissing your knuckles. Xiao closes his eyes and rests his head on his hand. He opens his eyes and stares at you intently. You give Xiao a small smile and pull your hand from Heizou’s grasp, brushing Xiao’s hair away from his face. Xiao continues to stare at you, not saying a word.

You look at Xiao with a questioning look. “What’s on your mind?” You ask.

Xiao blinks at you. “I should be the one asking you that question,” he murmurs, placing his hand over yours. “You know we’re always here for you, right?” Xiao asks, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“I do, Xiao. I know that all of you are at my side no matter what,” you whisper.

Kazuha gets up and walks over to your desk, skimming his eyes over the contents on your table. Notes, chapstick, photo albums of you and the men, letters, pens, pencils, etc. Kazuha grabs the small picture frame on your desk and stares at the picture, a small smile appearing. “We want you to be happy, and it hurts us to see you go through this. Just know that you’re never alone, and you can come to us to talk about anything. We’ll do everything we can to help you,” Kazuha murmurs, turning around and leaning on your desk. 

You roll over on your bed and get off your bed, stretching your legs after laying in your bed for however long. You stretch your arms and legs. “I know I can rely on all of you. The only issue is me feeling like a burden whenever I come to you guys for help,” you reply.

“You will never be a burden to us all, [Y/N]. You mean the world to us, and we’re incredibly proud of you for your achievements since your arrival,” Aether says, standing before you.

Your bottom lip quivers at Aether’s comment. You shake your head and look away from Aether, pressing your lips into a thin line. Just when you thought your tear ducts were dry and you couldn’t get yourself to shed a tear, Aether somehow manages to strike a chord in you. 

You’re so drained from the last few weeks that you can barely remember conversations from a few minutes ago. Hearing Aether say that (the others before him probably said the same thing, but to be frank, your memory can’t go that far at the moment) makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You also feel relieved, in a way. Almost seen.

Heizou’s eyes widen. “You’re not going to cry, are you?” Heizou asks, getting up from the bed and immediately standing beside Aether in front of you.

Venti and Scaramouche look from over Aether and Heizou’s shoulders, looking at you worriedly. You laugh and shake your head, unsure of how to answer. Yeah, you’re about to cry, but you don’t want to admit it because, again, it’s humiliating to cry in front of people, no matter how close you are to them.

Scaramouche snorts and walks to you. “You don’t need to lie about crying. We know that you haven’t been feeling like yourself lately, and it’s okay if you want to cry,” Scaramouche caresses your cheek and brushes the stray tear that made its way down your cheek.

Venti stops beside Scaramouche and nudges him. “You’re going to make them cry! You know it’ll hurt me to see them cry!” Venti whispers, giving Scaramouche a tight-lipped smile.

Your once-closed bedroom door slams open, startling everyone in the room. The tears you were about to shed soon disappear, and you close your eyes, shaking your head. One day…. One day, the doorknob is going to make a hole in the wall with how many times these men have slammed your bedroom door open.

“We’ll be cutting the separate visitation short due to time,” Pierro says.

Diluc and Thoma shoot each other a look when they walk into your room with trays of food and snacks.

“Why so sudden? And don’t say time because you said that already,” Diluc says, narrowing his eyes at the first Harbinger.

Thoma shakes his head and places the food tray on your nightstand before gesturing for you to come over. You give Scaramouche’s hand a squeeze before walking to the nightstand where Thoma is standing beside. You sit on your bed and grab the food tray, placing it on your lap and taking a slice of the small pizza.

Thoma sits beside you and rubs your back. “I know you get this asked a lot already, but how are you feeling? Your eyes are a little bit red,” Thoma murmurs, tilting his head to the side while gazing at you worriedly.

You wipe your mouth and look at the pizza before you. “I’m exhausted. Everything is draining, and I’m trying my best to feel better,” you reply. “Maybe I’m feeling this way because I’m hungry.” 

Thoma pats his shoulder. “You can rest your head on my shoulders if you’d like.” Thoma offers, giving you a closed-eye smile.

You smile and silently thank him before laying your head on his shoulder while taking a bite out of the slice of pizza in your hand. While you’re eating your pizza, more men start to pile into your bedroom, trying not to push each other over.

Baizhu places a prescription bottle on your nightstand. “These are your melatonin pills. I recommend taking them every day an hour before your usual bedtime,” he says, smiling at you.

You nod and continue to space out while finishing up your pizza.

“Do you, perhaps, want to talk to us about anything? Anything to get off your chest?” Al Haitham asks, sitting on the ground in front of you.

You shake your head, continuing to eat your pizza while staring into space. Your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy, making you cover your mouth and yawn. 

Tighnari sits beside you, sighing and stroking your hair. “You don’t need to explain anything to us, alright? Finish up your pizza, and we’ll let you get some sleep,” Tighnari murmurs.

You shake your head and place the slice of pizza on the plate, putting the tray on the nightstand beside the melatonin pills. “I’m just going to bed right now. I don’t think I can finish my food,” you murmur, hunching over and burying your face in your hand.

Kaveh sighs in relief. “We’re just glad that you ate something. On an unrelated note, I call dibs on snuggling with you!” Kaveh says, pushing Thoma and Tighnari away while climbing onto your bed.

Al Haitham glares at Kaveh while Kaveh gets comfortable on your bed and pulls your blanket over his body. “Are you serious right now, Kaveh?” Al Haitham grumbles.

Kaveh shrugs. “Hey, I called dibs! If you want to snuggle with [Y/N], then you can do it on your own time when I’m not the one that’s snuggling with them,” Kaveh retorts.

Kaveh pokes your back to grab your attention and pats the spot beside him. You rest your head on Kaveh’s biceps, snuggling against his chest while he tosses the blanket over your body.

Dottore chuckles and nudges Kaveh with his foot. “Just to let you know, we’ll allow you to snuggle with [Y/N]....” Dottore trails off.

From across the room, Dainsleif raises his eyebrows at Dottore, crossing his arms over his chest. “If….?” 

Pantalone smiles innocently. “If we all get to take turns, of course! It wouldn’t be fair for the rest of us, now, would it?” Pantalone asks.

Kaveh huffs and wraps his arms over your torso, burying his face into your neck. “Fine, we can do that.” Kaveh mutters against your neck.

Capitano looks over at you. “Are you okay with that?” 

You nod, hugging Kaveh’s arm. “I’m okay with that. I feel safe and comfortable when I’m with all of you,” you whisper, slowly dozing off. “Thank you for being there for me. I really appreciate it.”

Thoma smiles and strokes your hair. “We’ll always be there for you, [Y/N]. Now, get some sleep.” 

The last thing you remember before falling asleep was each man taking turns kissing your forehead goodnight.

Note: Ah. Idk how I feel about the ending, but this is just a filler fic for this week ;v; Also, the fic ended quick because I am this 🤏🏻 close to falling asleep at my computer. Hopefully, I will get an idea for next week's fic. This quarter has been nothing but stressful. I barely have time for Genshin and Honkai Star Rail 🥲 anyway, my inbox is opened, but I am not accepting any requests at the moment. Especially when I'm in the middle of a stressful quarter at my university. I'm also going to redo the request form, too, so yeah. To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling Ch. 13 - Falling

You try to find a way to repay Joel for all his kindness. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-12 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 5.9k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

For a change, you wished you’d paid more attention to your mother. 

She’d tried to teach you how to sew. She’d tried to teach you plenty of times. She had this antique notion in her head that you should know how to embroider shit, that you should be able to repair your future husband’s shirts and socks and jeans and make your future babies little onesies. She’d tried to teach you to hand stitch and use a sewing machine and every time you counted the seconds until you could go do something - anything - else. Ride horses, play music, read. Hell, math homework sounded better than stabbing yourself in the finger with a needle for no damn reason. 

Besides, with a Wal-Mart in every town, who even needed to sew anymore? 

You regretted that at the end of the world.

You’d had to figure it out when you were living on your own in the wilderness. You’d traded for more clothes and the things to keep them in good working order but that didn’t get you far when you couldn’t actually sew. The first repair you made didn’t hold well and you had to redo it again and again. Eventually, you could at least keep your clothes functional without wasting your precious few materials but you’d never done a particularly nice looking job. The stitches were never the same size or evenly spaced and doing any kind of design was completely out of the question. 

You wished it wasn’t though. 

“Ow,” you muttered to yourself, stabbing your thumb with the needle yet again. You sucked the bead of blood off your fingertip. “Fuckin’…” 

You were going to have to call it good soon otherwise you’d never actually finish this damn thing. You’d already spent far too much time on making something as simple as a guitar strap out of canvas, flannel and denim from the scrap pile and leather from saddle bags damaged in the raider attack. If you’d actually bothered to learn how to properly sew, you were certain that you’d have finished the fucking thing weeks ago. And that it would look much better than it did after all that extra work. 

But at least it was useable. And it looked like something Joel would like. Or you thought it did, anyway. You hoped it did. 

It was, in fact, hard to figure out what to give someone at the end of the world. It’s not like you could go to the mall and browse and, while you were closer to Joel than you were to any other person in town, you didn’t know him intimately enough to know things that he deeply longed for or needed but wouldn’t get for himself. Even though you were starting to think you wanted to know him in that way. A thought that made your heart flutter and head get light. 

But you’d watched him play guitar enough that you thought he wanted a strap for his guitar and you were pretty sure he didn’t have one. So you’d gathered the materials and started piecing it together, just making up everything as you went along. It’s not like you had a pattern or much of a plan to speak of. You just found ways to make even cuts, pinned it all together and did your best to make it look like someone besides a clumsy toddler had sewed the damn thing. 

Overall, you were pretty happy with how it was turning out. Had turned out. It was done now if you could just stop fucking with it. You held it up, looking it over, eyes catching on every flaw in the stitching. 

“Think he’s gonna like it?” You asked no one, an old habit that was hard to break after spending years with almost no interaction with other people. “Fuckin’ hope he likes it.” 

You’d tried to make it something special, something that would speak to Joel somehow. The outer layer of fabric was a subtle plaid flannel, one like he wore so frequently you figured he had to like it. The underside was thick, sturdy denim, the leg of a pair of pants that had one side shredded by barbed wire while the other was left intact. You’d brought the scrap leather around the bottom and even burned Joel’s initials into it using nails that you’d shaped into the letters yourself. 

You’d found Tommy working on building something in town one day and you picked up a few bent nails off the ground. 

“What’re you tryin’ to get away with?” He called after you as you headed back home. “Know you’re itchin’ to cause trouble…” 

“Makin’ a voodoo doll so I can fuck with you when you’re not around,” you replied. “Needed somethin’ sharp.”

“You would,” he laughed. “Gonna get you back one of these days, Bambi!” 

“Lemme know when you got the brain power for it, Miller!” 

It took a surprising amount of force to bend the nails into the right shape but you got them eventually, the M in two parts because doing that many bends in one piece of metal wasn’t going well. Then, you heated them up and burned the letters into the leather, ignoring how your hip itched where you’d been branded years earlier as you worked. You anchored the ends of the fabric into the leather and added loops to hook onto the guitar. 

You still felt strangely nervous as you wrapped the guitar strap in paper and tied string around it even though you knew you’d done everything you could and it wasn’t going to get any better. The strap was holding together well, the stitches were at least in fairly straight lines if not equally spaced and evenly sized - and you doubted Joel would even notice things like that - but it still made your chest tight. It had been a long time since you’d given someone like Joel anything at all. But you wanted to. 

The night he’d returned from hunting Simon, he’d walked you home with his arm around you, holding you to his side. His knuckles were bloody and bruised as he pressed his nose into your hair. When he went to leave you on your porch, you caught his wrist and held him there, feeling his heart beat below your fingertips. 

“Stay,” you said, knowing you were all but begging him not to leave but you didn’t care if it was pathetic. You didn’t want to be far from him. You didn’t want to try to rest without him. “Please.” 

He slept next to you again, his damaged hand gently cradling your face in the dark, the steady rise and fall of his chest so close to yours comforting you enough that you could relax for the first time since you’d watched him ride away. 

You weren’t sure how to repay him for that kindness. 

It didn’t help that you weren’t sure what you were to Joel, what he was to you. It was the end of the world, after all, labels seemed silly at a certain point. Besides, what did you call someone you sometimes shared a bed with but were too afraid to go into their house? Whose touch you longed for but just the thought of him undressing you made you very nearly panic? Who you wanted to be around all the time but couldn’t bring yourself to tell the things that hurt you most? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure what he’d want to be, either. 

But you wanted to give him something. You had for weeks, wanted to do something after for letting you play his guitar, for helping you through the pain of finding your home burned to the ground, for giving you who knows how many shirts now, for being a good and decent man in a world where it seemed like there weren’t any. 

Then, he’d saved your life. Again. And killed the men who’d tried to hurt you, the man who’d possibly sold you out to the people who had taken everything from you, to keep you safe.

You couldn’t repay all that. You wouldn’t even know where to begin. 

So you finally finished the fucking guitar strap. 

Joel opened his front door before you’d had a chance to knock and smiled. 

“Hey,” his eyes were so soft and the edges of them crinkled when he smiled like that. “Was just about to make some tea, want some?” 

“Sure,” you said, trying to smile back but you weren’t sure you managed it, your heart in your throat. You thrust the small, paper-wrapped package forward and stared at his chest instead of his face. Or you tried to, anyway. You still glanced up at him and caught him frowning, brows scrunched together in question. 

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it from you and turning it over in his hands. 

“Nothin’ crazy, don’t get excited,” you stuck your hands in your back pockets. “Just somethin’ I thought you might need so I made it…” 

“You made this?” He asked, smiling again as he held the package up. You nodded, cheeks getting hot. 

“Like I said, It’s nothing crazy…” you muttered, clenching your jaw as you looked off the porch, anywhere but directly at him. 

He properly stepped outside, going for the stairs and sitting on the top one. You sat next to him, your nerves calming a little bit now that you were in this more familiar setting. You’d still never been inside his house but you were starting to want to. Want to go behind closed doors with him, be truly alone with him in his space, be that close to him, know him that well. 

He unwrapped it slowly, pulling it free of the paper, a confused frown on his face at first before he gently, almost reverently, unfolded it. 

“You made this?” He asked quietly, looking at you with raised brows. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged awkwardly. “Look at it too close and you wouldn’t need to ask that…” 

“This is incredible,” he cut you off, running his fingers over his initials in the leather, a sense of almost awe in his voice. “I love it, this is…” 

He looked up from the guitar strap to look at you for a moment, his eyes ranging over your face. 

“Would… would you let me try somethin’?” He asked. 

You weren’t sure if you could speak, your heart in your throat. Instead you just nodded. 

He reached one large hand forward slowly and gently took your cheek in his hand before pulling you - slowly, gently - toward him, until his face was aligned with yours. You froze, your breath catching as his lips pressed softly into your temple. It took you a moment to remember to actually breathe and you took a shaky inhale as he held you close, his mouth against your skin. 

He pulled back as slowly as he’d touched you, looking over you again like he was waiting for you to bolt. Which, you figured, was a fair thing to worry about, given your track record. But instead of relief at the distance, you resented it. He was only inches away but it was too far now. Your head dropped to his shoulder, the skin he’d just kissed pressed against him as you moved closer until your whole body was against his side. 

That was better. 

“Really love it, Sweetheart,” he said softly, his thumb running over the leather again. “I’ve been wishin’ I had one of these and this is so much better than I could have hoped for. Thank you.” 

“Glad you like it,” you said, staying close to him.

“Not some occasion I don’t know about is it?” He asked, voice light, teasing. 

“You’ve just done a lot for me,” you shrugged. “Wanted to do something for you. And I realized that I’ve known you the better part of a year so there’s a good chance I missed your birthday.” 

He chuckled. 

“Haven’t missed that,” he said. “Don’t really celebrate it but… didn’t miss it.” 

You frowned. 

“You should,” you said. “Celebrate it, I mean. When is it?” 

“September 26th.” 

“Oh shit,” you laughed once, darkly. “Yeah, alright, can see why you might not want to throw a party.” 

He laughed a little. 

“Yeah, hard to want to celebrate the worst day of your life,” he said. He paused for a moment before he pressed a kiss into the crown of your head. “When’s yours?” 

“November 1st,” you said. “It was great when I was a kid, my parents let me stay home from school so I could be out late for Halloween. Always ate too much candy with my friends the night before and then spent the day of with my horses.”

“Little different now,” he said. 

You laughed and pressed closer to him. His arm went around the back of you, his hand going to your hip, holding you to his side. 

“Just a bit.” 

You sat there with him for a moment, just listening to him breathe, the birds chirping in the trees nearby. It was comforting, the sound and feel of his existence. 

“Should go get the guitar,” he said quietly. “Try this out.” 

“In a minute?” You asked, adjusting slightly to see part of his face while still being pressed against him. 

He was quiet for a second before you felt his lips in your hair again, his nose nuzzling against you. 

“Course. In a minute.” 

You stayed like that for what felt like a while, quiet and tucked against him, his thumb slipping below your shirt to brush the skin at your hip. You closed your eyes and breathed deep, focusing on the breeze on your skin, the heat of Joel at your side, the woodsy musk of him, the sound of the wildlife just out of reach. It was like you could feel everything within you, the way your lungs moved, your heart beat, your blood flowed, in tune and safe with Joel beside you. 

Eventually, you sat up slowly and opened your eyes again, the side that had been against his feeling oddly cool with the space between you. 

He turned to face you and leaned into you, his forehead against your temple, his nose brushing your cheek. He took a deep breath against you before sitting up again. 

“Right back,” he said, voice oddly gruff. 

He took a little longer than he usually did to get the guitar but, when he came outside with it, the strap was attached. He went to drape it over you but you leaned into the railing of the stairs, stopping him. 

“It’s for you, you have to be the first one to use it,” you smiled. “That’s the rule.” 

He smiled back, making his cheek dimple. 

“Alright,” he put it on and sat down, admiring the leather and running his thumb over the stitching on the flannel before looking at you. “Any requests? I’ll play if you sing.” 

You thought for a moment. 

“Know Just Like Heaven? The Cure?” 

You hummed a little. He laughed. 

“Yeah, know that one,” he said. “Just gotta swear you won’t show me up with it when I give the guitar over.” 

“Promise,” you smiled. 

He tapped out the time on the body of the guitar and then started to play. You just listened for a moment, all but forcing him to loop back around on the intro before you came in with the lyrics. 

“Show me how you do that trick…” 

Joel handed the guitar over after one song, before you were really ready for him to. You liked making music with him, there was an intimacy to it that you hadn’t found in anything else. You’d never done much of that in the past, never wanted to perform so never taken up with a band in your youth. Your music had always been just for you. Joel was the first person you’d ever known that you wanted to share it with in that way. 

He chuckled when he handed the guitar off to you and you frowned at him. 

“Promised you tea,” he said. “’Sides, rather hear you play for a bit.” 

He joined you on the porch again later, you just playing whatever chords popped into your head, no real melody to it. Joel put the cup of tea beside you and sat on the step below you, stretching his legs out, leaning back against the railing and closing his eyes. It looked comfortable, so you did the same, facing the other way so you could look at him, the shadows and filtered sunlight from the leaves of the nearby tree dappling over his skin. 

You liked to look at Joel. You hadn’t ever really had the excuse to do it for a long period of time before but it was easy to fall into it now that you had the opportunity. Your eyes traced over his face, the creases around his eyes, the arch of his nose, the graying hair and beard, his features soft and relaxed as he sat, arms crossed, listening to you play. 

For a second - a split second, one that you doubt you’d have paid much mind to even just five years ago let alone before the world ended - you wanted to kiss him. Wanted to put the guitar down, find your place on this thick legs, lean your body against his and press your lips against his own. You wanted to feel his mouth on you, feel him breathing, slip your tongue past his teeth and see just how he tasted. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair and hold him against you and find out where his hands would find a home on you. 

You froze for a moment, a thrill of fear running up your spine the second you actually processed what that would mean. That you’d be that close to someone, that out of control of your own body. It made your chest get tight. Joel opened one eye, frowning a little. You’d stopped playing without really realizing it. 

“Everything OK?” 

“Fine,” you said, looking down at the guitar. Looking at him was apparently dangerous. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Course.” 

“If you don’t got other shit to do tomorrow afternoon, I need to take a few of the new horses out and try to open ‘em up in a less controlled environment,” you said, absently plucking quiet notes on the guitar. “Could use another set of hands. If you’re up for it.” 

Joel smiled a little. 

“Make you a deal.” 

“Really gonna try and barter?” You raised your brows. 

“Movie night tonight,” he said. “You go to that, I’ll help tomorrow.” 

“What movie?” You frowned a little. 

“Pretty Woman, I think.” 

“Pretty Woman,” you snickered. 

“What?” 

“You’re gonna go watch Pretty Woman?” You were skeptical. “Just on your own if I don’t go, you’re gonna go watch Pretty Woman.” 

“Maybe I will,” he smirked. “Before you agree, you gotta actually sit down for it. We can sit at the back and I’ll be there but no standin’ back against the wall.” 

You made a face. 

“Bambi.” 

“Fine,” you groaned and kicked his thigh lightly. “Gettin’ to be just as bad as Tommy, making demands and shit.” 

He laughed a little, the arm closer to you going to rest between your calves, his hand finding your knee and he closed his eyes again, a small smile on his face. Your heart beat a little faster.

“You were going to help me even if I didn’t go, weren’t you.” 

He shrugged. 

“Never know now, will ya?” 

You laughed a little and took a sip of tea before going back to playing. 

Joel put his arm around your waist to walk to movie night and it stayed there as people milled around, picking seats. 

“Want to sit away from an aisle or next to one?” He asked, holding you to his side. 

“On an aisle,” you said quickly. That would make it easier to run. If needed. Joel just nodded toward two seats on an end and let you pick first. You took the inside one and Joel took the seat on the aisle, draping his arm over the back of your chair and, as the lights dimmed, you sank against his side, your head going to his chest. For a moment, before the movie started, you could hear his heart beat. You could have sworn it got faster when his nose brushed against your hair. 

***

Seeing you with Ares made Joel nervous. 

Consciously, he knew it shouldn’t. It wasn’t the horse that was the problem before, it was Simon. And Simon was no longer an issue. Joel had made sure of that. Ares was just another animal and you were nothing if not an expert with animals. 

But it was still a thing that had damn near killed you. And watching you saddle him up, pet him, speak in that soothing voice to him made Joel uneasy, his stomach knotting as he clenched his jaw. 

“You’re sure he’s ready for this,” Joel was skeptical. You gave him a look and he ground his teeth a little. “Look, I know he’s had problems…” 

“He was just stubborn,” you reached up and gave the massive horse’s head a scratch. He leaned into your touch, his large head nudging your chest. “He knows we’re on the same side now. Don’t you?” 

The horse dragged a hoof along the stable floor and you smiled. 

“See?” You looked at Joel, your face bright and open, always looking your most relaxed around animals. “We’re good.” 

You had Joel ride a calmer mare, Cassiopeia, while you took Ares. You led a third horse, Hera, behind you and Joel watched as you took a deep breath as the two of you left the town’s walls and headed out into the wilds. 

“Promise not to laugh at me?” You asked, your smile broad under the shadow of your straw cowboy hat now that the two of you were about a mile out of town and truly on your own. You had on one of Joel’s shirts, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows and the bottom of it tied around your waist in the heat. 

“Can’t help it if you say somethin’ funny,” he half smiled at you. You ignored him.

“Any time I work with more than one horse, I always want to do Roman Riding,” you crinkled your nose as you said it and Joel frowned. 

“I don’t know what the fuck that is.” 

You laughed and shook your head a little. 

“Forget that you weren’t a cowboy before,” you said. “Just seem like you would have been. It’s trick riding, where you ride two or more horses at once, side by side, each foot on a different horse.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel shook his head and smiled. “Was your hobby tryin’ to get yourself killed?” 

“Sometimes,” you smirked. “One trick is called a suicide drag after all…” 

“It’s a miracle you survived to the end of the world,” he said. 

You laughed. 

“And just think, that’s the only riding my mother was OK with me doin’,” you said. “But it worked out. That’s the only reason I was able to get up on Samson the day he threw Ellie and who knows what would’ve happened then. Been a while but I remembered how to get on a runnin’ horse.” 

Joel looked at you for a moment. He’d brought you to Jackson to save your life. He hadn’t expected anything more from you except to survive. But instead you’d become a part of the fabric of life there, your work with the horses essential to the survival of the place he’d come to love. 

You’d become essential to him, too. This core piece, he’d realized, something that couldn’t be pulled away without critical damage. 

It had been so long since Joel had felt anything like this for a woman. Most of his life, really. 

Before the outbreak, his life has revolved around his daughter. He worked more than he wanted to give her a good life and, when he wasn’t busting his ass at a job site, he just wanted to be with her. Friends were already too much of a time commitment let alone a girlfriend. There were occasional lovers, a few casual dates and sex or even just a woman he picked up at a bar on nights Sarah spent at a friend’s, a woman who wasn’t interested in anything more than a night of satisfying sex. He hadn’t been looking for love and it certainly never jumped out and bit him in the ass. 

After the outbreak had been worse. 

He had no desire to want anyone, care for anyone at all let alone love them. He fucked women when they offered - the world was over, why deny yourself what little pleasure there was left in it - but the thought of feeling something for anyone was horrifying. 

Tess changed that. He’d come close to loving her that way, or he thought he had, at least. He’d cared about her more than he had anyone else but he was never able to love her, not in the way he thought he should have been able to. He wasn’t stupid, he saw what she felt. But any time he even considered falling into that with her he’d shock away from it. Falling was the exact word to use, something that he’d have no control over and could kill him when he hit the bottom. He’d stood on the edge of that cliff with Tess, caring enough to want to jump but too afraid to do it. And then she was gone because he’d failed to hold up his end of the bargain. He’d failed to protect her. 

You were different. Maybe it was because you appeared in his world after he’d loved Ellie. Maybe you were so inevitable that he’d have fallen regardless, tripped over that cliff’s edge and plummeted toward the bottom, all but welcoming what he’d find there. He hadn’t intended it, hadn’t wanted it but you were just… you. Beautiful and brave and smart and so damn alive in a world that, for so long, had been so dead. He hadn’t been able to help it and, once he’d started falling, he couldn’t stop it any more than he could stop hurdling toward the ground after tumbling off the cliff. 

And he was in it now. The incident with Simon in the barn had proven that, the fear that gripped him stronger than anything he’d felt in so long. It was worse than when his own life was under threat, far worse, akin only to what he’d felt when he knew Ellie had been hurt. What had been an amorphous thing hanging on the edges of his consciousness was suddenly clear and at the forefront: He loved you. Without meaning to, he loved you. Without wanting that kind of connection with anyone, he loved you. Without thinking that would ever be possible, he loved you. He would do anything and everything for you if it would keep you safe, make you happy because he loved you.

But there was a sense of guilt with it, too. You hadn’t told him what happened to you but he could hazard a guess. You didn’t want to be touched - though you said you liked his touch - but touching you was sometimes all he could think about doing. Ranging his hands to feel every inch of your skin - you would be soft, he knew you would be so soft - and pulling you close to him to kiss you. Really, properly kiss you, taste you, have you tight against his body as he swallowed every delicious moan and whimper you let slip from you. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted it so much it was almost painful. 

He was starting to think that you wanted it, too. The way you fit yourself into his arms, the way you’d guided his hand to your body, the way you relaxed into his lips when he brushed them against your skin. But Joel couldn’t ask you for more. Not when it could hurt you. Even if he wanted it, even though sometimes that felt like all he wanted, what you wanted was more important. 

“Challenge for you, Miller,” you smiled, almost smirking, watching him as you pulled him out of his own head. 

“Shoot.” 

“Race you,” you said. “Out to the trial head and back to where we tie out the third horse.” 

Joel looked at the distance, probably half a mile round trip. 

“I’ll make it interesting,” your voice had a teasing edge to it. 

“You’ve got my attention,” he smiled a little. 

“If I win, you have to make me more of those chips,” you said. “Say… four times. Whenever I want.” 

“And what do I get if I win?” He asked, brows raised. 

“What do you want?” 

You. 

He didn’t say that. 

“Two movie nights, two bar nights,” he said. “Have to sit down for the movies and dance at the bar.” 

You scrunched you nose for a second. 

“You drive a hard bargain, but done,” you said, slipping off Ares to tie Hera off. Joel smiled a little, watching you. You climbed back on the horse and settled into the saddle, cracking your neck and loosening up your arms. “Ready to lose to a girl?” 

“Don’t think there’s much shame in losin’ to you, all things considered,” Joel laughed a little. “But don’t matter, not going to lose.” 

You patted Ares’ neck and shook your head a little before adjusting your grip on the reins. 

“Ready,” you said, staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed, your horse in alignment with Joel’s. “Set. Go!” 

You shot forward, Joel half a second behind you. He pushed Cassiopeia faster, harder, but it was no use. You were just better. There was a lag between Joel’s action and Cassiopeia’s reaction, time for her to understand what he was asking of her. But that didn’t seem to exist with you and Ares, his movements and yours in perfect sync. 

He caught a glimpse of your face just as you turned to run back the other way, smiling like you were having the time of your damn life, eyes wide open and eager instead of cautious and afraid. 

You, smiling and happy and secure, had quickly become Joel’s favorite sight in the world. He’d seen it the night before at the movie, too. It took some time, your body stiff against his for the first half hour or so. But, after a while, you relaxed into him, smiling and laughing and making snarky little observations in his ear and he’d do anything you asked of him, anything at all, to make you feel that happy and safe all the time. 

You reached Hera a few seconds before Joel, bringing Ares about to watch him close the gap. You just shook your head, pulling your horse alongside his, facing the opposite way. 

“You let me win!” You shoved him playfully. 

“No I did not,” he laughed. “You beat me fair and square I’m afraid.” 

“Damn,” you were still smiling, leaning forward in the saddle to pat Ares’ neck. “And here I wanted an excuse to go with you to the bar.” 

The two of you led the horses down trails at first, their first time going through anything but open land with a person on their backs, and then moved to winding through the woods off trail. You switched out horses regularly, each of them disconcerted by navigating the more crowded, natural environment while taking commands at first. But you got them to be more comfortable with it and, by the end of the day, they were taking your commands just as easily as they did in open country. 

“Trade me,” you said, dismounting from Ares. Joel frowned. 

“Sure it’s a good idea…” he began but you waved him off. 

“He’s fine, Joel,” you laughed a little. “Really. Wouldn’t let you get on ‘em if he wasn’t safe.” 

“I get thrown off this damn horse…” He got off Hera and went to Ares, standing so close to you in front of the horse that he could feel you beside him. 

“Then I’ll watch however many movies you want,” you looked up at him, teasing. 

“Alright,” he sighed, offering the larger horse his palm. He sniffed it, skeptically, paying closer attention to you than to Joel. 

“You know him,” you said, voice soothing and soft, dragging your nails gently over the underside of Ares’ long jaw. “He’s a friend, he’s good, we can trust him…” 

Joel watched you, almost feeling like he shouldn’t, like he was intruding on a private conversation with a dear companion. But even if he were, he wouldn’t have been able to tear himself away. He loved what you were saying too much to turn away from it, his heart swelling with it. You trusted him. Of everyone left in this godforsaken world, you trusted him. 

Ares pressed his velvet muzzle into his hand. 

“Good boy,” you kissed the horse’s massive head and took better hold of the reins, turning your attention to Joel. “See? He’s harmless. Hop up.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel smiled - couldn’t help but smile - and climbed onto Ares. 

You were right, Ares was fine. You took over Hera and led Cassiopeia as the two of you worked your way through the forest back to a trail and, eventually, back toward Jackson. Ares responded well to Joel’s commands, calm and trusting, nothing like the horse that you’d cautioned him against touching so recently. You’d done just what you’d said you’d do, made it so he would be a good, reliable mount for patrol, no longer the wild creature he once was.

The two of you were almost back to the trail when your face fell. 

“Joel?” You said, the tension obvious in your voice. He rode alongside you and you nodded toward a tree. There was a clean, clear x cut, about shoulder height, into the trunk. Like someone marking a location. “Look like something anyone from Jackson might do?” 

“No,” Joel shook his head, brows drawn together. “No, it doesn’t.” 

You looked at him, the relaxed joy he’d seen in you all day entirely gone. 

“We’ll report it,” he said, nudging Ares a bit closer to you, as close as the horses could really get. “Get a team out here…” 

“We don’t want to check it out now?” You asked. Your whole body was stiff. Hera stomped her feet below you and she chuffed unhappily. 

You were afraid. 

“No,” Joel said. “We’re not equipped to go huntin’ anyone down. We go back. Nothin’ that says they’re here now, not going to risk you. We go back, tell Tommy, make sure we’re equipped to handle whatever it is.”

Your eyes searched his, wide and vulnerable, and he wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close. Close enough that he knew you were safe. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said, holding your gaze. “I promise. I’ll keep you safe. Promise I will.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Eeeeeeeeek!

Y'all. They are so close. I promise. Next chapter ramps everything up and I've been looking forward to writing it for a while now. I hope you'll enjoy reading it, too!

Thanks for sticking this story out! I know it's been a hell of a slow burn but I've loved getting to settle Joel and Bambi into this comfortable place and building their trust and relationship before we move on to the next part.

I do have an updates blog. Follow and subscribe for post alerts to get an alert whenever I post a new chapter! I promise I won't spam ya!

I so appreciate you all being here and I love you more than words can express. Thank you thank you thank you!

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[draco-glacialis]

Down a similar vein of my Agatha is a god a tech rant; what kind of things would the coven post and how popular are they?

Billy has the socials you’d expect of a typical teenager. He has instagram, tiktok and twitter. Doesn’t post much but does spend time on there. Probably follows Jen lol. At some point in the future I figure that he’ll join the young avengers or smth similar and becomes popular through that. People do question who the coven are and how he knows these people lol. He posts pictures of the coven (with their permission) and later the young avengers too. He does end up pretty popular on social media.

Jennifer has accounts for both business and personal on various platforms. She also has her YouTube (or MCU equivalent) channel. Despite the controversy she is quite popular and post Road said controversy is taken care of. She also has Alice, Lilia or Billy to join her occasionally for a video or instagram post. One time she had Agatha and Lilia on and it devolved into the history of makeup/fashion and people question how they know so much and why it sounded like they were there for it. Agatha and Jen also argued/bickered a lot. While yes it was one of Jen’s most popular videos she hasn’t invited Agatha back.

Alice is also on various platforms however she doesn’t post anything. Eventually though Jen and Billy pressure her into releasing some music and people love it. She also posts pictures of the coven either doing random shit or just general daily life stuff. Again people question how they know each other. Eventually someone makes the connection that she’s Lorna Wu’s daughter. This leads to even more confusion lol. She does appear the most in Jen’s videos or posts on instagram.

Lilia only gets social media at Billy’s insistence. Jen helps her with it a lot as they both have business ones. She stumbles across Agatha’s ones (not that she knows their Agatha’s) by pure accident and loves them. She starts the coven off theorising who it could be/how they’re managing to pull it off. (Agatha is internally cackling). She enjoys true crime stuff and mysteries as it’s in a way where it can’t be spoiled for her.

Agatha runs a tumblr blog and later a tiktok and instagram account called ‘places I shouldn’t be’. It’s always updated at 3:33 am or pm and has both the time (3:33) and date in the picture to show it was taken then and there. She also has shown photographs of the Titanic and Hindenburg (and other places in history) that only someone who was there would have. It gets incredibly popular and people guess where the picture was taken. She’s never taken a picture where you can see her in it and so people also try to guess who she is. (No one has gotten close lol). She also posts pictures of landscapes too. They are very beautiful but also incredibly hard to get too.

Rio has social media but doesn’t use it and only follows Agatha. (She’s the only one to know). She eventually helps Agatha get into places and occasionally make a post herself. After spending more time around the coven she does use it more. She enjoys watching the prank compilations and gets ideas off the internet. (And is often scolded by Lilia as a result). The internet ship her and Agatha.

[glass--beach]

I know you're not being open about your maybe-plurality on tumblr for other people's sakes, but I want to say thanks for being open about it, and speaking honestly about your feelings. I've been through a very similar journey recently and I felt extremely alone with how I was thinking about/approaching it.

I firmly believe that it doesn't matter whether you have a diagnosable dissociative disorder, I'm too critical of psych to put much stake in that. My journey has always revolved around one question: What is the most useful way to think about myself?

And I spent years trying to be a "singlet". I spent my whole life trying to be one person. But then I didn't know how to introduce myself. I don't know what my hobbies are. I don't know what my goals are. It wasn't just indecisiveness for me, it was a whole different way of seeing the world, of thinking, different core beliefs and opinions that changed the way I behaved and socialized and studied and worked.

For all these years I thought of myself as a "nothing person" as a result. Someone with no particular talents or skills of personalities. I watched my friends grow up and get PhDs and high paying jobs and write books and I still felt like a toddler too overwhelmed by choices and drawn to too many things and not present enough to commit fully to being anyone in particular.

I don't think singlet people understand how damaging it is to not know yourself, or to try to be someone you're not. Well actually, maybe trans singlets do know that. It did feel an awful lot like gender dysphoria but it wasn't just about gender, it was about my whole me.

I'm doing better now. And the reason I'm doing better is because I stopped trying to be a singular person. I recognized that there are multiple identities in here. We have an artist. We have a scientist. We have a sleepy caterpillar. We have a young child. None of those people feel that dreadful "nothingness" anymore. They know who they are, what they like, what their aspirations are, how they like to talk to people. They don't feel like a confused upset failure when they suddenly aren't *themselves* anymore.

A different part/alter/headmate being asocial doesn't undo all of the social skills I have. Me being bad at math doesn't take away from one of my alters who is awesome at it. They're still allowed to identify with their own traits and features without feeling like a fraud because of the fact that they can't consistently be that person all of the time.

Accepting my plurality has saved my life. I love myself now, all of my parts, as they are. It's OK that they're extremely different from me. They're still real. And now I don't spend every day agonizing over why I don't have their skills and interests. I'm ok with being like this.

Sorry if this comes across as over sharing because that is not my intention. I just hoped to illustrate why reconceptualizing yourself as plural can be helpful, and change your whole perspective, and allow you to be more forgiving and kind to yourself. I can't possibly hate the amazing friends I share a brain with, and they don't hate me, how could I hate myself in these conditions after all? I hope this does the same for you. If you do find that you have different parts or personalities there is no shame in letting them fully indulge in what they like and in what they are good at. Don't hold yourself back from being you to the fullest extent just because it doesn't align with your other parts. You will be way happier if you can recognize who you are and then listen to what that part of you wants.

love this and vibe with it heavily. i’ve embraced being a contradictory person but i think actually pinning down the patterns to those contradictions is going to help me out immensely. sounds like that’s what’s worked for you pretty much. glad you’ve gotten something out of my posting, genuinely

[anjelicawrites]

Anon! Your ask about Billy getting his "well done shag" got deleted (thank you Tumblr!). That can't stop me from writing it through!

Warnings: kissing, overstimulation, handjob, ass play, anal, a dash of spanking, oral (f receiving), squirting.

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Billy is not running on fumes because the whiplash of energy he's gotten from his first week of classes at the adult development center is still carrying him through his shift this evening. It's probably all adrenaline and nervous energy; who cares, as long as he can manage until closing hour he's happy, because he finally gets to be with you and Michael after a week of being three ships sailing at night, too busy with your lives to properly spend time together.

He notices you and Michael at your usual table, both of you with your noses buried in a book, reaching blindly for the packet of crisps next to your beers. He makes the mental note to pop to your table after he's back from the storeroom for a quick chat, finally face to face!

Busy as he is with finding the box of paper napkins, he doesn't hear Michael's footsteps behind him and jumps out of his skin when the other man grabs him by his waist and kisses him, pushing him against the shelves, his hands grabbing Billy's cheeks and his hips grinding against Billy's with slow, gyrating motions. Billy hasn't forgotten about Michael's promise of fucking him as a well done present, he doesn't expect it to happen in the storeroom, where everyone could discover them!

His mind is so clouded with lust that he'd let Michael do that: bend him over the beer kegs and just fuck him quick and dirty. Anything to quench the fire Michael has ignited.

Billy's body sways when Michael steps back enough that a thin line of spit connects their lips.

"This was the entrée. Be quick, the rest awaits for you at home."

Michael leaves Billy like that, breathless and with a raging erection in his jeans: how is he going to finish his shift in these conditions?

You're not helping his case as well: casually you're always popping at the counter, your luscious breasts framed by your crossed arms on the battered wood, the various pendants only helping his eyes to focus on your soft skin: he goes cross eyed at the thought of sucking your nipples while Michael fucks him, which makes his cock swell in his jeans even more and thank God that he's wearing a baggy T-shirt and that you and Michael always order the same thing, or he'll be fucked!

You and Michael wait for him on the benches outside the pub, both still reading those big tomes you two like so much.

"Hey gorgeous." You drawl. "Need some company?"

The way you look at him still makes him blush: he knows that being accused of public indecency is the only reason you are not having your wicked way with him against the first wall available.

"I don't know. I have someone waiting for me at home." He flirts back awkwardly.

"Well, they shouldn't let you walk around on your own, gorgeous. Loads of nasty people around at this time of night." You say, stalking towards him.

Billy has to concentrate on not coming in his pants like a teenager, but the way you sway your hips and the knowledge you are not wearing a bra make the feat almost impossible.

"So, gorgeous. How was your day?"

Billy doesn't answer, just grabs your wrist and drags you towards his apartment, Michael in tow.

It's a miracle you three keep your hands for yourselves and don't scandalize poor Mrs. Hazel, Billy's noisy neighbor, with your antics. When the front door of Billy's apartment closes, he finds himself pinned against the ancient wood, both your and Michael on him, lips and teeth and hands on his skin, all your clothes thrown on the floor. Billy's hands desperately try to find purchase when Michael's hand curls around his cock and jacks him fast, your lips tight on one of his nipples suck harshly: you two have been missing him terribly and now are hungry for him and the delicious sounds of pleasure he can make.

Billy doesn't know how you three fall on his bed or who has put him on his fours, not that it matters, when your breasts are on his face and he can suck hickeys on your skin, drown in the scent of your body lotion as Michael pours lube on his hole and is already one knuckle in, opening him up slowly.

Billy impatiently pushes his hips back, he's been dreaming about this for the whole week, and Michael has to put his free hand on his hip to stop him from hurting himself.

"Pleasepleasemoreplease." It's the mantra muffled against your breasts.

"Shh, here, be good." You offer him one of your nipples and Billy's mouth's fasten around it with harsh pulls that have you moan.

Two fingers in and Billy's body shakes in your embrace, your bosom snuffs his moans when Michael scissors his fingers to make him gape.

"So bloody tight." Michael pants, desire getting to him. "Stop squirming around!"

You can hear the loud crack of Michael's free hand on Billy's arse, as if that would make him stop misbehaving!

You grab his face and kiss him passionately, your tongue fucking his slack mouth the same way Michael's fingers do his arse and Billy's hips push desperately against the bed sheets, his tongue pliant under your assault.

"Eat me out Billy."

You moan when your lips part and he nods enthusiastically showing his face against your center the second you push yourself up in the bed, your legs finding home naturally on his shoulders.

There's no finesse, no technique in the way his tongue laps at your juices or his nose pushes against your clit, just his hunger and desperation, his hands manacles on your hips to keep you against his face. You come when he moans, the vibrations too much for your cunt and wail when he doesn't stop fucking you with his tongue as Michael enters him with a steady push and starts moving, fast and deep in Billy's arse. Your legs kick in overstimulation and Michael simply grabs your ankles and keeps you there open under their weights, as he pounds inside Billy with a week worth of repressed desire, while Billy simply can't stop licking at your folds and sucking on your abused clit, your moans, and Michael's, the only sounds he can hear.

You trash under them, beg for mercy and Billy redoubles his effort, sneaking a hand on your tummy to press there, adding to the pressure you feel as his arse gets pounded mercilessly, his muscle the perfect fist around Michael, who angles against his prostate and bullies the small gland with quick, precise pushes that have Billy scream against your cunt, until you squirt all over his face.

Billy comes untouched, taking Michael with him, both men fall on you, breathless and heavy, not that you care in your fucked stupid state.

You are not sure of when you come back to yourself and to the smell of sex in the room. Billy is laying with his head on your bosom, disheveled and happy, Michael is staring at the two of you with a proud smirk on his face. He's oozing too much male pride for your tastes; yes, your legs are almost jelly, not that's going to stop you from fucking that smirk off his stupid face. And then suck Billy’s brain through his dick for good measure.

Cringefail throuple taglist: @fan-goddess @solisarium

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 [𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — 𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐍𝐀𝐌-𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐘

one / two / four / five / masterlist / wattpad

summary: it's four years into your relationship with Alycia but you're still not on the best terms with her parents, so you're forced to spend a week at their mansion and grow closer. Of course, it's not so easy when her dad hates you.

warning/s: none.

author's note: here’s part three, hope someone reading likes it haha. also i’m trying out a new layout for my imagines with hopes it’ll speed up putting it together on tumblr (as i copy it over from wattpad and have to format it which is annoying lol) - feel free to let me know what you think or if you prefer the old layout! :)

Four years later...

"I'm still not too sure about this, Alycia."

Alycia looked at me and raised an eyebrow playfully. Her blue-green eyes were practically bursting with amusement, and she obviously found my discomfort hilarious, as usual.

"For the millionth time," she said, and she wasn't exaggerating, "it will be okay! They know we've been together for a few years now, and they know that you mean a lot to me, so stop panicking!"

As always, I nodded and released a breath I was unaware I was holding. Despite having met Alycia's family a few times before, I was still nervous because this time was different. It wasn't a meal at night and then say goodbye, it was staying for a week and getting to know them better. Sounds easy, right?

Wrong.

Not only were her parents insanely intimidating, but they were also loaded with millions of dollars, and they didn't seem to like me very much.

"Miss Debnam-Carey, we have arrived," the driver from the front of the car informed Alycia.

Yeah, a driver. Her parents sent for someone in a car (that probably cost more than all of my belongings put together) to pick Alycia and I up. All through the journey, I had been freaking out internally and failing to hide it on the outside.

"You ready?"

It took me a moment to realise that Alycia was talking to me. I looked to her, and the humour that was painted on her face throughout the whole journey was gone and replaced with reassurance.

"As ready as one can be when they are about to epically embarrass themselves in front of their loved one's parents."

Her adorable giggle echoed in the backseat of the car as the vehicle came to a halt. "I got you, Y/N. Don't worry."

The door to my right was opened by the driver, who had stepped out of the car without me noticing. I took a deep breath before stepping out of the vehicle. Only for my jaw to drop. Their house was beautiful.

Or should I say mansion.

The whatever-it-was was huge, spreading across a large amount of land. Only in front of me I could see a white, stone-carved fountain that was spouting crystal blue water, which was obviously artificially enhanced but beautiful nonetheless. Around the fountain was a cobbled pathway that led to the front door and around the driveway. Surrounding the mansion was acre after acre of empty land, being used for various rich-people activities.

If this was what the front of the grand house looked like, how did the rest look?

I felt someone's hand push my jaw close and I looked to my left to see that humoured grin on Alycia's beautiful face again. "Don't want to catch flies now, do we?"

I rolled my eyes but smiled, already feeling better knowing that she was still the same old Alycia I had fallen in love with. Despite the millions her parents owned.

"Come on," she said with a smile, lacing her fingers through mine and tugging me to her side a little. "I'll show you around."

—

"And that's the golf course," she finished, releasing my hand and looking to me with a bright smile. "What do you think?"

Alycia had shown me around the whole of her home and it was pretty hard for me to stay sane when her mansion of a home was freakin' beautiful. The amount of facilities that she had was unbelievable and it only made me realise how much harder this visit would be.

"It's amazing, Alycia," I responded, smiling weakly. "This is going to be an awesome week."

She smiled at my response, but when she saw the worry in my eyes, her smile faded away and she grabbed my hand once again. "Y/N, what did I tell you about worrying?"

"To only do it when I'm worrying about whether there's a ghost living in our flat?"

She sighed and cracked a smile, knowing humour was my defence mechanism to hide my feelings. "I never said that."

I scoffed. "I mean, have you seen the way our doors keep swinging close without anyone touching them?"

"Y/N–"

"Like, seriously. I'll literally be on the other side of the room and bang! The door shuts–"

"Y/N–"

"–and I'll spend the whole day wondering if somebody previously died in that place or if I'm just losing my mind–"

I got cut off when I felt a soft pair of lips press against mine. It was only short, but boy was it amazing. Alycia pulled away and laughed at my expression, which probably resembled a younger me getting my first kiss off Alycia a few years ago.

"You really need to quit babbling sometimes," she said, knowingly, patting my cheek with her hand.

"Sorry," I mumbled, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "I'm just being stupid. I promise I'll act normal now."

She shrugged and grabbed my hand, leading me back to the house. "If you say so, but you can't act like something you aren't."

It took me a few seconds to realise what she'd said since it was said so casually, but when I did, I gasped and looked at her, feigning offence.

"I'm kidding," she said in between laughter. "Sort of."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Oh, okay. That's fine. I guess I'll be sort of kidding when I tickle you!"

"Y/N, don't," she warned me, losing her amusement, and when I took a step forward, she backed up. Green eyes fixed on mine and she repeated, "Don't."

I quirked a brow, resisting the urge to smile. "Don't what, darling?"

It was silent between us, her not moving a muscle as she waited for me to dare make a move. All it took was for me to step forward and she yelped before running away.

"Alycia!" I shouted, chasing after her, but damn she was fast.

She kept looking back every so often to make sure I was far enough from her, so I ran that extra bit faster, closing in on her until we finally reached the house. Running inside, she was out of sight and I immediately slowed down upon entering the main atrium.

Too uncomfortable to be alone in someone else's house, let alone a rich person's house, I forgot what I was doing and tried to swallow down my nerves.

"Alycia!" I whisper-shouted, eyes scanning the space to try and find her. "Where are you?" The uneasiness settled in when there was no sign of her. "Alycia!"

Just when I was about to give up and ring her, I felt someone jump on my back and I automatically caught their legs, holding them upright instinctively.

"Hey, loser," Alycia's voice said into my ear, sending uncontrollable shivers down my neck. She leaned down further and kissed me on my cheek.

I craned my neck so that I could see her face, only to see that annoyingly attractive smirk on her lips all over again. "You're actually so annoying. Why am I even with you?"

She laughed it off. "'Cause you love me, duh!"

"Sure I do," I mumbled, before looking around.

She had shown me around earlier, so I remembered seeing a couch to the side which gave me an idea.

"Giddy up, horsie!" Alycia shouted, whilst patting me on the back simultaneously.

I smirked and walked forward, towards the couch. "I'll show you just how much I love you, Alycia."

She didn't respond, but I could sense her confusion. I headed towards the couch and turned around so that my back was facing it. She eventually realised what I was going to do and tried to jump off me, but I sat down before she could escape.

"Get off!" she ordered, trying to escape from my weight of a body that was currently crushing her and preventing her from standing up.

I purposely pressed myself down on her even more and laughed at her helpless struggling. "I just love you so much, Alycia. I can't help but be close to you!”

Her body was shuffling about beneath me and I could hear her whimpers as she tried to shove me off, but she wasn't strong enough. I thought she would give up, but instead, she began to use her hands, ruffling my hair and slapping my face with them.

"Not–" slap, "so–" slap, "funny–" slap, "now–" slap, "–is it?" she asked between laughter, making me squeeze my eyes close as she slapped me wherever she could.

Even without turning around, I could already imagine the obnoxious smirk adorning her lips.

I stood back up to get away from her, but she clung onto me from behind and began to slap my face again. I tried running away from her, but she wouldn't let go, her arms and legs clinging to me like a koala.

"Alycia! Let–" I tried prying her off me, but it wasn't working. "–go!"

"Then say–" she smacked my forehead, "–you love me!"

We were both as stubborn as each other, so the next minute consisted of Alycia smacking me and clinging to me, and myself trying to pry her off but failing miserably. We were so caught up in annoying each other that we didn't even realise we had an audience.

"Ahem," someone cleared their throat on purpose.

Alycia and I paused and turned to the left, only to see Mr and Mrs Debnam-Carey standing there with raised eyebrows. I looked back to Alycia and saw her mid-smacking my face, and I didn't look any better as I attempted to throw her off me. Oh, God.

"This looks a lot worse than it is." I laughed awkwardly, letting Alycia down off my back gently.

"Mum, dad!" Alycia yelled happily, immediately running to both of her parents and embracing them in a tight, loving hug.

They returned the hug, but their eyes were studying me up and down over her shoulder, and I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under their gaze. Talk about bad timing.

"You guys know Y/N," Alycia introduced as she motioned to me.

I stepped forward and Alycia grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently for reassurance. She sent a hopeful smile my way and I felt the majority of my nerves die down. Her smile always made me feel ten times better; she had a certain power to make me feel good, and I loved her for it.

"Lovely to meet you both again," I greeted her parents, smiling nervously. I put my right hand out and they both shook it.

"You, too, Y/N," her mum responded, smiling a little. "We're glad you could join us for the week. It'll be good to be able to get to know each other properly."

I nodded in agreement. The reason I'd been with Alycia for so long and not gotten to know her parents as much is because it took her a long time to feel comfortable enough to introduce me, and when she did, I got the vibe that her parents didn't like me as much. It had been really difficult to 'befriend' them, if you will, which is why they invited me over for the week.

"Has Alycia shown you around the house?" her dad asked, seeming as if he were ready to snap his fingers and have someone give me a full-blown tour. Which to be honest, he probably could.

I nodded again. "Uh, yeah. You both have a lovely home by the way."

They smiled kindly and nodded their heads as a thank you. I internally relaxed, glad that I'd said the right thing. So far, so good.

"I'm sure Alycia can show you where you're both staying," her mum explained. "You can freshen up and then you'll be joining us for dinner tonight. We're having lamb. Sound good?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod, before smiling. "Thanks."

They smiled my way before leaving the main atrium. When they left, I let out a deep breath that I wasn't even aware I was holding.

"You looked like you were about to combust into thin air," Alycia noted aloud, an amused smile on her lips. "You okay?"

I flashed her a small smile. "Perfect."

—

Dinner rolled around quickly enough, too quick for my liking. The rest of the afternoon was spent with Alycia and I unpacking and messing about in our room, which was huge by the way. It was beautiful, though, especially with its balcony that overlooked one of the many grounds that the Debnam-Careys owned.

"So Y/N," Alycia's mother began after we had all dug into our meals and awkward small talk was made. "What have you been up to lately? You're doing a teaching degree at university, right?"

I was surprised to know that she actually remembered from our last chat which was a pretty long time ago, but nodded nonetheless.

"Uh, yeah. It's going well. It's kept me pretty busy, but I know I'll achieve something at the end of it, so I don't mind."

"Not too busy to keep Alycia happy, though, right?" her dad teased playfully, though I could tell that he genuinely wanted to know. I always got this vibe that he didn't like me as much, at least compared to her mum.

His comment caused Alycia to flush with embarrassment and sink lower into her seat to avoid being seen, though it made no difference.

I chuckled and glanced at Alycia, lacing our fingers together underneath the table. "Alycia's happiness will always be my top priority," I spoke with sincerity, smiling at the embarrassed Australian beside me.

Neither of her parents responded, but when I looked back at them, her mum was smiling as she looked between us. I wish I could say the same for her dad, but he was studying me like a battle plan, detecting whether I would make the right or wrong move in the future. And so returned my nerves...

"How is your company doing?" I asked them both, hoping to make good conversation and not say anything wrong. "I heard its picked up quite a bit recently. There was that new TV advertisement, right?"

The Debnam-Careys were rich because of their world-renowned summer camps, ironically where Alycia and I first met and she tried to pretend it was her aunt who owned it. It was their number one achievement, I had learnt, and sometimes I was sure that they were more proud of that than they were of Alycia, but I never said anything because it wasn't any of my business.

Alycia's mum finished chewing her food and nodded her head, saying, "It's definitely getting more popular. The advert helped, yes."

I nodded and tried to think of something else to ask or say, but I didn't know what. And all whilst I was trying to think, a good two minutes had passed, it being full of an awkward, uncomfortable silence. And this is exactly what I was dreading.

The whole meal was filled with random small conversations that soon ended with silences, and it was the most uncomfortable thing I had ever had to endure. So, you can imagine how happy I was when it was over.

"They hate me," I repeated for the millionth time, all whilst pacing up and down in Alycia and I's bedroom. "I probably looked like some boring person who has no interests."

Alycia sighed from where she was sat at the edge of the bed, and ran her hands through her hair. "You always overthink things, Y/N. It wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be."

I paused and looked to her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? The highlight of the evening was you dropping your fork under the table, only to drop my fork under the table too."

She chuckled and stood up, moving closer to me and taking my hands in hers. "I only did that so I could talk to you under the table."

"I know." I cracked a smile. "And I appreciate the mini pep talk you gave me."

She did that cute smile she does, where her nose scrunched up and her eyebrows furrowed together, and I felt the need to lean in and give her a small but tender kiss on the lips. It certainly took her by surprise, and when I pulled away, she smiled at me with confusion.

"What was that for?"

I moved a piece of hair from her eyes and smiled down at her. "I don't really tell you enough, but I appreciate you a lot."

She chuckled gently. "I love you too, you idiot."

I rolled my eyes playfully, not bothering to explain what I meant. Instead, I leaned in again and kissed her, appreciating the way she relaxed and began to kiss me back. I was certain I'd never get tired of her lips against mine.

—

"You're kidding me, right?"

Alycia laughed and shook her head. "Honestly, I'm not."

I raised both of my eyebrows at her, still not believing a word she was saying. "You've got to be joking! You're seriously telling me that you and your parents did this 'afternoon tea' every single day for three years?"

Alycia nodded and took a sip of her tea. "Between the ages of 9 to 11. They believed it was the key to developing my social skills." She bit her lip as she thought to herself, before adding, "Evidently that didn't work since I'm super awkward with people I don't know, but yeah."

I couldn't help but laugh at her seriousness. We'd been here two days and Alycia had invited me to 'afternoon tea' with her and her parents. Of course, they'd said they were going to be a little late, so Alycia and I got started as they'd wished.

Honestly? It was a little weird, but the little cakes were delicious and Alycia's table etiquette was a sight to see, so this was all worth it.

I wasn't really sure how Alycia's parents felt about me at the moment to be honest. It had only been two days and yet they still made no effort to show me what they were thinking. Alycia assured me that was just their personality, but I wasn't so sure...

"Oh, look, my parents are here," Alycia pointed out, her eyes on the door.

I followed her line of sight, looking to the door on the side of their house (mansion) that led outside where we were sat, overlooking one of their many well-kept gardens. She was right – her parents were here, but they weren't alone.

"Erm, who's that?" I asked, quietly, so only Alycia would hear me. There was a random man stood trailing behind her parents as they approached the table we were sat at.

Alycia was smiling on the outside as the two of us stood up, but I could see the confusion in her eyes. "Not gonna lie, Y/N. I have no idea."

I wasn't really liking where this was going, especially since Alycia was as clueless as I was, but nonetheless, I plastered a smile on my lips and watched as the three figures stopped by the table.

"Ah, girls, sorry we're late," her father apologised, and honestly, I'd never seen him look so happy in the whole time I'd met him. Something wasn't right. "I was waiting for Clayton."

At this comment, he patted the guy's – I guess, Clayton's – back, causing them both to chuckle. The guy was pretty tall, young, handsome, well-dressed... well, shit, I definitely wasn't liking where this was going.

"Sweetie, sorry we're late," Alycia's mum apologised to her, and when she looked my way, I felt like she was apologising to me too, but rather more for what was about to go down. Shit, shit, shit.

"It's fine," Alycia got out, keeping up her smile. She spared Clayton a glance before meeting her father's eyes. "I thought it was just us for tea, dad?"

Her father merely shrugged before motioning to Clayton. "Yes, but I bumped into Clayton here yesterday and thought he'd make a great addition to this event! You remember Clayton, right, sweetie?"

Alycia's forced smile was slowly being replaced with a look of confusion. Meanwhile, I was awkwardly rocking back and forth on my heels and trying not to think about what was happening.

"Charlie and Maggie's boy," her dad explained. "Remember?"

Alycia still seemed lost, and as each second passed, I was slowly losing my mind.

"We were in primary school together," Clayton spoke, a smile on his lips. "We had Miss Penny together?"

Alycia narrowed her eyes as she studied him, attempting to put two and two together. "Clayton... Clayton... wait, I think I– Clay? The kid who had that massive nosebleed in the school play?"

Clayton chuckled awkwardly, looking down to his shoes. "That was– yeah, that was me.

Alycia stifled a laugh as she nodded. "Wow, it's been a long time. I guess, how have you been?"

"Good! Good...," he said cheerfully. I wanted to fall asleep right now, that's how dry this conversation was. "I'm actually in the estate agency business now."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah..."

"Pretty big step up from primary school, eh?" I joked as I tried to make myself present, only to cringe internally at my choice to speak because literally everyone looked my way. The only person who didn't have daggers in her eyes, excluding Alycia, was Alycia's mother. She looked like she was amused, if anything.

"Erm, this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N," Alycia introduced me. "Y/N, this is–"

"Clayton from primary school, I got that," I cut her off, smiling dryly. Thankfully, nobody got offended, but Alycia did send me a confused stare.

"Girlfriend...?" Clayton seemed surprised, but he overcame that pretty quickly as he smiled in my direction. "Nice to meet you, (your name pronounced wrong)–"

"It's Y/N," I corrected him through gritted teeth and a fake smile.

"Right," he did the same. "Sorry."

There was an awkward, tension-filled silence in the air as Clayton checked out Alycia pretty obviously. I didn't bother hiding the glare I was sending him.

"So, shall we get started?" Alycia's dad asked rhetorically, clapping his hands together.

I clenched my jaw as I looked between them both. I didn't think I could stand sitting through a bloody afternoon tea with this guy. God help me.

—

"...and so I knew I had to buy the car off him," Clayton was telling another one of his boring stories as I sipped from my tea. "It holds too many good memories to simply let go of!"

Alycia's dad chuckled like he'd said the funniest thing in the world whilst Alycia and her mum smiled politely. I wanted to leave. I hated it here and it was very obviously why Alycia's dad had invited Clayton here in the first place. Clayton was just as I expected him to be – rich, boring and ogling my girlfriend – and there was nothing I could do except sit and put up with it.

All tea time, Alycia's dad was asking Clayton questions about his life, whilst trying to involve Alycia and engage them both in conversation. Not once had I been spoken to, unless you counted the few times Alycia tried to involve me with an apologetic look in her eyes. So, I hated it here. And I wanted to leave.

"I've actually bought the car with me if you want to see it," Clayton said to Alycia's dad. "It's parked out front. A wonder, really."

"Oh, how exciting!" he exclaimed, before looking to Alycia. "Why don't we go and take a look?"

Alycia quirked a brow, trying to remain polite. "As much as I'd love that, I'm actually a little tired. I think Y/N and I might go upstairs to relax a little."

Yes, yes, yes. We can leave!

"I'm sure Y/N won't mind if you meet her up there, right, Y/N?" her dad asked, looking to me, before saying to Alycia, "It'll only be a moment, darling, c'mon. Clayton is a guest. We can see him off also."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but said, "It's fine, Alycia, I'll see you after. Your father is right. You should see off your guest.”

Even saying it aggravated me, but the sooner she went, the sooner Clayton would be gone and the sooner I wouldn't have to see him again.

"Very well," Alycia agreed reluctantly, before standing up. "Shall we?"

We all stood up and I was relieved when I walked in a different direction to them, instead going upstairs to our room to collapse on the bed and mentally switch off.

I'd love to say that that was the last I ever saw of Clayton, but it wasn't.

The next morning, when I thought I was going to eat breakfast with my girlfriend in peace, we came downstairs to find Clayton in the kitchen chatting with Alycia's parents. There was an assortment of muffins and pastries in a basket next to them and I instantly where this was going.

"Alycia, my dear, good morning!" her father said with a smile, stretching out his arm to hug her.

She was as confused as I looked, but hugged her father. "Morning, dad. What's all this?" Glancing at Clayton, she nodded. "Clay, hi."

"Clayton here thought he'd stop by to surprise us with breakfast," her dad explained. "Isn't that thoughtful?"

"Sure is...," Alycia agreed awkwardly.

"Your dad said chocolate croissants are your favourites, so there's a few in there for you," Clayton added with a smile, and the way he was staring at her was enough to make me want to throw up, but I simply stared daggers into his head instead.

"I really appreciate it," Alycia said kindly, "but Y/N and I were actually going to head out for breakfast."

At this, everyone looked to me and I was so used to being ignored in that moment that I suddenly felt nervous.

"It was very nice of you to get the muffin basket though," I said uncomfortably. "Looks like some... great options."

Just kill me now.

"Right... well, Clayton is going to be hanging about here today. We're talking business. So, if you're up for a good old catch up, you know where to find him," Alycia's father said to her.

"I will, dad, thanks," Alycia said with a small smile, before approaching me.

I nodded at him before letting Alycia drag me out of there. Only when we were gone did she stop to look at me apologetically.

"I had no idea he was going to be here again," she said guiltily. "I don't know what my dad is up to, but it's certainly not fair on you."

I shrugged uncomfortably. "I knew he didn't like me, but this is a little weird."

"I'll talk to him," Alycia promised, cupping my face and finding my eyes with hers. "He shouldn't be doing this."

I nodded, not sure I could do much else other than agree, and she pulled me in for a tight hug before letting go.

"Breakfast's on me," she promised, kissing my hand. "Let's go."

—

So, whatever chat Alycia had with her father didn't seem to do the job.

Later that same day, I was lounging around and watching TV by myself whilst Alycia was supposed to be hanging around with her mum. But when I finally got up to find her, hoping to join them to cure my boredom, I couldn't seem to locate either of them. And it definitely didn't help that the Debnam-Careys residence was too large for me to search without an inkling to where they could be.

I tracked down one of the staff members, finding the nearest one and hoping they could help. She was a young-ish girl, older than me but still younger than the other staff here, and seemed friendly enough.

"Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Alycia anywhere?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, she's out horse riding," the girl answered with a smile.

Barely remembering where she could be doing that since Alycia's tour had already flown from my mind, I asked the staff member, "Thank you. Sorry, what's your name?"

"Millie," she quipped, before suppressing a laugh when she saw my confusion. "Do you need directions to the field?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"

She chuckled before saying, "It's just outside. Walk past the shed over there–" She pointed her finger out of the doors from the dining room, "–and it's the one on your left. You won't miss her."

I sighed with relief. "Cheers, Millie. You're a lifesaver."

She nodded. "Anytime."

Following her instructions, I headed outside and tried not to get lost amongst the greenery. Just when I was on track, I turned to the left and indeed found the correct space where Alycia was horse riding. I began to smile as I approached, but then I stopped when I saw she was with Clayton. What the hell was he still doing here?

Her father was there too, watching from the sidelines, but my eyes were glued to Alycia who was sat on her horse as Clayton sat on his, the two of them side by side and chatting with smiles on their faces. I knew Alycia probably got dragged into entertaining him by her father – she had an inability to say no to her parents, I'd noticed. And I also knew that she didn't like Clayton like that, but it still stung a little to see them together.

Despite her wealth and class, she'd only ever been my Alycia. Nothing intimidating about her. And it was definitely more of a me problem, but seeing her like this... horse riding for God's sake, and with a handsome man who was dressed to impress and had heart eyes for her, only made me feel like I didn't really belong here. She was the daughter of a bloody millionaire and I was me. I'd never even saved ten grand, let alone millions.

And yes, this wasn't her problem. She still loved me for me. And I wasn't usually the insecure type. But right now, seeing her, maybe I was starting to become that.

Not wanting to interrupt and definitely not in the greatest of moods anymore, I returned to the house, sulking.

"Did you find her?" Millie asked, and I was surprised she cared enough to.

"Yeah, thank you. She's horse riding alright," I answered, before scowling to nobody in particular. "With Mr Sucky-Handsome Face."

Millie frowned a little, sensing my disappointment. "Is everything okay?"

I sighed deeply. "Oh, yeah, everything's great. Just having the time of my life watching some dude check out my girlfriend in front of me and try to steal her away. Nothing much."

Okay, so I was salty and it was very unprofessional of me to air my grievances to the staff, but I couldn't help it. Alycia wasn't here and I had nobody else to talk to.

"That's shit," Millie said, surprising me. "Sounds like you need to take your mind off it.

I smiled dryly. "If only it were that easy."

"Well, I was going to start baking some dessert for dinner tomorrow," she said, before suggesting, "Maybe you'd like to help? You could prepare something special for Alycia. I'm sure she'd love that."

I glanced at her. "Really? I can do that?"

Millie laughed. "Of course you can! C'mon. Kitchen's this way."

Surprised that she was offering to cheer me up and also that she was so chill to be around, I smiled a little. "Wow, thanks, Millie."

I spent the remainder of the afternoon helping Millie bake some cupcakes in the kitchen, whilst she also helped me put together a little cake for Alycia. We only got as far as baking the cake part since she had to do her other duties as a staff member, but she promised I could help with the icing tomorrow and to say I was a little excited was an understatement. It certainly did the job of helping me forget about stupid Clayton and his inability to leave my girlfriend alone.

By the time the evening rolled around, Alycia and I were eating dinner by ourselves in one of the many dining rooms of the household. It was nice to finally have her to myself, since she'd been MIA all day, though at no fault of her own.

"So, I should probably tell you if you didn't already know," she began, "but I was hanging out with Clayton earlier today."

And just when I thought I'd forgotten about that.

"It was solely because my dad invited him over and basically dragged me away from my mum," she continued to explain, a hint of regret in her voice. "I really didn't want to."

I shrugged, focusing on my dinner plate. "You can't help it if your dad makes you. It's fine, Alycia."

"I told my dad to back off," she assured me, finding my hand on the table. "He claims it's a business venture. An opportunity."

I almost snorted, but remained cool. An opportunity, sure. An opportunity to steal my girlfriend.

"I don't know what he's told Clayton, but I've made it very obvious I'm taken," she said with conviction, tugging my hand and finally earning my attention. Her eyes were searching mine. "He's nothing to worry about, okay?"

I awkwardly began to smile, really not enjoying this conversation. "I know, Alycia."

She didn't seem convinced, but clearly sensing my discomfort, she dropped the topic. With a nod, she let go of my hand and grabbed her fork to twirl her pasta. Meanwhile, I felt icky at the mere thought of Clayton hanging around her again. Why did Alycia's dad hate me that much that he'd try to set his daughter up with some guy whilst I'm right here? Talk about rude!

"So, what did you get up to today?" Alycia asked, thankfully changing the subject. "You weren't bored, I hope?"

As I remembered this afternoon's events, I began to smile, excited to share with Alycia. "Not at all. There's this girl that works here. Millie? Well, she let me help her bake some cupcakes in the kitchens. Which, by the way, your kitchen's huge."

Alycia tried not to laugh as she watched me. "That sounds lovely. So, where are these cupcakes? Do I get a taste?"

"They're not finished yet," I told her with amusement. "Tomorrow's dessert, love. Also, there may or may not be an extra surprise for you."

"Oh, now you have to tell me more," she insisted, and I laughed at her curious expression.

"It wouldn't be a surprise then, idiot," I reminded her. "Tomorrow. You'll find out tomorrow."

She sighed dramatically but nodded. "Very well. It better be dessert-related. All this talk of cupcakes is making me hungry."

"So what I'm hearing is you wanna go on a dessert run," I said with a nod, already convinced.

Her smile widened. "Hell yeah. Finish your pasta and let's go."

I rolled my eyes at her childishness, but did just that. Maybe today wasn't so bad after all and I was just overthinking it.