neosero

[neosero]

“So, my child, what will it be?”

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oo. PROLOGUE ❆ THE FIRST SIGNS OF SNOW —

chapter description | For a Snezhnyan, the cold is home. However with the recent weather you fear the worst for your small village, that is until an unexpected guest brings forth a much needed blessing and a dreadful bargain.

word count | 3.4k words

noteworthy mentions | none of this is canon; obvious ooc things; gn!reader; canon typical violence;

Ever since the day La Signora’s remains were brought to the capital, Snezhnaya’s climate has not known peace.

The blizzard came in with a fury just after her funeral ceremony concluded and the storm still rages on without any signs of dissolving. For those who live in the city it was a blessing. All work would conclude an hour earlier until the storm subsided as signed off by Mayor Pulcinella, and there was even a relief fund distributed to the masses from the Northland Bank as a way to help get through these troubled times. However, to those who live outside the high walls the storm is nothing but the wrath of the Archon.

“We cannot go any further!”

White. No matter which way you turn, all that can be seen is the pure raging white of snowfall. The ground is buried by it, the trees are smothered in it and anything worth hunting is either frozen or has long since left for shelter. Even the sky is like a forgotten canvas. It weaves its way into layers of snow below, perfectly leaving the way forward a long landscape of just white. You scoff into your scarf fighting to lift your nearly frozen foot out of the snow to keep moving forward.

“Captain!”

The winds are heavy and loud. So heavy that the three feet of solid snow on the ground is your only stabilizer to fight its aggressive push, and so loud you cannot even hear the sounds of your own heartbeat in your ears. If it weren’t for Lev — the craftsman of your town and one of the few people well enough to accompany you, physically forcing you to look back you might have left your party behind. He removes his scarf from his mouth, yelling with all his might to be heard.

“The hunt is over. We have been out here for hours with no signs of life other than ourselves and the storm is getting worse. Maksim won’t make it any longer in this weather!” You look past Lev and see the sorry state of your party: a few of the volunteers still stagger behind fighting to move against the snow as the quiver in the cold, Maksim is the worst of them shaking violently within Katerina’s hold as she tries her best to provide him warmth with power of her pyro vision to no avail. She catches your gaze and meets you with desperate eyes likely seeking the same thing as Lev. You turn back to the snow one last time. They are right of course, this plan wasn’t going to be a successful one from the start. It’s far too cold and the routes too perilous for any untrained man to keep going.

Your sigh is heavy and defeated, “Let's go back.”

Lomas. A small village due west of the city within Gopeysk Forest. Its population is small, population consisting mostly of refugees that needed an escape from the city or mercenaries trying to get that second chance. The village isn’t much with no high walls or generators to provide warmth but it is the closest thing to home you have ever had in your lifetime…and it pains you to come back to it with nothing to give it thanks.

When your expedition returns with less supplies than when you left, you expect to see the people more disheartened. Maybe a few curses, sobbing, anything but the open arms and smiles you are met with. There are a few people awaiting your arrival: among them Lev’s wife and daughter who greet him with a warm embrace the moment he reaches them; the Innkeep Maria, gently takes Maksim, Katerina and a few of the others back to her establishment with a promise of a fire and warm food; the last of them take to their own family and friends as they are all surrounded with heartfelt welcomes. You take it all in for what it is: they knew you would be unsuccessful. None of them expected you to return with any good news because it has been like this for weeks, with the food preserves running low and the water still frozen over. The best anyone can do is be there for one another.

With the times as is, it’s all they have left. 

You catch eyes with Chief Igor behind the masses. Just as he is noticed, he smiles at you before stalking back into his home. The implication is there for you to follow, so you place your sword back at the armory and head over.

When you enter you’re engulfed in the warmth of a fire you can hear burning in the living space. The house is more like a hut with only this hallway separating each room. You can hear the sound of a tea kettle steaming on your left and follow the noise. The Chief sits in a large fur chair in front of a fireplace, in his hands is the kettle you heard. He pours two cups full of the hot liquid as you move to remove some of your layers before joining him by the fire. You sit in an identical chair adjacent to him and he motions for you to take the other cup as he sips from his own. You do it out of respect but don’t drink it, your eyes locked on the fire.

“If you don’t drink it, it will get cold.” 

“We won’t last through this storm, Igor.” You speak finally, eyes jumping to meet his old and tired ones. “I’ve seen our supply — it's the only reason we left — and it isn’t good. We have to do something.”

“And what do you think we should do? Go back into the storm and freeze or ask the capital for help?” You sit silently.

“You worry too much. That’s my job.”

Shakily, he reaches for the kettle again. Slowly he pours a little more into your cup bringing back the steam of heat it once lost. “It is difficult now, I know but we will get through this. Lomas was not born in a day, she has survived worse before you came along.”

He is right; the elders take pride in bringing up past endeavors with bandits and blizzards alike over a drink and this place has had its ups and downs. “If we ration well, we’ll last a month. Maybe even a few extra days at best but this storm will pass as they always do.”

You try to relax, drinking down the tea and feeling the heat sooth over your senses. m It's clear worrying won’t do anyone any good so you bottle up whatever else you have to say and offer the Chief a smile as best you can. You sit in idle chatter for a while until the sun dies past the trees. You thank him for the drink and retreat back to the coat hanger for your things, bracing yourself for the outside once again. It is a lot more peaceful at night, the snowfall.

It’s almost as if the archon herself is at rest and yet still subconsciously mourning her loss, the snowflake like tears gently falling down her cheeks falling into our own world.

With heavy steps, you trek over to the inn. As you draw near, the sounds of laughter and music grow in volume and when you get to the doors they are thrust open before you. Instantly you are engulfed in the arms of men as they chant and carry you off to the dance floor.  You’re spun in circles, whisked away from partner to partner and given a drink from the hands of a child. It takes too long to escape their merriment but luckily a change in tune has them calm down enough for you to sneak away. “So the great warrior hasn’t lost their fight I see.”

As you drink down your cup for all its worth, you throw your gaze to the side to catch sight of the voice. To your left sits your party all enjoying a fine meal and drink. Lev offers a seat to you and you take it gladly. “Finally decided to join us!” Maksim, clearly having traded in his frostbite for drunkenness, refills your cup with some of the hard booze from his own glass. The glare you throw him sends a laugh through the table.

“Listen, listen… for what it's worth I lost ten mora on a bet that I would be the one to send us home so cut me some slack alright.” His words slur and he nearly tips over his own stool trying to chase the cup in his own hands. You shake your head at him and take a sip from your no longer empty cup. Soon a bowl of hot potato soup is placed in front of you and you look up to see Katerina. Her flaming red hair is in a bun and with the apron to match she perfectly fits into the inn staff. She places one more bowl down for your table off her tray before sitting next to you. “How did it go with the chief?”

“Let's just say we are in for the winter. How has the inn been holding?” You both talk loudly amongst yourselves as the music has once again picked up along with the chatter. “Nothing can break their spirits really!”

“Not even the archon herself. Bless her ever cold heart!” The exclamation comes from somewhere over your shoulder you don’t see but it was loud enough to earn a cheer and a toast. Almost every glass is raised to the air and in unison they are all emptied like there will be no tomorrow. You have half a mind to speak for it, but as Igor said this storm will pass. So you finish your own cup slamming it back on the table and pulling Katerina by the arms to the dance floor. She fights back poorly and another cheer is brought out into the night as you both join the group. You spend the rest of the late hours in the comfort of friends and family, letting the faux embrace of hard liquors and music lull you into a sense of peace. It makes you think of a brighter tomorrow, offers you hope you have yet to know will be crushed.

When morning breaks through, you’re shaken awake. It startles you, flinching in your own bed and reaching for the dagger under your pillow before you realize its Katerina. “What’s going on-?”

“You have to see this.” She cuts you off before moving to your curtains and thrusting them open. The light is blinding but still you walk over to the window. You're still a little delirious and getting up so quickly isn't helping but at first glance everything seems fine. The snow storm has passed overnight it seems and a good chunk of snow has already been shoveled clear from the food reserve and the armory which is now lit with a fire. You almost question Katerina’s hysteria until you catch sight of a man leaving the reserve. A mask covers most of his face and the rest of him is covered head to toe in black winter gear. He stands out like a sore thumb in the snow but that isn’t what catches your eye. No, it's the etchings of an emblem that stirs a sour pit in your stomach and brings new found vigor to your body.

“Move.” It is all you give her as a warning before you launch your nightstand through the window. The glass shatters open and while she is still surprised you grasp her sword and jump through. Thankfully you land on snow instead of glass but that is the least of your worries as you bolt for the man ahead. He sees you coming and he panics, hands raising in surrender but you pay it no mind. Of course you wouldn’t jab an unarmed man, so you flip the sword in your hand to thrust the hilt into his stomach and deliver a kick to the back of his knee. He falls over in pain and you bring the tip of the sword to the back of his neck as soon as he hits the floor. He wails and you press the blade closer to silence him, by now you have drawn the eyes of a crowd but still you don’t care. Not now, not when they are involved. Through greeted teeth and anger you ask, “What are you doing here?! Where is your commanding officer!?”

The man does nothing but breath heavily into the snow shoved in his face. You almost let the anger get the best of you in his silence, almost breaking flesh but the head of a rifle stops you short. Your head whips over coming eye to eye with the barrel of a pyroslingers gun. The man with the rifle looks as calm as his covered face could show, “Why don’t you put the sword down and we could talk?”

“As if I’d listen to your kind!” The man below tries to inch away but you bring your foot down on his right calf - not enough to break but enough to keep him still. The gunman flinches closer at his partner’s scream of pain.”You all have no power here so why-?”

“By the archons, what is happening here?” Igor leaves his hut in a hurry probably having heard the screams. 

“Igor! Quickly get the others we need to…”

“No, you will put the sword down now and stop this foolishness!” Igor looks at you as if you’re insane and you stare back just as puzzled. “What?”

“They’ve come to help us.”

“Help? Help!” The word dives your foot harder into the man's calf. “I’m sorry, have I missed something. What could these people possibly do to help us?” The anger rises exponentially within you so much so if you had a pyro vision you're sure you would have caught fire by now. 

“I know it is hard to believe and I will explain it all, but please release him.” Igor begs, eyes showing nothing but sincerity however your guard remains held. “Not until he loses the gun.”

“Fat chance.” The gunman cocks his weapon, eyes challenging you to be the first to break. By now the commotion has brought everyone to watch; Lev holds his family close, Katerina stands in suspense and many other onlookers wait to see how it unfolds.

It is his voice that stuns you both into submission. 

“Lower your weapon and return to your post.”

You look past Igor to the man behind him. He stands tall in a white cloak encrusted in a deep sea blue, half of his face is encased by the decay of a mask molted to his skin but it does not hinder his piercing gaze as locking eyes with him. Your breathing quickens and you can’t move; whether it be from the cold finally catching up to you or him you don’t know. What you do know is that your body complies without you willing it; you drop the sword and the gunman lowers his weapon all the same. He bows deep before leaving and so does the man you injured as he hobbles off. Igor moves past you to try and disperse the crowd.

It only leaves you to stare him down.

The head of the fatui and the Harbingers.

The Jester, Pierro.

Igor returns sighing deeply, uncaring of the tension present between you two. “Let us return to my hut. We have much to discuss.”

“Indeed.” Pierro says coldly, eyes never leaving your own.

The room is in utter silence.

Igor had explained everything: they had come at dawn, didn’t ask for a thing or want anything except to help. They had brought food and generators for heat and power they would soon install themselves in all homes and businesses. They had brought weapons and materials to give as well as blueprints for expansion if that be the case. A bucket load of gifts with no strings attached that Lomas so conveniently needs. Igor tried to get you to understand, the storm has passed on he said this is the new but you knew better than that. For the entirety of the meeting you never break Pierro’s gaze and neither does he yours. You try to see his angle or true purpose for being here but you come up with nothing. It is all too random.

“I think they need time to process.” Pierro finally speaks, gaze unmoving. 

“Of course, you’re right. Come I'll get Maria to…”

“Process alone.” Pierro cuts Igor off, resting his face on his intertwined fingers. Igor looks between the man and you, he nods knowing that he is not needed in this conversation so he takes his cane and goes. You wait for the door to close fully before you stand and slam your fists on the table, “What are you doing here?”

Pierro doesn’t speak but lets you talk. “It's been years. Years. No search parties, no bounties, no commissions, nothing so why here? Why now when things were just getting good. I don’t understand!”

“La Signora is dead.” He waves his hand using the power of cryo to move the tea kettle and pour himself a glass. “The Fatui is losing influence as our numbers decline. Only whispers but whispers soon turn to challenges and challenges turn to trouble.” He takes a long sip then.

“Her majesty, The Tsaritsa, beckons us all home to fill the void the Fair Lady has left behind. She wants to advance forward and with the plan moving in such succession it is crucial we keep our ranks in line. Her judgment is always best and this is no exception.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” You make the mistake of asking. He stands then himself, finally breaking away from your staring contest to move over to a window. Just as before, he uses some power of cryo and the window swings open on its own. He beckons you over and reluctantly you approach. Pierro then speaks, “Each Harbinger is tasked with bringing in their own disciples and through a collection of trials they will each compete for the honor to close the void and restore the order that was lost.” 

It clicks then for you, his purpose for being here but still he continues. “You will compete in the Harbinger trials as my chosen and fight for the honor of her majesty.”

“I will never help or go back to that life.” You spit on his shoes. The life you had with the fatui is gone, long gone and you can't go back to that. You won't go back. 

“Hm.”

Pierro stares at the spit stain until it freezes over and blows away like dust. “Lomas is beautiful isn’t it.”

The implication drops your heart into your chest, a sudden pressure to your shoulders. “You won’t lay a hand on these people!”

“Their safety is my guarantee, if you return. Lest you continue to fight then by morning a blizzard will be your last concern and you will beg for her majesty’s mercy.” Pierro threat isn’t a threat, with the way his pale grey eye pours into you it only speaks of a promise. Anger fuels you and your fist rises to punch in frustration but your body yet doesn’t listen to you. Just like the kettle and the window, Pierro uses some kind of power to freeze you in place. 

“Join me willingly and become the Harbinger by my side as you were raised to be, or let these people die for your selfish theatrics and I bring you by force over their graves.”

Again he means business, his words a guarantee and you know Lomas wouldn’t stand a chance against the might of the Fatui let alone Pierro’s regime. Your gaze shifts outside, you can see his workers moving and placing various mechanics around the village but you can also see the ones you love. Katerina and Maksim both stand watch over the men working, Lev holds his daughter close as she clings to his neck and Maria refuses to let the men in her Inn. If anything were to happen to them you don’t know what you would do but this is…

Slowly your gaze is shifted back to him, Pierro doesn’t smile at your struggle or show any real sign of concern. Just that same old straight face you remember in your nightmares.

“So, my child, what will it be?”

The question is raised and there is only one answer.

You give your response hushed and with the utmost anger you could muster through your defeat, “I accept the invitation, master.”

author's note | here is the opening chapter to a Ballad of Winter's Embrace! Thanks to everyone's patience with me, university is weird at the moment but now I have the free time to actually keep moving forward with my wips! heavy filler chapter this is but i did want to give a bit of something before just jumping into everything I have planned out.

[neosero]

“ we welcome innamorati, sixth of the fatui harbingers. “

BALLAD OF WINTER’S EMBRACE —

#agnst. #fatui-harbinger!reader. #gender-neutral!reader. #fatui harbingers x reader ( both platonic and romantic ).

SYNOPSIS | With la signora gone, one too many spaces are left unattended within the harbingers. The Tsaritsa, in all her glory, summons the harbingers back to Snezhnaya where they will present two of their finest chosen to compete for the honor of replacing the fallen. You had no desire for honor or any respect for the fatui, but when The Jester comes knocking at your door you have no choice but to answer your calling.

THINGS TO NOTE | none of this canon, angst heavy, minimal fluff and humor, profanity, descriptions of blood, death, gore and canon typical violence, themes of addiction, character death(s) [ subject to additions ]

MISCELLANEOUS | to be crafted…

ADDITIONAL NOTES | my first series so bear with me y’all. a lot of what this is will be ooc as we do not know a lot about the fatui inner circle so apologies on that.

STATUS | ongoing, no update schedule |

( warnings will be present within each chapter respectively )

MASTERLIST

prologue ❆ the first signs of snow

chapter one ❆ the devil's masquerade

chapter two ❆ visionless

more chapters tba…

neosero © 2024 do not repost, translate, copy or modify.

[neosero]

Can I please request a part two to [01:15], were the reader ignores them afterward the fights/never death experience and when the characters try to talk to them the reader just ignores them and walks away and the characters feels a little guilty, I'm invested in what will happen next. Probably a lot of angst but maybe some fluff at the end

[ 12:30am ]

and yet, you still resist

collection | gods, the all powerful - #genshin

↳ [ 01:15pm ] and sometimes you have to remind yourself they're gods |

↳ pt. ii [ fontaine version ] |

↳ [ 12:30am ] and yet, you still resist |

wc | 5.3k total

noteworthy warnings | gn!reader; dark themes; kinda starts at a random moment of time sorry lol, stalking ( venti ); implied-kidnapping, forced-intamacy ( zhongli & neuvillette ); reader gets makeup put on them but still nothing specific to gender, also i do not know a thing about makeup lol ( neuvillette )

a/n | SORRY THIS TOOK FIVE MONTHS this one is for you anon! kinda forgot about the fluff but still i hope you like the follow up!! this is an extentsion of the linked fics above. though it isn't required it would be best to read that for a clear picture on the character dynamics

( extended author’s note at the end!!! )

THE ANEMO ARCHON Lord Barbatos | wc. 2k+

"So patchy, what's your story?"

The firewood tumbles in on itself within the pit. Ember sparks fly high, dancing between you and the other soldiers that crowd around the flame. It does little to combat the chilling air of Dragonspine, but it does provide enough of a haven for your group to forgo the mission to sit in idle company.

Chatter is loud amongst the knights and you would think this some caravan camping out over a reconnaissance party. You have a thought to hush the group as to not alert your targets, but with three days of just constant snow and no other signs of life you hold your tongue for their sanity.

“Hey! I asked you a question.”

The cold has been a lot better against your bandages than you had first thought. The old wounds from the incident haven’t completely healed, but the breeze feels like a gentle cold wrap around the warm ache of your body. Albeit not the best place for it, you feel more relaxed than you have for a while.

“Do you have a problem with me or something?!”

The once boisterous ensemble goes silent as all eyes turn to the quarrel. A soldier you don’t bother even trying to recognize has suddenly stepped up to your face. It's obvious he is new to the ranks; his armour is still freshly polished and not a dent in sight. You can catch the edgings of a family crest on the hilt of the sword he reaches for at his side.

A spoiled child of wealth. He'll probably last two more days before he turns back.

"Ignore him. Recruits are always ill-mannered to their seniors their first time out.” A man — Druig, the captain of your team — grabs the boy by the neck of his armour, dragging him back to his stool before he causes anymore of a scene. This brings back the laughter of the knights and the boy sits arms crossed with cheeks tinted pink.

"Though you could humor him." Druig boasts again, loud and obviously falling victim to the jug of wine in his hands. He offers you some carelessly, the liquid spilling over the rim and staining the pure snow red. You raise a hand in rejection and he happily takes another swig for himself. "Hell, all the lads could use a fine tale!"

Another cheer into the night. Druig has been determined to get you to open up since you took the commission. Although you can see the logic behind it — as your employer he deserves to know some part background — it never occurred to you as something that should be this importance. But with three days of begging and now several pairs of eyes awaiting the tale, there is really no escaping the memory.

You sigh deeply, already regretting the decision. You squat to the fire.

"It was the wind. Strongest I had ever seen."

The image is so clear in your head; the ache is still so painful in your bones that it's difficult to forget.

That fear is so easy to remember.

"An Eye of the Storm. The Eye of the Storm. An elemental lifeform so powerful it could be at level with an Archon. It raised the ground. It shook the trees bare. I didn't stand a chance."

Your voice falters as the face of Lord Barbatos flashes within the flames. His crazed smile reopens closed wounds and suddenly your skin feels itchy all over again.

The existence of Gods in the mortal realm hangs a heavy shadow over Teyvat. Stormterror's Rampage, the presumed death of the Geo Archon, the being that is Inazuma's Shogun; they are what mere humans cannot equal or challenge in any possible regard. And yet we still choose to worship the unknown.

"The Archons must have blessed you to survive that."

It's laughable really; how they can have so much faith in a being who spends most of their time drunk in a tavern while the rest of the world begs for their fortune.

"We live in a world where people can control the elements like magic and beasts can grow taller than trees- taller than mountains. My life is no blessing from a God and it never will be." You spit with a fire.

The impious statement shocks the soldiers still. With the Archon being held in such a religious light in Mondstadt, your behavior naturally rouses anger. The emotion slowly seeps through most of the men who no doubt have been within the Knights for sometime and upheld the Archon's image. It's obvious you've stained what little welcome you had within the group.

There is no reaction when you stand or when you begin to turn off into the cold of Dragonspine you wave over your shoulder, "I'll get more wood for the fire."

You walk past angry men unapologetically. The boy from earlier spits at your feet as you march by but it doesn't deter you in the slightest. Their beliefs aren't yours to taint in this moment and with direct orders from the Acting Grand Master you refrain from overstepping.

You travel far enough through the snow that the flames from the camp cannot be seen through the blizzard fog. With enough space to hear your own thoughts again, you can finally be at peace with the mountain. The snowflakes fall around you in clusters. Pinecones tumble from rustling trees with silent thuds into the layered snow. Small critters scurry around foraging for their next meals.

You breathe into your hands for warmth. While you are out you might forage yourself. There won't be much firewood to find in this area. The blizzard has dampened much of the fallen twigs and searching for dry wood is like looking for a needle within a haystack. Still you kneel to the floor to keep yourself busy and keep a clear head.

A boar's grunt catches your attention. Just over a shrub you can catch sight of the native beast's shaking fur. It's back is turned to you and it seems to be trying to scare something hidden in the bush ahead. Of course you cannot see anything noteworthy in the bush, yet you do not doubt the animal's senses.

Without warning it barrel's head first at the plant. You expected a few things: a rabbit, a weasel, a few clustered crystalflies, another boar even. With having taken a commission that was far from civilization — far from him — anything else should have been what came out of that bush. Instead it was a man.

He falls to the ground with a yelp, the weight of the boar's charge having kicked up snow in its wake. Your first instinct should have been to question the strange man's presence in such a place like this, but your apprentice training kicks in before you can think it through. You approach him to help.

He is covered in snow from head to toe, and when you bring him up most of it falls. You are about to tell him off, the whole knightly script just at the edge of your tongue as you rub off more snow. It was odd the way he stood beside you at an angle like he was trying to hide something. Just as you move to speak you do catch the edge of what he is hiding. You can’t forgot its shape even if you wanted to.

It was a lyre. Your fingers still at his sides. Slowly you look to the man’s face and those bright green eyes meet your gaze head on.

This was no man but a God. The Anemo Archon: Lord Barbatos.

You jump back hastily, nearly tripping over your own feet to get away. Venti brushes the remaining snow off his body with no urgency and stands upright like this was some casual meet. "Long time no see."

He takes a step forward and on reflex you draw your sword. He holds up his hands in surrender but you won't take any chance... not this time. Your whole body visibly shakes, your hands break out in cold sweats and breaths are labored. Why is he here? What possibly could have brought him to the one place you had been sure he wouldn't be?

"You look good." He speaks after a short silence and you scuff to the trees. "What the fuck are you doing here!"

It isn't a question, you demand an answer. You grip the sword with two hands to steady yourself.

"You haven't been home for a while so I got worried. I never got the chance to apologize to you and it feels like you're avoiding me." He pouts like some concerned friend. Your eyes constantly flicker from his own ones to the lyre at his side. How far could you get if you make a run for it? "And the guild said you were taking more out field commissions so I..."

"You what?" Venti doesn't answer quick enough, instead taking a cautious step forward which makes you move to widen the distance. "I've been... following your scent through the wind."

You feel gross all over, like you need to scrub the skin off your bones in order to erase whatever scent he is talking about. He's been tracking you... hunting you... stalking you by smell.

"How long?"

"I know how weird this may sound but-"

"How long have you been here!"

His hands drop to his sides and he casts his gaze to the distance, a habit you hate spikes up old memories. "Two days." He admits regrettably.

Oh god. He's been watching you from the start, maybe even before you reached the mountain.

"But I was just coming to apologize. I was waiting for the right time and you looked so happy that I jus-"

Your throat has run dry and the freezing temperatures aren't helping the situation at hand. Your voice cuts in sharp with what little courage you have left, "Listen — and I'll only say this once."

"I want nothing to do with you ever again. Okay! Go sniff out that Honorary Knight or something just... stay away from me."

His face contorts from one of deep sorrow to one of pain. Just like that day. It takes a few beats, a few moments of false hope that you broke him enough to make a run for it. He laughs to himself dimly and you feel your strength waning. Your hope is crushed with his next words.

"I think you should let the wind carry you a bit longer, unless you wish to fall into the storm once again."

The lyre shifts a deep crimson faster than you can blink and that weighted fear returns tenfold. The blizzard grows in ferocity. Various rocks, wood and helpless animals are picked up with the wind and flung out in various directions. You can barely keep your own footing now and he hasn't even begun his song.

His hands raise, ready to start his torture. All you can think of is the end. Preparing yourself for those wretched noises. But all you hear is... silence.

"What the hell happened to you?" You nearly jump out of your skin. Druig comes from behind a tree, puzzled.

You turn to where Barbatos stood only moments ago but only see a tuft of falling snow gliding in the air. Your eyes shift frantically throughout the open space from the tops of trees to the distant expanse of the now tame snowy night. There is no blood on the snow, no signs of a storm, not even the outline of footprints.

Nothing.

"I saw... it was... uhm... " Your heavy breathing cuts your sentence short and you know you must look crazy to the captain. He was here. He was right here and yet. You're still shaken, the thump of your heartbeat not only in your muscles but also your fingers and your head. What just happened?

Druig stands waiting for some sort of answer and you blurt your first thought. "It was a boar."

"Well, it must have been some boar, huh?" He doesn't question your lie and you bet it on the wine. You nod to him trying your best to look as calm as possible. "Anyway, we'll be going deeper into the mountain. I'd... understand if you didn't want to continue."

"No! I'll stay, I have to see this through." You admit to get your mind on track. The man laughs heartily with a smack to your shoulder. The pain is searing but it grounds you to the moment. Druig leads you back to camp. He does most of the talking, while you try to calm yourself down unsuccessfully. Barbatos had followed you here, has been following you and probably still is. You're all too aware of every little rustle in the wind, every possible shake and stir in the air. This obsession will be your undoing.

The faint strum of a lyre follows your every step. Whether it's the tune of a bard's promise or an Archon's wraith sends a chill over your entire body.

THE GEO ARCHON Rex Lapis | wc. 1.2k+

For three thousand years you’ve been at the side of the Geo Archon Rex Lapis following the events of the Archon War. 

For the first thousand years you thought you could fight him. After having dragged you back from the rubble of your home, he chained you to the foot of his throne. You thrashed, clawed, screamed and bled to get free. Any food offered you tossed, whenever he’d try to touch you you’d bear your teeth like an animal, and every single day you pulled at that chain. But days turned to month and month to years and years drained you until you couldn't fight anymore.

He breaks the chains when you got too weak run from his touch. Morax fed you by hand, held your chin to make you chew, he kept you close at all times and when you pushed he’d pull back harder. He nursed you till your strength returned and even when you got strong enough to run he never let you get far. He’d make the earth swallow you whole and spit you right back at his side where he made you think you belong. 

For the next thousand years you had thought you could beg. Time brought upon something you never saw coming for the Geo Archon: change. When you met some four thousand years ago, he was ruthless. He massacred thousands and leveled the earth whenever he saw it fit, but he was different then. He had begun to changed.

His touch is gentle, his tone less demanding and his stare was more human. With as long as he had lived and seeing as so many of his treasured friends die, the reality of being the strongest — of being immortal — has finally set in. You had thought this change would help free you but your pleas were always met with this same look of sadness. Morax would tell you every single time, almost apologetic: you cannot leave.

You didn’t believe him, you never did and still don’t. It's only on the night you decided to run that you understand his sadness. You make it to the bridge of the Harbor, the one thing that you separated you from the rest of the world. The yaksha, the only one still living, didn’t chase you. The earth did not move to block your path. Freedom is so close. You ran across the bridge under the belief it would be all over like waking from a bad dream.

You should've known better. As soon as your foot crossed the end you were forced back. The pulse of it stunned you and almost left you winded when you fell to the floor. You were sure you weren’t followed. When you stood with a lot more cautiously, nothing seems out of the ordinary until you caught sight of it in the moonlight.

It was a barrier. Morax’s contract to you. A barricade that surrounded the entire Harbor to keep the all evil out, and you in.

You ran around the whole port, and that barrier was there to meet you head on. You even tried your luck out at sea, you had swam for the distant boat but all there was to greet you was bars to your prison. When you seam back to shore soggy and exhausted, Morax was there to greet you. He looked down at you with sad eyes and all you can hear were those words. 

You cannot leave. You screamed and cursed his name till your voice broke that night.

And now, three thousand years later, you're left here.

“Please leave it all to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and we’ll see to their gentle passing.”

You bow to the grieving family as they make their way to the exit. Your movements are robotic; you bend deeper than you should and smile too cheerful for having just discussed the ceremonial process of their approaching burial. Playing human hasn't come easy for you…

“You’ve improved.”

…And neither has your hatred for the archon who imprisoned you. Well archon no more.

Morax has died, now replaced by this… Zhongli. His renounce of his divine position was a long time coming, you had seen it first hand. He lives his days posing as a mortal, the god that captured you is gone but you still cannot forgive him. You will not forget what he did to you.

You ignore what he said and move past him to the Director. You offer her your goodbyes and leave the building without sparing him a glance. His gaze follows you with that sadness he's always had. It's been decades since you found out about the barrier and ever since then he’s missed the sound of your voice. He couldn’t care what you said; you could promise to kill him or even expose his truth but all he would care for is the fact that you addressed him.

You walk for a long while. You go through the plaza, by the markets and down past the docks. You stop at a shoreline just off the docks — it's the farthest place you can go from the Harbor that grants you that little sense of freedom. You go there most nights to watch the sun set. Most nights you're alone, left to bask in your own thoughts of the past and what would have been. Some nights, like tonight, Zhongli joins you just before the sun has completely gone. He doesn’t speak to you because he knows you won’t answer. He just stands right by your side until you’ve had your fill and left for home. Tonight is different though, because this time he speaks and you aren’t prepared for it.

“My dear gemstone… I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

In the distant past you aren’t sure what those words would have done to you. You would have probably gone insane, trapped in the thought of how someone can feel sorry and still do the things they did. A part of you thinks you would have killed him. Your powers still work although not as strong as they used to be without a human’s faith. You could have made a crystal from your tears so sharp it would have ended it all for you. You wouldn’t have succeeded but you would have kept fighting. You should have kept fighting.

Now three thousand years later, with the spirit of the god who caged you long gone, you aren’t sure what to do.

Oh. Your body thinks it best to cry. 

Your shoulders shake with sobs. Your tears flow down your face in rivers of silver and break off into fragile droplets of diamonds. 

Zhongli brings his hand up slowly, placing it gently on your shoulder opposite to him. He is still for a long moment waiting for you to break away from him. You don’t; you’ve lost your will to fight. It’s slow and careful the way he pulls you into his chest, like you’ll shatter the moment he envelops you completely. He holds you close while your soft cries mix in with the sounds of the waves draping the sand…

… and for the first time in a long time, you don’t try to leave his side.

THE HYDRO SOVEREIGN Nuevillette | wc. 2.1k+

"That one doesn't match the theme at all."

"How would you know you haven't even seen the flyer!"

"The flyers are everywhere. I can't miss them even if I wanted to!"

The three Melusine continue to argue amongst themselves over which eyeshadow to throw onto your face next. You have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from yelling to the archons above. This gala cannot be so important that it would warrant a criminal to attend dressed to the nines instead of behind bars.

Eight years. Eight long years since you've moved to the proclaimed nation of Justice, and seven of those years have been spent as a registered criminal under the watchful gaze of the judge who enforced your sentence: Neuvillette.

Being forced to live every moment with that man has become your hell. He insists that you accompany him on his every whim. Your there for his important office meeting, his court cases, his unusual habit of water tasting by the pier and his evening routine dinners at restaurants.

It is all done with you right by his side like a lap dog…and it's humiliating.

This isn't the relationship that should be shared between law enforcement and a criminal, but it seems you are the only person in all of Fontaine to give a damn.

The public sees your relationship as they do everything else here: entertainment.

The Judge and His Criminal: A Match Made at Trial.

News articles and tabloids headline with the two of you every other week. Each one just so happens to catch you both in some sort of intimate spotlight that couldn't be any farther from the truth, but it isn't like Neuvillette fights against them. Various citizens have sent you handwritten letters questioning about your relationship, paparazzi tackle you with questions and request for personal interviews as if you're some celebrity, he even has your parents under the impression that the rumors are true.

Your hands clench at your sides with the thought, dull nails digging into the inside of your palms. God how you wish it would end.

The chatter between the Melusines comes to a halt as the double doors are opened. You had thought it was a blessing sent from above, but the clatter of heeled boots makes you go stiff.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" The Melusine cheer, happy to see him as they scurry over to his side excitedly. You remain in your seat. They talk up to him, the bickering you had thought reached its vote returning with a vengeance. They each still insist on different colors for you to wear like it is life or death. The closed eye smile he offers in return shows he finds their little disagreement more amusing than as serious as they do themselves. He listens to every opinion nonetheless, taking in everything they all have to say with interest.

Then his eyes shift over to you.

"Don't worry. I'll take over."

You scoff, uncaring that everyone else in the room can hear you. The Melusine look to you and then back to Nuevillette who continues to smile down at them as if nothing is wrong. They nod to him one by one, then they wave to you goodbye before skipping out of the doors to leave you both alone in silence. You pick up the tea cup at your side, watching the liquid swirl around in the fine glass.

"The Melusine tell me you are not well. Might I know what troubles you?"

Neuvillette takes the seat in front of you once the room is clear and the doors shut, speaking to you with his normal neutral tone. He removes the tea from your hands just as you go to drink it, placing the cup back on the table. He continues where they have left off, grasping the brushes delicately as he brings them close to your eyes. It's soft the way he applies the eyeshadows, treating the brushes as if they aren't the finest material imported from Inazuma and would harm you if he applied too much pressure.

You don't bother to answer him, opting to look past him at the open window. Your silence doesn't bother him as much as it once did. You've long since given up your begging to be set free and now have chosen to go non-verbal in his presence after the first few years of your...parol.

He picks up a thinner pen once he believes he's done with shadow. Its an eyeliner pen.

"Don't move."

He prompts not that you have moved a muscle in this seat for the last thirty minutes, reluctantly sitting in wait for his arrival. Like an obedient dog.

One hand holds your chin tenderly, the other just barely touching the space above your eye. The Melusine had spent a great amount of time perfecting your look for this event and it would be a shame for him to ruin it.

You clearly do not share that same concern.

Just as he presses a bit harder into your skin to draw a line you jerk away. He is startled of course and draws the pen back but the damage is already done — a crooked line of black smeared from your eyebrow across your forehead. It isn't as bad as it may seem, just a quick makeup wipe away really but still Neuvillette looks dejected with the mess.

A smirk graces your lips at his expression. You might look like a fool from what you can see from the mirrors but you couldn't care less in this moment. "Shall we go."

You speak to yourself and rise in a new found spirit. You grab your coat from behind your chair and catch the sight of clouds outside the window in the corner of your eye. You expected the storm clouds, maybe even a tickle of rain - never did you expect the rumble of thunder.

Before you get the chance to pass Neuvillette, he grasps your forearm. The tenderness in his touch long since drowned, and for once you wince in his hold.

"A shame."

It's unexpected, his sudden turn. You're launched back into your seat, the force tipping over the desk beside you and pain running through your shoulders. There is a protest on your tongue, your first thought to tell him off if it wasn't for the dark glow in his eyes.

"I had thought you would grow complacent as time went on. But I've grown tired of your tantrums and this will be the last." The dragon speaks.

He is back on you in a quick second. Neuvillette's hand envelopes your mouth forcing your gaze to the side in a harsh grip. You cannot move, he crowds around you in the seat and shoves you deeper into the cushion. Your hands grip his own, trying to pry him off to no avail. He has you at his mercy yet again.

With your head turned directly into the mirrors at the vanity you watch in horror at what he does. He brings his other gloved hand to his lips, tongue darting out to wet the material with spit. He then brings the finger to your face starting to wipe away your mess.

You attempt to inch away, fighting with all your might to dodge his touch but that only causes him to push you further into the seat. The pain in your shoulders spikes again but his hand prevents your scream. Your hands thrash out determined to keep fighting as long as you can, but you can only do so much against the might of a dragon recently empowered.

Your spasmodic fighting is loud; you knock over another table spilling your tea cup, you swipe the makeup palettes onto the ground in a vocal clatter, something else falls you can't see and it shatters. You want someone to hear now, to burst through those doors and see just what a monster their highly praised Judge really is.

As the wrestling gets more aggressive, you know the people outside the office find it harder to ignore. Some turn their heads after hearing the various items hit the floor, but that is all. You want to have hope that they would hear your distress and come to your aid. Although, deep in your heart you know it won't ever happen. For what is your daily torment is their newest line of gossip.

The ones who look to the doors grow hot and red at the sudden sinful thoughts that flash through their heads. Others play at continuing their original tasks, a faint gossip starting through the masses as they openly say what they think is happening behind office doors. The last few of them actually do keep their noses deep within their files, acting as if this was a normal everyday thing as it has come to be.

When you finally burst open the double doors, they all go back to work hurriedly. Anger seethes from your being as you look throughout the office. Books are raised to cover faces, backs turn away to continue meaningless conversation, various fingers start toying with clothes to pick at lent. They don't care about you, and the quiet snickers of those few workers who don't care about being discreet stir up a sour feeling in you.

You hold back on lashing out at them, it would do nothing but make you look crazier than they already suspect. Instead you straighten your back and make haste to the doors.

As soon as you leave the building that suffocating weight is off your shoulders. The sky has cleared off with only faint remains of clouds. You take a deep breath of the fresh air, to calm yourself. Years upon years of being caged and you're finally free to think alone...wait.

You are alone.

Alone as you can be standing outside, but still alone. The gardes have not noticed you, and the streets are mostly barren thanks to the gala. You can escape. If you run now and hide off outside of the city they won't be able to find you in time. It's a chance chance to take, but you can't care now as your legs carry on their accord. Freedom is right in arms reach and won't miss the chance to take it...but nothing is ever that easy.

A man blocks your path before you can take another step. He is clad in a run of the mill tux, all black. His tie is strung out haphazardly and with the man's sleeves rolled up you can catch sight of the various bandages around both his arms and hands. A disheartened sigh leaves your lips.

Wriothesley scoffs himself, "what you aren't happy to see me?"

In truth, no. Trying to escape now would be asking for a greater punishment. No one can escape the wrath of the Duke and with his close relationship with Neuvillette it isn't worth asking for a cover up either. You put on your best smile, hands raising up his chest to fix the tie around his neck. "Just wish the day would go by faster."

His eyes never leave your own, even when your hands leave his body. The tie is perfectly in place now, though you both know he'll have taken it off by the time you get to the venue.

"You look good." He says suddenly and you pause. The compliment is genuine, the clothes you wear are personally tailored for you and fit snug yet freely enough for you to move without constraint. Wriothesley thinks the color suits you well and the details are a great addition from Liyue. You smile at him again, this one a lot more genuine and he can definitely tell with the way your face wrinkles.

You want to thank him, should have thanked him. But the sound of heels catches your attention over all else and the words crawl right back down your throat. "Shall we go." Neuvillette's hand clamps around your wrist like a handcuff, voice curt. It has been a while since the Duke has seen the man this displeased or you this upset. Wriothesley looks down at the Iudex's gloved hands. He can catch sight of teeth marks in the leather material and a bit of smudged powder along the print of his thumb.

"Is everything alright? I’d hate to get between-"

"Everything is as it should be." Neuvillette interrupts quickly, stare stone cold.

Wriothesley makes no comment against it, at least not here anyway.

All he does is nod, leading you all to the awaiting personal chariot. Neuvillette moves his arm, firmly locking your forearm on his own. You thrash a bit, although it takes one pinch to your skin to stop you from causing another scene.

To the public, you are living the life of royalty. But you know nothing has changed, you remain a prisoner chained to Nuevillette... and he isn't afraid to pull back on the leash when you show signs of bearing your teeth.

pre-note | got completely swamped with college work and now summer work is completely beating my ass ( currently neglecting it as i finish this ) so deepest apologies for the late response!!!!!

extended a/n | my first ever anon i feel so famous now! had a blast revisiting this idea and building more into their personalities, thanks so much for the ask!! i sadly had to exclude a few characters from this :/ they wouldn’t have fit this particular scene as they wouldn't tolerate behavior like this in as healthy of a way as the ones above i hope that’s okay! also ik you asked for a bit of fluff and the only one who really got that was zhongli — only because out of all the characters he is the only one i can see changing from his old way of handling the reader if that makes sense!! if you have anymore thought do not be afraid to send an ask ( promise to complete them in a more timely manner next time around T-T )

[neosero]

[ 11:30pm ]

you’re his favorite, though it doesn't feel like it sometimes

word count | 1.5k+

noteworthy mentions | gn!reader; gojo x reader; jujustu-college!au; unimportant but the reader cursed-technique uses tattoos;

blue-eyed freak

you still mad at me :)

As soon as you open your messages you regret it. Of course you’re still mad — leaving you to handle the after mission briefings was one thing you’re used to, but getting ditching to find a way home alone on the count that he wanted to go limited souvenir shopping in Puerto Rico is a step too far.

The speech bubbles appear almost as soon as you open the message, like he knows you’ve seen it and you don’t doubt the possibility. You turn your phone off and toss it to the side, choosing to finish your course work rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve seen it.

Still, your phone vibrates once then after an hour it goes off again. This is normal for Satoru really — a triple text then radio silence until he’s had enough of the silent treatment. Then he comes barreling through your dorm room as if it was his own. You’d thought about reporting him before or at least asking for a change in partnership, but he would most likely find a way to prevent that from going through. As your senior he can get away with it — that and the higher-ups just about bend over backwards for him.

His radio silence lasts about another two hours just as the moon reaches her summit for the night, then three curt knocks echo through your dorm room.

Gojo never knocks.

He might tap his fingers along the door to his new favorite song of the day, yell at you to open up or he’ll break it down again, he may come in through the window at times or somehow get Geto to use a curse to unlock your door for him like a mad man…

But he never knocks.

You stand, work nearly finished but long forgotten and head to the door. You don’t feel an over abundance of cursed energy nor do you hear the tell tale giggling of a prank getting set up just outside when you place your ear against the cool steel. Confused, you finally look through the peephole and see nothing. You open the door, casting your gaze down the hall to be met with common silence.

You almost believe you were ding-dong-ditched by the man you wanted to avoid, until a note falls off your door and at your feet. COME TO THE ROOF, it reads with no signature; although you recognize the handwriting as if it were your own. You wish you had the self control to ignore it — to ignore him, but you don't. Geto likes to say that it's what makes you both so perfect for each other no matter how much you tell him to shut it. Even when you throw his remark over your shoulder it still clings to you like a shadow.

Like now, pushing open the emergency exit doors to the roof of your building. The Autumn night weather picks at your clothed skin as soon as you walk outside and the stars seem to mock you as they flicker amongst themselves within the sky. You stuff your hands in your pockets for warmth.

Scanning the rooftop for your daily tormenter, you are met with the nights silence. You walk around the roof egress to see if he was hiding. The rooftop isn’t that spacious, so if he was here he would’ve been in eyeshot. He isn't.

The only gullible idiot you find on the roof is the one in your own reflections. You shuffle to the gate surrounding the top of the building. Looking down, you can see the faint glow of dragonflies dancing within the shrubs and flowers. Butterflies follow suit jumping from one flower to the next. The cicadas join together in a sad symphony, giving weight to your sudden walk of shame. At least something is enjoying the night.

What were you hoping for anyway?

A sigh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. Anything really.

A sudden pulse of cursed energy hits your senses with a force. Quickly, turn on your heels. Has the bearer been breached again? Your hand pulls up your sleeve, ready to conjure a shikigami from your skin but stops short.

Gojo sits atop the gate opposite to you. He kicks his feet about like a child, smirk pulling at his lips with your jumpy behavior. The feeling of that overbearing has gone just as soon as it came. That prick.

"Didn't think you'd show." He speaks first jumping from the top of the fence. You give no reply in return. Instead, you lean against the gate head turned away from him to eye the distant buildings. Even if you did come all this way to see him, he still isn't forgiven.

Gojo chuckles to himself, "Still mad."

He sighs, faint clouds of breath leave his parted lips at your continued silence. The subtle annoyance brings a sense of joy that you hide away.

He strides to you, the sounds of his shoes hitting the asphalt overbearing all other sounds of night. In the moment you think of all the things he would say when he gets to you …

( 'Come on, it was a one time thing I swear!' or 'Ijichi was in the area anyway.' maybe even a 'As a Grade One that was light-work, I knew you would have made it back no sweat.' )

… or what he’ll do.

( You had made the mistake of voicing your complaints about Gojo to Geto once, thinking it would be all in good fun. And remain confidential. That same day you found yourself ascended high above Japan, clinging desperately to the cause of your afflictions. Gojo called it an apology — showing you the sites of the city. You still believe it as a threat. )

With the jujutsu world’s biggest enigma you can never guess what he’ll do in any given circumstance. That being said, you fain indifference as he stands in-front of you in all his ‘Special Grade’ glory. Tall and lengthy and powerful. He’s in a class of his own in every department and it’s infuriating to always have to look up at him — in both status and everyday life.

An anomaly both in and out of work. He toys with curses one day then snaps them in half before you can blink the next. Choosing to toy with you for days like your back in grade school, then leave you notes to come see him at night in private. He’s made it his mission to keep you guessing.

He still doesn't give you a chance to think about his next moves even now. Not when he throws himself on you like a limp sake of potatoes. You reach to grab him without a second thought. Your arms wrap and his waist to stabilize him, and his wrap around your shoulders in a hug. He buries his face into the point where your neck meets your shoulders and breathes in deep. You have to fight the urge to shiver. Not because of what he did but because you're touching him. And he's warm.

“I’m sorry.”

Oh.

Your shoulders stiffen and he laughs into your neck with the action.

Gojo Satoru never apologizes. He is the highest point of Jujustu Society; the personification of cursed energy itself since the last incarnation of the six eyes. He was raised as a god, the top of the society; you had thought apologizing was beneath him.

"It's fine." You say, unsure of just what you are supposed to say. It apparently isn't that. Gojo pulls off of you with a deep frown.

"It's not fine."

"What I did wasn't cool, and I'd rather the last time we saw each other not be with you hating my guts."

The last time we saw each other?

What does he mean by that? Your mouth opens but he beats you with the answer.

"The higher ups have assigned Geto and I on a mission, but this one is different. One even I don't think we’ll come back unscathed. So, I just wanted to—"

"Wait! Why are you telling me all this Satoru? I don’t understand?" It is weird to see him this open with you, especially with all that has led you to come up here in the first place. The thought of him being sick or faintly under the influence rocks through your mind. Gojo is honestly awestruck with your confused face.

"You really haven't noticed, huh? Guess I do owe Shoko that five."

He pulls off his glasses, placing six eyes all on you.

"It's 'cause you're my favorite and I don't know how far I'd be without you here."

His gaze is piercing, blue eyes just as bright as the full moon tonight. You had no idea what to say before but now you're really stunned. Here is Gojo Satoru laying down his emotions to you on a cold Autumn night. It’s strange; there is a feeling festering in you that you’ve never felt before with him. Is this genuine concern, hope or something else. Whatever it is you can’t tell but for that moment you believed that heartfelt look in his eyes…

Until he starts laughing. He lets a grand puff of air before he tries to hide his giggles poorly, “Sorry, sorry.”

You shove him away from you with an eye roll, but he still shows you a toothy grin.

"You really know how to ruin a moment, ya'know that?"

"Yeah, I do. But you still love me for it."

[neosero]

[ 01:15pm ] and sometimes you have to remind yourself they’re gods |

pt. ii Fontaine Version |

[ 12:30am ] and yet, you still resist

wc | 4.1k+ total

noteworthy warnings | gn!reader; dark themes; descriptions of drowning, death, false descriptions of the primordial sea aftermath, spoilers for archon quest 4.2 and beyond ( furina ); implied-kidnapping, false imprisonment [ ? ], i do not know how the court of law works womp womp, spoilers for version 4.2 and beyond ( special mention )

THE HYDRO ARCHON Focalors Furina | wc. 2.2k+

Have you heard…

The only place in all of Teyvat where rumors hold merit lies within Fontaine. Although it is the kingdom built on the ideals of a just society, its citizens aren't privy to the appeals of a tantalizing scandal or a possible scoop that has yet to hit The Steambird front page.

( What hasn't been proven within the Court, is just another wave in the sea of lies. )

A saying often passed around when undisclosed news spreads like spilled wine throughout the streets, but it’s only to show faux indifference. Even the most proper of citizens still sit with bated breaths awaiting the next whispered word on the street.

Especially when it's in relation with that of the Regina of all waters, kindreds, people and law. Lady Furina De Fontaine.

…she was there you know. The day of the Mont. Esus massacre.

"What are you doing here?"

Furina jumps in surprise, completely absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear your approach. She is quick to recover though, fixing her posture and outstretching her arms diagonally. “Can an Archon not come to bask in the scenery of her domain?" She spins slowly, sunlight aided with the gentle breeze to illuminate the flow of her garments.

You push air through your nose. "Right my apologies, your grace." You bow just as exaggerated as the woman before you. She smiles to herself at the gesture, returning the bow herself. Just as you stand upright she grasps your hand, dragging you over to the pond she was previously fixated on so intently.

The water is perfectly stilled, the breeze does nothing to shift its tranquility and the sight of your reflections together is so peaceful. The clouds above dance behind you and some birds even fly overhead to give show. It’s too peaceful.

You pull away from her grasp, unlacing your interlocked hands.

The action brings a ripple through the pond.

"Furina...what are you doing here?" You question more seriously. Not only is it just past midday, around the same time she would normally spend tasting the many delicacies of Fontaine, but also Mont. Esus is too far from the Opera Epiclese. She would never miss a chance to see the scheduled retelling of Mort au bord de L'eau, so for her to be here of all places now isn’t a good sign.

"You hurt me with such inquiries. I just wanted to see the sights, and I find it better for such a celebrity as myself to remain discreet unless I cause such a scene in your peaceful town." Her arms fold over her chest, seeming all too pleased with her own answer. You should be able to take her words as they are, but in light of recent events you can see right through her cover up.

"You come in through the main docks and pass through the main trails of the city — where everyone can see you — to be discreet?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Furina, what's going on? This isn't like you at all." You cross your arms as well, eyebrows cast down in confusion. She shrugs at that, finding it better for once to keep her mouth shut than clear her name. You press on.

"Does this have anything to do with that trial?" The news of the Court is hard to escape, even for those of Fontaine's who choose to stay off the grid like you do. It has become the first widespread topic of the town here; the Hydro Archon wrong!

It’s all anyone would ever talk about since the trials climax and it's been weeks. To be frank, you’re tired of it. Not only has it caused work around the town to slow, but also people have started to believe your close relationship with the archon means you must know every detail. You’ve been fighting for a private moment to yourself for so long it feels weird to not see any people gawking at your every move. With the amount of attention you’ve been getting you can only imagine the scale of paparazzi that have been on Furina’s back.

So, the trial is the only plausible cause and seeing how stiff she gets with the question means you hit a nerve. She looks far more uncomfortable now, gaze turned to the shaking pond beside your feet.

When did this start?

“Everyone has their off days, Furina. I’m sure one wrong verdict won’t kill you.” You had thought the words would give some light relief to the situation, but her body shutters looking paler than she had before. Her neck turns in your direction so quick you fear it would snap. She looked at you almost as if you’d actual meant it. Her expression concerns you, you reach out to her but fall short.

The ground is shaking and you stumble to find good footing. “An earthquake?” You think out-loud, the shaking picks up again with an aggression that throws Furina into your arms. This is no normal earthquake.

…she had the nerve to cry at the trial as if this wasn’t her own undoing.

The tremor increases in ferocity, your balancing wavering as it feels like the earth would open up right underneath your feet. "What's happening?" Furina voice quivers as she clings to you desperately. You cannot tell yourself what this could be but the screams in the distance vocalize the worst possibility. You break away from her, accidentally shoving her to the ground but you cannot find it in yourself to care right now. The quakes have you crawling up the top of the mountain as best you can to catch sight of the commotion from your town below...and it's a ghastly sight.

Buildings explode one by one as the townspeople run for their lives. Geysers in the color of vibrant blues and purples shoot out from where their homes and businesses once stood mere seconds ago. The water ( if you can even call it that ) continues to burst from the earth in great force, forcing many of the people to the ground with its violence. The citizens you can make out from this distance trample over one another, parents screaming for lost children and others yelling for people to get to the docks or any high place away to where it could be safe. It’s a disaster.

And the worst had yet to come.

The geysers let out a gentle rain as the strange liquid pours down to mix in with the blood and tears of the fallen. Slowly one by one the legs of the townspeople can't seem to hold their weight, the hands they use to crawl away with a desperate urgency become translucent and the screams lodged in their throats sink into the now rising waters leaving behind nothing but damp clothes.

They are dissolving.

Furina gasps at your side. The dirt on her knees shows she’s crawled her way up the mountain too. She brings her gloved hands up to shield her from the gruesome sight. You cannot explain why it angers you. Watching her sit here and cower in fear when she is supposed to be a god; it lights a match in your heart. You fall to her level, screaming.

"You’re the Hydro Archon! Furina, do something!" You clutch your archon by the shoulders, grip tight and painful with your distress. Those are your friends down there, your citizens — her beloved kin. She should be diving in to save them and not stuck here rooted to the floor like a child.

"I can't." Furina stutters broken, the tears you hadn’t even noticed continue more fiercely down her face collecting with the snot and drool. You had never seen her this broken before.

"The prophecy...it...I cannot fight this” She hiccups. She continues to mumble words with a meaning you cannot understand even as you let her go. You rack your brain for everything you could possibly do in this situation. A few people in the distance have managed to find a place high enough above ground to beat the rising waters and with enough coverage to block out the acidic rain. If you can get to the docks unscathed and take a boat you could save.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and stand. Looking out to the sea you can make out a few boats still close to the docks, though the rocking waves could drift them away any moment. You take a few strides backwards. It is now or never.

"Prophecy or whatever, I won't just watch them all die." The glider solidifies on your back, Anemo vision drawing out a faint glow as Furina clutches her top hat as the wind suddenly picks up. Her eyes widen as she watches you turn to the edge of the cliff, "You don't mean to go down there!"

You ignore her, sweat trickling down your temple. You extend your arms ready to dive. Ready to jump.

But she isn't ready to let you go.

Just as your feet leave the ground, Furina hands fly out to grab you. "No!" The thought of you ending up like them, left with nothing but a wad of damp clothing to remember you has her spring into action. She cannot lose you like this, she won't.

She clutches onto the material of your glider tightly preventing your descent. "What are you doing?!" You look behind you as you watch her dangle from the cliff, strange hydro creatures mimicking the ones you have seen along the beaches of Fontaine keep her from falling and you from flying any further out of reach. "Let me go!"

She doesn't budge determined to get you back as these creatures are determined to pull her back to the safety of Mont. Esus...all uncaring of the tearing fabric.

There isn’t enough time to notice it either, not until it's too late. The audible tear brings you both back to reality but everything feels slowed. Her gaze falls to the piece of cloth in her hands and then to your descending body. Your hands outstretched to one another but already too far to reach. With half a functioning glider you cannot steady yourself right, only left to flail and spin uncontrollably into the welcoming embrace of the primordial sea.

Furina doesn’t know why she watches it all. Maybe as a punishment for her inability to live up to being an archon, or a sort of cruel torture to remind herself she is just like everyone else: human.

Whatever it may be, watching you flail and wither in the sea with your arms slowly melting and mixing in with the water. Watching you look up gaze up at her stoic and unwavering in your final moments. Seeing your clothes resurface but not you.

It just shows her how terrifyingly real it all is.

…she still visits the graves apparently; talking, watering and replacing the flowers of one the tombs herself.

It's been six months since the primordial sea almost swallowed Fontaine whole.

Furina kneels with her knees to her chest talking to her reflection in the pond atop of Esus. Her reflection mirrors her every move but the wind distorts the water and leaves the growing clouds in the sky moving at a quick pace trying to follow.

Neuvillette must be overworking himself again.

Even so, she continues to relay the events of the new Fontaine. How the people have grown accustomed to knowing the truth behind her — no, Focalors' lies. The talk of being oceanids is more of a passing joke now than a belief of origin. The people have grown to embrace the Opera once again as well, she even mentions her recent debut as a director. Her smile is as soft and bright as the sun peaking through the clouds. The birds join in her conversation, chirping as they pass by and some circle around her.

It's all so peaceful, until it isn’t.

“Furina.”

The voice is gentle, like a whisper of the wind during a new spring morning. She knows it isn’t behind her or anywhere else around her, so she looks back down to the lake.

Instead of her reflection, it’s you who smiles back.

“Let me go, Furina.”

Her eyes water, just like before.

"I'm so sorry."

A stray tear falls from her cheek into the water and the ripple it leaves changes its color. A once clear blue shifts to the same vibrant purples of that day. Your face isn’t happy anymore, instead that same anger expression that plagues her worst nightmares has returned.

“You’re the Hydro Archon! Do Something!”

“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

The lake begins to bubble as you yell out to her. The grass around the edge dies off slowly, shifting to an ugly black goop. The birds squawk in distress and take flight away from the danger. Even through it all, Furina’s smile never wavers as she stands. She turns away, tears freefalling off her cheeks now as she descends the mountain like every other day.

Your screams follow her along like the howling wind. She clutches a ripped garment into her chest tenderly, the only piece of you she has left to remember.

Have you heard, near the summit of Esus rests Lost Lovers Lagoon - the last place the primordial sea submerged. If you listen closely you can still hear the cries of those lost to the storm. Some say it was left by someone higher than the archons, to remind us not to question the gods ever again. Some say the souls of the guilty go there to rot away. No one really knows how this came to be or why Mount. Esus... no one but the Hydro Archon who still keeps secrets from her people. Never having learned her lesson.

THE HYDRO SOVEREIGN Neuvillette | wc. 1.8k+

"Murderer!"

Your attorney, your mother, tells you to still yourself.

She reminds you not to react to their uncivilized behavior lest you want this to all be for nothing. The court of Fontaine is unforgiving and if you show even the slightest mistake of doubt they will chew you through like wolves to fresh prey. Never in your life have you seen such barbaric treatment in the court of law, but then again you shouldn't have expected much within the land of faux justice.

It's comical how even that thought would have sitting here in the position you are in now. Anything done within this city could be held against you in the court of law: freedom of speech, missing the trash can, accidental injury, hell even unauthorized balloon holding would get you a spot in the opera's next grand showing if you are a criminal or just an accused victim.

You hold your head high in your best attempt to seem unaffected by the heckles that only increase in number and volume. Having only been within the hydro-powered city for a few weeks, it's an action you have to learn lest you would want to gaze upon the walls of the Fortress the next century. Any emotion can make you a guilt-ridden convict under the gaze of the Opera Epiclese, so fighting for the public opinion is the only true way to win the court.

Public opinion here holds more merit than any substantial evidence presented could ever anywhere else in Teyvat. The mockery of the court being held in an opera house only adds more salt to your open wound. For if you fail to entertain in your fight for survival here...

Then what right do you have to continue living anywhere else?

"Retched butcher! You should have never been allowed into our city!"

"Order!" Neuvillette brings his cane down onto the wooden floor. The action rings an echo through the court so loud it stuns the audience into a silence. "I would advise against any more expletives, unless you wish to be escorted outside." His gaze scans through the crowd as they all settle into their seats.

You had believed the only real justice in this city was the man before you. The Iudex of Fontaine, Neuvillette was the overseer of all trials within Fontaine and the final say in every verdict. It is hard enough to see countless trials a week let alone your lifetime. However, he still attends them all, forgoing all personal connections to conduct a fair and just trial for both parties.

You had met the man the first day you arrived in Fontaine. He was there to greet your family and offered his welcomes to your mother for her promotion into the Court. He talked literature with your father to your housing, and even offered him a chance to visit his office to view the past trial records. Of course, you only saw this for its pleasantry; he was your mother's boss so the first meeting would be so polite and formal - for first impression's sake.

So it was only polite of you to allow his lips to grace your palm in greeting. You had believed it to be a foreign greeting, you are overseas and your research of Fontaine's culture and craft had little to do with their way of introduction. However in the eyes of Monsieur Neuvillette, you opened your heart to his courting.

For the trials you had come to see for your mother, a bouquet of flowers would be waiting in your seat with no signed owner. Desserts from the finest bakers would be given to you at restaurants free of charge on the count of a nice gentleman. Your father would come to your room to deliver a package of priceless jewelry that you couldn't even tell him the origin of. All still with no name.

It went on like this for weeks; the boxes kept piling in your room and you had started to send some of the jewels back, you started to decline the desserts having had way too many already and the sight of those flowers constantly brought a shake to your brows. You would have filed a report to the gardes if your secret admirer hadn't made himself known on your way home from lecture. Taking your regular route through the park, it was a surprise to see the Iudex occupying one of the benches. At his side the same set of flowers you cannot seem to escape.

You greet him out of respect and it's a greeting he returns. You both stand there in awkward silence for a while, his gaze piercing as he doesn't bother to look away from you at all. You clear your throat to fill the silence and it seems to snap him out of his daze, outstretching the flowers to you. You take them of course, feigning interest and taking a whiff of them. The smell irritates your nose. "These are lovely."

"You've noticed them."

"Well, they are beautiful and everywhere on display around the city. That and someone keeps sending them to me for some reason." You give a dry laugh picking off some of the petals, but Neuvillette doesn't notice your disinterest in the slightest. He looks almost relieved with your answer.

"Then you've enjoyed the desserts here as well?" The question turns the gears in your head. You raise a brow. "Uhm. They are sweet and delicious but I've had my fill of them until my next lifetime."

This brings a crease to Neuvillette's brows. "Do you not like the deserts, anymore? If the quality is the issue then I can have prepared differently to your tastes better. It shouldn't be too much of an issue with-."

"Wait wait. What are you talking about? Has all of this been you?"

"Yes. Have... have you not known?" He questions back just as confused as you are. These were the methods he has seen used on many of the performers of Fontaine, surely he hadn't taken the wrong approach.

You're baffled. "Of course not! You can't just do stuff like this without getting to know someone first, or informing them you are even interested."

"But is this not how you show interest in a partner?"

His words flow so calmly and yet still confused as if he had made a mistake. You hold the bridge of your nose. It feels like you're teaching a child, how has he not known basic romantic interaction in his time?

"Oh heavens. You're my mother's boss, Monsieur Neuvillette. Even if I had any interest, this wouldn't be right to do." You speak calmly, gesturing to the flowers between you both. "It would raise too many questions and put my mother's job at risk."

"I wouldn't want to get in her way of success, or take you away from the court you really love." Neuvillette takes in your words solemnly, nodding as he brings his hands to his chin.

"Of course. You are right. I was being selfish, please accept my deepest apologies."

You did, if things were different then maybe it could have been. However, as things stand it would just be inappropriate to agree. You hand him back the flowers and bid him farewell. A low rumble of thunder picks up in the sky suddenly, and it leaves you scurrying home trying to save your notes from the intense downpour. Leaving Neuvillette behind drenched in his sorrows.

Of course you should have known better, things are never that easy. There are no tragedies within this city, Neuvillette will make sure of that.

"With all the evidence presented we shall now look to the Oratrice Mec-. Hm...my apologies."

A silence rings through the Opera, one that leaves a chill down your spine. It was a recent development within Fontaine, one that still holds a full page in the Steambird papers that you can't escape: the dismissal of the Hydro Archon, Furina. Prior to this, Neuvillette would always have a second opinion, one that even lady Furina wouldn't object to. The Oratrice Mecanique D'analyse Cardinale was a solidifier for Neuvillette for when even he had doubts for a verdict, like now.

But that machine is no more. Now the final decision is his alone.

There is no Hydro Archon to look over, no machine to solidify his verdicts for trials. He is the power of Fontaine; the pinnacle of the nation of justice. He is the overseer of what is good or evil, what is just and unjust in his society.

Whatever choice he makes now will be the final decision. His word would be law. And you would have to follow it without question.

Whether right or wrong.

A glow begins to rise at the tips of his hair, something only you seem to notice. Your heart rate picks up. Neuvillette sighs deeply, an action that drops your father's heart into his stomach. Your blood runs cold.

"As Supreme ruler of Fontaine, I hereby declare the accused guilty of all charges."

Your father wails at your side, crumbling to his knees in sorrow. Your mother takes the glasses off her face in defeat, her hands coil around the bearings as she herself fights the unshed tears. Everything was in your favor; the verdict should have gone to them. Your hands shake at your sides in disbelief.

"However, I see a light of hope in your case. So you will not be banished to the Fortress of Meropide."

What? Your head darts to the judge. If not the Fortress, then-

"I will see to your parole myself, and personally ensure justice is upheld. It'll give you a second chance to reconsider your choices." Your father seems to cry harder in glee, standing on wobbly legs to embrace you. Your mother holds him there, thanking the judge for his generosity and sparing you a chance. The crowd follows suit in praise and applause, heckles turned cheers as they all claim him the true Sovereign of Justice. Their sudden mood change leaves a terrible stir in your gut.

Your parents hold you close in their arms in the belief that they won't have to go without seeing you for long. Your father cannot calm his tears, and your mother grips your shoulder firmly as he tells you to be on your best behavior in order to repay this blessing. However, you couldn't care less about any of them as they have fallen to the enemy. You center your gaze on the cold hard stare of the man on the pedestal.

Neuvillette doesn't look away from you, taking in the anger and disbelief that seethes from you in what you can only think is curiosity. You should curse him, launch your shoe across the stage and force a worse sentence that would keep you far away from him but you are too drawn to his stare to move.

In all that time you spent together you had never noticed but...

Were his irises always so narrow?

a/n i | sorry yall this should've been done weeks ago but neu's part really messed me up like it wasn't writers block or anything because the ideas were there i just didn't like any of them ( including this one but this was sadly the best one i could put into words )

a/n ii | to the anon and others who have shown interest in another installment of the 'archon' collection just know i haven’t forgotten about you i just wanted to do this first becuz i wanted to include a certain someone in that request! i swear the next part will be sooner than the two months it took for this to complete do not hate me anon!!

[neosero]

[ 01:15pm ]

and sometimes you have to remind yourself they’re gods

p.ii | fontaine version

[ 12:30am ] and yet, you still resist

word count | 7.5k total

noteworthy warnings | gn!reader; excessive use of the word ‘you’ sorry lol; rushed fiction; dark themes [ ? ]; violent/gory descriptions [ ? ] ( venti ); false descriptions of the archon war, implied kidnapping ( zhongli ); false post-cataclysm descriptions; inazuma spoilers for new players ( ei ); implied sag!au ( nahida ); version 3.2 spoilers and beyond ( special mention o.o );

if you find any of these warnings uncomfortable scroll away. viewer discretion is advised.

THE ANEMO ARCHON Lord Barbatos | wc. 1.5k+

Venti had always been known to chug down one too many kegs of wine when given the chance.

Although he slurs about the price going to his tab, it is always you who has to fix up every mess. Whether it be ending fist fights, pleading with angry bartenders or paying half his tabs in compensation, the guy really knows how to ruin someone’s night.

“It wasn’t my fault this time.” Venti’s whining starts right off the bat, not caring that you have barely made it any distance from the bar. It's clear with the way he stumbles that he has long since past his limit. Your arm securely holds him by the shoulder opposite of you, an attempt to steady his wobbly footing although the sigh from his lips tells you he believes the touch is something else. 

“I don’t need your excuses, Barbatos.” Your words are hushed but still harsh. His body deflates at the sound of his name used in such a tone, however he still refuses to relent.

“I promise you it wasn’t me who started it. The guy was…mouthing about everyone in there; he started saying nasty stuff about Brook’s drinks, called my music terrible and he then started…” saying things about you.

Well the guy attempted to until Venti stood from his stool, the force of the movement - or so he explained - must have tipped the drink over and spilled all over the poor guy’s clothes. Of course he got angry, who wouldn’t but when he started shouting about payment that’s when things took a turn. When Venti declined and left to grab another bottle the guy rushed him. It wasn’t his fault the guy was so drunk he missed the swing and stumbled off so badly he tripped and broke his nose. But it wasn’t like you were gonna believe a word coming from his mouth, he’s played the intoxicated card too much for it to have just been an accident this time around.

“I know you pushed him.” He opens his mouth to retort, “I know you pushed him because candles just don’t blow out within a closed bar with no windows, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because that man explained it felt like he was being shoved into the ground when he fell, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because this has been the same story with you for the last three weeks! By the gods, what has gotten into you?”

You’ve both gotten far enough from Springvale to talk freely, but hearing your voice carry in the winds of the quiet forest hurts a lot more than being scolded in front of the dozen or so citizens. You come across an abandoned supply wagon and take this as a moment to stop. By helping Venti up the back of the wagon to sit on its edge, you take the time to look him over. It is always surprising how he comes back unscathed from every encounter; not a single hair out of place, nor smudge of cheap alcohol anywhere on his clothes or lingering scent of said alcohol anywhere in the air - only noticeable when close enough to his lips. Venti sways in his seat, head hung low like a child who's been told off by their parents and sometimes it feels like just that. You sigh.

“I’m not upset with you.” The change in your tone makes his head raise and a noticeable color return to his face.

Yeah, just like a child.

“I just wish you’d fix whatever you have going on with you right now. I have a lot on my plate as is with the Knights of Favonius and getting everything I can with that Snezhnayain diplomat. I had to leave a meeting that could have been a pivotal breakthrough with them today because of you!”

You don’t see it with how you fix the legs of your armored plating, but Venti rolls his eyes. He knows about the plans of the Cryo Archon. He knows a lot more than what he lets on to the traveler or anyone else who inquiries about the matter; there's a reason he normally steers clear of the Adventures Guild’s Katherine. Still the more he relays the information to you, warnings upon warnings of caution, you don’t listen. It is demeaning knowing what little trust you have for your own god, let alone having to continue this conversation every night.

“...and you might not take this seriously, Venti, but it's really disappointing.”

“You're more disappointed that I ruined date night.” Venti had tried to hold it in, he really did but hearing you praise that woman Signora over giving praise to your own archon would make any one of Celestia’s chosen snap. He stands then, the most sober movement he has had all night and you scoff.

“Oh may Celestia take me now! This again? For the last and final time I am simply working with the women. It’s my job and whatever I do shouldn’t matter to you.”

“And why is that?” 

“Because you are a god!” The winds pick up, there is a clear green gleam in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “People offer prayers to you daily. They work and celebrate all in your name. You used to split mountains, Barbatos…What I do should be insignificant to the eyes of someone like you: our supposedly high and mighty deity.”

“It's high time you act like it.”

There is a heavy thudding in the distance, you turn around missing the clear shake in Venti’s hands. The wind rages on stirring the clouds above but you don’t care as you catch sight of a Mitachurl barreling in your direction. Clearly your shouting stirred it somehow and with how fast it's charging there is no room to run.

You draw your sword and stand in front of Venti as protection, “Damn. We’ll continue this later.” He’s gone quiet and when you dare to look away from the charging beast to see your archon, your skin runs cold. He’s bleeding in his right hand, fist balled so tight he shakes as he breaks skin and it runs down to evaporate before it hits the ground. His lyre rests in his left but it's different; the strings, once a vibrant glow of green, run a deep dark red almost the same color as the blood on his skin.

“Vent-” you begin to call out but the words are cut off by the heavy shout before you. You turn your neck quickly to see the Mitachurl with its ax raised high, about to strike. When had it gotten so close? You brace yourself ready to hold off the blunt force as best you can, turning again to shout for Venti to move.

But he strums his first note.

This sound is far different then what you’re used to. What was once a gentle, harmonic strumming of a lyre blessed in the winds, now feels dissonant. The sound is a deep vibration one that could only be described when hitting the wrong keys at the end of a piano in quick concession. A sound you feel breach into the roots of your lungs and pry out all the air you have stored.

You can’t breathe.

The sword falls from your hands as you frantically clutch your chest. Your legs wobble and your head is hammering, the need to breath is overwhelming but with every harsh breath you take in it all seems to be sucked out.

“Barbat-”

“You want a god. I’ll show you god.”

Barbatos strums his second note. 

This sound has a higher pitch, the noise most quickly catches you as that of a violin when you bring it’s bow down with a little too much pressure against the wrong chord. There’s a force to this note, one you must assume was the same the guy at the bar felt as you are shoved into the wagon. The force of the blow leaves you more winded then you were before. All your strength feels drained from your body and your knees give out. There is no time to recover though…

Not when Lord Barbatos pulls at his third and final string.

You don’t register this one, the ringing in your ears and overall loss of oxygen leaving you closer and closer to the brink of unconsciousness. Even so you watch him toy with the string. The wind has picked up and now you notice the Mitachurl raised in the air, it struggles with its head thrashing about. Venti turns to you, a smile crazed and eyes dim.

Then he lets the string go.

It's hard to watch. Wind isn’t a visible thing, but in this very moment you pinpoint just where the breeze shifts and changes as it tears through the beast limb from limb. Arms and legs twist and bend, its chest constricts slowly and its head rotates like an owl with a chorus of loud cracks of bones; if it wasn’t for how close you feel to the brink of death yourself you know the sounds of the snapping and screams would have killed you alone. Barbatos stares still. 

It doesn’t last long, the sheer horror of it all ends quickly as the Mitachurl is compressed into the origin of the tornado it's caught in until it blows in a rain of blood. The loss of oxygen finally gets to you as your eyes drift but not before seeing the finale of your oh so mighty deity. 

He stands unmoving as the blood pours down in a shower along his face, eyes now closed, “disappointed in your god now?”

THE GEO ARCHON Rex Lapis | wc. 1.6k+

Six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.

A long and painful four-thousand years of battle over a couple seats at the throne that was already predetermined. Four-thousand years wasted away killing friends and family and loved ones for power they themselves now wish to throw away. A lot of gods didn’t want to be a part of this…holy massacre - or whatever these scholars wish to paint it as - and you were one of them. You were given many names for your time: Theia, Anthos, Gia. The only thing that remains certain within all books of history is your ability to create elemental stones.

Ascension silver, within today’s terms, was a skill none could manage; for being a god who could bond to a multitude of elements at once was beyond even the original seven of Celestia. The gems you produced offered various needs opposed to the power of visions; pyro silver for warmth, hydro silver to be shattered and give rain, geo crystals for fortitude in times of terrible weather, dendro crystals to fertilize plants, cryo silver to cool in the warmer weathers and electro silver to strengthen weapons for combat. It all could be found in the midst of your domain.

Your domain resided in the Huaguang Stone Forest, within the underbelly of Mt. Aocang. It was just a large hollowed cave filled with crystals and home to a small community of humans. They traded off the crystals you produced, for food and supplies, holding festivals and village gatherings under your name. When they needed protection, your crystal walls provided and the Vishaps, organic creatures of your creation, helped protect those from outside.

All was good, all was at peace. 

Until six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.

Tremors grew in both number and extremity over time. Your people starved and scared as trade drew to a halt and more and more outsiders flocked for your domain for protection. The energy of fellow gods and people you once thought would grow old together die out like the stars one by one. However, within your domain all was good, all was at peace, all was protected.

Or so you thought until you met Rex Lapis, the self proclaimed God of Geo, four-thousand years ago during the Archon War.

He requests your assistance, he speaks of monsters and demons emerging from the earth of Guili Plains and that without you they would consume the earth and all within it. You were hesitant to believe him, not when he stormed in covered in the blood of gods and an army of yaksha armed tooth and nail to your fortress of peace. When you speak of the wellbeing of your people he promises to ensure their safety with a few of his yaksha, but when you question him further its General Musatas who warns you to watch your tongue when speaking to one of the chosen seven. Thinking back about it now that should have been the first sign of danger; putting your trust in a god fighting to be apart of the corrupt Celestia. But your people needed more help than what you could provide alone, and you still young and naive wanted to believe that the word of the god of gods was absolute.

So you leave and for a thousand years you fight for a cause you thought to be pointless. You watch gods die, your crystal shields only doing so much in the onslaught of war. Whenever you came close to being wounded it was Morax who protected you from harm time and time again. Taking the blunt force of claws and the heavy pummeling from Osial, all to keep you from harm's way. You had thought it was admirable…if only that same persistence was there for Guizhong.

When she perished on the battlefield you all were pushed back. In a last stand against the enemy you took hold at Mt. Tianheng, and it was there we prospered. Rex Lapis’ sheer power and battle strategy in command of the adeptus and five general yaksha pushed through for the victory and settlement of Liyue. It was then the god of contracts requested a binding: all remaining adeptus would stand to protect Liyue if danger ever stirred once again.

And once again you were a fool to trust the words of the god of gods. 

For the others were allowed to roam as they pleased until called upon and you were to remain within Liyue Harbor forever at the side of your god Rex Lapis. He claimed it was for protection, your powers being the strongest he’s seen for a lifetime, however you could only recall being of no help to protect the ones you hold dear on the battle field. 

You fight, complain and wrestle against his iron grip but the contract holds still. As the Harbor prospered and grew over the years, it left you with the stronger desire to see your people once again. A request with the yaksha would fall on deaf ears as they were still to handle the aftermath within the Plains, but when talk of corruption and madness spread among the masses you had feared the worst. Against your better judgment you left, you thought the wellbeing of your people is more important than the loyalty you have in some god.

When you return to the Stone Forest, you’re enveloped with a sense of home. You spot Cloud Retainer at the top of the peak, but she is gone before you can offer a wave. When you finally reach the door to your domain your heart drops. The Geovishaps who stand guard are nowhere to be found and the energy of your barrier left so long ago has run dry. Even with the clear signs, you still push forward and believe in the word of Morax.

Still so young and naive.

The domain is bathed in dried blood. There are bodies upon bodies of your people scattered along the floor, their blood painted over your crystals and the bodies of yakshas having killed everyone else looked to have turned against each other. Tears of pure silver fall from your eyes as you make way through your temple, a last ditch effort for hope of any survival…for anything.

Everything lays in shambles - crystal decoration of your own design shattered across the floor, Vishaps of all ages lifeless and unmoving just like the images of the gods all those years ago. What breaks you is what sits at your throne: the remaining villagers all curled together encased in a crystal prison. It was a skill you taught your strongest Vishaps just before your departure, never considering that they would need to use it you had no way of reversing its effects. You fall into a sob, pillars of crystals sprouting just where your tears meet the bloody ground. All hope is lost from you until you feel the looming presence of Rex Lapis.

At first, you're overjoyed.

He could somehow fix this. Given his ability to cleanse gods and shape islands with minimal effort, this could be done by the snap of a finger. You stand with some difficulty, the gems having crystalized at the bottom hem of your garments almost keeping you weighted to the floor as a warning. You pay no mind.

Then, all at once, you’re afraid.

When you reach him, smiling and happy for once to be in his presence, the weight around you feels heavy. The glare of Rex Lapis is stone cold, gold irises like slits of the dragon you witnessed decapitate so many of your old friends. The general Alatus to his left stands armed and ready, and to his right Cloud Retainer - one normally so proud and boastful, hangs her head low behind the god before her. 

“You left.” His voice is calm, a stark contrast to the way he is looking at you. Glaring at you like the enemy. “Well yes.” You begin, a stutter to your voice, “the war has long since reached its close…and with n-no more danger I thought it would be alright to-”

“Danger is always upon us. You went against our agreement.” There's a bass in his voice that rocks a tremor through your body as well as the cave you reside in, its strength leaves Alatus to stumble his footing and Cloud Retainer to dip her gaze that much lower. You, however press on, “I had no plans to be gone long a-and with no word from my home I feared the worst. So I had to-”

His hand envelops your throat in an instant. Rough, scaled fingers grip tightly around you and when you make an effort to speak he squeezes harder. “You had to remain within the harbor. We had an agreement. You swore an oath to me, an oath that was never to be broken.” Frantic fingers grip at his hand, you try to pry him off of you but your body feels like it's being pulled by an unknown force that leaves you weak and him unmoving. He watches you struggle, and somehow in those eyes you see him pleased with the way you whither in his grasp.

“Should I take care of them, Master?” General Alatus’ mask envelopes his face, karmic energy flowing from his body. You shutter as his blade is brought to your sides. Rex Lapis turns his head swiftly, the first he’s looked away from you since he’s got here, and glares harder. In seconds the general is brought to the floor in a shout of pain. In the position he kneels, Alatus clutches the floor in a grip so tight you’d think he was trying to push against the heavy pull of the world’s gravity. “You will hold your tongue until I see fit for your suggestions, General.”

Alatus nods as best he can, body struggling just as much as yours to try and fight against the power of the god of geo. The glow of his scales dims, and the yaksha begins to breathe as he stands on wobbly legs. It is then the archon drops you. You swallow oxygen in desperately and cough it back out heavily as you gaze up at the man before you. When he reaches for you again, you scurry away but not far enough. This time he grasps your arm dragging you away breathless and reaching for what’s left of your home.

He scoffs at your sorry state, “your offense to me isn’t great, but you still will be punished for your disobedience.” You’re helpless to it all, too weak to challenge one of the chosen seven of Celestia. He snaps his fingers and just like all those years ago he takes you from your home.

Back then it was for a cause, an unspoken oath you had no idea would chain you to a man you don’t believe in; but now it's as a prisoner, a powerless god who watches their domain crumble right before your eyes.

THE ELECTRO ARCHON Raiden Shogun | wc. 1.1k+

“Leave us.”

For a moment, you think she sounds disappointed. The guards release you from your binds and you're quick to snatch your wrists away to rub the tender skin. They give stiff bows and with stiff, sharp pointed turns make way for the doors of the Shogunate’s chambers. When they leave the room, Baal and the kitsune Saiguu emerge from the panels behind the back of the throne. Baal is as calm as ever; she sits eyes closed, knees folded below her and her wagasa twirling in her slender fingers as if pondering something. Saiguu seems more openly displeased; her tail rests rigid behind her when she sits beside her own Shogun, she looks concerned as she scans your body and you notice she has left her cigarette holder behind.

You are in real trouble now.

Beelzebul had descended her throne before the guards even walked through the door. She paces in between you and her sister, her strides come to match the tempo of the thunder that increases in volume over the heavy rain from the outside world. When a particularly loud clash resonates through the skies, Baal stops her twirling. “Ei, you’re beginning to cause a stir amongst the people.”

She stops her pacing and so too does the thunder if only for a little. Beelzebul looks you over and it seems that fans her flame even more when her eyes rack over your body. Her gaze doesn’t match that of Saiguu’s though. “You’re wounded.” She finally speaks, it's more at you than to you. The wound is nothing serious, a small scratch to the arm that has left your garments a little bloody but it's really nothing that won't heal by the morning. She moves quickly for bandages, trying and failing to distract herself from imploding, but when she gets close with the adhesive you dodge around her touch.

The first clash of lightning strikes the seas.

Beelzebul sighs and stands, you watch the bandage begin to buzz and spark in her grasp. “Bleed out for all I care.” In an instant, the cloth blows and dissolves in a small show of flames. You flinch.

“Ei-” Baal begins again, her hair glows at the tips and you know she is fighting to calm the storm of emotion that continues to rage outside.

“What did you hope to gain by seeing her again at such a time? We are in the middle of a war of gods and you see it fit to chase a traitor.” 

“Chiyo is no traitor!” You don’t mean to yell, but the way she spits the word ‘traitor’ has your blood boiling. Baal makes no effort to calm you down. “She had been trapped inside the belly of that beast for so long; months fighting her way from the inside out. That could turn anyone to madness…and when she finally emerges scared and confused you try to kill her.”

“She’s become crazed with madness. Something in that beast left with her and a blight like that can’t be cleansed. Saiguu knew the moment she saw her.” You break your gaze to look at the goddess.

Saiguu nods at you even without looking your way, “Not even a cleansing from the Sacred Sakura would have helped. Even being that close I could tell that blight ran deeper than her soul. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head vigorously. There had to be something you could do, even if that meant caging her within the temple for an eternity anything would have been better than more death. “There was something we could have done. I know it. Rukkhadevata would know something; she knows everything. Let me go to Sumera and-”

A dry chuckle bursts from Beelzebul, “It seems you might have been tainted by whatever she had. If you think you are in the right to start making requests now I can assure you it won’t happen. Have you forgotten the current situation: we are at war, not just us but all the gods. You were only lucky enough to get to the forests before I had to save you from that beast.” The air around you feels static. The hairs on your body raise and the wound on your arm feels like it’s being pinched every so often. “Why are you so adamant on leaving my protection?”

“Protection?! Your protection! You keep me imprisoned. I cannot see anyone but who you allow me too. I am followed constantly and whenever I so much as breathe in the direction of the outside world I’m dragged away. You keep me here shielded like some precious doll while everyone else fights.” Baal’s gaze meets yours behind her sister almost there to push you on. “I am a soldier to this nation before anything else and would rather take my chance out there than to live knowing I sat sheltered and protected like a coward with you here.”

Ei’s stunned. A storm ripples through her gaze and for a second you think those purple hues of clouds show shines of rain. 

Instead lightning clashes before you.

The blunt end of her blade is brought to the heart of your chest in a flash. The feeling of its energy pulsing so close makes the tales of its power in battle sound underplaying, stray bolts of lightning bounce off it and reach in to rub under your clothed skin. You jolt. Saiguu makes an effort to stand but Makato raises her hand to halt her advance.

“If you wish to die so eagerly, I will strike you down here myself.”

It's clear she means it; having already slain and severely injured two of her closest friends there would be no hesitation if you had to be next. Makoto finally decides it's time to intervene, her fingers curl along her sister’s shoulder and although Ei doesn’t break away the energy pressing into your chest does decline in pressure if only for a second. “Pain doesn’t last an eternity.”

They don’t even look at each other when she speaks, she just holds her there. You think it has to be something only they could feel as twin gods and hope Makoto wins the internal battle. The sword dissolves in her grasp and you let go of the breath you had thought to be your last. “You're both hurting and you might fight it but it's for the same reason. Chiyo was dear to all of us, so were Sasayori and the others but we cannot let their deaths bring about our own. What would they have fought for? Have died for?” Ei brushes the hand from her shoulder and walks towards the balcony in long strides. 

Makoto does nothing to stop her, choosing it best to let her storm settle on its own then to try and guide its course. She does turn to you, pleading you to understand — her sister only cares for the best of you. You don’t respond, staying glued to the floor while your mind tries to catch up to your heart. Ei pushes into the storm outside that leaves the doors rattling and a chill to the room. Tearing your gaze from the ground you look to your god, she now stands on the ledge head turned up towards the heavy rainfall. She looks almost strangely content with the chaos outside, you could still make out the rotting corpse of the great serpent in the distance. There is a pain bubbling from your gut as your heart still hammers in your chest. Is this the weight you must bear under the care of a god?

THE DENDRO ARHCON Lesser Lord Kusanali | wc. 1.5k+

“Tell me: what do you think shapes a dream?”

You should have known something was wrong the moment Nahida had requested to see you personally. This wouldn’t be the first time one of the archons has requested something like this from you, however Nahida’s tone of voice somehow puts you on edge. The way it echoes in the hollow room she had led you in racks a chill down your spine.

“A dream is made solely by your emotions.” You recall this from your psychology class, the professor was so invested in the topic it was kinda hard to forget. “Whatever fuels that of your wishes, memories and abstract thoughts all tie into what can shape a dream when you fall asleep.” You’ve recited that line so many times before that final exam and still remember being so pissed it was never even mentioned within the test. “However, the worries that rest in the back of your mind might also shift the course of a dream as well.”

“Hmm. I had never thought of it that way.” Nahida curls her hand under her chin thinking, “would that be the same case for a nightmare?” 

“I would assume so…yes.” There is a piece you’re missing in the puzzle of questions. Her curiosity is hiding something else, something that you can’t picture right out but you do feel it with every passing second. “But why would someone try to sleep with negative emotions moving through their head?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you knew this is a virtual world you would have been fooled to see Nahida as the child that she is. Her small frame looks up at you expectantly; being the only person in her world to ever know more than that of her vast case of knowledge, she treats you much more like a new toy to play around with than as the high god everyone else believes you to be. 

That in and of itself is both a blessing and a curse.

“Sometimes it can’t be helped.” You try to not think about it but you tell yourself this everyday now. “It’s something we can’t fight…the negative emotions, they are always with us because we never know what the future will hold.” 

“It's all a random chance of time. One day, you could find yourself on the receiving end of a terrible storm, you could walk straight into dog poop with brand new shoes or you could even walk into a meeting with all your clothes inside out…One day you could lose a loved one, you could walk into a store and see your house in flames on the news, you could even-”

“Be trapped with no way home.” Your eyes widen. Nahida’s head is tilted ever so slightly, eyes squinted and you realize she is studying your reaction, “y-yeah you could.”

“Fascinating.”

You don’t even realize it but your voice waivers, “What is?”

Nahida looks away from you to her holo-screen behind her. With delicate fingers she swipes through files and documents you can’t catch sight of until her little fingers stop on one. You can make out the screen and it looks like a video. She taps it.

A screen materializes before you and the video plays. Image looks like the holding cells of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, but the person within the cell looks like no character you have seen in game at all. It isn’t like you remember every npc within this world, however, each character has similar features that make it obvious in telling who is who. Could this be a new character? There is no knowledge of them in recent patch notes.

Nahida’s voice startles you. 

“Oh…you must be curious? This is user 804897112. Although the name he chose at the start was Starlord, his real name is Chris.”

What?

“It took him four weeks before he slipped up. They hadn’t noticed him as the Creator of that server yet but when he went around sprouting drunk nonsense about the Archon War at Angel Share things took a turn.” You haven’t been watching the screen, too caught up on understanding what Nahida had just said but the scream catches you off guard.

That person. That real life person, Chris, is chained and on his knees before Jean, Rosaria, Kaeya, Diluc and Venti. Kaeya’s sword is jabbed into Chris’ shoulder, Rosaria looks to be trying to get him to cough up any information he knows but you can’t hear anything. Did Nahida only want you to hear that screams? There is a troubled look on Jean’s face like she’s reluctant to continue this, but Venti says something that rouses everyone in the room and pales Chris’ skin. He’s crying now, snotty and nasty as Diluc beelines to him with his heavy blade.

Diluc’s greatsword raises and you gasped in horror as its brought down on Chris’ head. Out of sheer fear you clutch your own neck. Blood seeps out in a sparkle of gold and they all stand as stunned as you, the poor boy’s head tumbling over in the pool of it blood. The video ends there.

It’s hard to breathe and you're given no time to recover yourself as another plays. “This is user 119876532, Diana. She asked questions about Scaramouche’s true origins to the Shogunate. Knowledge no one should possess and again before the establishment of her identity as Creator.” This one carries no build and is from a farther angle atop a tree, like from the perch in the eyes of a bird, but it's all so vividly clear. The girl is tied to her knees before the shogun, spilling out words too quickly for you read and understand. There is no need to though, Ei is as calm as ever. She listen to Diana’s rambling, and for a second you think she might believe whatever she’s saying. Five seconds later, you watch Diana die in the same flash of lightning as La Signora.

You can’t stand now, legs given out in the horror of it all. The videos continue like this until you can’t bear to look at the screen anymore.

User 908765342 crushed by meteorite hurled by Zhongli. User 743828950 — Sam, found dismembered by a pack of hilichurls. Robert gets mauled by a geovishap. Lee can’t take it anymore and…

“Why?” The tears fall from your eyes in heavy waves. “Why show me all this? Why tell me about all these people? I don’t-”

It all connects in seconds: they found out about you.

You move to stand hurriedly and make a beeline for the exit but your feet stay planted to the floor with the sight before you. The Doctor stands grinning from ear to ear. He clasps his hands together with a sigh of glee. “You ask why and it’s simple: you survived.”

He’s on you in an instant, tightly holding your wrists in his hands and preventing your escape no matter how hard you thrash. He breathes into your neck harshly and you sob. He whispers breathlessly into your ear how he has never been this fascinated, this drawn to a specimen before and promises to be gentle in your dissection. Nahida watches you with wide interested eyes as you struggle in hope of saving yourself. You cry out to them, to your guards, to Lumine or Dehya or Thoma. To anyone who would hear you even though no one can. But still…

You scream.

Cyno breaks down your door, his gaze looking over the room hastily to find the culprit to dare stir the peaceful slumber of the Creator.

It was a dream? It was a dream and yet your wrists burn, the images of all those people looked so real.

Was this a sign? Would that happen to you if any of them ever found out? Have they already started to suspect something? What if you don’t ever get out of here? What if-

“Your grace?” Cyno’s hand brings you back to reality, hard. His fingers feel almost frozen over against the skin of shoulder and you flinch away in such a haste it brings crease to his brows. You almost question why he runs so cold but with him looking at you with so much concern you don’t think it's him that is the problem. “Do I need to go get Tighnari? I will only be a couple hours but I could stop by our Archons domain just so-”

“No!” Your voice is filled with fright, but it’s obvious that the sheer volume of your scream is what stuns him the most. You can feel the sweat run down your temple and the pound of your heart so aggressively in your ears. It takes you far too long to compose yourself but you are grateful that Cyno listens and just stands by your side.

“There is no need for all of that. I’m just a little shaken.” He doesn’t seem to take your word for it but when you explain that it was only a dream and not some illness that caused this he is partially relieved. “The doctor won’t be needed for this and it isn’t like this is something of his expertise.” 

Cyno offers a quick nod before he settles in a chair at your desk. He shuffles closer to your bedside with a cross to his arms and a tense raise of his shoulders. You can’t blame him for staying alert; dreams are a new phenomenon within Sumeru and with the few months you have known him, you know Cyno doesn’t do well with handling business he cannot comprehend for himself.

It takes too long for you to finally get calm within the safety of your own bed, but it does help that Cyno — as loyal to you as he once was to the akademiya — stays by your side the whole night. 

It gets hard trying to keep your mind from blurring the line between your life outside and the one within this game. Watching Cyno sleep next to you, the steady rise and fall of his chest is far too detailed for your sensitive mind to keep considering these people aren’t real people. A Sumeru rose, a gift handed to you by a child of the city, loses a petal and you watch the leaf fall then blow in a spark of pixels. You’ve been here too long. 

You need to get out . . . and soon.

THE EVERLASTING GOD OF ARCANE WISDOM : Scaramouche | wc. 1.2k+

You should have known this could have been another one of the Doctor’s tricks.

You are privy to his experiments and know just about everything there is to know about his latest desires as a man of knowledge…but it seems you have gotten too relaxed within his presence to suspect that you were the next pawn to be sacrificed within this long orchestrated game.

Being left to go through with the final reports on the Balladeer’s status without his supervision should have been the first and only sign needed to show you something else was at play here. The Doctor was always to see everything himself, deeming everyone else — even you — inferior to his intellect and prone to time consuming slip ups. Why you would ever trust an order like this for its face value you will never know. But now you can tell it was a mistake.

The laboratory has been cleared on the orders of the Doctor, and yet you feel like you have been being watched ever since you have entered the building.

Since you entered Sumeru for the matter.

Pushing away the chills, you check the sixth harbinger’s vitals. Everything looks to be in order but that is to be as expected; the Doctor had said this could be close to being his greatest creation and that would obviously show in his work. You hum triumphantly and quickly move on to the next task. The body of the Prodigal is kept in a separate room, with how massive the final product came to be it was bound to happen. It is still mesmerizing to know how much raw power is stored within a gnosis on its own. Crazy how an item so small is able to create mass destruction in the world.

Everything seems in perfect shape when you finally reach the test sight. The distant hum of the overhanging lights do little to add any glory to the giant machine before you. Even without eyes its looming figure looks down upon you as if it can tell the significant power difference between you two. Dottore had told you it was nonsense; the Balladeer would be in a state of hypostasis until his body finally converges with the power of the electro gnosis. He couldn’t possibly be able to tell a slime from a hilichurl let alone know when anyone enters the room. 

You find it — much like everything else that comes with interacting with the Doctor —  demeaning. He undermines everyone and if it weren’t for his rank you'd have thought he was just too full of himself. His genius could be on a par with the dendro archon but that's something you’ll never admit even to the nicest of his segments. 

Data shows that Scaramouche is still stable. The gnosis too somehow remains with a constant flow of energy as it diverts power to the main systems. It still eludes you how someone like Scaramouche can handle power as strong as this for as long as he has. Though you do not know the criteria of the ranking amongst harbingers, his order in the hierarchy holds true.

So caught up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed how close you had gotten to the body. If that presence was intimidating at a distance it pales in comparison to being up close. It towers above like the clock-house in Snezhnaya, arms and hands long and big enough to crush you whole. You shake your head from the thought. 

Your hand reaches to touch the machine. The metal is cold to the touch but there is a sensation of static that travels along your arm the longer you linger there. By the time you move your hand away ready to depart to report back to Dottore, a sudden shock sparks from your hand. You pull it back with a wince. This must be an unforeseen side effect to the gnosis. 

All at once your head throbs with white noise. It starts off faint but then rises to ring above all else. At first you believe it to be a faulty pipeline and look around for any signs of damage but yet again you see the perfectly unharmed lab. The sound is overwhelming and you can feel something pressing into the back of your mind. Memories not of your own flash before your eyes.

The sensations are too much to bear and you collapse when it's all too much at once. The moment you come too it feels different. The buzzing in your arm has spread throughout your body, and the noise that filled your mind is now gone, replaced by knowledge that leaves you weighted to the ground trying to understand it all.

The Balladeer…Scaramouche is…

“Was a puppet.” The voice is familiar and you cannot believe that its real. “A puppet that now wields a greater power than that of the god who chose to abandon him all those years ago.” He has ascended and so soon. Dottore’s notes were foolproof, everything down to the last decimal was precise so how could his hypothesis be false?

Scaramouche offers a snarl, and it's only now that you can register that he is inside your head with his reply, “because Dottore is a buffoon. He will always underestimate someone who he believes he could outsmart at any game, under any circumstance and do so without question. It’s that pride that will be his undoing in due time.” He walks around you, there are long pauses between every sentence and he speaks as if you will be overwhelmed by him just looking in your direction. You don’t know why you feel so grateful for it.

“Enough about him though.” He stops to kneel down to where you lay on the ground. His hand ever so delicately lifts your chin to meet his gaze and he gives you opportunity to look away. You don’t. “Let me see into you.”

Words filter through your head without him even needing to open his mouth. You’ve been connected to him by the soul, a pact between your compatible life force and his new godly abilities that were enforced the moment you touched him through the machine. You’ve been chosen as his first and whatever that entitles you don’t know but you do feel the tears roll down your eyes. Your mind cannot decipher if they are tears of joy or resentment of this new god.

Why are you calling him that?

Scaramouche wipes them away with a wicked smile. “No need for sorrow my chosen. For as your new god I will craft a world for you that leaves no room for those emotions to ever cross your features again. The Everlasting God of Arcane Wisdom will pave a way for your salvation and my glory to rise. So long as you put your faith in me and me alone.”

His hands fall from your face as he stands, but they still remain outstretched to you. The invitation hangs in the air and yet his smile never waivers like he knows what you will choose him over anything else. Like you will choose him over life itself. 

And for a moment you think you will.

a/n: this is very dark of me and really shouldn’t be my comeback post but rewatching nahida’s introduction really had me in the mood to bring our archons back into the light. also yes i am formally back to writing so do expect more posts soon to come.

p/s: furina version will be up as soon as i catch up enough with her character.

[neosero]

“ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒. ”

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last updated - 13 august, 2024

header/icons : sousou no freiren | pinned : jujutsu kaisen

[neosero]

Just The Little Things ✿

their little habits with you

✽ characters — shimura, todoroki, toga, bubaigawara, iguchi

✽ genre — platonic fluff | slight angst |

✽ word count — 2.7k

✽ things to note — gn!reader | angst during twice and toga’s

✽ remarks — messed up my end of summer piece and i cant seem to fix it so i made this instead | all my friends are starting college and flying out and stuff while i still have to wait another month so im kinda lonely T-T |

⤷ SHIMURA TENKO

— Shigaraki likes to play with your hands a lot.

You have no idea how this started . . . 

Actually you do remember the time Shigaraki wouldn’t join in when everyone else was comparing hand sizes and Dabi had called him an antisocial pussy which he took badly and to prove he wasn’t he grabbed your hand and placed it against his — being mindful not to connect all your fingers.

Tomura had glared back at the smirking Dabi, grumbling about how much he hates it here and then went back to playing his video game without realizing he dug himself into a little hole.

Your hands felt . . . nice.

So nice that he kept thinking about them.

He would watch them as they move while you talk, whenever you had to point at something, how they connect when you snap your fingers in his face to make sure he was listening to what you were saying which he honestly wasn’t because he seriously thinks that your hands are so nice.

It begins when you were perched in your room at the hideout and he had stormed in.

You watch him confused as he slams the door, muttering about Toya being an idiot as he sits himself on your bed clearly upset. Shigaraki is still talking when he steals your phone from your hands and throws it, your complaints fall on death ears as he gets himself comfortable and starts to play with your fingers saying how he’ll steal you a new one.

You stare at him as he adjusts your fingers until he bends them except your middle and thumb, yelling out a big ’fuck you Dabi’ before giggling.

He giggled, while playing with your fingers and he doesn’t even know it. 

It continues when Shigaraki grabs your hand while you talk to Kurogiri.

He flattens out your hand before beginning to use his own gloved finger to do what you assume is draw a picture. Of course you both stop talking to stare at him because what is he doing and when he pulls his finger back the question leaves you confused: what did i draw?

. . . what

“What did I draw,” he asks again, “were you even paying attention?” He mumbles like a child and you roll your eyes because you're used to him being like that.

“A fish.” you say matter-a-factly and he is grumbling again — this time about how it shouldn’t have been that easy — while he starts to draw another picture.

You sigh and turn back to Kurogiri who you think would be crying right now if he could because Shigaraki is playing nice for once.

You’re just surprised it's still happening . . . even now.

You sit in the meeting between the Lieutenants of the Paranormal Liberation Front, Re-Destro taking the lead on what Shigaraki was supposed to be doing since he was the one that called the meeting but no.

Here the leader of the most feared villain group in the world . . . here the literal embodiment of destruction . . . here the Tomura Shigaraki sits, tapping little beats on your hand while you have to guess what song it is.

You wanna say it’s too good to be true, but that would be wrong . . .

. . . because it’s actually the SpongeBob theme song.

⤷ TODOROKI TOYA

— Dabi likes to vent to you at the most ungodly hours of the night.

He’s mean about it too.

Dabi — much like Tomura — storms in without knocking, making so much noise when all he does is walk in and sit down on the floor with his head resting against your bed.

He still has the nerve to ask if you’re up.

You scoff at him because if you weren’t before you sure are now and you can tell he is smirking when you say it.

The room falls silent again and you can't really go to sleep now so you ask him what’s up and when he says it's nothing you’re fuming.

You love Dabi, truly, but if he just came barging into your room at . . .  2:35 AM for nothing,

for nothing

you are going to kill this man.

You get out of bed and walk until you stand in front of him in your bunny pajama pants, his left leg is stretched out while his right is bent up to his chest as both arms hug it closer so that his chin rests on it.

You kick his shoe and he looks up at you.

You can see it in the moonlight; how the distant rays catch along each individual stable holding his face together, somehow illuminating his features even more, especially his eyes: those beautiful circles of turquoise that have a distant reflection of the moon inside them but you don’t see that . . . you see the clouds.

You see how the shadows fall over those eyes and watch them burn out the distant stars.

You scoff again and sit down next to him.

He’s still staring at you without saying a word and you have to roll your eyes, “what is it?” Dabi looks away then and stares at the floor, “I said I was–”

“Dabi,” you interrupt, “cut the shit. What’s up?” He is taken aback by your forwardness but chuckles nonetheless.

It’s just, he begins and the rest is a blur.

You faintly remember how he spoke about how difficult it was to find people with real convictions to join the League, how everybody he ‘interviewed’ just wanted to hold a title with nothing to show for it.

You remember how he spoke about how frustrated he was, how he feels like he is the only one who is really shooting for an end goal in this crazy mess they call teamwork.

You remember how you woke up with a blanket draped over your arms and a sticky note to the forehead that reads: thanks slumber bunny with a little doodle of fire.

You stare at it then the blanket then at the note again.

And this is how it starts: twice a week, every week, Dabi comes in and sits and vents.

Sometimes it's about the league, sometimes it’s about his personal life, sometimes it’s about his feelings and sometimes you wake up and he’s still there . . .

Dabi is snuggled up next to you with his arm draped over one of your shoulders while his head rest on the other, long eyelashes pressed against scared eyes and light breathes leaving equally scared lips. 

It’s way too peaceful for a guy like him but you don’t dare disturb the peace he so desperately needs.

It's not like you can anyway, everytime you move to get comfortable or have a thought to leave him to his own peace . . .

. . . he’s pulling you back whining about how you should give him five more minutes as if he even lets you sleep at night.

⤷ TOGA HIMIKO

— Toga likes to attach doodles to your body, especially along any scars.

You thought it was a threat.

Toga had enjoyed talking with you the first time you met each other so she says and I quote: You're so nice, i'm gonna carve a heart on you someday.

Of course that's just her way of talking but still with the way she twirls her knife at you it was kinda hard to catch the compliment.

But anyway, it happens because of you.

During a swell talk with Bubaigawara at the bar, you notice her at the corner of your eye.

Toga’s been moping around all day ever since Kurogiri took away her weapons. It wasn’t nice seeing her without that joyfully sadistic smile on her face and you could tell it was troubling Jin as well.

So you call her over with a smile and secretly hand her a marker.

She looks at you confused, you send her a wink, “why don‘tcha carve me a heart?”

It takes a while for Toga to put two and two together but then she gets it and she is smiling again.

You can feel her push your sleeve up as she goes to town on your arm. You can feel her sketch up and down, left and right, the ridges and angles and curves all marked onto your skin.

You look at Jin — who has his mask raised — and he smiles at you.

Once the product is done Toga eagerly shows you to a broken mirror and you’re amazed: she did in fact carved a heart on you — well — she drew a heart getting carved on you.

The heart has been stabbed with a knife and there are droplets of blood leaking from it, but what really surprises you are the flowers sprouting out from the point of impact. They spread with leaves and thorn stems and it’s honestly so beautiful you wish you handed her a permanent marker but that's fine . . .

when it goes away she will have a free space to carve something else.

That’s how it starts: on the days Himiko isn’t allowed her weapons or she just doesn’t have much to do she goes to you,marker in hand.

Toga’s carvings are always differ in styles, length, color combination, and gruesomeness, but the ones you really like are the ones she gives her own meaning to.

She drew along the scar on your arm that one time after finding out how it got there; a dispute between someone you used to care about gone physical and way too destructive to be considered love anymore. You blame yourself for it — just like the person did — because you didn’t want to blame them when you knew you were the one who let it get that far in the first place.

All Toga offers is a quiet oh before she goes to work again.

When she finishes you see she’s used the length of scar as mast for a tiny little bout and under it are the words friendship.

Toga tells you that it stands as your pact together and whenever you think the ship will wash away, she will be there to patch it back up again.

It’s something that nearly brings you to tears and you hug her for her kind gesture.

It’s a promise she carves into your skin that day . . .

. . . and it’s a promise you plan to keep to her for as long as you can.

⤷ BUBAIGAWARA JIN

— Just Twice and his hugs.

They happen randomly and for different reasons.

Sometimes it happens because he’s just overwhelmed with a certain emotion and his first reaction is to just grab something.

For instance, he had grabbed you the first time you both went on a mission together and it ended successfully.

It was surprising how fast he had enveloped you in his muscular arms, doing a little happy dance as he shouts about how you two did it together.

He pulls off of you just as quickly however, exaggerating his actions as he throws himself at your feet in a heavy bow with a jumble of apologies.

You have to reassure him that hugs are fine, that just comes with being friends and he gasps.

“You think of me as a friend?” he asks, twiddling his fingers while he is still on the floor.

You give him a questionable look because of course your friends — who would let somebody they didn’t like know their exact body measurements — but now is not the time to talk about this because the police could be here any moment and it's time to go.

That’s how it starts, and yeah, Jin hugs you when he’s overwhelmed but also hugs you when he isn’t feeling himself . . . when he feels like someone else is trying to get in his head.

You knew of his situation, the whole splitting incident really leaving a toll on the man and you do tell him that you will help out whenever he feels like he is slowly going to lose his identity.

Like now, when he storms into the bar visibly shaking as he frantically searches for his mask which you remember is being stitched together because the suit was in dire need of repairs. 

He was beyond stressed and he is starting to pull at his hair because there is no hope, he’s gonna split and he is ugly crying in front of his friend and he doesn’t think this could get worse but then you hug him. 

Twice goes stiff for a second because he’s always been the one to pull on you and chase you like a lost puppy for physical affection but you never initiate it.

He holds you so tightly you think he might rip your shirt but you choose not to worry about that. Instead, you gently rub your hand down his back while he lets out a jumble of apologies — just like the first time.

You can hear him cry about how much of a burden he is, how he must be a handful to keep around and how he is so sorry for being this broken.

You shush him of course because not only is it not his fault, you simply don’t think it matters because your friends . . .

. . . and friends will always be there for each other to mend the broken pieces.

⤷ IGUCHI SHUICHI

— Spinner always pulls you around when he is playing games.

Spinner says it’s because you're his lucky charm. 

Shuichi was having a hard time with the current level he was playing and he couldn’t pass it for the life of him.

He honestly thought about giving up until you came over and asked what was wrong.

He would obviously try to play it off as if he wasn’t treating this game as if it was his greatest life struggle and shrug, “It’s just a little difficult.”

You give him a quizzical look because no game should be a challenge for the league's current labeled gamer boy.

“It can’t be that hard, show me.” You say as you sit down on the couch he currently occupies, dropping whatever you currently had in your hands.

Spinner is startled by you taking sudden interest in his gaming hobby, but more so by the fact you wanna sit so close to him because he knows the scales rubbing off on your arm must feel a little weird. 

However, when he notices you make no move to adjust yourself it dawns on him that you could just not care. 

He starts the level up again and when he reaches the point where he dies again he makes an exaggerated gesture to show it.

He crosses his arms then and sighs dramatically because he will never pass this level.

You on the hand look a little puzzled because what about the door. He looks at you stupidly when he asks: what door?

You restart the level for him and tell him to do it all over again and he is still confused but he breezes through the level nonetheless.

When he reaches that same point again, you point to the left and even though he still dies he can see it: that little wooden door for his escape.

Spinner turns to you perplexed, since when were you a gamer and how are your eyes better than his.

You shrug at him and tell him to do it again because this game is quite interesting and he might need your help. He says he doesn’t but makes no move to tell you to leave.

That's how it starts: Shuichi screams your name from the living room and you go tumbling in with a bowl of already prepared popcorn and fresh sodas as if it all was planned.

And sometimes it is: like you both talk about the game Gran graciously handed over and make a plan to try and pull an all-nighter to finish it while pulling grand-theft-auto from the police as a distraction for the other members.

But sometimes it isn’t: like when you were just eating a bag of chips on a bean bag chair when Spinner approaches, he lifts you off easily and takes your place and your about to complain but he places you on his lap and just grumbles about how he is missing a beat on this geometry dash floor.

You sit there bothered because what about your chips and he just takes one like oh thanks and starts the level again and you in fact see what his problem was. 

You don’t think it's because you’re a good luck charm though and Spinner knows it too . . .

. . . he knows that you are just better at noticing things than him but he won’t say it to your face to save his pride.

[neosero]

Kiss Me More ❧

what they think kissing you feels like, bnha boys edition pt. one

➢ characters — ida, kaminari, sero, monoma, shinso

➣ genre — fluff

➢ word count — 2k

➣ things to note — gn!reader | slight suggestive content towards the end |

➢ remarks — first tumblr contribution! | reverse reader ( told though the thoughts and feelings of the boys ) | tried a new writing style for myself even though I shouldn’t be experimenting on my first post but whateva | kinda gets suggestive towards the end | the ending feels rush imo so i might redo it later |

— INTRO

When sitting in a lounge with a bunch of immature heroes-in-training, it is unfortunately expected for gentle conversation to turn into wholehearted discussions of unneeded confessions and pestering peer criticism. This time is no different, not when Mina — in a fit to defend herself instead of being exposed — blurts out that Minoru admits to never having his first kiss.

This comes as no surprise — not with his way of introduction anyway — but that outburst is what sparks the new conversation topic.

Suddenly everyone is crowding around, looking between one another as it has become a game to see if you could guess who has had their first kiss before they had the chance to explain. Mezo, Fumikage, Shoto and Momo take to counseling Mineta as they all admit to never having their first kiss either.

Koji and Izuku seem to share the same thought as Midoriya asks if parents count, they are immediately singled into the NO category. Ochaco and Kyoka are both bashful about admitting to theirs, sweet innocent kisses with a class crush in middle school; Ejiro and Rikido speak on the childish kisses of grade school, way too small to understand the meaning behind locking lips while playing house on the playground and although Minoru screams that doesn’t count he has no room to judge; inevitably it’s Mina, Yuga, Katsuki and surprisingly Toru that revel in the attention, having had multiply kisses and being sought after by multiple people before entering UA thanks to their popularity around campus.

In the end, it is Tsuyu — who hasn’t admitted to receiving a kiss herself — that puts you on the spot. With a tilt to her head and a finger on her lips, the question is asked: “what about you?”

And when you offer a simple no, the class is in an uproar . . .

Tenya thinks you’ll be the one to guide him through the kiss instead of the other way around. Though he now knows you're inexperienced, his mind just can't let go of the thought of you being in control.

He thinks you’ll only ever do it when the two of you are in the classroom alone, not because of embarrassment or anything like that — only because Tenya wants every kiss to be special and uninterrupted

He thinks you’ll edge him into it; gently caressing his cheek as you ask him if he really wants to do this. The nod he would give is a stiff one and he thinks that you would softly laugh about it.

In his head, it starts with you taking off his glasses placing them on a nearby desk and then walking closer; in his head, your hands slowly come down to massage at his arms, gently squeezing his biceps and shoulders as you lean into his ear whispering: relax; in his head, he lets out a quick breath, rigid body bending against his own will at the feeling of your breath against his neck.

Tenya thinks his hands would coil slowly around your neck, it just feels right that way. He thinks you would guide his face to finally look at you, and it’s that smile that you always give him that sets him on fire and red all over.

Tenya wants to think that when you finally kiss him, his face would calm down. He thinks that when the contact finally comes he would have forgotten about the initial embarrassment of not having done this before and just get lost in your lips.

Maybe then the shaking will stop but it doesn’t because Momo is gently shaking him out of his daydream, asking him if he is okay.

“You’ve gone so red,” she says and when you reach over to put your hand to his head, he begins to remember. 

He stands then, frantically waving his hands as he screams about needing to go get something.

Before anyone can say anything he is bolting out, and when he catches your concerned eye he knows it's only platonic.

So he buries his own feelings down, he shouldn’t be thinking about things like that with you anyway, not when you're dating him . . .

Denki imagines that when he kisses you he’ll be the happiest man alive. He imagines that when your lips touch, you’ll send out a shock powerful enough to cancel out his own quirk and leave him numb on the feeling of your lips.

He thinks it’ll only happen in the heat of a moment between you two after something intense; he’ll never have the courage to do it unless it's a rush of adrenaline controlling his actions instead of his stable mind.

Whether it be after a literal fight with a villain or a quick sparring match with Katsuki he cannot decide, but he does know that the blood coursing through his veins has him sprinting halfway across the campus to see you

He can imagine that the first thing you do is make a comment about how sweaty he is and it is only then that he realizes that he was a little too eager to come see you.

Kaminari imagines that he’ll pout at you for being so direct but then he will have the greatest idea; in a quick burst of speed he is charging at you and engulfing you in his sweaty and sticky arms, laughing as you try to free yourself.

Denki knows that you could’ve easily left his arms if you wanted but he is standing there smiling like an idiot as you complain about how much he stinks but hug him back nonetheless. “I love you too,” he thinks those words stay planted in his head but he says them out loud and immediately goes stiff.

When you meet his eyes he thinks he has royally messed up and you're going to friendzone him and then you're going to tell all his friends and you’re . . . you’re smiling.

Why are you smiling?

He imagines you’ll laugh at his flushed face and then say those same words he just couldn’t contain: I love you too. 

Denki imagines your eyes will cast down to his lips and he will inevitably end up licking them and internally cringing at the salty taste of sweat. He wants to stop you — because he stinks, remember and you can’t kiss him like this; sweaty and all — but before he can get a word in you pull at his bottom lip gently with your thumb which lets his worries die down on his heavy tongue.

He wants to imagine that then you will replace your thumb with your own lips to stop his raging thoughts because sparks are literally starting to fly off his body but you don’t.

Instead you flick his forehead and the pain definitely knocks him back to reality because come back and instead of facing you its a smiling Hanta Sero.

Denki goes onto complaining that he could have just shook him or something; there really was no need to hit him so hard but Sero is still smiling.

He wants to say he is starting to creep him out with that look but the sound of your laugh catches his attention — much like every other thing you do — and he can’t help but smile.

Denki feels Hanta pinch at his arm again and he lets out a little cry. 

“Dude stop staring, bro-code remember?” Hanta says and Denki feels the happy sparks die down in his heart. 

He does remember and it eats him up inside but what can he do other than accept it.

Besides, he knows he’s got nothing on a guy like him . . .

Hanta wants to believe that you are just as inexperienced as you say you are.

Though he might be only feeding into his own personal . . . preference, he cannot help the shivers of excitement that course through his body with the thought.

He can only see you coming to him when you're deep in thought, he already knows you trust his judgement a bit more than most others in the class.

Sero wants to believe you���d come to his room late in the night, gently knocking on the door being considerate — like you always are — of him just in case he was sleeping. He knows that when he opens the door for you to come in, you’d give him that apologetic smile you always do when you come over this late.

He believes you're quite oblivious with how you never notice the sparkle in his droopy eyelid whenever you visit him or how he still — with as much enthusiasm his sleepy body can muster — listens intently to your current nightly rant.

He is surprised this time when you come to him with the thoughts of kissing. He knows that the earlier conversation has gotten to you.

“Is it really that surprising that I haven’t been kissed?” You say and Hanta has to hold himself back from making a fool of himself because it is that surprising.

He pulls you under his arm then, offering comfort in a hug before his mouth can be so bold to voice his thoughts.

You poke at his stomach because of course he sleeps shirtless and you do find comfort in his contact as you keep going on about what you could be doing wrong for no one to have wanted to kiss as much as they would someone like Katsuki.

Sero offers that maybe — just maybe — you could give it a shot with him.

He believes that in that moment you’d look up at him with hopeful eyes as he would sheepishly continue: only if you want though.

When you nod to him, he knows you would take note of the sudden change in the twinkle of his eyes in the distant moonlight.

He wants to believe you’d let him pin you to the bed, breath mingling together as he hovers above you with a smile.

He wants to believe the hope in your eyes gets mixed in with a little fear so that he can smile even wider.

Don’t worry — he wants to say so badly — I'll be gentle with you just like you do for me this time . . . but he bites back his tongue and shakes his head from his little daydream.

Hanta curses himself for thinking like this again — he feels like he is turning into Minoru — as he thinks back to the words he just said to Denki.

Bro-code remember.

He scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest deflated.

He watches your phone go off twice and the sparkle in your eyes as you stand to leave to go see him no doubt.

If only he had been faster that day . . .

Neito wants to guess that your kisses will be just as hard and hot as the way you run into him, literally.

He hates himself for thinking this way over his best friend's partner but the way you talk back to him always sets him on ablaze.

Monoma knows it’s all in playful banter — his constant outbursts against your class always are — but the way you retort back to him keeps him guessing if it really is all just in good fun.

He can see it now, you two somehow alone in the student lounge. He sits on the sofa, arm draped back and legs spread wide as if he owned the place, as he oh-so-smugly looks up at you with your own arms crossed and that adorable annoyed look on your face.

He can obviously guess that you want to have a seat, you always sit here so of course he knows but he won’t let you.

You're just so fun to rile up . . . so fun to tease . . . so fun to play with.

You scoff then, because he is seriously not gonna move.

Neito could guess you would offer him some form of threat: I’m warning you Monoma, or something along those lines.

He would obviously ignore you, sighing and feigning innocence as he leans further back on the couch with a content smile on his face.

Neito can guess his smile would would widen when he hears you sigh in what he thought was defeat, and than immediately drop the second you place yourself on his lap.

His hands would frantically hold your waist in a panic and he would take note of the smug look on your face. I warned you, you would chime matter-a-factly not even noticing the shock on Monoma's face.

You’re so close to him and his hands are on you and you’re not shoving him off like you would any of his hugs or when he decides to use you as an armrest and he is definitely going so pink to the face that he has to look away.

You do notice this, however, and tilt his chin to you to see what’s the matter. He can guess the amount of pride that fills you when you see his pink, wide eyed face and he knows you will never let him live this moment down.

Neito knows you wouldn’t do anything drastic in such a public place but the mischievous smile only makes him second guess himself. The grip you have on his chin tightens so much that he can’t look away from you as you lean into him and he is panicking even more.

What about him; what about his best friend; what about your partner.

He hates himself for allowing it to get this far, but what he hates even more when he begins to thinks: what about him?

You two are here alone with no prying eyes and he’ll never know what neither of you tell.

And he almost lets himself slip up if you hadn’t pulled off of him and he is groaning — and not for the fact that you were just teasing him, but because he is now starting to feel the pain.

Neito groans again as you look him over while he sits up off the grass.

It comes back to him that you two literally just ran into each other.

I’m sorry . . . I wasn't looking . . . Are you alright, you stammer out too quickly for Monoma to really catch but he simply waves you off.

You stay though, continuing to look him up for any injuries; that fall had to have hurt him.

He stands up, dusting himself as he points towards the school gates. You look confused for a second and he has to remind you — just like he has to remind himself — that he’s still waiting for you in the front.

Neito studies the slight panic in your face because for a second he was clouding your mind instead of your partner and it swells his heart a little.

You want to stay and make sure he is alright but he knows that if he keeps you here any longer he could never forgive himself.

Monoma waves you off for the final time, saying how your still too weak to really hurt him and when you roll your eyes he knows he has reassured you enough.

Though you still tell him to go see Recovery Girl — you wouldn’t want to lose your only rival — he takes comfort in knowing that he has, at least, someplace in your mind occupied just for him . . .

Hitoshi thinks . . . well, he thinks you're a little too eager to see him.

He can’t seem to grasp just what about him makes you so happy.

Shinso knows it isn’t his looks because he knows he weighs nothing on the morning star; it can’t be his personality because he knows he is just as uninteresting as a bag of stones; and it surely isn’t his style because he had to send you picture for reassurance that these clothes were a good fit for a day at the fair — inevitably giving away what the date actually was.

However, he does know that whenever you grace him a glance you have the brightest look on your face and that is all that truly matters to him.

He smiles back at you — well — he grins a little when you come beside him and intertwines your fingers together.

When you both arrive at the fair, Hitoshi comes to the conclusion that he has regretted his decision.

The place is loud and crowded and the food smells heavenly but looks messy and the rides look fun but probably shouldn’t go that high and . . . is that a cat plushie.

You laugh at the look on his face, he seems far more confused than happy and if that wasn’t a for sure give away this was his first time than it was the fact that he screamed on the Ferris Wheel.

Shinso did apologize but you wave him off because honestly you're having fun and by the end of it you were sure Hitoshi did too as he proudly carries the prized cat plushie he won for you during the sledgehammer game back to the dorms.

The walks after dates are always this silent, the gentle sounds of the city filling in for the night.

Hitoshi knows he has no reason to worry about it because dates do end this way, but the feeling always eats at him little by little as you get closer and closer to UA. So much so that he is pulling you back before you even breach the gates.

“Did you have fun,” he asks making no attempt to meet your curious eyes and he honestly looks like a kicked puppy.

Because if you didn’t — he begins — than next time we could, you know do something else like the gaming center Denki is always mentioning or like the cake factory Rikido is always talking about or something like. . .

Hitoshi doesn’t even realize it but he has begun rambling and you have never seen him talk this much before or panic this much for the matter.

So in a spurt of courage and slight annoyance, you shut him up with a kiss.

Hitoshi is surprised of course because wow no one has ever kissed him to shut him up before and he is vaguely remembering the feeling of Izuku punching him that one time and he has to push himself out of the thought — why would he be thinking of Midoriya at a time like this.

Shinso focuses on anchors himself on the feeling of your lips taking in his own, plushie long forgotten on the floor beside your feet.

It is then that he thinks . . . well, he doesn’t need to think . . .

. . . because in the end, he kissed you first.