a-short-ass-disappointment

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

❝ [stuck with you] ❞

↳ seventeen hyung line x 14th!member male reader

↳ “how seventeen comforts/loves their favorite boy” pt. 1

↳ warnings: reader is the maknae (‘01 liner) !!! so a lot of babying, jeonghan is slightly feminized, idk nothing bad tho,reader is playing with toys in sc’s blurb but it’s not age regression (unless you want to interpret it that way)

↳ author note: some of the blurbs are longer than others because i wrote it in chunks, so i had more inspiration for some.

choi seungcheol | 최 성철

- seungcheol cherishes you, more than anyone else in the group. many fans see you as nothing more than your handsome face and strong body; but to seungcheol you were still the same little boy he met in the pledis melona room all those years ago.

- he loves to show you how much he loves you by giving you reassuring hugs or pats when you look upset after hoshi yelled at you during dance practice. or give you forehead kisses when you have a headache from constant schedules and screaming fans.

- seungcheol treats you with such tenderness and care, as if you’re not a 6 foot something grown man now, he just can’t imagine you as anything other than a shy little kid. he wants you to feel loved and babied, no matter how old you get—you’re still his boy.

2016: seungcheol quietly closes the door to the dorms after getting home from the studio late at night, after everyone had already gone to sleep. “3:49” he reads the time on his phone while sleepily trudging to his bedroom. but he stops in his tracks when he hears your quiet voice talking through your door. he can make out small sound affects you make and the rattle of plastic hitting plastic. he sighs softly when he realizes you’re playing with your toys again; it always breaks his heart to see you doing something that reminds him of your age, how you got your childhood ripped away by the brutal idol lifestyle.

he opens the door slowly before peeking his head in, “y/n-ah?”. you startle at the sound of an outside voice interrupting your private time. “can hyungie come play with you?”; seungcheol sees you completely melt at the question before nodding. the leader comes over to your bed and brushes your crazy hair back from your forehead, “sweet boy,” he coos and leans down to kiss your forehead gently, “now let’s play.”

yoon jeonghan | 윤 정한

- jeonghan prides himself on being your “mother” which you have fully accepted from the time you met him at age twelve. during the rookie years, you would rely on jeonghan like a caregiver—the feminine nature of his appearance made you so soft and dependent, as if he was truly your mother.

- despite being a little devil to the rest of the group, jeonghan has never teased you (besides when you had your first crush) because he couldn’t ever deal with seeing you sad.

- when you need comfort or you’re sick, jeonghan loves cheering you up. especially by putting aside time in the busy day and having dedicated cuddle sessions, holding you in his arms as if you won’t crush him.

2020: “poor baby,” jeonghan coos, rubbing your hot forehead “are you feeling any worse?” you shake your head with a slight whine. “let’s get you under the blanket, little one” the nickname is slightly ironic now, with you being several inches taller than jeonghan and the majority of the other members — but he’s never going to let it go, since he had given you the pet name almost 7 years ago now.

he guides you to the couch and lays down on it in front of you, patting the space next to him for you to cuddle up to his chest. “come on in sweet boy, i’ll help you feel better.” you cuddle up to the smaller man and curl in on yourself, trying to make yourself as small as possible. your head is pounding and your nose is runny, you try to sniff everything up but it just marries you feel worse. jeonghan coos and holds a tissue to your nose, “go on puppy, blow”

hong jisoo | 홍 지수

- joshua was one of your first real friends when you became a trainee, besides vernon and samuel, since he was one of the only members that could speak english. as you grew up together as a group, shua continued to look after you the same way he did when you were a kid.

- your would help each other practice songs or dances, he would try his best to help you with your raps but you were mostly on your own while he hung off of your back. he enjoyed using you as his personal teddy bear, as he liked to call it, having you sit and let him get in your lap so he can have a cushion.

- you two love to joke around because he will do anything to see you smile. every once in a while, he’ll invite you out to eat or on a small “date” around seoul. as you’ve gotten older, he’ll sometimes act cheeky and make you pay—which you do instantly, because you’re completely whipped for your hyungs.

2023: recently joshua has realized you looking at him more, ever since he dyed his hair red. he doesn’t mind it at all, of course not, it actually makes him a little flustered.

the two of you are out on one of your “dates” to dinner and a walk by the han river, when he notices you looking a little sad. “y/n-ie? what’s wrong, love” he stops and reaches up to cup your chin, tilting your head down so you look at him. you get distracted while looking at him, your eyes flicking over his pretty face. “i just miss seeing everyone everyday— i feel like now that we’re not living in the dorms together, we won’t be as close” your shaky voice makes shua’s heart break and he pulls you into a hug. “oh poor thing… that will never be the case, love bug. we’re always going to be close—there’s nothing in our history as a group that could possibly show us to drift apart. we’re seventeen.” you nod and hug him back, “i just—i get lonely by myself. i wanted to live with channie or you or at least someone.”

“do you want to live with me, sweetheart?”

wen junhui | 文俊辉

- junhui is your personal sunshine, always brining a smile to your face even when you’re in the deepest pits of despair. he loves to give you hugs and cuddles or even kisses if it means you’ll be happy again, he loves their precious maknae.

-when there is free time away from practice or schedules, jun invites you to go with him to the park or even a weekend trip to china with him and minghao—which always makes you happy because hao is always in a better mood when he’s with jun.

- jun made you feel more comfortable with showing members affection, even if it’s just a simple hug or squeeze. he won’t be surprised to find you clinging to his slimmer frame during a break in dance practice, rather he’ll be careful to not make you get embarrassed.

2025: jun has been away in china for months, filming for his new movies. all of you are so proud of him for living out his dream, but you can’t seem to stop missing him. you miss the way he’s the first to talk to you when you wake up in the morning, despite him texting you a good morning text every single day. you miss the way he smells after a shower when he insists on having a cuddle session on the couch during movie night.

but today, jun is coming back to korea. seungcheol didn’t want to tell you — he told some of the other members but left you and chan out, so you wouldn’t be too distracted before the golden disc awards. as you all arrive at the venue, you see someone else getting out of the car with 96 line; jun. as soon as he sees you he runs over and hugs you, which makes you break down instantly.

“h-hyung..” he giggles a bit when he sees your tears but immediately wipes them away, holding your face gently. “oh 萌宝.. hyung missed you so much. i’m so happy to see you.” he holds you tight, letting you cry into his shoulder because he knows you’ve been needing it.

kwon soonyoung | 권 순영

- despite being older, the only time when soonyoung acts like your hyung is during dance practice. the rest of the time, he’s a little tiger who loves attacking the maknae with kisses and hugs as soon as you sit down. meaning he’s not the best member to give you comfort when you’re seriously in need.

- he looks at you with a glint in his eyes that makes you oddly warm inside, and you can’t help but tease him by squishing his chubby cheeks. you lowkey have cuteness aggression for him and want to eat him.

- when the group still lived together, he would run to your room with his pajamas on and jump into your bed. it was time for a cuddle pile when he said it was time.

2018: the group had the whole weekend off and you decided to visit your family, which meant your hyungs hadn’t seen you in a couple days and that made them sad—especially soonyoung.

you opened the door to the dorms after getting off the train and walking a couple miles home. you take off your shoes and bring your luggage back to your room that you share with chan, the older boy was there lying on his bed. “oh my god, y/n! you’re back!! omg you need to go talk to soonyoung, he’s been losing his mind without you here!!” “oh—okay, hi channie. bye channie” you say quickly as he pushes you out of the room and down the hall to hoshi’s room. you peek your head in and notice jihoon is not there, only soonyoung who is wrapped from head to toe in a fluffy blanket and holding a stuffed animal you guys won at an amusement in your rookie years.

“hyungie?” he instantly sits up and pouts, holding his arms out for you, “hold me.” you laugh and do as he says, climbing onto the bed and grabbing him into a hug. “i missed you a lot.” he huffs, “i know i missed you too.” you feel yourself get a little sad because of how much he clearly loves you, but that is shut down when he smacks your shoulder. “no sad.”

jeon wonwoo | 전 원우

- wonwoo is a lot more subtle when it comes to how much he cares for you. he doesn’t smother you with unnecessary love or affection but he does little things to show you that you’re his favorite dongsaeng.

- after practice or schedules he invites you to play video games, just watch a movie, or something quiet like that. he wants to spend as much time with you as possible without making it too obvious that he wants your attention.

- he likes to get you little things related to your interests or the hobbies you two share. he leaves them on your bed anonymously but you always know who left them.

2022: today wonwoo was out having lunch with mingyu when the two of them passed a store, his eyes drifted to the window where there were various pokemon plushies and other items. he pulls the younger man into the store, whispering his ideas to buy you a gift.

the two of them lock out a plushie of pangoro, who you’ve mentioned is your favorite whenever you and wonwoo play the games together. they head back to the dorm and wonwoo sneaks to your room to leave it for you, thinking you wouldn’t be home yet.. but as he pushes your door open he finds you curled up in bed.

“oh— y/nie?” he whispers, approaching the bed quietly. “what” you respond sharply, not looking up to see who it was. “are you okay?” wonwoo pulls the blanket from where it is over your head so he can see your face, you look exhausted—bags under your eyes and hair messy. “hyungie—“ your eyes are drawn to the plush since you always like things like that, even though you’d never admit it. “can we cuddle?” your voice is quiet and wonwoo immediately obliged, crawling into your bed next to you and handing the plush over so you can squeeze it. “my favorite! thank you wonungie-hyung.”

lee jihoon | 이 지훈

- jihoon is another member who shows his love silently, allowing you to work on a song with him after everyone has already gone home or brining you food when he knows you’re still in your studio.

- he tries to hide it so he doesn’t get teased by the other members but you give him severe cuteness aggression, he’s watched you grow up from a scrawny teenager to a man that towers over him but you’re still their baby, his baby

- when he does show you affection, it’s in the form of a quick squeeze of your hand or whispered praise when you do something week in practice or on stage

2019: jihoon has been in the studio for over 24 hours, constantly working on the new album and trying his best to make it perfect for the fans. he assumed everyone had gone home from their schedules of the day but when he takes off his headphones for a tiny break, he hears the door squeak open.

he turns to see his visitor, only to find your head peeked in warily “hyungie?” jihoon relaxes, he got a little tense thinking it was going to be seungcheol or a manager telling him to go home, but it was just you—his little y/nie. you looked tired, he knew you had school all day and then practice into the night and the intense schedule had been taking a toll on you since you’re still so young.

“you can come in.” he forces his voice to be somewhat cold so you don’t think he’s gone soft on you, but it seems like his tone didn’t matter as your face lit up and you quickly approached him. “i know you’re really busy hyung.. but i was wondering if you’d listen to the track ive been working on..?” jihoon internally explodes, you’re so sweet and he felt so proud that you wanted to come to him first, despite your mutual exhaustion. “of course, kid. sit down.”

maknae line version coming soon!!

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

mermom for mermay!

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

My tummy did the thing.

Jokar tongue meme

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

WE WIN CHAT

I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAINNN

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

get 'em before they melt!

(the flavors are 99% vibes + first thought only thought, don't take them too seriously)

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

get 'em before they melt!

(the flavors are 99% vibes + first thought only thought, don't take them too seriously)

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

"oh how the tables have turned" ft. aventurine

what happens then, if the chaser becomes the chased? based on @iceunhie post! that fic speaks to me fr

common ratio w

taglist <33

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@mikoochaan

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@psychopomp-enthusiast @jade1605 @mochinon-yah @eussstasss @lillieofth3valley

@ichikanu @harmonysanreads @yellowelectroslime @miraclecherryblossomsblog @rossithepixie

@schoenpepper @cadesthings @creationsabyss @hirotasama @jth12

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@pastelmitzuki @latimeria-fell-from-heaven @feral-childs-word @sunyandmony

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@chanontherun @almostfuzzyharmony @boothillsbootyeater @lobbitack

@hydroarchon-furinaa @pleniluneg4ze @keirennyx

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

Leona Kingscholar as an omega

Riddle - Azul - Kalim - Vil - Idia - Malleus

GN reader; sfw (kind of? subspace is not meant to be smutty but can be perceived as foreplay depending on the reader’s wants); word count: 2601; tw: inferiority complex, possessiveness

Sunset Savanna is a very inclusive and progressive land in terms of gender, women are held in high standard and the same is with omegas, it's considered normal to have kings that are alphas, betas or omegas. So Leona was always comfortable in his own skin, his nation never made him doubt himself in his second gender, and if he heard someone in NRC with conservative ideas about gender roles he would just scoff and roll his eyes.

Perhaps, in the middle of the night when his instincts are alert, his mind would conjure a memory of some nobody saying that alphas are born to be leaders. Maybe he was disqualified from birth, never meant to surpass Falena?

Still, he wouldn't entertain such nonsense, Sunset Savanna is what matters the most, and no omega is looked down there. So there's nothing wrong with him, it couldn't be! Right?

At least he hopes so, his signature spell already is dangerous, one that Leona avoids showing to others because of the fear it brings. He can't have anything more, anything that is an intrinsic part of himself, to be unfit.

Courting

Leona's first impression of you wasn't all that positive, to say that it was memorable would be pushing it. He really didn't pay attention (nor cared enough) to the entrance ceremony, honestly, the most exciting part was a fire cat causing terror to the other housewardens and newbies.

To him, your first encounter was in the botanical garden, an inconsiderate alpha stepping on him. Leona is still an omega that came from royalty, despite being lazy, he looks after his appearance, idiotic alpha, not only being a cause of a slight pain and annoyance, you also messed with the fur of his tail.

Leona may not be as prissy about his looks as Vil, but he is proud of image.

Like an annoying bug, this alpha was determined to destroy his plans for the upcoming spelldrive tournament. And they did, begrudgingly gaining his respect.

Spending time with you while Ramshackle dorm was being used as a collateral by Azul wasn't as bothersome as he expected. In the short time that you spent together he became fond of you, of your strength, wit and kindness. Leona enjoyed the conversations and playing with you, releasing a sounding purr with his words when he won against you or you did something that he approved of.

The lion beastman, above all, adored to lay on his bed and just observe you moving across his room, organizing his desk and cleaning, he admired your form from afar, averting his gaze just in time for you to not catch him, he enjoyed your form, Leona admitted to himself this, but he wasn't ready to let you in this secret of his. He hoped you liked his too.

Leona's room smelled of you both, the scents minging with each other in a delicious combination that almost made him crawl against his walls. He considered more than one time to just kick Grim out so the smoke smell of the little nuisance wouldn't sully it.

Weeks later, periods without your constant presence made him miss you more and more, and the scary realization that maybe what he feels for this diligent alpha wasn't just physical. He doesn't know what that means, he never fell in love before, and contact besides casual intimacy was unknown to him.

His experience comes from the occasional heat partners, usually beastmen that help him through his painful heats and he never talks with again later on, people he will never miss. He expected to be the same thing with you, ask for assistance and his weird obsession with you would disappear.

But had he ever felt this way before for any of his fleeting encounters? The emptiness when you are not with him, the clammy hands and fuzzy feelings when you are nearby, the need to claim and never let others touch you?

After the realization dawned on him, he avoided you for a few days. He is good at reading people, he is aware that you are the perfect mate for him. You never treated him as a second thought, held him in high regard, and dare he say, enjoyed his company as much as he is delighted by yours.

“You are compassionate and caring, Leona, did you know that?” your words did not leave his head during his isolation span. Leona never expected to meet someone that read through him, that could see right behind the thorns and thistles of his being, and reach a pure part of him that Leona didn't know existed.

You said you admired how he cared for his dorm, his dedication to guide pups like Jack and Epel and offer words of guidance or protection, in the guise that it was his duty as a housewarden. He was… happy that you saw him this way, the tenderness of such unfamiliar to him, but welcome.

With his mind made up, he ordered Ruggie to bring you to the botanical gardens, returning to his routine with you when you have free time to spend with him. Leona may be lazy, but he puts effort in the things he is passionate about, and he is very passionate about you.

You may not notice you are courting, he never brought it up, amused to the time you eventually will figure it out. He seeks time with you and sometimes follows you around the school when you are busy with your duties, he buys you food, brings you to his room (though most is with the excuse that you need to clean it for him) and slowly blinks in your direction, isn't that obvious enough?

Beastmen omegas are in control of the relationship, the alphas can’t do anything without their permission, so he orders you to give him time and affection, trapping your body beneath him for cuddles, and if you deny something to him? Be prepared to deal with a frustrated omega. He will relent if he asks something that is a boundary to you, not wanting you to be uncomfortable, he does respect you, after all, but if you are denying him to give attention to something else bothers him to no end.

Be it from him asking, or his dorm mates' admiration of him, some Savanaclaw student is always around you, to lend you protection or to report what you are doing to him. If they see someone bothering you, this is dealt with swiftly, if you want something, Leona makes sure to attend to your needs (within reason).

He would flaunt his neck and shoulders, turning his back towards you, feeling whole if you take this as an invitation to bury your face in his body. He hopes that you know what that means, you just accepted his courting, and he anticipates that his alpha will stay with him.

Growling

To hear Leona growling is not unusual, he is bothered easily and growls whenever someone gives him a task he doesn't want to complete or orders him around.

There was a time when he used to hold back his growls, when he still had hope of becoming king and for people to see that he was the better option. As a member of royalty, he knew how to play nice. but since the realization that for them he would always be second, he stopped holding back.

His homeland became suffocating since Cheka's birth, farthering him away from the throne even more. Attending NRC was his way of escaping his family, and despite him being less stressed than before, he can't say this place is perfect.

Towards you, he growls if you try to run from him, he asked for your time in the botanical garden and he expects for you to accept, and he will continue growling until he deems you gave him sufficient attention.

Leona releases guttural noises specially if he believes someone is stealing from him what is rightfully his. Despite being a prince, he doesn't have plentiful that he could call just his, he may be gifted in athletics, but Malleus is better, he is smart and has a sense of leadership, but his subjects would always choose Falena, material things can be owned by anyone with money, recognition is what really matters to him.

So Leona is ferocious if he finds another omega trying to seduce his alpha. But most of all, he expects you to reject them, to always choose him and reassure he is the only one on your mind.

Purring

Leona purrs loudly, though he is very private about them, only the people that have his favor are privy to this sound.

If he is feeling secure in your relationship, his purr hardly stops when you both are alone. His favorite times are when you are on his bed and he is laying on top of you, his vibrations traveling from his body to yours.

When he is playing chess, the match is exciting, forcing him to think deeply about his next moves. And if you don't know how to play chess, worry not, he will play with you until you learn it. His purrs are enough motivation for you to master chess.

Leona adores physical proximity, let him lay his head on your lap, his ears will twitch in invite, wanting your hands on his hair to caress his strands or to scratch behind his ears. Cup his face on your hands, he will smirk and rub his cheeks on your palms.

Look in his eyes while doing that, tell him you love him, his purrs will become louder than a machine.

Nesting

Leona's nest is not very organized, filled with expensive blankets and pillows, a soft mattress is the base. His nest contains color tones of brown, yellow and gray, most materials have the same texture and the pillows are large so he can hug them with his whole body.

He tucked his nest in a corner, he doesn't often use a privacy screen, but he does put it on when he is feeling vulnerable and in need to hide from the rest of the world.

Leona invites you to his nest very early in the courtship, he is sure that you are his future, so the wait isn't worth it when he could have his alpha in his safe space sooner, you would enter it in the future anyway.

The lion beastman makes you scent all his materials, since you did that, he spends even more time in his nest, especially when he is missing you. In the times he goes to Ramshackle he always comes back with an article of yours, and trades with another when your smell fades away, he is also careful when choosing his new piece, he couldn't let you without your essential items.

Sometimes, Leona would wait until your classes finished so he could whisk you away to his nest. If he is in the room with you, you don't need to ask for permission to enter it, but you do need permission to leave. Anytime you try to leave, to go to the bathroom or because you need to go home, he would bite behind your neck and pull you inside again.

“Oi, who gave you permission?” He would snarl with a low growl, his alpha must coax him gently, little persuasive words, being open to receive scenting and caresses to his neck and shoulders, all that combined and Leona might be convinced.

He just checked behind your neck before you were able to go, his bite apparent for everyone to see, it wasn't a mating mark yet, but for now, it was good enough for any of your other potential suitors to avoid approaching you.

Marking

You would be drenched in Leona's scent, the other students smell more of him on you than your own scent, to the point that some people think that the Savanaclaw housewarden is passing by even when you are alone.

Leona gets smug when he sees others averting their gazes from you, for everyone to perceive your place by his side.

Besides the omega scenting you to announce his claim, it's also for his comfort and reassurance. He is scared of you leaving him, of becoming a second choice for you too.

Smelling himself on you soothes his troubled mind, you are still by his side, you still haven't stirred away, he is still your beloved, his scent is proof of that. The scenting procedure is relaxing to him, to have you in his arms while he nuzzles your head, down to your neck and collarbones, reaching more parts of your body with his wrists’ glands. In moments like this he is assured of one fact, you are his.

Subspace

Although Leona isn't insecure about his second gender, it's a rare occurrence for him to enter subspace, compared to other omegas he has a more domineering personality, and he likes to have the upper hand with his alpha too. But he also likes to concede control from time to time.

Biting and licking his neck, shoulders and back are the way to bring him to cloud nine. Leona's body immediately relaxes and becomes pliant, his tail flicks up in a show of his excitement.

His purrs are unstoppable in this state, and quite lower compared to his usual tone. Any attempts to take your mouth away from him are met with a vicious hiss and nails digging on your back.

This is the only hard rule that he will impose in moments like this, don't leave. Otherwise, Leona would let you do anything when he is like this, his omega brain only demanding attention from his alpha, and he is pleased to provide.

☽ ☼ ☾

There's a gentle breeze in the air, but the ambient is too warm. It's weird, Leona is used to Savanaclaw's temperature, however, lately his instincts are haywire. Ever since he came to terms with his feelings for that alpha he has been feeling overwhelmed.

It's too hot, too suffocating. How long has passed since he started to avoid you? He is sure it's just a few days, and yet, his heart feels far too cold in displeasure. It was cozy when he was with you.

Leona wants to snarl at himself, he couldn't believe he is infatuated by someone. But it had to be you, you have been his only exception for many things, so he isn't surprised he caught feelings, even when he never thought he was capable of such pure tenderness.

He isn't elated, though. He knows you have a liking towards him, but is it romantic? Besides him, you spend time with many others, would you put him in second place too? He couldn't imagine you being so cruel, not after the many conversations you had, not after you saw good in him, even after you witnessed the worst in him.

If you did prioritize someone else…

Leona can't even fathom the thought, he could feel the flames of jealousy burning his stomach and his heart shrinking at the image of you holding a no face in your arms.

No, this can't happen, he refuses. The most shameful kind of loser is the type that doesn't even try. If he is doomed, if he is destined to never be the first choice, at least he will trail this path with dignity, he will go down at his own accord.

But Leona doesn't know if he could take another heartbreak, so please, choose him.

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

THEY ARE PERFECT

Octavinelle in cookie run???!!!! waaaa???!!! (still haven't played cookie run)

pst @lukaka-arte i used ur suggestion 👀

poll under cut

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

Golden Eyes

Was drawing Sleazy!JY but proceed to draw some of the yellow-eyed hsr characters

Gn!Reader, posessive tendency,obsessive tendency, OOC!

A/N : I DO NOT PLAY HSR ANYMORE

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High..school..AU?

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[a-short-ass-disappointment]

Let me crash out in peace-

my goodness...

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

It's no surprise that Dottore doesn't exactly provide comfort in the traditional way. When you're feeling down, he'll go a little quiet and observe for a minute to make certain his suspicions are correct. There's no forcing you to express it, no "what are you thinking?", only a warm hand rubbing your shoulder before you inevitably scoot over to make room for him. He puts an arm around you, pulls you onto his lap if it's a particularly bad day. The mask has long since been discarded to let him easily bury his face in the crook of your neck - that is if he doesn't press your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart silencing the worries in your head.

The thing with Dottore is that he listens, not just to your words but to what remains unspoken as well. He recognises the value of being taken seriously and accommodated instead of forced into the expected. So if you would rather sit quietly instead of cry your heart out, then that is fine by him. But you won't have to do it alone.

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

Dottore with a child that hates anyone other than him, blatantly refusing to talk to others even when dottore is begging them to just socially interact with others.

Dottore had faced many difficult challenges in his life—failed experiments, catastrophic miscalculations, and Harbinger politics. But nothing compared to the sheer frustration of trying to make his child interact with anyone who wasn’t him or his Segments.

At first, he had assumed it was a temporary phase. You were young, and it was natural for a child to cling to their parental figure. But time passed, and the problem became increasingly evident.

You spoke freely with him and his Segments. You laughed with Beta when he teased you, asked Sigma endless questions about his research, and followed Theta around the lab like a shadow. You had even convinced Gamma to help you sabotage one of Omega’s overly complicated projects.

But the moment someone who wasn’t a copy of your father tried to talk to you?

Silence.

Even worse, if they insisted, you would glare at them like they had personally offended you.

--------

"You’ve raised quite the little menace, Doctor," Pantalone remarked, adjusting his pristine gloves as he watched the scene before him with poorly concealed amusement.

Dottore sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced at you—his ever-difficult child—who was currently using Theta’s coat as a shield from the Fatui gathering. The event had been meant to encourage some level of socialization, yet you had, as expected, refused to acknowledge a single soul outside of the Segments. Your sharp eyes scanned the room, filled with nothing but thinly veiled distrust.

"This again?" Dottore muttered, already feeling his patience wear thin.

Arlecchino, who had been watching the whole ordeal with arms crossed, let out a low chuckle. "They truly refuse to speak to anyone outside your little creations, huh?" She tilted her head, looking entirely too entertained.

"Of course they do." Sigma smirked, swirling a glass of wine between his fingers. "They have standards."

"You are enabling them," Dottore muttered, glaring at Sigma, who only grinned wider in response.

"Am I?" Sigma asked, feigning innocence. "Or am I simply accepting reality?"

Pantalone, ever persistent, crouched slightly to your level and offered his most charming smile. "Come now, little one, surely you can spare a few words for me?"

You lifted your head just enough to stare at him, expression blank.

A pause.

Then, very deliberately, you turned away, reaching for Beta’s sleeve instead. "I’m bored. Can we leave?"

Beta grinned, all too happy to indulge you. "I was waiting for you to ask."

Pantalone sighed, standing back up as he dramatically placed a hand over his chest. "Unbelievable. My wealth and charm mean nothing to this child."

"At least they have taste," Theta quipped, smirking.

Dottore felt his headache intensify.

By the time the gathering had officially begun, you had already wedged yourself between Beta and Theta at one of the tables, arms crossed and face resting in your palm, exuding pure boredom. The Harbingers had begun taking it as a challenge.

"Have you tried bribing them?" Sandrone suggested, barely looking up from her latest automaton sketches.

"I don’t need bribes," you muttered, earning a snort from Beta.

Childe, still attempting to win you over, leaned down with an easy grin. "Hey, kiddo, I promise I don’t bite."

You slowly blinked at him. "I bite."

Beta let out a delighted laugh while Theta tried to stifle his amusement behind a gloved hand.

Childe, stunned for a moment, barked out a laugh himself. "I like this kid!"

"That is not helping," Dottore ground out.

Columbina, watching with open amusement, hummed as she rested her chin in her hands. "Oh, they really don’t like any of us, do they?"

"No," you said flatly.

The room fell into silence for a moment before Arlecchino exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. "You do realize that not everyone is an enemy, right?"

You squinted at her, unconvinced. "I never said they were. I just don’t like them."

Dottore could practically feel the migraine forming at this point. He knew you had a preference for his Segments over anyone else, but this was getting ridiculous.

After what felt like hours of you rejecting every single attempt at interaction, Dottore finally had enough. He turned to you, expression firm. "You need to socialize."

"I am," you replied, without hesitation, leaning against Theta’s side. "With them."

"With someone other than the Segments," he clarified, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I don’t want to," you said simply, voice unwavering.

The Segments—who had been watching with barely concealed amusement—finally broke their silence. Beta placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It’s okay. We’ll be your designated social circle."

"You are not helping," Dottore snapped, shooting him a glare.

Theta, looking as smug as ever, smirked. "Face it, Prime. They’ve made their choice."

Dottore exhaled sharply, glancing around the room at the utterly defeated Harbingers and his far-too-smug Segments. He could already hear Pantalone whispering something about compensation for his wasted time.

Fine. Whatever.

He would try again later.

But as you nestled comfortably between Beta and Theta, perfectly at ease in the chaos you had created, Dottore supposed—just for tonight—he could let this battle go.

----------

Dottore pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply as if summoning the patience of an Archon. Across from him, you sat perched comfortably on the counter, swinging your legs idly. Your expression was smug, far too amused by his exasperation for his liking.

"If you refuse to socialize, I will be forced to conduct an experiment on your behavior," he declared, arms crossed.

You barely glanced up from the intricate diagram you had been doodling on a stray blueprint. "I talk to people. I talk to you and the Segments."

"That is not what I mean," he huffed. "You refuse to acknowledge anyone who doesn’t look like me."

You tilted your head in consideration, then shrugged. "Maybe they should try looking like you, then."

Dottore exhaled slowly, his mechanical mask clicking slightly as he adjusted it. "You are impossible."

You grinned, sharp and mischievous. "Thank you."

His eye twitched. "That was not a compliment."

"Sure it was. You just don’t want to admit it."

Dottore glared at you for a long moment before sighing. "I will bribe you if I must."

Now that got your attention. You leaned forward, intrigued. "Bribe me with what?"

He tapped his fingers against the countertop, considering. "Books. Research materials. I will even consider letting you conduct a small experiment under supervision."

Your eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Does that include throwing a beaker at someone if they annoy me?"

Dottore groaned. "No."

You pouted. "Not even a little vial?"

"No."

"A dropper?"

He gave you a flat stare. "Are you planning to weaponize the entire lab?"

You grinned. "I mean, it’s an option."

Dottore muttered something under his breath about regretting every life decision that led him here. He looked at you again, more serious this time. "You need to at least tolerate other people. It is inefficient to isolate yourself from the world."

You pursed your lips, contemplating his words. Then, finally, you sighed dramatically. "Fine. But only if I get to choose who I interact with."

Dottore narrowed his eyes. "Within reason."

You smirked. "And I still get the books?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "Yes. But no throwing beakers."

"Not even if I say it’s for science?"

Dottore groaned again, but he couldn't quite hide the small, amused smirk that tugged at his lips.

----------

Childe thought the whole situation was hilarious.

"So let me get this straight," he said, barely holding back a laugh. "They talk to you and your creepy clones—"

"Segments," Dottore corrected, already regretting this conversation.

"—but the moment they see anyone else, they act like they’re allergic to human interaction?"

"Yes," Dottore deadpanned.

Childe’s grin widened. "Oh, I gotta try this."

Dottore sighed. This was going to be painful to watch.

True enough, the next time Childe visited the lab, he strolled in with the confidence of a man who had no idea he was about to be humiliated. Crouching to meet your eye level, he offered an easy grin. "Hey, kid. Wanna hear a cool battle story?"

You blinked at him.

There was a long pause where Childe was sure he had you interested.

Then, without a single word, you turned on your heel and walked straight to Sigma, gripping his coat like he was your lifeline. Sigma, ever the enabler, ruffled your hair and smirked at Childe. "Good choice."

Childe blinked. He pointed at himself, bewildered. "Did I just get ignored?"

Beta chuckled from his spot near the workbench, shaking his head in amusement. "Congratulations. You’ve been rejected."

Childe scoffed, standing up. "Come on, kid, at least give me a chance!"

You peered at him from Sigma’s side, then slowly—very slowly—turned away again.

Sigma smirked. "That’s a no."

Childe groaned, running a hand down his face. "Wow. That hurt."

Dottore, watching this entire mess unfold, barely concealed his amusement. "I warned you."

Childe narrowed his eyes. "Alright, this is just a challenge now. Mark my words, kid, one day, you’ll talk to me willingly."

You, still clinging to Sigma’s coat, raised an unimpressed brow. "Doubt it."

Beta laughed outright. "Ouch. That’s rough, comrade."

Childe huffed, standing up with a dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine. I’ll win you over eventually, kid."

Dottore, shaking his head, muttered, "I wouldn’t count on it."

And yet, Childe refused to give up.

----------

Eventually, your reputation reached Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa.

"You refuse to speak to anyone but your father and his Segments?" she mused, studying you with an unreadable expression.

You stood beside Dottore, meeting her gaze without fear. "Yes."

Dottore shot you a warning glance, silently begging you not to cause problems. The last thing he needed was for you to annoy the Cryo Archon herself.

A moment of silence stretched between you and the Tsaritsa. The Harbingers watched with interest, some expecting her to reprimand you, others just enjoying the show.

Then—

She smiled. "Good."

Dottore’s brain short-circuited. "…What?"

The Tsaritsa leaned back slightly, clearly amused by his visible confusion. "I appreciate their selectiveness," she said simply. "It means their loyalty cannot be swayed so easily."

You smirked. Victory.

Dottore ran a hand down his face. "This is not a good thing."

"I disagree," the Tsaritsa replied, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "You’ve raised a child who does not yield to outside influence. That is admirable."

Pantalone snickered. "This is the first time I’ve seen the Doctor look this close to despair."

Childe, still smarting from being ignored, crossed his arms. "If anything, this just means I’ll have to work harder to get on their good side."

Arlecchino, unimpressed, simply muttered, "What a waste of time."

Columbina giggled from her spot nearby. "How fascinating. Our dear Doctor is usually so composed."

Dottore inhaled sharply, gripping the bridge of his nose. "I despise all of you."

The Tsaritsa ignored the chaos, her gaze settling back on you. "Remain as you are, child. The world is full of deceivers, but you know where your trust belongs."

You nodded, entirely pleased with yourself. "I do."

Dottore sighed. This was getting out of hand.

After the unexpected (and unwanted) approval from the Tsaritsa, things only got worse for Dottore.

The Harbingers no longer even tried to get you to talk to them. Instead, they just found ways to be entertained by your selective silence.

Childe saw it as a long-term challenge. "One day, you’ll talk to me willingly, and it’ll be the greatest victory of my life."

Pantalone was far less persistent but enjoyed making bets on how long others could last before giving up.

Arlecchino barely cared, but occasionally tested your resolve by standing in your way, just to see if she could get a reaction.

Columbina found it endlessly amusing. "You really are just a smaller version of the Doctor, aren't you?"

The segments, of course, continued to be your only real source of interaction outside of Dottore himself. Theta, Beta, and Sigma all took turns indulging your preference, while Omega often tried (and failed) to logic you into socializing.

Dottore, at the end of it all, could only sigh and accept that this was simply how things were.

If the Tsaritsa herself had deemed your behavior acceptable, then there was no point in fighting it.

"One day, you will regret this," he muttered, glancing at you as you curled up beside him on the couch in his lab, entirely unbothered by the outside world.

You only smiled. "Doubt it."

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

Blasphemous Rumors - X

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year. A marriage of convenience. Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality. Slow burn. Semi-enemies to lovers. Available on AO3 here.

Your head was swimming between the careless Agent who wasted your money with their rant and the sudden shift in your schedule, hand on your back included. 

It was protocol to rotate a year’s worth of documents down to the Archives for storage to make room for new budget records up in the main office.  The Archives were, while safe, notoriously difficult to navigate.  That, combined with having to identify and locate several boxes per calendar year for the Harbinger who had one of the highest volumes of expenses was a frustration you sympathized with.  The Agent was careless enough to describe the layout and the security measures as if they were common knowledge.

Perhaps they assumed you were already aware, given your elevated status.  What a moron.

And now, you were walking out of your office with Lord Dottore’s hand on your back.  A distinct gesture.  The man was meticulous, purposeful.  He never did anything without reason, without a drive.

He would be the death of you.

The elevator rides to the depths of the Palace were taken in relative silence but you could feel the cogs in his head turning next to you, cranking along with the wires and pulleys.  There was little reason for you to be in his workshops.  The last time you’d gone down, it was to make a point that he could not just leave the wedding details to you entirely.  His domain was otherwise a place you made an effort to avoid.

Once you were finally on solid ground again, you followed Lord Dottore through a series of corridors lined with hissing pipes.  The air warmed as you passed through the facility doors and into his facilities proper.

It was quieter than you recalled from your last visit, fewer people and even fewer machines.  The budget for the Nod Krai facilities and the expedition to Sumeru accounted for a good chunk of the expenses over the last few years (and no doubt the lack of present equipment).  You were led to the office you recalled standing in, justifying the need for a ring and that he at least pretend to try.  Just as before, it was free of dust, everything in its place.  The piles of papers and stacks of books were, for now, less of a hazard than the last time you saw them.  A Segment’s boredom, no doubt.

“Presumably, the move to Nod Krai is going according to plan?” you ventured.

“One of many details we will need to unravel if we are to accomplish our combined goals.  A better solution will be needed to address the matter of property,” Dottore replied.  “However, that is not at the top of the agenda, dorogáya moya.”

The pet name dug under your skin every time you heard it.  Undoubtedly, he knew it did.  It may have been wiser to have held your tongue at your wedding reception about the double meaning but now you had no choice but to deal with the consequences of his small victory.

Your husband gestured for you to sit but you shook your head.  “I spend half of my day in a chair, I’ll stand.”

You felt a hand on your left shoulder and you flinched, unaware of another presence.  There was a faint pressure downward, urging you to comply, pushing harder until your knees cooperated and your bottom met the seat with a thump.  The hand remained on your shoulder, fingers curled ever so slightly to resemble the claw of a raven.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t a question, dear wife ,” came the response from behind you, a mockery of the voice of the man before you.

You never had much business with Omega, except for when he stood in for the Harbinger during your meetings or for rehearsals and suit alterations.  Despite how similar he looked to the original, the oldest Segment’s presence was akin to walking into a public place before opening hours.  Everything seemed normal but there was a vacancy about him that always unsettled you.

Another hand on your right, this one brushing gloved knuckles across your cheek, was as cold as ice.  You had not picked up any footsteps whatsoever from either Segment, but they were not capable of appearing out of thin air.  How had you not noticed their footfalls?  Or was it that they were already in the room and you’d simply failed to spot them?

Either way, you were slipping.  Again.

“Ease up, Omega.  She came of her own volition, as she usually does.”

You felt a hearty chuckle and out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a distinctly patterned mask.  This one always appeared as though he belonged as a masquerade party, in your opinion.  More often than not, his receipts were splattered with what you could only assume was blood, if not oil.  You kept your face impassive as your behind met the seat and both hands remained on your shoulders. 

Something about the last quip made your husband’s fist clench and although the lighting was poor, you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn darker.

“Zeta, you would do well to keep your mouth shut,” Lord Dottore said, jaw tense.

Blood thrummed in your ears as you tried to piece together what, exactly, would lead to him taking this approach with you.  It wasn’t just about the sham of a marriage you two were playing at, it couldn’t have been.  Otherwise, he would have left it until later.  Another topic over a game of chess for the two of you, alone.  

Your stomach sank.

With everything since your return to the Palace, you’d neglected how easily you let slip what should have gone to Pantalone first.  So disarmed by sunlight and sweets, you’d tried to buy yourself time for an answer only to give him the truth.  Your eye for patterns and spotting abnormalities and asking questions far above your pay grade, all tools of your trade, betrayed you.  Why hadn’t you kept it to yourself?

A man like the Second Harbinger never forgot the details.

Instead of speaking, your husband opened a folder and laid out documents in front of you.  Your working record.  Copies of your parents bankruptcy documents and loan letters.  Reports from Agents with dates on which you recalled harrowing visits full of arguments.  A shining recommendation that praised your skills with numbers and efficiencies with analysis and deadlines.

None of it was new and in fact, you were surprised to see such things now.  You’d been forthcoming and truthful, almost to a fault.

But what conclusion had he come to?

“Your silence is far louder than you give it credit for,” Omega crooned, fingers digging into your shoulder.  “Surely we didn’t marry a complete dolt after all?”

“You like your dramatic tension, my lord, but I cannot answer an unspoken question,” you replied, staring at the man behind the desk.  “And I don’t recall agreeing to an interrogation.”

Lord Dottore stood and traced his fingers over the surface of his desk, picking up one of the pieces of evidence in the process.  He stopped after rounding the desk and standing in front of you, shifting his weight as he crossed one ankle in front of another.

“Help me understand.  How does one get out of bed for the past several years and smile at the man responsible for your family’s current position?”  the Harbinger asked.

Your mouth twitched.  A question you asked yourself for years, the response to which was driven into your very bones by this point. 

Before you could answer, another voice jumped in.

“Not everyone has their family’s debt reviewed by the Regrator himself,” Zeta said as his hand found the nape of your neck and teased your hair.  “Fewer still are given no leniency and forced to face financial ruin; such an approach only happens when he loses more than he put in, when he gambled with his own investments and cannot face the blow to his pride.”

“That’s how authority works if you choose to use fear,” you shot back.  “You have to make examples of those who fail you, who wrong you.  Winter is not merciful, why should leadership be?”

Lord Dottore’s lips thinned.  “Try saying that with conviction next time.”

He held out two pieces of paper in front of you: the first was a copy of the original contract your father signed; the second was a revised copy, complete with a perfect signature.  No one ever doubted a contract that the Regrator himself used in any meetings.  Attempts to do so were met with additional charges of forgery.

Seeing them again made your blood boil and then ice over, pushing back the memories of dejected expressions, your carefully laid financial plans with every intention of finding a way to make it work tossed in the trash with a smile.

“Tell me, what’s the difference, Accountant?” Dottore prompted.

Your answer caught in your throat, worse than the sticky porridge you used to eat in the dormitories back when you first arrived.  The hand in your hair tightened, demanding to let you look nowhere else as Omega’s grip on you tightened further, your shoulder beginning to scream.  

Eyes crept over you expectantly and you suddenly felt like a stuck pig, cooked and on display.

“He changed the terms of the contract,” you said.  “The loan term and the interest rate specifically.  I laid out a plan for my parents to present but it was moot.  There was no recourse except to cut his losses and force us into bankruptcy, leaving only the house in which we lived.  Out of pity, more than anything.  My father would never work again and my mother does not have the skills to seek higher wages.”

Each statement felt like a hot knife to your skin and you wanted nothing more than to sink into yourself than remember this.  But Omega’s and Zeta’s rigid grips held you upright as your blood ran cold.  Zeta in particular stroked your face, almost sympathetically, and you winced at the touch, incapable of moving.  Lord Dottore said something in a language you didn’t comprehend, the same he’d used when he first felt your freezing feet.  Zeta scoffed and pinched your cheek before letting go, replying in the same tongue.

Your husband stared at you for a good long moment, boring a hole in your cheek as the paper in his fingers rustled ever so slightly.

Seemingly satisfied with Zeta’s cooperation, Lord Dottore plucked another piece of paper from behind him.  This one was recognizable from the back by the way the light passed through it.  

Your offer letter from the Ninth’s Department of Internal Revenue Affairs.

“Yet you applied to the Regrator’s very own sector,” the Harbinger said.  “Of all of the positions available for a civilian.”

“I know what I’m good at.”

“You were specifically chosen for your ‘decision making around trend analysis, looking not just at patterns but the circumstances around them’ and for your willingness to adapt .”

Omega scoffed but kept his thoughts to himself.  In your experiences, he was preparing for a rebuttal after hearing a poorly constructed argument.  When his thumb released itself to brush against the back of your shirt collar as if to comfort or perhaps mockingly admire you, you took a deep inhale slowly, his touch like pure ice.  If your husband noticed, he said nothing and cast the paper aside before gripping the desk behind him.

“Willingness to adapt is an odd turn of phrase when all of humanity has the capacity for adaptation and evolution when under the right set of experiences and environmental factors.  But for you, it is quite apt.  As is your eye for patterns and analysis.  In fact, I would go so far to say that for your position, your recognition is far superior than what your role requires of you.  I would expect, perhaps, an auditor of Northland to identify cashflow trends among its clients.  The public’s interest is better served by your skills, arguably, but the Regrator does love his little collection of prizes.”

Your breath hitched when Lord Dottore leaned forward, his face inches from yours, the Segments keeping you in place.  His proximity never troubled you, not really.  More often than not, your touch-starved body reminded you terribly of just how easy it would be to ask for more.

Zeta’s hand in your hair nudged your head forward, as if he was attempting to play with a doll, pushing your face towards his creator’s.  Omega said something too low for you to hear it in full but the slight force stopped as soon as it started, Omega’s disgust rolling off in waves.  Your husband reached out and tilted your head with his fingers beneath your chin, thumb reaching to brush across your bottom lip.

“And yet, this information finds its way to me and not your immediate superior who would have a vested interest in such knowledge.  You are nosy, in addition to expensive, my dear.  And in a desperate enough position that you might just attempt to leverage your skills in…creative ways.”

Something in you felt emboldened despite the discomfort, like a tiny piece of solid ground as you swung from a fraying rope.

“What ways might those be?” you replied.  “Reporting it internally would only result in the data changing, not the intentions of the people themselves.  But such knowledge outside of the department?  Maybe that might make a difference.”

Lord Dottore chuckled, his breath tickling your skin as he stroked your lip.

“You’re not naive enough to think that, dorogáya moya.  You are rather pragmatic.  The notion would never hold water in your mind.”

He pulled away and stood straight, speaking factually, pulling all of his threads together.

“You are hardly the first to have a right to despise the Regrator and hold a grudge against working for the very system that led to your situation.  In your position, you have access to information many would and have killed for.  All to track our movements and our plans.  It is well-compensated in the right markets.”

One final piece of paper dangled in front of you.  A report about the address you last used, including the return of a package marked ‘Return to Sender’.  It never made its way back to you; you always shipped using the standard return address, which also would have made its way to someone, eventually.  The contents discussed were inconsequential, phrased as the mere shipping of a financial manifest and a letter that made no sense.  

Included in the report was a timestamp of the shipment, the date and time you were also at the post office.

The same time and date as your accidental encounter with the Harbinger at the bank.

He couldn’t prove it was sent by you.  Not unless…

“Footage is scrubbed almost daily to save data space,” Omega sneered.  “And the Rooster is too frugal to invest in proper archives of public video records.”

“But you see, we have all of those nice hand-written summaries of yours from over the years,” Zeta let go of your hair just long enough to stroke your head before grabbing a fistful of locks again.  “And there’s so many similarities .”

Your lungs felt so small all of a sudden, refusing to intake the amount of air the way they normally should.  You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh in hopes of making room to breathe.  The Segments’ hold on you was almost numb at this point, your scalp and shoulder tingling as they clung to you, tried to wring you dry like a dirty rag.

It would be stupid to attempt to rebuke him and hide it.  He didn’t gain anything from this knowledge leaving this room, in which case, maybe you wouldn’t leave these walls, either.  Just because others knew you left with him didn’t mean they knew where you went and the Second was above certain questioning.

Maybe he wouldn’t value whatever truth you presented under the guise of it being biased.

But wasn’t that better than dying?

You shook despite the firm hold on you.

“Finding a good physician that far north requires compensation, as you’re well aware,” you said at last.  “I was skipping meals to pay for the medication and the services.”

You’d spent that time in a haze, functional and only sharp when it counted.  Audit season and Lord Dottore’s quarterly budgets were the times you dipped into savings so you weren’t as hungry.  Couldn’t have the Second suspecting the Ninth didn’t pay his people enough, was your rationalization.  Coffee helped.

Lord Dottore’s lips pursed slightly, recalling something as he cast away the last report.  “That was several years ago.  You were malnourished but it’s not uncommon in your department, given the volume of work.”

“Others in my job might have chosen to ask for positions at well known gambling houses or other businesses of Lord Pantalone’s, opting to numb their minds or spread their legs for higher pay.  But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, not if he ever recalled my family name from the dozens upon dozens he’s already ruined.”

“Clearly you have a focus, though.”

“Never information about Lord Pantalone himself.  Only things that might be helpful to have an edge over before they go public,” you admitted.  “Activity of noble accounts, mostly; he likes to keep tabs on the biggest investors in Northland, and those files are run through us under the assumption that the bank’s staff would be too biased in an effort to protect Lord Pantalone’s interests.”

“Have you ever sold information on myself?  My projects?”

“No,” your response was instant.  “Also a rule.  Nothing that could be traced back to me in particular when pieced together.”

Zeta giggled, muttering about how well that worked out.

The silence that sat between you and your husband  grew to a crescendo as he considered you carefully.  Zeta’s hold on you shifted, his hand moving towards your neck, fingers finding perfect perches in your flesh.  He didn’t squeeze but your pulse pounded against his thumb, quick and steady.  

When you swallowed, you felt your throat twitch against Zeta’s hand.  All it would take was one flex and you’d never be heard from again.  Zeta  clearly had the same thought because his hold tightened, causing you to gasp as the pressure in your head increased.

“Killing her serves no purpose,” Lord Dottore said coldly.  “Let go.”

“She serves no purpose if she’s a potential source of data loss,” Zeta replied.  “I’m sparing you the headache.  How is this any different than—”

Your husband made no move to pry the hand from your throat but his posture and tone shifted, rigid and commanding.  “She isn’t a replaceable subject, let her go.”

“Yet you don’t fight for her, how fascinating,” Omega crooned.  “Isn’t she your wife, Prime?”

Your vision grew blurry as the pressure continued to build, your heart pounding as you made a gurgling sound, reaching up to tug on Zeta’s arm.  He held tighter as you tried to shift your weight, wrestle away, anything to not—

In a flash of blue and black, the hand on your throat released instantly as your husband grabbed Zeta and shoved him away, the younger man stumbling towards the door.  Omega’s hand left your shoulder with a hearty pat as you coughed, panting as blood returned to your head and the room spun.  Your pulse throbbed across your entire body as your blood pressure began to try to level out again.

“Let go and get out , you wretches!”

His command was followed by a sentence in the language you were beginning to expect, even if you didn’t understand it.  You didn’t turn to see the responses of the others but you heard the door slam and silence eased itself into Lord Dottore’s study again, icy and lonely.

It shouldn’t have mattered to you that he let it happen but in the haze before equilibrium came back, you felt a pang of hurt.  Was your secret now so disastrous that your life was forfeit?  

Slowly, Lord Dottore turned his attention to you and when he tried to examine your neck, you pulled away.  He was quicker, though, his other hand catching your head and tilting it up, as though expecting your reaction.

“It’ll bruise,” he muttered, removing his hands.  “Here.”

You cast your gaze up through your lashes to see him undo his cravat, the blue fabric coming free with ease as he unfastened the pin.  Without asking, he wrapped the fabric around your neck, arranging it carefully, and pinned it in place.  It was warm, smooth, and carried hints of the familiar scent that lingered in your bed sheets.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

There was little ease you could say, even if you wanted to.  How were you supposed to do this for a year if you had to sleep with one eye open now?  Would he try to kill you, too?

That wouldn’t have been much of a surprise, really.  He’d have every right to.  As a Harbinger, he upheld the Tsaritsa’s will and protected her main interests, even if he had his own.  You shoved down the part of you that felt the disappointment, as if this was meant to be more than a quid pro quo.

“Perhaps there’s another benefit to our arrangement,” Lord Dottore said.  “Such skills should not go to waste.”

“Almost had me fooled, I’d have thought a treacherous dead wife would be convenient.”

“Accidents certainly happen but I gain nothing from you dying.  Or did Zeta squeeze you so hard you have memory retention problems?”

You glared at him until he bowed his head slightly and raised his hand to his lips, deep in thought.

“Pantalone’s interests are of little use to me unless it directly affects my work,” he said at last.  “But the pattern you mentioned was one you identified for a year and yet it has never come up, not even in candid discussions.”

Lord Dottore shifted his weight and then began to pace the floor, boots clicking against the flagstone, not unlike a metronome.  He continued as he walked.

“Instead of you simply…mailing out coded information, you will bring your findings to me first.  I will parse through it and then you will do as you normally would.  I merely wish to be informed.  This little game of yours could have interesting conclusions, all of them vastly different…as intriguing as it might be, my own involvement means there’s a bias…but this isn’t suitable for another…” he began to trail off, his words too soft for you to hear over his footsteps.

You rubbed your throat through the cravat, trying not to think about the spots that danced across your vision and the questions your coworkers would raise when you arrived back.  Mint and…now it was closer, you recognized the musky tone as sandalwood.  You closed your eyes for a second to refocus before you spoke up.

“And what do I get in exchange for taking on that larger risk of you ratting me out to Pantalone anytime you might be displeased with me?  Or far into the future when we have dissolved our legal bindings?”

His steps back towards you were slow, reminiscent of the wolves you heard growing up padding through the snow as they circled their prey.  Lord Dottore stepped in front of you, rested his hands on the armrests and leaned down, leather gloves squeaking as he brought his face an inch away from yours.  The tip of his mask scratched your nose.

“Have I given you the impression I’m a vengeful man?” 

“All arrogant and selfish men are vengeful, my lord.  I believe that was just proven by your own…whatever your Segments are.”

“I do not stand to gain anything from throwing you to the wolves, dorogáya moya.   Whether you live or die, the truth reveals itself inevitably and I look like a fool.  I have no intentions of letting that happen.”

If your nerves weren’t shot before from almost being choked to death, this conversation would be the nail in the coffin.  Of course a prideful man such as Il Dottore, Second Fatui Harbinger, would never let it be known that he made a mistake that was not merely a byproduct of some experiment.  It was the one thing that you drilled into your head to avoid being turned into a pile of blood and viscera to join your colleague in your old office’s rug.

He would be benefiting from you sharing your findings and this was separate from your marriage contract and list of goals.  Therefore, you deserved compensation for a new agreement.  Quite simple.

You angled your head, letting his mask dig further into your nose.  

“You’re proving my point, dear husband.  But you gain knowledge of the activities outside of your domain that will potentially affect you one way or another.  Pantalone is not your only investor, he’s just the one with the largest piece of the pie.”

When he didn’t respond, you continued.

“Treat my father when we go north.  Or at least ease his pain.”

His breath was hot on your lips as he tilted his head, his mask instead resting on your cheek, right where he’d cut you months ago.

“You said it yourself that his physician does not expect him to see spring.  Why should I waste my time?”

“Because it’s the one thing I have wanted ever since before I came to the capitol,” your voice wavered and you swallowed, pushing away the sentiment that made your heart ache.  If nothing else, then perhaps an appeal to his ego would do it.  “And if anyone would be capable, it would be you.”

Lord Dottore was still for longer than you expected and you wondered if your words had turned him to stone.  More often than not, this only happened when you presented a case that he couldn’t refute but needed time to work through all of the intricacies in whatever maze made up his mental faculties.  His throat bobbed as he swallowed and he let out a long, contemplative breath.

“I do not promise any specific outcome,” he finally said.

“Any attempts while we’re there are worthwhile.  If only for the certainty they provide.”

A beat, a blink, and then supple heat met your lips.  By now, you were used to the shape of his mouth, how his lips melded against yours.  The first few were chaste, like dipping one’s toes into water.  You made the mistake of parting your lips when he pulled away only for him to dive back to you; suddenly you were back in the house by the sea, pressed against the wall, his tongue meeting yours as if he was predicting your movements.

Your body betrayed you, pulse racing as you finally parted.  Head throbbing and a familiar heat pooling in your lower belly, you tried to blink away the haze.

“An agreement, sealed with a kiss,” you mumbled.  “How fitting.”

He chuckled, his smile nothing like the large grin from that day, greedy and prideful.  It was close to amusement, and had you married for anything other than mere convenience, you might have called it adoration.  Another pang ran through you, fleeting but sharp in its bitterness.  It was too late for such sentiments; you made your choice all those months ago and now you had to live with it.

Few words passed between you as he stood straight again and helped you up, escorting you back to the long corridor and the first elevator.  If Omega and Zeta, or any other Segments for that matter, were around, they did not make themselves known.

Lord Dottore slid open the elevator grate and stepped aside to let you pass.  There was no sense in him returning upstairs with you, not if his business was settled, and you dared not trust your tongue to ask.  He said your name and you brought your gaze away from the elevator buttons, forcing your dazed mind to focus.  He’d only ever said your name during the wedding ceremony and on his tongue it felt too intimate, every syllable sharpened by the way his tongue wrapped around them.

“Play your part and no one will ever know.  All they’ll see is a loyal spouse and a member of the Tsaritsa’s triumpherate ensuring the safety of the nation.”

The grate door was closed and locked in place.  Before you could, the Harbinger pressed the outer panel button and you watched as his visage disappeared, the elevator car whisking you back to the surface.

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

The Humble Bar Musician

Imagine being a musician and reincarnated as a transformer on Cybertron.

Warnings: some angst, mentions of having your work stolen, car accident, death, reincarnation, cybertron's caste system, being overworked and then dropped off, and mentions of stalking and attempted assault.

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- Your death was unexpected.

- After being expelled from the music academy due to false accusations, you walked out with your instrument in hand, crushed by the injustice of it all.

- Your rival, whose skills could never compare to your natural talent, had stolen your work. Yet, they framed you as the thief, claiming your compositions as their own.

- The teachers and the principal believed them without question, never giving you a chance to prove your innocence. Even your own mentor failed to stand up for you.

- There was nothing you could do. No one would listen, no one would defend you. And so, you had no choice but to leave.

- The defeat and misery you felt were beyond words. You had fought to enter the academy, pouring your soul into music—your dream, your purpose. And now, because of someone's jealousy, it had all been taken from you, with no one willing to hear the truth.

- Just why? 

- Why was it so easy for them to believe your rival? 

- Were you that bad that it was easy for them to see you as the villain? 

- Just how will you explain this to your family? 

- You died waiting to cross the road. When the light turned green, you stepped forward.

- But then—out of nowhere—a reckless driver sped through the red light, not even attempting to slow down.

- It happened too fast. One moment, you were walking, the next, you saw the car barreling toward you. Then—impact.

- You lay on the pavement, body broken, staring up at the sky. Distantly, you heard people screaming, cars screeching to a halt.

- The last thing you saw was the sky and the blurred faces of strangers before darkness consumed you.

- And then… you opened your eyes—to a new world. Cybertron. A world of metal and war. And you? No longer human, but something else entirely. A Transformer.

- It was eerie, disorienting—you barely had time to process what had happened. One moment, you were human, the next, you were something else entirely.

- But you adapted. You had to. You took a name for yourself, carving out an identity in this strange new world.

- You soon learned that Cybertron operated under a rigid caste system—and you had been placed in the lower class.

- Your alt-mode determined your job, and luckily, it wasn’t the worst assignment. It was manageable, at least.

- Still, your superiors and the higher-class bots made things difficult. They worked you to exhaustion, piling on tasks until your servos ached.

- But you endured. You had no other choice. Your job provided the credits you needed for sustenance and survival. It wasn’t easy, but it kept you going.

- The work was exhausting, but you weren’t alone. You found solace in the company of other lower-class bots who weren’t as cold or cruel as your superiors.

- As time passed, something inside you began to ache—an emptiness that only music could fill. You missed it. The process of creating, the emotion in every note, the way it could express what words couldn’t.

- Music wasn’t unknown on Cybertron, but it was a privilege of the higher-class bots. It was exclusive, guarded—something you could only catch in fleeting moments from a distance or during rare free concerts for the lower class.

- Cybertronian music was vastly different from what you once knew. It was intricate, mechanical, yet strangely beautiful in its own way. But no matter how fascinating it was, it only deepened your longing for the classical pieces you used to play.

- You still had your memories—your knowledge. The thought crossed your mind: could you play again? Could you bring a piece of your old world into this one?

- Using the skills you had from your past life, you gathered scraps and spare parts to craft an instrument similar to the one you once loved. It took time, patience, and trial and error, but in the end, you succeeded.

- The first note you played filled you with something you hadn’t felt in a long time—peace. A connection to who you once were.

- With no access to Cybertronian musical compositions, you relied on your memory, painstakingly writing down Earth’s classical pieces, effectively reintroducing them into a world that had never known them.

- Music became your solace, though it remained just a hobby. Your job demanded too much of your time, and exhaustion often kept you from playing as much as you wanted.

- Still, you shared your music with your friends, and they adored the strange, emotional sounds unlike anything they’d heard before.

- But then, everything changed. You were laid off, left without work, without stability—without purpose. It seemed like a disaster at first, but in that moment of uncertainty, your music became more than just a hobby. It became your only path forward.

- It was difficult to survive; you sometimes stayed with a friend but couldn't rely on them forever.

- You found work in a bar after the owner’s music box broke.

- Music was rare among lower-class establishments, so music boxes were also considered a rarity.

- With your friend’s encouragement to showcase your musical skills, you spoke to the owner, who initially didn’t believe you knew how to play music.

- However, he agreed to take you in if you played well.

- You took the challenge and, with your instrument in hand, began playing a classical piece you had memorized for the bar’s customers.

- Since you had experience performing for an audience, you did not suffer from stage fright. However, playing what was essentially alien music to an alien race made you feel a bit nervous.

- Your music immediately caught everyone's attention. At first, they were baffled, likely having never heard anything like it before, and intrigued by the fact that you had built your instrument yourself. However, their expressions soon shifted to calm enjoyment.

- Even the bar’s owner was surprised and momentarily distracted by your performance.

- A few outsiders were drawn in by the sound, entering the bar just to listen.

- By the end of your performance, you received a few cheers and even compliments from your new boss.

- You agreed to a fair compensation. Since your boss’s bar was located in a building, he offered to let you stay in one of the apartments as a tenant and provide you with energon in exchange for working as both a waiter and a musician. His bar catered to lower-class bots, so he couldn't pay you much, but you considered it more than enough and gladly accepted the job.

- This arrangement gave you the time to refine your skills, and you decided to use all the musical pieces you had memorized as a set playlist to perform regularly.

- Your performances soon began attracting more customers, much to your boss’s satisfaction. News of a musician playing in a lower-class bar spread, bringing in even more patrons. You found joy in playing freely for miners and those who worked dangerous jobs, offering them a rare moment of solace in their harsh lives.

- Through this, you got to know many bots, most of whom were polite and appreciative. Some even helped you find side jobs, as you still needed extra credits for living essentials.

- It filled you with an unexpected sense of happiness. Reflecting on your past life, where your efforts had been dismissed and stolen, you found comfort in knowing that here, even your small actions were valued.

- With time, you even managed to carve out moments to write and re-compose songs for different occasions, further nurturing your passion for music.

- In a way, you became somewhat famous. Though still timid in social settings, your humble nature made it easier for you to connect with others. Many bots treated you well, and over time, you built genuine friendships.

- Your job unexpectedly came with certain perks.

- One day, a higher-class bot heard about your performances and offered you a chance to showcase your skills before a much larger audience. It could have been a golden opportunity, but you politely declined. Your time among the lower class had taught you how to distinguish between bots who were sincere and those who only sought to exploit others. This one was a rotten apple.

- Your instincts proved correct when, not long after, you found yourself being stalked and nearly attacked. Fortunately, some of your regular customers—larger bots who were no strangers to violence—stepped in, scaring off your would-be attackers before they could harm you.

- Grateful for their help, you showed your appreciation by playing their favorite songs from your playlist. But even after the incident, they remained protective of you, insisting on accompanying you whenever you had to go anywhere.

- Word spread quickly, and soon, others in the community also took it upon themselves to watch over you from a distance.

- It seemed they were not willing to let anyone mess with their local musician.

[a-short-ass-disappointment]

Baby Talks!

Ganyu x Gn!Reader, domestic

Just random drawing of Ganyu and her lil goat.

I have been watching videos of baby with those toy cactus voice mimic.

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