#⅋ ! / ( visage . . . ) I KNOW THE PAIN THAT YOU HIDE BEHIND THE SMILE ON YOUR FACE . ¡

[doumadono]

Silent Waves, Silent Wounds - Touya Todoroki x Reader

A/N: today's episode broke my heart and made me cry uncontrollably. With a nice prompt set for this week's challenge in a community I'm part of, I decided to combine the two. I just hope my Touya will survive. Gif was made by @gamergirl-niffler

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Touya's first breaths of freedom were laced with the sterile scent of antiseptics and the distant echoes of calamity.

Beneath the flickering streetlights of Musutafu, shadows twirled across the damp pavement, casting the world in veils of half-truths and murmured secrets.

It was upon a night cloaked in despair that Touya Todoroki, shrouded in the remnants of his shattered past, escaped the suffocating confines of what should have been a sanctuary. The hospital, ostensibly a bastion of healing and hope, had morphed into nothing but a prison, all under the malevolent gaze of All For One.

In a moment fueled by raw desperation and a primal urge for freedom, Touya, with hands trembling and heart pounding against the cage of his ribcage, ignited the very foundations that had ensnared him. Flames, hungry and unrestrained, licked upwards, clawing at the structure with a ferocity. Fire roared through the hallways, a fierce, unforgiving inferno that consumed everything in its path — medical charts, synthetic bed linens, the false promises of recovery.

As the inferno raged behind him, Touya stumbled into the cold embrace of the night.

The city loomed large and indifferent, its countless lights flickering like distant stars, unreachable and cold. Each step was a battle, his body a map of wounds both fresh and long endured, scars that told tales he could barely remember, tales of a mere boy who once dreamed of heroism but found himself ensnared in a nightmare of his father's making.

He moved through the shadows, a spectral figure haunted by the echoes of his past and the uncertain horrors of his future. Tonight, the world was both his enemy and his ally, hiding him from those who would seek to drag him back to that hellish place, yet offering no comfort from the relentless grip of his solitude and sorrow. His face, marred with scars that told stories of a tragic past and unresolved pain, was not one that people usually turned to for comfort.

As he navigated through the dimly lit streets, his eyes were cautious and wary of the stares that followed him like specters.

It was then he saw you - a girl sitting alone on the curb, your sobs cutting through the muffled sounds of the city like a siren’s call. You were young, perhaps no older than he, with tears streaking your cheeks and your shoulders trembling under the weight of your unseen burdens.

Despite his fears and the fresh pain of his own memories, something within him stirred - a remnant of the hero he once aspired to be. Hesitant, he approached you, his voice barely above a whisper after he cleared his throat, trying to sound normal, even though he knew it was no longer possible. “Hey, are you okay?”

You jerked your head up, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and surprise as they landed on his disfigured features.

For a heartbeat, Touya thought you would scream, run away, or recoil in horror.

But then, something remarkable happened - your expression softened, and your initial fright melted into a sad, understanding smile. “Not really,” you confessed, wiping your tears away with the back of your shaking hand. “My dad… he drinks too much. And my mom, she doesn’t really care. She threw me out tonight. Said she’d had enough of me being useless.”

The words struck a chord in Touya. Abandonment, pain, a longing for something better - themes that resonated deeply within his own life. Sitting heavily beside you on the cold curb, he offered you a timid smile, one that seemed almost out of place on his scarred visage. "I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a mixture of warmth and a chilling detachment born from years of conditioning under his father’s harsh regime. “I… I know what it’s like to feel like you have no one.”

You studied him, your reddened eyes lingering on his scars with a curiosity born from your own pain rather than judgement. “What happened to you?” you asked gently, perhaps too gently for the horror that his story contained.

Touya looked away, his eyes tracing the patterns of light and shadow on the ground. “I don’t remember everything,” he confessed. “But I know I was trying to prove something to my dad. It didn’t end well, as you can see.”

You sat in silence, the world around you bustling with life, yet oblivious to the shared moment of grief between two strangers.

People passed by, their glances sharp and sometimes filled with a disdain that neither of you were unfamiliar with.

Sensing Touya’s discomfort, you made a decision. “Let’s go somewhere else,” you suggested, a spark of resolve lighting up your tear-stained face. “Somewhere away from prying eyes. I know a nice place, if you'd like to join me.”

Touya nodded casually, “I think I’d like that. I have nowhere to be anyway.”

Without another word, you stood, holding out you hand to help him up. Your touch was warm, a stark contrast to the coldness he had come to expect from the world.

Together, you walked through the deserted streets, your steps in sync, until the city sounds faded into the background, replaced by the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore.

Beneath the expansive canopy of the night sky, the beach lay deserted, bathed in the ethereal, silvery glow of the moon. The ocean before them transformed into a shimmering tapestry, each wave weaving threads of light across the dark canvas of water. It was here, with the cool sand cradling your steps and the vast, relentless sea stretching into infinity, that you discovered a fleeting sanctuary — a momentary escape from the ravages of your tormented existences.

As you settled onto the sand, the ocean's eternal murmurs surrounding you, Touya found himself unexpectedly comforted by the raw, natural beauty of the scene. Yet, he was taken aback when you revealed that it was not just chance that brought you to this tranquil haven in the dead of night.

“I come here often, especially after fights at home,” you confessed softly, your eyes reflecting the moonlight like fragments of a broken mirror. “The sound of the waves… it calms the storm inside me. Maybe it can do the same for you.”

Touya hesitated before his voice broke the silence. "I'm like these waves," he murmured, his voice tinged with a haunting sadness. "Crashing again and again, with no control, no end. I don't even remember why I started… what I was trying to prove." His gaze was lost to the horizon, where the dark sea met the darker sky, his face a mask of sorrow sculpted by the silvery light.

"It's hard, isn't it?" you said softly, pulling your knees closer to your chest, feeling the chill of the night seeping through your clothes. "Feeling like you're caught in a storm with no shelter in sight. I sit here, night after night, wondering if the screaming will ever stop, if there will ever be a night without tears, without all this emptiness."

"Does it help? Coming here, hearing the waves?" Touya asked.

"It doesn't stop the pain," you admitted, "but sometimes, it makes it bearable. The sea doesn't judge, doesn't demand. It just is. And for a little while, I can just be too, without worrying about the next wave that might knock me down."

"I wish I could remember what peace feels like," he confessed, his words blending with the whisper of the wind.

You reached out, your hand brushing against his, a small gesture of comfort in the overwhelming vastness of your shared solitude.

"Maybe we can't go back to who we were," you suggested, your voice a tentative whisper against the symphony of the sea. "But perhaps we can find new reasons to look forward to the sunrise."

Touya's hand trembled slightly under yours, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he gripped your hand, his hold tentative but needing the connection. "I'd like that," he said, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips, as fragile and fleeting as a wave’s crest as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "To look forward to something, to hope for something better."

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 14

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 13, Part 15

Warning as usual. There is blood and gore in this chapter!

Staring up at the Archon parading around in human form, you lick your lips and note how even those minor injuries were healed. Your body aches with phantom pain, some wounds healed too rapidly. 

"I don't mind answering some questions, can I get your name first?"

A small smile plays at his lips as his hand is held out in front of you. "My name is Zhongli, I'm the Funeral Parlors consultant. It would be a pleasure to hear yours, outlander."

So he is aware of your origin, well at least partly aware. If he's not going to pull any punches then why should you? Besides if it all goes wrong, you can blame it on the bloodloss that you're still recovering from.

"I'm Y/N, and you're correct that I do not originate from this world. You must not be a normal person either, in fact you look identical to this statue. This one portrays Morax the Geo Archon, but I'm sure you know that, Rex Lapis."

Getting a good look at the statue from your proximity, it was obvious that Zhongli was Morax. You could make the excuse of it being game logic on why no one makes the connection, but that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe the statues are imbued with power that prevents anyone from this world to recognize the similarities?

"So it seems you are more knowledgeable than the traveler was when they arrived here. I should have known considering how the Electro and Geo particles surround you with zeal. Perhaps Teyvat is charmed by the features you share with the Holy One."

His step forward and angled head to look you in the eyes have you staring at glowing amber hues. The red eyeliner and outlined iris make it uncomfortably clear how intensely he's examining you.

"The curve of your lips, a stature so familiar, you resemble the creator so much. Teyvat must be bewitched and awed by an individual so alike as you. If only I could see your face in it's full visage, only then would I know for sure..."

Anyone would feel flattered or embarrassed with how seriously Zhongli studies you, but dread is the only thing you feel. You know that behind those honey-coated words is a trap just waiting for you to spring.

Too bad for him; the last thing you plan to be is predictable.

"My, my what a compliment! A devout and faithful follower like yourself is comparing me to the creator? You should pray for forgiveness to the merciful creator. I'm a servant for them, just in a different league than you. My connection with them is strong enough that Teyvat graces me with qualities alike yet inferior to the Everlasting One."

Zhongli returned to his perfect posture at your words, the flash of envy couldn't hide. "Oh?" Narrowed eyes and a lofty tone that encourages you to smile wider. "And what position could an outsider like you hold?"

"Well, as an Oracle of course! Really, just how dumb are you? An outlander that is incredibly knowledgeable of the Creator? It's painfully obvious." There's no reaction to your test insults, which is fine that wasn't the last you had in store.

"I'm from the world that the Creator is recuperating in. It's due to that, that I can speak to them much more freely than everyone here. Even Teyvat pales in comparison. That's why Teyvat is so attached to me, my aura is overwhelmed by the creators."

Honestly, you had Chongyun to thank for that one. You weren't sure how you were supposed to explain the whole Teyvat clinging to you without sounding repetitive. But if Zhongli was that easily fooled, he wouldn't be one of the victors of the Archon war.

"Then enlighten me on why the glorious creator would need an Oracle of your caliber to spread their word. Surely that's the least you can do." He's fully dropped that faux-polite tone in contrast to the technically proper speech. 

"Gladly! It's become common knowledge that the elemental monsters and animals have started to act strangely. Add in the leylines that change from out of control to perfectly calm in a matter of minutes or weeks. These are all signs of the Creator's upcoming appearance! They need to be sure of who in this vast land they can properly trust."

"That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen. A wily and fresh child like you wouldn't do the best job." Hard like stone, Zhongli refused to even blink at your words. A god like himself would never falter after thousands of years spent perfecting his worship. 

But did he really have to insult you at the same time?

"So you refuse to believe it because of my supposed inability to properly carry out any duties assigned to me? You don't even know all that I had done to arrive here! Surely you should know just how rough the waters were..."

The hand that covers your mouth does a poor job of covering the sly smile. Zhongli stares at you in silence, the wind swaying around the floating chunk of rock that you both stand on.

"Just what are you trying to imply?" His voice is as soft as a whisper but cutting like the sharpest steel.

"Why explain it when I can show it?" Silently rejoicing at such a convenient set up, you peer into your bag and grab the item you've been saving.

Shimmering brightly in the harsh glares of the sun is Beisht's scale, still in pristine condition despite your perilous journey since that day you got it from the sea-leviathan.

It feels like ages ago. Just how much time has passed since you arrived on Teyvat? How much more time will you spend in situations like this? Weeks? Months? YEARS?

The existential dread is quickly pushed away by your beaming smile at Zhongli's reaction to the singular item. The rocky exterior finally breaks at the proof of your 'abilities'. His lips part at the bright teal color and he blinks incredulously at it.

Really, how could you pass up the chance to rub it in?

"Surely a human of my caliber would be capable of this much. I mean, a perfectly intact scale from a leviathan that managed to avoid the whole Qixing that isn't dyed in blood? Child's play for a servant specifically chosen by the Creator. I never doubted the creators' choices!" 

Holding the scale in front of you, you smirk at the man with as much snark as you hold in your heart. "The same can't be said for you, Mr. 'That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen.' Because the Creator is capable of choosing anyone they want, for whatever reason they desire."

Silence envelopes the area as you stare at him, a beat passes with no movement until a gruff chuckle leaves him.

"The more you speak, the closer I come to a conclusion." Recovering quickly, Zhongli's gloved hand rises to tap his mouth contemplatively. "You're either something far worse than I've seen in a long time, or a hope for the Creator's return."

That white outline around his iris seems to spin with the malicious joy that he refuses to show. It's like his body screams that he'll either enjoy your presence or your destruction. Nerves and anxiety grip your heart but ignoring it has always worked better for you.

"Maybe I can say the same thing about you considering your past, but I see you still aren't convinced. And how could I ever let you, one of the longest standing worshippers, have doubts about me? So tell me, were Beisht and her husband devout or sacrilegious beings?"

The answer he'll say is obvious, not only because you hold such a confident stance showing that you know the answer but because of Zhongli himself. A noble dragon that willingly bows to someone would feel ashamed at the thought of resorting to lying to boost his own pride.

Quite ironic how you hold so much trust in his answer due to the acolytes' faith in the creator. The same faith that led you to this position, and the same thing that'll keep you from ever exposing the truth of your identity. A constant force preventing them from meeting their 'beloved' creator.

"You met Beisht in the flesh, there's no doubt that she is solemn and serious in her worship. The same can be said for Osial, it was one of the few things I could agree with the leviathan. Even still, I'm the superior believer. After all, I'm the one who is left after all this time." 

"Yet I met Beisht before you."

The scoff and know-it-all tone he used pricked at your nerves long enough to cause an annoyed response to slip out. Unfortunately, that seems to be what Zhongli was baiting for as he laughs, the low sound making the rock platform tremble.

"That's if you're even an Oracle. You may be from that world and even heard about Teyvat from the Creator, but for all I know, you could have been banished here for us acolytes to execute. Whether it be for avenging the Creator or entertaining them."

Damn, it was almost scary how fast he turned the situation around. But how could you falter now? Getting tongue-tied at such a crucial moment would be a pathetic way to lose your life.

"And what will you do if I truly am an Oracle? When the creator's return is delayed months, years or even decades due to your rash actions, what will you tell the creator when confronted with the consequences of your own actions?"

"Then you should work hard enough to prove to skeptics like myself. To put blind faith in whatever is dubbed the creator's is a fool's belief. Temptation and sin ravage Teyvat from the long drought of the Creator's presence."

For a split second, sorrow clouded his eyes. He's hiding something. It’s important and you can feel it in your soul. The only thing that really stains his and Venti's reputation is their war with Khaenri'ah. It must be connected to that. 

But it's too early to try digging in for information on that. He doesn't even believe you to be the Oracle, how could you possibly get that out of him? What if he's under a contract and must stay silent on the matter?

Lost in his memories, Zhongli doesn't realize how your face pinches in frustration. You'll have to get his approval as the Oracle before you can even- 

Oh.

Oh, why didn't you realize this before?

A grin spreads across your face as you circle in on the heart of the problem and the perfect way to fix it.

It's not that Zhongli doesn't believe you to be the creator's Oracle, he just doesn't want to believe it! He's envious: envious of why a random outlander like you got such a nice position in comparison to him who probably spent most of his life molding himself to the creators standards.

All that's left is to reel him in and you know the perfect way how.

"Prove myself? I've done plenty to prove myself, but what about you?" Mockingly, you tilt your head as your empty gaze peers into Zhongli's eyes, digging deep into him. He focuses back on the conversation at your shift in tone.

"If anyone should have to prove themselves, it should be you." This time it's you who takes the bold step forward. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And try to keep in that temper too so that I can finish my words. A dragon your age should know such simple things."

"As Morax you were quite powerful, though a brute to be completely honest. Still, you knew your limits well and paired up with the Lord of Dust before the Archon War, who served as the 'brain'. Tell me, just how did it feel when you found her as nothing more than a statue that day?"

Your words have a strong effect on the imposing man, his fist trembling at the mention of such a beloved god, one whose death still pains him. Paying no mind to his pain you ask the monumental question.

"Just how much resentment do you hold against the Creator for her death?"

A hand slams you against the Statue hard enough to bruise your skin. It doesn't squeeze around your throat but there's no need to as the Geo begins to petrify your legs, locking you in place. The Statue is in a constant state of healing in defense to the bruises on your neck.

"Just what are you trying to imply by saying that?" Cold and apathetic is the voice that flows from the stoic man. It's what you would imagine Morax would sound like before Guizhong taught him how to care for humans.

"C'mon, that's the second time you've asked me that. Don't make me speak the obvious-" A shuddering gasp leaves you as he tightens his grip. But it's gone just as fast; a flock of birds tackle Zhongli.

You can only watch in shock as what was only 4 to 5 birds grow to become at least 15 birds of all kinds attacking him. The throbbing of your neck being healed as the Geo instantly releases you is overshadowed by Zhongli swatting at the birds as he takes continuous steps back.

But that's all it took for Zhongli to fall off the edge as the birds flew away cawing happily. Standing and staring at the spot where Zhongli fell off in shock, you begin to chuckle. It grows to a giggle before you're laughing hysterically as you buckle to the ground. Loud peels of laughter ring around the area as you hold your stomach from the ache of laughing so much.

To think Teyvat took the initiative to help you out for once. Why couldn't it do it sooner? Was it only after gaining some power from activating a new nations statue of the seven that it could? You couldn't focus on the question anymore as the look on Zhongli's face when he fell came to mind again.

The sight of his eyes blown wide and a split second of pure panic sent you straight back into a fit of laughter. The ground far below you shakes as a Geo pillar constructs a bridge high enough to reach the stone you sat on. 

The sound of footsteps make you open your eyes and giggle at the sight of a disheveled and annoyed Zhongli. Annoyed is still an improvement compared to his enraged state earlier. With giggles slipping out, you stand back up and laugh louder at his appearance in full view.

His hair was pulled out of his rattail with his earrings nowhere to be seen. Bits and pieces of the weaker cloth of his suit were missing, giving him a poor look that didn't match his flawless posture. The red marks and light cuts only added to the joy you feel at his expense.

"Are you finished laughing, Y/N?"

"For now at least. I would suggest buying a new set of clothes but I don't think you have the mora for it!" Zhongli only lets out a long-suffering sigh as you crack up again.

You would be scolding yourself for not taking the chance to escape while he was away but it was better this way. You didn't need the information about Khaenri'ah, it was nice to know but the information wouldn't help you live.

The main reason you stayed was because running away would prove Zhongli right to be suspicious about you. It would let him know that you're scared and have something to hide. Plus, that would mean having to escape Liyue the same way you did Ei, just in a worse situation.

That's not something you want to repeat.

"Alright I'm done laughing." You say while wiping off the budding tears from the corner of your eyes. Zhongli sends you a look that screams that he doesn't believe you but you shrug it off.

"Really, that question was more of a test if you will. My main job is simply to see who the Creator can trust. Your relationship with the Creator beyond that is between you and them." 

The calm and peaceful tone you use is such a contrast to the one you used earlier that Zhongli is clearly apprehensive. Paying it no mind you continue to speak. 

"If you truly want a reason to at least try and believe me to be the oracle even if you don't fully believe me, then I'll give you one. I'm sure you still have the stone dumbbell from Guizhong that you've never been able to open. I know how to open it."

Those last words have Zhongli staring at you intensely as you gaze off into the distance. The Dragon-Queller tree is visible through the fog with its glowing blue branches and yellow leaves.

"How?" He breathes out, scared to trust but scared to lose this opportunity too.

"It requires a naturally grown glaze lily cultivated by the Creator. That's because it requires a 'pure' glaze lily and the only one who can grow such a thing at this day and age is the Creator. All the natural glaze lilies have died after all."

Zhongli's shoulders slump at your words. It seems he started to let his guard down after he fell off. He must no longer view you as a threat or, at most, an annoyance. That's okay with you, underestimation is the most useful viewpoint they could have for you.

"Should I even make an attempt to ask you why it can only be unlocked with that? You're only telling me this as a last resort to keep you alive, correct? Even if I told you that I would keep you alive without that information, you wouldn't believe me. As childish as you may be, foolishness does not seem to be a quality you hold."

"That may be true, but if you really want an answer to that first question then I'll tell you." You look over to lock eyes with him and smile. It conceals every sneaky and vicious thought you hold. "I have no clue. The Creator instructed me to use it as a last resort, if you want that answer then try praying. Perhaps you'll get an answer."

You would like to know the answer to the stone dumbbell too. After all, you only made up the solution! Seeing as Zhongli spent all these years after Guizhong's death, failing to unlock it, it's a good bet that it'll never open. 

It's silent as you both get lost in your own thoughts. Unlike before it wasn't tense, it was more comparable to the silence you would spend alone in your apartment. The nights you would only be accompanied by the thoughts of the 'what-if' situations. Thoughts that would only stay thoughts just as the past would be just that, the past.

Wanderer learned that the hard way too. You wouldn't let yourself hold so many regrets before your inevitable death. Even in Liyue you weren't truly safe, so wouldn't it be best to speak to Zhongli while you still could?

"I have questions about Khaenri'ah… Well, the better way to put it is that the Creator has questions about them. It's one of the few things that they mourn the most. A whole nation devoted to worshiping solely the creator, destroyed by the Archons that swore their life and loyalty to the creator. So will you explain it to me?"

His eyes fill with the same sorrow you saw in him earlier. It seems you were right in guessing that his line on blindly trusting things labeled with the creator was connected to Khaenri'ah.

"I have spent all my years after that day asking for forgiveness, for some way to atone. It was one of the few contracts that I did not properly balance in equivalent exchange. I regret signing it, not for myself but for my beloved God."

"So it's a no."

"It's an agreement not to speak of it."

"Then don't speak about it." Zhongli seeds you a questioning glance as you mischievously smile at him. "Just listen to my words and don't look away. I'm quite sure nodding and shaking your head doesn't count as breaking your silence."

A huff of amusement leaves him at your solution. His eyes close with his lips curling into a small smile. He nods his head in acceptance, not having the drive to poke holes into your stubbornness.

You were quite confident in the conclusions you've drawn so far. Genshin Impact was nearly the sole reason you were living back on Earth. Family and friends were nonexistent, you had given up hope on making any new connections as well. The only thing you did when you weren't home was work and your work made you be everything but yourself. So combining everything you know from the game with everything of the cult that you've learned thus far shouldn't be too hard.

"When the Archon War broke out, I'm sure most of you were merely looking to keep your people and nation alive. The original design of having the gods powered solely on their people's worship paled in comparison to Celestia's offer of power by obtaining a spot in a group of seven. At the end, you all had a choice. Accept your spot by accepting a Gnosis, or go against them similar to how the Dragon King once did."

Zhongli perks up at the mention of the Dragon King. Not many people know about the original Dragon King. Most people assume it's Azhdaha when in reality, the original was a far greater dragon.

"You all must have been quite against it. The only God you would all bow under would be the Creator who had left before those events to sleep in my world, yet Celestia probably whispered to you all that it was allowed on Teyvat because it was approved by the Creator. That the Gnosis was a reward for all your hard work and as Celestia was the first descender, all of you accepted it.”

The way he begins to stare at you is invasive, like he's just dying to jump you to get every bit of knowledge you hold on the topic. He's starting to suspect you.

"Yet when Khaenri'ah was revealed to exist years afterwards, everything was thrown into confusion. I'm sure you and the other Archons were fine with their presence as Khaenri'ah worshiped the Creator, but was Celestia?" 

A sly smile creeps upon your face at the memory of when it was revealed that Khaenri'ah  wasn't the first civilization to be turned into hilichurls. No one liked Celestia so you had no problem pinning almost all the blame onto it.

"I'm sure they were enraged, especially as Khaenri'ah grew more and more bold with their inventions. Gold in particular was quite dangerous seeing as she not only created life but also Durin and the Golden Wolflord. And even that was unintentional!"

You laugh cheerfully as Zhongli chuckles in surprise at your words. Had you successfully deterred him? Probably not, but he hasn't stopped you so you'll keep going till the end.

"Celestia ordered you all to aid them in destroying Khaenri'ah but you all refused. How could any of you harm a nation so devoted to the creator even if they refused to worship Celestia or the Seven? But that Gnosis you all accepted comes with a price. A price that serves as leverage and a control device."

The thoughts of what Beisht told you on how Celestia had caused them to forget the original way of worship resurfaced. Celestia was just too suspicious for that to be the only thing they had done. It would take a lot more than that to force the Archons to listen to them.

"That Gnosis was like a drug. It gave you all so much power, tasting and making you feel like you're on top of the world! Just for it to come crashing down when the unpleasant side effects hit you. It corrupted you all like poison forcing you to wage war against Khaenri'ah. My best bet is that it was like mind control. What do you say?"

He looks at you with a blank expression, as if trying to see the secrets you hid in your soul through your eyes. But there's no response from him, not even the occasional nods that he was giving before.

"Well if it was mind control, perhaps it made you believe that Khaenri'ah had plans to overrule the Creator and create their own human god. Or maybe it made them out to be traitors to the creator. Perhaps both? That doesn't really matter, what does matter is that only after the war was in full throttle were you all brought back to your senses."

You didn't have any proof of that last part, it just seemed like something Celestia would do. Not only to prove their superiority but also force the Archons to put their best effort in defeating the people of Khaenri'ah to save their nations.

"After the war ended, you all wanted to get rid of it but Celestia wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if you most likely tried to find some loophole, Celestia doesn't play nice. It would make sense if they threatened to give a punishment similar to what they had done to Khaenri'ah. So long as none of you destroy or throw it away, they'll leave you all be,”

Venti was a god, no matter what fans said, there was no way he would lose to Signora. It made more sense if that was his way of 'handing' it over to the Tsaritsa. There was also Nahida who threatened to break her Gnosis to one-up Dottore. That was always funny, you would kill to have witnessed that in person. 

"Of course none of you would actually use it or even desire it in your vicinity. Everyone wins when the Tsaritsa uses her various methods to acquire the gnosis'. And thanks to the traveler appearing during that time, Celestia was probably too busy freaking out over that to pay too much attention. For a while at least."

Finally looking back to Zhongli, you smiled proudly. "I must be pretty close right? At no point did you laugh at me like you did with Alice so I'll take that as a good sign. And even if I'm wrong, everything will be solved when the Creator descends."

Stretching to loosen the tension in your back, you applaud yourself for the brilliant thinking. It's not like anyone can actually fake gold blood for long when even hair dye didn't exist yet. You're basically leaving all these loose ends to the you that would be believed to be the Creator. Which is never going to happen!

"Would the Creator scorn me for asking you once again if you're truly an oracle?"

"I'm sure the glorious creator would be fully justified in doing so, but I'll scorn you in their stead.. And don't get it twisted, it's not because of your feelings concerning Guizhong's death. It's how you, by your own negligence, offended the Creator!"

An utterly baffled expression paints his face at your accusation. Unrelenting, you point your finger at him with a serious face that you haven't shown him till now.

"Did you really believe that the creator wouldn't realize? Just how little you changed from that brute of a dragon that saw humans as plentiful yet insignificant as dust? To think that you believed yourself to be comparable to the primordial dragons."

Zhongli stiffens at the mention of the primordial dragons. After all he is the prime of the Adepti who's exuvia is a dragon, not a primordial dragon. Wouldn't it be fun if he held some sense of inferiority when compared to the primordial ones?

Zhongli sits on the ledge of the rock with his elbows on his legs and his hands covering his face. It was time. He would question just what you were talking about and you'll explain the elemental sacrificing that he forgot. That'll be the end and he'll have no choice but to support you! 

Smiling knowingly you approach him and lean down to see behind the shadow casting over his eyes. Your eyes twinkle victoriously as his breath leaves a cloud from the crisp air.

"I should have known that the creator would not forgive me for failing to arrive on time."

What? 

"How could I have been beaten to that shooting star by that astrologist? No matter who may have been her master, I failed to arrive on time."

Zhongli sulks there as he continues rambling to himself on 'missing' the shooting star due to his old age. Was he seriously talking about how you lost him the first time to Mona?!

Memories come back of you using the last of your wishes on his banner and being greeted with Mona instead. The first 50/50 you lost and was forced to use nearly all your primogems to get him. A fact that you never let Zhongli forget through your adventures.

Just what would he do if he knew how you always switched to a different character whenever his idle starts to play? Would he sew his lips together in repentance? That must be the difference between a true believer and a fake believer...

Holding back a sigh you begin brainstorming on how you were supposed to bring the conversation back to the sacrificing. Zhongli is too lost in his own head as he begins to continuously blame himself for any mistake he could have made.

"Being unable to answer the travelers' questions must have worsened their view on me too."

"That and how you were willing to let Liyue flood if they couldn't defeat Osial."

"Human life may be precious but they're as numerous as the dust that make up stone. I would rebuild Liyue for the rest of this long life until I cultivate a nation that I could humbly present the creator with."

"Then shouldn't the creator just grind you down and raise a different Adepti to their exact liking? You should work hard to be exactly what they desire to be truly loved."

"Are you saying that the Creator loathes me?" He finally looks away from the sea of clouds to stare at you. Sparing him a glance, you listen to him grow more panicked by your silence.

"Do they wish to see me crumble and be reabsorbed into the earth for my mistakes, for my sins? Was it the way I mechanically went through the motions of worship for the few years after Guizhong's death? Or does my benevolent god crave me and my nation to fall for aiding in the destruction of Kh-?"

Abruptly Zhongli grasps at his chest where his heart lays as he coughs. More out of politeness than concern you rub his back as fluid flies from his lips to his closed fist.

The thick inky plum colored fluid stained his fist with droplets of crimson swirling within it. His coughing fit slows to a halt as his hand slowly releases the clothing over his heart. Harsh breathing and a shallow pained groan is all that can be heard as he cleans himself up.

“Pardon me-” 

“Was that a warning from Celestia or a side effect if you get too close to speaking?"

"The implication is the same no matter what it may be from." He whispers as you begin to move back to return his personal space. Yet his now ungloved hand is what wraps around your grass stained sleeve.

"Now answer my question." Determination and a barely concealed unruly emotion simmer beneath his composed surface as he asks. "As an oracle, tell me what I have to do to earn their forgiveness. What must I reap to begin repenting for the sins I sowed?" 

Eyes widening at the sight of the disheveled man, you stare at him quietly. The messy hair, cut up clothing and grip tight enough to keep you still all while being careful not to bruise.

Hook, line and sinker.

"Is that a question for me to answer? Am I the god that you wronged? If you wish to communicate with the creator yourself, then there is a way. A method to begin regaining the pebbles that make up the mountain of trust you once shared with them."

You grab the arm that connects to his hand wrapped around your own and pull him up. He obeys the silent command and stands up, his gaze never faltering from your form. Silent and towering like the mountains he's created, he simply listens.

"Celestia has hidden more from you than you originally thought. But I'm sure you already know that. Offer yourself to the merciful creator and they'll surely hear your pleas of forgiveness. Whether they forgive you or not is up to them."

Releasing your hold on him, you turn to survey the area. Now where could you have him perform the sacrifice? His free hand comes to rest on your shoulder for your attention.

"What must I offer of myself? My blood? My body? If need be, I'll even be willing to offer my life. My life is worthless without them. I'm nothing more than a grain of mineral if not for them."

"There's so many things you can offer, but if you want to make the most impact, then you'll offer up your body parts. Your life may be precious but just how much longer do you have left?"

"Then will the private temple I have built for them work? We can head there immediately." He points south to the sole unnamed mountain in Minlin. You vividly remember unlocking the teleport waypoint there.

"The only way I'll know is when I see the interior. I'll meet you there Zhongli!"

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you close your eyes and calmly imagine what the scenery around the waypoint looks like. The rocky feel of the floating stone changes to a lush green beneath your feet. Opening your eyes you're greeted with a valley of viridescent brustles with degraded stone ruins at the edges. 

"To think that the Creator even allowed you access to the waypoints. They must treasure you greatly." He appears at your side in a matter of minutes. His tone has a hint of longing and bitterness.

It's sweet like the flavor of a childhood candy that you would sneak behind your parents backs. Almost sweet enough to make up for the starvation you would face later on as punishment.

"Instead of focusing on that, why don't you show me that private temple you created? As the Geo Archon, I hold high expectations for you."

"This temple is the one I created for me. If you want the glamorous shrine built for the mass and appearance then you're better off viewing the public one that the Qixing now control."

He walks down the hill until the grass is tall enough to cover his calves. You follow behind him and stare blankly at the plain that is covered with a healthy amount of tall marigolds. Just as you're about to repeat the question, the earth begins to rumble.

It starts with just one stone rising from the ground, until it multiplies into a roof like structure. You watch in awe as a temple surges out of the mountain with the slightest bits of dirt falling off it.

Stone of high quality and clearly careful upkeep shines with small cracks from the passage of time. Gold, silver, and bronze layer the nooks and crannies of the pillars that keep a roof over the doorway.

Marveling at it, you follow Zhongli into the temple... He couldn't kill you in it, right? Surely you could still teleport even if he locked you in it… Teleporting without using the map might not work due to the focus and effort it required, but doing it with the map has never failed you yet.

The inside was even more impressive; statues of all kinds surrounded the hallway. It was you, always you, just in different poses, clothing and materials. From thin robes crafted entirely from Cor Lapis, to suits made of Noctilucous Jade.

Arriving at what seemed to be the main room, you're greeted with a huge statue comparable to the public one in Inazuma's plaza. Sunlight bathed your statue from the skylight above it.

Your body was made of Cor Lapis decorated in an Archon-like robe made from Noctilucous Jade. A fresh Glaze Lily sat in your palm as Silk Flowers adorned your head in a crown like structure. You sat on a blue stone throne that seemed to grow brighter as you approached it. The sleek yet dense mineral looked like the magical crystal chunks you would give to the blacksmiths. 

"Be careful to not venture too close to that one, the elemental energy may leave it to join you." Zhongli warns as he steps into the middle of the room. Smiling casually to hide your amazement, you head back to him.

"What an impressive statue, the Creator is feeling quite pleased with the display but still wishes to see your true remorse." Digging into your bag, you brought out the ceremonial knife and the handbook you took notes on.

"Go get the softest cloth and lay it on the ground. This ritual is simple, you'll cut off whatever part of your body you wish to offer, pray, and wait for a response. If 10 to 20 minutes pass with no response, then you can leave it at that or offer more in hopes of a response."

Closing the book and shoving it back into your bag you offer the knife to Zhongli. He looks up from where he laid the gilded gold fabric to stare at the knife before letting out a drawl laugh.

"That knife will do little to my scales, Y/N. A ceremonial item is to be bathed in liquid gold to be used so I have more than enough weapons that can actually cut my skin."

Scoffing, you stuff the knife back in as he leaves and returns with a variety of weapons. The largest was an ax that smelled faintly of blood. Was it used to sacrifice someone not too long ago? The thought makes you uncomfortable, yet you're no longer alarmed at the thought.

My, have you changed.

You move to stand away from the center closer to the exit. Zhongli's bare hand turns to a pattern of black and amber hues. Shedding his thick coat, his flexed muscles in draconic form are left in full view.

If you were back on Earth, you would have killed to view this. An Archon’s skin was something the majority of the players wished for, for quite a while. Even now, you would love to see his true Archon form, but the thought of actually living was far more tantalizing.

Rolling up his sleeves, he chooses a sword and examines it carefully. Without fear he raises it high and slices downwards cutting his hand off cleanly. The ruby liquid sprays onto the floor as the droplets drip off his sword and dismembered limb simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how many times you witness or smell blood, it still disgusts you. The only blood you truly cherished in shedding was the one that left that man's body when you stabbed him in that cold alleyway.

His hand lands onto the expensive textile with a wet thud as the ivory bone sticks out. Zhongli lays the sword down gently resisting the urge to groan in pain. Gritting his teeth he returned his attention and gaze back to you. You, who stayed in perfect position ahead of him, clad in gems and minerals carved by his own hand.

Closing his eyes, his lips followed the adored pass time of praying with intensity. Too lost in his regret, joy, and infatuation his words slipped out clear like the perfectly carved jewels he’s crafted for you.

"My god, my god. For I have sinned against you so. The mistakes I cannot fix or change, I pray for your forgiveness." Your unmoving, unchangeable eyes stared at him with an expression so familiar to him, one who worshiped you in this temple for centuries.

"From allowing myself to be tricked, to the lack of devotion I felt to you in Guizhong's death and finally with how I treated a servant of yours with disdain. Envious, I am envious to an extent that I shouldn't hold to my righteous god like you. Even now I still haven't broken the habit of referring to you as 'my' god."

Once again, just like the first time, Teyvat seems to overwhelm you with his feelings. You stare at his back as his lips murmur the words of devotion without an end in sight. Silently, you accept his offering, this first one was only to put the last nail in the coffin of you being an oracle. 

The sky darkens as Zhongli's hand crumbles into a pile of primogems that dissolve into the air. Blue and purple stars dance across the sky as a lone gold star makes its way closer. 

You didn't plan to always accept his offerings. After all you did lose a 50/50 to him and was forced to put up with his paranoid possessiveness in regards to your creator self. Shouldn't you make him lose a few times to even the score?

The gold star shines brighter and bigger as Zhongli gazes at it with a smile purer than anything he's ever felt since his creation at your hands. It flies through the window enveloping him and the whole room with a beaming light.

--------------

When his eyes open, the skylight shows the sunny sky but he can already feel his connection to you stronger. The brilliance you bore shines beautifully in him like a star he wished to keep hidden for only him to see.

It worked, it worked! There is no need for him to be wary or envious of you for claiming to be so close to the creator anymore. In fact, you were a sign specifically designed for someone like him. A sign that the creator had not grown complacent in simply watching Teyvat, you were now showing interest in coming back soon. And through you, he can find out details about the creator that were kept secret all these millennia.

A wide and joyful grin is bared with obsession tangling within it. He turns his head to where you stood and his smile drops abruptly when all he's greeted with is an empty spot. 

He built this temple for him and the creator to enjoy in privacy due to his possessive nature born from his dragon lineage, yet the sight of Y/N who up and vanished after fulfilling their duty struck his core like the abyssal gunk that used to constantly corrupt his body.

You may have left, you may think that he wouldn't treat you, a fellow devoted servant well due to his earlier behavior. And he understands that, he truly does but that simply means he has to rectify his mistake before it's too late. You were a mere human while him, a god. 

Finding you before any terrible consequences from his mistakes won't take too long.

-------------------

Unaware of the dragon's changing tune, you eye the Dragon-Queller tree from outside the temple with interest. After all the work you've done thus far, indulging yourself with a nice close up of the magnificent landmark would be a good treat for yourself.

This one took a while and it was edited by the same jerk. I really hope all the work was worth it and that the next part can be done faster. But as my college is starting this early Sep, it might be even longer. Genshin's lore is a hot mess so I tried my best to keep it simple while touching on the important parts. All the lore I put in is almost completely accurate. If you don't include the sagau parts. If your name is italic then that means I couldn't tag you. I manually put everyone so hopefully this fixes the notifications problems. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0

[endless-ineffabilities]

rogue ink

Daemon Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 3.4k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: fluff, language, very brief mention of smut

The reader is devastated at the loss of her precious journal, worried that it might fall into the wrong hands. And who better else to discover it, but the Rogue Prince himself?

It was a small thing.

A small, leather-bound journal. Filled with accounts of your days and nights, your deepest thoughts, your pains. An unassuming object, sort of tattered from use.

And it had been missing for three days. The gods were not good.

You searched everywhere. Every corner of your chambers, in all the pouches you had especially sewn onto your dresses, practically every inch of the Red Keep which you have called home ever since your family was invited to King Viserys' court.

And yet it was nowhere to be found.

It was immediately noticeable to your inner circle that something was amiss, but you just shrugged it off. One person you did confide in, however, was Princess Rhaenyra herself. The two of you quickly grew close after her former companion, Alicent, was sent off to wed some wealthy, Southern lord.

"So what if it has gone missing? Perhaps you have simply misplaced it? Anyway, we could easily get you a new one, y/n."

Your head swiftly turned in her direction, "I appreciate your tone of confidence, Rhaenyra - "

She nodded, making a playful show of curtsying.

" - but... I've scrolled down personal matters in those pages. Especially when it concerns..."

She paused in her step. Hands clasped behind her, she leaned forward, "Ah. I see."

When it concerns Daemon. But it need not be said aloud.

Rhaenyra has been privy to some of your musings about her beloved uncle. Only the ones that you would ever let befall on another person's ears, that is. Some of it... well... would be more than enough to make any maiden blush.

"How could I forget?" Rhaenyra smiled, "You fancy Daemon." Then her face turns sly, "He fancies you too, you know. But of course, I know why you would be reluctant to engage with all of... that."

Your hand reaches up in an attempt to hide your face from shame, "Gods, what would happen if anyone at court were to find it? It would only be so easy to determine that the thing is my possession. I've written my father's and mother's names on it, and yours, and Daemon's..."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you steady, "This court of sycophants never runs out of fodder for their dull conversations. Your journal might be spoken of for a day or two, then they shall move on to something of lesser import."

You sighed deeply, a mask of calm appearing on your visage, though Rhaenyra knew better.

It will be alright. Another half-truth. This loss will soon be a trifling thing.

If only...

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Daemon Targaryen has been having quite the interesting time as of late.

The pages of your small, tattered journal feel light on his fingertips, but he might be inclined to say that the mere feel of the parchment is exhilarating.

These thoughts were yours. These secrets, these desires were yours.

Truthfully, he has not been completely shy about his admiration for you. His precious dove. His sweetling. You thought nothing of it, knowing full well how he is. The Rogue Prince has been known to possess countless paramours.

And you are damned if you would allow yourself to be one of his mere passing fancies. To be bedded one night and forgotten the next.

He once thought that his admiration is not well-received, until one morning, when he watched as an object fell out of your dress as you sprinted down the hallway, headed to only the gods knew where. You bumped into several ladies of the court, mumbling rushed apologies, only to be met with irate stares, but you went on without any mind to them.

Daemon failed to hide the smile that sprung from his lips. He quietly shifted to the spot where you dropped something, and that's when he saw it. Your journal.

It could only be yours. Who else would scroll down that thinly veiled warning on the first page, dedicated to any stranger who might deign to read it?

Daemon, of course, believed himself immune to such threats and he hurriedly found a secluded place to sit down and immerse himself in the woman who has managed to take sanctum in his mind.

And his heart, but the notorious prince would still be loath to admit that.

A few pages in, with amusement dancing his eyes, his chest felt warm at the image of you inking these thoughts onto the parchment.

Then came – “Once more, if you might be a nosy intruder, turn away now, or the very worst fortunes shall fall upon you. I swear this on both the old gods and the new.”

Perhaps I should stop. After all, she just might impale me with mine own Dark Sister if she found this in my possession. Daemon’s hand hesitated as he was about to turn the next page.

He had half a mind to close your journal, partially resolved at returning it to your chambers without you even having to notice its loss, but his eyes were quickly drawn to the following words…

“I finally saw Prince Daemon Targaryen this morning.”

How could Daemon stop his perusing at that moment? He read on with renewed interest, yearning to know more of what you think about him.

“By the gods, he is as beautiful as he is infuriating. I was made to be the cupbearer in today’s small council meeting, and the Rogue Prince strolled in, well in the middle of the discussion, without any mind as to the disturbance that his late arrival caused, if any. Not a care in the seven kingdoms. He paid absolutely no mind to me, standing there in the corner.

But I saw him.”

Daemon found himself rolling his eyes. Of course, he would give off the worst impression upon the first moment she glanced at him. But then again…

She thinks me beautiful. Vanity had allowed him to glaze over the part where you call him “infuriating”.

I suppose I shall have further use for your precious book, my sweetling.

And so the next few days were spent raking your journal for passages about him. Daemon knows full well that doing so can be deemed a violation of your privacy, but if he can use this to get closer to you, then this is something that simply must be allowed.

In his eyes, it may even be necessary. He needs this. Wants it, even. He wants to get under your skin, and these pages all but symbolize that very thing.

After all, Daemon swore that he shall only read the parts wherein he is concerned, and that is well within his right, is it not?

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“Daemon is indeed something to behold. Yes, my opinion still stands.

However, I am not certain what to make of him. Is he to be trusted? No. Bloody well not. Is he kind? That is not really a word anyone would use to define him.

But… there is something… something in his eyes. Daemon is much more than the rogue scoundrel that his moniker deems him to be. He is more than just ‘dangerous’ or ‘unpredictable’ or a potential ‘second Maegor’ (Truthfully, I find it hard to believe that last thing). Daemon is… more than that.

I just can’t find the words to encapsulate him. Perhaps words never can.”

The days pass quickly, and Daemon finds himself opening your journal now and again.

He cannot help it. The more he reads, the more he learns of you. But that is not the only reason. He is also discovering himself, as it turns out - an image of himself that he has not entertained before.

Not only The Rogue Prince, but a person of greater value than his notorious misdeeds. He believes that you see something in him that not even he can see himself.

Something more. Something… good.

Though his intentions prove to be not entirely innocent, as is the usual case. He comes upon one specific part, with your penmanship turning into a nervous scribble. It is as if you were wary that someone might be looking over your shoulder and deign to discover what salacious scrawls you have put down about the Rogue Prince.

Daemon’s eyes hurriedly glide over the ink, basking in what he reads.

“I must confess something.

I know it is quite unbecoming of a lady. Of a maiden. But in the last hour of the owl, I…

I…

Oh, gods. I pleasured myself to the thought of him.

You know. It can only be him. Daemon.”

“Seven fucking save me.” Daemon finds himself cursing with delight at what he just read. So his sweetling does want him in return. Oh, you cannot even imagine what I will do to you…

“We have grown quite close, him and I. Daemon is… Daemon is aflame. There can be no better word for him. He is fire incarnate, and I am not afraid of getting burned.

Or… I don’t want to be. I just. Want. Him.

I want to feel him. I want to feel his lips on mine. Not long ago, he leaned in close and his musk enveloped me. His lips very nearly grazed my cheek. Silly me could not come up with a witty response then and there. A shame. But can you blame me? All I could think about was snogging the fucking Rogue Prince himself!

Ha! Gods!

Perhaps I have gone insane.”

Daemon chuckles freely, alone in his chambers, your journal firmly between both hands. Any clueless onlooker would think it strange, as the Rogue Prince does not make a habit of exhibiting such behaviour. The pleasure in the tone of his laughter rings true and genuine.

If it becomes known that the reason for this is the Lady Y/n, then only a fool would dare deny the centre of their prince’s affections.

“But I cannot deny it.

I cannot have him. I shall not… he is… he does not seem willing to devote himself to just one lady. One wife. There is never a lack of gossip about the prince’s exploits in the Street of Silk, and a hundred other brothels besides.

His need cannot be sated it seems. I… surely, I will not be enough to sate it.

And I won’t allow myself to be one among many paramours.

If I am to love, I have to be chosen as the only one.

However…

Mother spare me.

However… I find myself imagining Daemon’s hands roaming freely across the planes of my skin, fondling my chest, his fingers drifting downward until they are buried in the heat of my soaked cunt.

When the castle is asleep, I find myself writhing in my sheets, thinking about the prince’s massive co – “

A knock echoes across the chambers. Daemon’s head shoots up immediately, irritation blooming across his face, but his cheeks remain flushed from what he just read.

Who the fuck is this?

His squire enters, a gangly young lad of six and ten. He bows hurriedly, and with a shaky voice, he implores, “My prince, you are being summoned by His Grace King Viserys to the small council meeting.”

Has that blasted formality come round again so soon? Daemon shrugs, turning back to the pages. Though he can hardly focus with the snivelling interruption still present in the room, who risks arousing his master’s anger when he speaks once more, “Forgive me, my prince, but I have been instructed to report with - ”

“Will you remove yourself from my sight willingly, or shall I do it for you?”

“M-my prince… I…” The squire nearly stumbles backwards at Daemon’s wroth.

“Leave. The small council will have the privilege of my presence in due course.”

And so, Daemon is again left alone, his squire’s rapid footsteps practically bolting out the doors.

Smirking, he greets your journal like an old friend. “Now, where was I?”

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Your newly gifted journal boasts of a far more opulent appearance than its predecessor. Rhaenyra made sure that the Maesters bound only the finest parchment and leather for this very thing; the cover even has gold and red embossments, as well as inscriptions in High Valyrian.

You were reluctant to accept such a gift, but Rhaenyra was persistent. And everyone knows, there is no refusing the Realm’s Delight when she has her heart set on something.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to know of the whereabouts of your journal… well, your old journal now.

Nestled in your usual spot in the gardens, you turn your new journal over in your hands, admiring the handiwork of the Maesters.

The rear possesses the inscription - Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra, se isse ōños hen skoros pirtra hembar… - which Rhaenyra explained as roughly translating to - In remembrance of my rogue ink, and in joyous anticipation of what lies ahead…

You did not fail to notice the deliberate placement of the word rogue, which can only be Rhaenyra’s doing. Clever.

Rogue ink. Rogue Prince. Am I to call myself Lady Rogue now?

“My Lady.” His voice calls out, nearly startling the journal out of your hands. Oh fuck.

“Prince Daemon,” you swivel around to his voice, and sure enough, he leans against one of the tall hedges, studying you. Not a care in the seven kingdoms, as always.

“Good morrow, sweetling.” He saunters over, permanent smirk on his lips. “That is a lovely thing you have got there,” he says, gesturing to the new journal in your lap.

“Why yes, it is.” You lay it down beside you, and he promptly picks it up without even asking for your leave.

“Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra…” He reads, the High Valyrian sounding musical on his tongue. Far better than how you attempted to voice out the same words.

“Hmm.” He hands it over, and sits right next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him.

“Rogue ink.” He mumbles thoughtfully, glancing at you.

“It was Rhaenyra’s idea.” You say, your throat suddenly feeling dry, your heart racing from his proximity.

“Ah, yes. I was very sorry to hear of how you lost your journal. Rhaenyra said you were quite devastated.” Daemon lies plainly. His beloved niece never shared this with him, for she knows you would not approve.

“She did?”

“I do recall, yes.”

“Oh.”  You clear your throat, choosing to let it pass. “Well, she was awfully kind in giving me this as a replacement. I could not thank her enough.”

Daemon smiles, casting his gaze downward, as if he is privy to a secret that is kept from you. Does the handsome bastard know something?

“It is a shame that I could not find it,” you sigh, “I am still perturbed by the thought of someone whose intentions are unsavoury, reading all that I have written.”

“Whatever would you do to them, were you to find out their identity, my sweetling?”

You shake your head slightly at the name he has given you. Anything to distract from the warmth spreading across your face. You lean in closer, suddenly, much to Daemon’s surprise, “Would you let me wield Dark Sister, so I might teach them a lesson?”

Daemon swallows, the sight of your darkened, mischievous expression spurring him on.

“I might,” he leans in, “but I am far too fond of myself to allow something like that to transpire. Besides,” his fingers languidly trace your jawline, “I have read that you are far too fond of me to do such a thing.”

Your stomach falls, the sensation so sudden that you simply freeze in place, with Daemon’s warm breath still fanning your face.

“You…”

Your face scrunches in a mixture of what can only be shock and anger and embarrassment. Daemon only finds it endearing. Adorable.

He starts, “Now, sweetling, try not to be cross - ”

You do not let him finish. You punch him in the shoulder, hard, making him lean away. Your legs seem to have a mind of their own, because you find yourself pacing quickly.

Gods, I just assaulted a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. More pacing. Who cares? It’s Daemon, and he deserves it.

The sound of his laughter echoes in the gardens, grating in your ears.

He stands, pulling something out of the pocket of his trousers, and presenting it to you. Your little, rogue journal.

Wrenching it from him, you can only ask, “You stole it from me?”

He looks appalled, “No, I would not do that. I found it. It might occur to you to thank me. Who knows what could have happened if anyone else besides me discovered your precious journal when you dropped it in a haste.”

“Thank you?” You stare him down, your left hand squeezing your journal firmly, threatening to destroy its very structure. “Why did it take so long for you to return it to me? Did you… did you…”

“Read it?” His eyes rake your face, over and over, enamoured by the passion he sees.

You say nothing. Of course he has.

“You must forgive my curiosity, sweetling. I could not help myself, plainly, to have some glimpse into your mind, into your heart… I simply… I had to.”

You soften a little at that. “Did you read everything?”

Daemon steps forward, overwhelming your space once more, “Not everything. Not quite.”

He gently pries the journal from your fist tucked beside you, and you watch as he flits through the pages as if it were his own. He whispers, “Only what you wrote about me.”

“Gods.” You desperately look toward the sky for some respite, not finding any.

He lands on the page he was searching for, a smile spreading across his face. “I am flattered, my lady, about how you envisioned us in what can only be… very compromising positions.”

“Enough, Daemon, please…” you bite your lip, as his hands drift across your stomach, settling low on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

The journal has been discarded by your feet, and Daemon only has eyes for you. His voice is genuine when he says, “You have written about me as if I were… someone else. Someone more.”

Your eyes catch how his tongue flicks across his lips. You start to give in, and say, “Daemon, I write only what I see.”

His lips are curled in their familiar roguish way, when he drifts even closer, tilting your face up at him with one hand.

“Daemon…”

“Sweetling… let me give you something to write about.”

In true Daemon fashion, he does not reign himself in. 

His lips land on yours. The impact catches you by surprise, making you take a few steps back, and he promptly follows suit. Your bodies move in sync, until your back collides into one of the marble plinths.

His tongue pries your mouth open wide, snaking past your teeth in a frenzy. Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hands, and guides them to the back of his neck, so that you might hold him in turn. You do, burying your fingers in his silver tresses.

Your lips battle each other, and Daemon tilts your head back so that he might advance more. A low growl escapes his chest as his teeth carefully clamp down on your bottom lip, pulling at the flesh.

He pulls away, pleased at how swollen your lips have become due to his work, “If I were inclined to write as you do, the words would doubtlessly be a tribute to you, sweetling.”

You did not expect that.

Still reeling from the taste of his mouth, you finally smile, though wryly, “You could only be telling me what I wish to hear. Soften my anger at how you invaded my most intimate musings.”

He nods once, one hand reaching up to lean on the plinth above your head. His violet eyes bore into yours, burning with unmistakable desire.

“I could indeed.” He kisses you again, his lips briefly pressing against your own, with a gentleness that is quite unusual for the Rogue Prince. “But mayhaps I shall prove to be quite convincing.”

You take a deep breath, peering up at him in a haze. Your shaky nerves finally settle, and you drink him in. Your rogue muse. The object of your affection, as he now knows. “Prove it then. My new journal is in need of fresh accountings. What better thing to write about than the taste of your lips…”

Another kiss, and another.

“I am yours, sweetling.”

Been a while, loves! Hectic stuff + writing ruts can tend to cause such breaks, but I'm glad to be back and writing again ❤️

Yes, it seems that I sometimes take weeks (even months) to update series works. But then I'll get oneshot ideas, and they get done within a day (like this one). I can't explain it either 🙃

But anyway - series updates up... soon enough!

[starlightshadowsworld]

The Fallen King Part 3: Your Painted Fear

Part 2

(Tw for child abuse, dehumanisation, hallucinations and Beast Atsushi's self esteem.)

There were sweets in his hands. 

His hands were smaller, softer than they should be. And yet neither Number 78 nor his hands were strangers to hard work.

The dining room of the orphanage was a large one and it was to be scrubbed top to bottom after every meal. Such a task was not for the faint of heart. 

It went on for hours and the pain in your hands lasted even longer. This was supposed to be one such day. That is, until Number 78 found some sweets. He had never considered himself to be lucky, quite the opposite in fact.

The Headmaster told him almost tirelessly that Number 78 was a beasts of calamity. A being that bought destruction and misfortune onto others. 

Number 78 wasn't sure what he had done. 

He had not been fed that night, nor had he been fed the night prior. Or the night before that. It was because Number 78 had done something wrong.

He was always doing something wrong according to the staff. And that meant more often than not that Number 78 was being punished. 

Not that Number 78 knew what he had done wrong. 

Not yet at least. 

But Number 78 wished he knew what he was doing wrong.

If he knew, maybe he could change. Number 78 wasn't exactly sure how because he'd been a good for nothing as long as he could remember. 

But maybe one day he could be a good for something?

He thought maybe these sweets signaled good fortune his way. But Number 78 was not a clever boy, he didn't realise that he had broken a rule.

“And who, Number 78 decided that those sweets belong to you?” Bellowed the Headmaster, a tyrant of a man who glared down at the feeble form of Number 78.

The man always seemed larger than life, or maybe that was because Number 78 was so small. His clothes were hand me downs from an older child that left years ago.

Clothes that he was supposed to grow into but everyone knew he would not. 

Number 78 would prefer to dissappear into the ground but alas he had to face his punishment. 

“I… I just thought because I found them that they were mine now.” He answered feebly with tears in his eyes.

Number 78 was among many things a pathetic little crybaby. The children giggled and the staff didn't bother hiding there smiles at his plight. 

Laughter cracked through the air like a whip. 

Number 78 flinched at the sound, cowering from where he stood. He probably would've done so regardless. But at least now his fear seemed warranted.

The Headmasters smile was nothing but cruel as he starred down the boy. “That's the problem, Number 78. You thought, when we all know you're too stupid to be able to do such a thing.” 

Number 78 felt himself be dragged away. He didn't bother fighting, not that he could anyway. The Headmaster was the king of this small kingdom and Number 78 was his prisoner. He knew what came next, he sobbed just at the sight of the hammer. 

The nail had rooted him to the ground for hours. 

It was that day all over again and yet Headmasters voice sounded different. In fact he sounded like… “It's a pity I wasted so much effort giving you such a good name. I guess you'll always be stupid Number 78.”

Atsushi raised his head, something he never would have tried at the time. The Headmasters cruel visage did not stare back at him. He found one piercing brown eye staring down at him. The other hidden behind bleeding bandages. 

There was blood. 

Too much blood. 

Number 78 wasn't on the floor of the Orphanage anymore. He was on the ground of the Port Mafia building. Looking down at Dazai's bleeding smiling staring at back at him. 

__________________

Atsushi shot up awake and shaking in a bed that he immediately knew wasn't his. For starters, it was much too nice and the bed much too comfortable.

He shook off his confusion, examining his surroundings as his training kicked in. The room was filled with the familiar smell of woodsmoke and tea leaves. It felt like a comforting embrace,  one that he so desperately wanted but would never seek. 

Especially not now.  

Instinctively Atsushi reached for his neck and sighed in relief feeling his collar.

It cut his finger, grounding him to the here and now. Number 78 didn't wear a collar. The collar meant he was in the Port Mafia. The collar meant he was Atsushi Nakajima. 

His hands were empty. 

Atsushi grabbed his coat from where it was draped over a chair. He was putting on his shoes when someone knocked on the door.

He paused, before relaxing at the familiar pattern that was only known to himself and one other. It gave him more comfort than he'd like to admit. “Come in” he said and a moment later Kyouka walked in. 

She was carrying a tray with green tea which she set down on the desk, handing Atsushi a tea cup before before sitting beside him with her own. Atsushi held the tea cup in his hands, letting it warm him and ground him.

It was a tradition of sorts between them. Whenever the other was having a rough day for the other to brew tea. It was something Kyouka insisted on, and something Atsushi happily followed.

Though sometimes he wondered if she realised more often than not it was her making him tea. 

He didn't deserve to have it today. 

But one pointed look from Kyouka silenced any comment from Atsushi. “Thank you” is what he said instead,  taking a few sips at her silent nudging.

Once she was satisfied, Kyouka began drinking her own tea. It was a comfortable silence between them, neither Atsushi or Kyouka were people of many words. 

Unlike their mentors. 

But that didn't mean Atsushi had the luxury of not explaining himself. Not that he would dream of keeping this a secret from Kyouka.

If the world wasn't at risk he'd tell her it all. Atsushi put down his tea cup, silently signaling a start to the conversation. Kyouka put hers down a few seconds later, gathering her thoughts. 

Before finally looking at him and asking “what do you remember?” She didn't even bother to try and hide the concern in her voice or the worry in her eyes.

Atsushi remembered red. How he'd killed hundreds, thousands and yet he'd never seen that much blood in his life.

Atsushi thought of pristine white bandages drowning in a scarlet river. He thought of toothless smiles forever frozen in place looking up into the sky. 

“... I found him.”

Kyouka nodded like it pained her to do so. She stared down into her tea with an expression Atsushi couldn't quite place. 

"I know. I found you.”

Atsushi blinked in surprise, he didn't remember seeing Kyouka after the meeting. Kyouka smiled sadly, having expected this.

“I met up with Kouyou at the east wing after your meeting. You were supposed to catch up with us but you must've accidentally gone on ahead.”

She looked down “we didn't find you until you screamed…I thought you were being attacked.”

With the fight between the Agency so fresh in her mind, Kyouka hadn't hesitated. She hasn't even waited for Kouyou's instruction.

The second she heard Atsushi scream, Kyouka had ran on ahead like she was being chased with Demon Snow hot on her heels.

But there was no attack, no enemy in sight. All Kyouka found was Atsushi clutching the still form of the Port Mafia Boss.

“I don't think you noticed me, which was werid because you were looking right at me. But you were talking so I thought maybe you did.”

“What did I say?”

“I'm sorry.”

Kyouka could only watch as Atsushi sobbed and screamed apologises to a man that would never hear them.

She had stood powerfless and afraid at his side not knowing what to do until Kouyou showed up. Kouyou had put a hand on Kyouka's shoulder before gently but firmly telling the girl to go prepare some tea. 

“I've got him, go.”

Kyouka's legs had felt like they were made of lead as she stumbled away. She kept walking even when Atsushi cried.

Even when Kouyou's reassurances got louder to be heard over his sobs. Because Kyouka trusted Kouyou, because Kyouka herself could not comfort her brother.

And she trusted that Kouyou would bring him back safe from harm.

Now, Atsushi reached for her shaking hand, squeezing it softly in his. And Kyouka both loved and hated that he knew how to comfort her but she had not known how to comfort him. She squeezed his hand back and he smiled.

“I'm-”

“Atsushi Nakajima if I have to hear you apologise one more time.” Warned Kyouka, eyes sharp as his smile turned into a smirk.

Taking his hand from hers, Atsushi dropped into a mock bow. “My most sincerest apologies Lady Izumi.”

Kyouka snorted. Swatting him with her hand and giggling as he cried out in mock pain. “But, are you okay?” She asked seriously, Atsushi looked down and shook his head.

Wordlessly, Kyouka hugged him. Atsushi sunk into her embrace, tears in his eyes but they did not fall.

“Man my birthdays suck” he said, it should've sounded a lot more snarky but it just sounded sad. “It's not your fault.” Said Kyouka, unfortunately she knew him well.

“I think I over did it with your party.” She confessed, not knowing how that could ruin the day but maybe she jinxed it.

Atsushi looked at her with nothing but soft suprise “you… Planned me a party?” Kyouka nodded, not seeing any reason to keep it a secret any longer.

Kyouka had known even before the day had begin that it was going to be a difficult one. Atsushi's birthday never came without struggle for himself.

It had always been that way for as long as she'd known him. Atsushi was more than happy to forget the day at all but that never sat right with Kyouka.

“It's just, he always insists on celebrating my birthday. And it's always the best thing ever… I just want to do the same for him.” Kyouka had explained, she and Karma had been taking a break from putting up decorations to watch Chuuya make a balloon arch.

According to him it was “absolutely vital for the best party ever.” Kyouka wasn't sure about that but who was she to argue.

“Did he ever tell ya why?” Asked Chuuya, putting the finishing touches on the project. It was kinda funny watching the executive get so excited over something like balloons.

Kyouka had been planning to do this alone but Karma had seen her setting up and offered go help. Chuuya had arrived minutes later with arms full of balloons and joined them with a grin.

Kyouka didn't pry, even if she wanted to know the exact details as to why Atsushi hated his birthday so much. “Me too kid” agreed Chuuya after he'd left and returned with some smuggled in birthday cake.

“But Atsushi will tell us when he's ready.” He punched one of his fists in his hands and grinned at her. “And when he gives us the names, we'll kick their arses.”

Kyouka nodded in complete agreement. “Whenever I ask he gets all sad and says ‘let's just say... The Orphanage weren't exactly happy I was born at all.’ She almost missing the way Karma frowned and Chuuya's expression darkened for a moment before he sighed.

He landed on the ground beside her, determined. “One of these days I'm gonna burn that place to the ground.” Kyouka nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing.

“Maybe that could be Atsushi's birthday present.” Wondered Karma out loud. Chuuya snorted in response “as fun as that would be I don't think he'd appreciate it. But, I think he'll appreciate us all trying to make the day good for him.”

“You think?” Asked Kyouka, hope in her heart and Chuuya smiled. “Oh I know, trust me he's gonna love this.” Kyouka hoped he was right.

Atsushi's negativity to his birthday didn't mean she ever let the day go without acknowledgement.

In her own little way, she would remind Atsushi that she was glad he was here in her life. Everytime he'd accept it with suprise before giving a small tight smile.

“I think the arch might need more balloons.”

“Right?! There's probably some more stashed around here somewhere. Let's go guys!”

Atsushi listened with a small soft smile even if he somehow looked sadder that before. “I appreciate it, but I don't… I don't think I can enjoy a party right now.”

Kyouka nodded, smiling back and hoping it was just as reassuring as his always were. “That's okay, we can have your party when you're ready.”

Atsushi didn't have the heart to tell Kyouka he didn't think he'd ever want to celebrate his birthday again.

But he smiled regardless and nodded. “As long you help me blow out my candles.” She smirked “of course, you're getting so old now you have too many to blow out.”

“Kyouka?!”

Kyouka grinned before falling silent, collecting her thoughts again. “So” she started after a moment “does that mean I have to call you Boss now?”

Atsushi wasn't surprised that she figured it out, well either that or Kouyou told her.

Despite the seriousness of the statement, Atsushi snorted “only when we're not alone.” Kyouka smiled, a sense of relief filling her bones that nothing had changed between them.

“For what it's worth, I think you'll do great. Boss.” Atsushi wasn't sure why but tears welled up in his eyes.

Something about hearing it from Kyouka made it sound all the more real. It made it feel almost like Atsushi was doing the right thing.

Even though Atsushi knew he was doing anything but.

___________________

Once the wreckage was cleared and the stability of the building was assured, the news broke out.

The Port Mafia never did half arsed anything and the collective reaction to Dazai's death was felt throughout the city.

Kouyou, Verlaine and Ace had all come together to deal with the aftermath. Holding a united front even with Chuuya currently hiding away from it all. Fortunately no one was dumb enough to bring up his absence.

Even if everyone felt it.

Atsushi was hidden from it all lest the Port Mafia's rage was directed at him. Verlaine had even allowed him to stay in his study (the room Atsushi had woken up in prior.)

Atsushi personally wouldn't have minded going out. It's not like that rage was misplaced. Dazai's death was his fault and if anyone had to pay for it, why shouldn't it be him?

Even so Atsushi stayed silent, knowing at the very least Kyouka would kick his ass if he left her sight. He had scared her, he knew that much. Kyouka looked at him sometimes like she was afraid he would vanish.

She had always been by his side but now it was like he'd gained a second shadow. It should feel unnerving but Atsushi felt it was very much deserved.

At least if nothing else his cursed existence could provide comfort to his sister. Atsushi didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for scaring her so badly.

He hadn't asked about Chuuya since the meeting.

Not because Atsushi didn't care about his mentor… Former mentor now. It was because Atsushi didn't think he deserved to know. Chuuya definitely didn't want anything to do with him right now, Atsushi was sure of it.

“You don't know, he might be there.” Said Kyouka, but even she sounded unconvinced. “How do I look?” Asked Atsushi instead, tugging on his coat self-consciously.

In all his time with the Port Mafia Atsushi had never really attended one of their lavish events. His attendance was as either Dazai's personal security or outside security for the event.

And well, no one ever really cared what security was wearing.

“You look different” Said Kyouka with a smile. “A good different” she added and Atsushi sighed in relief. Kouyou has allowed him to wear his usual coat.

But his black turtleneck had been replaced with a red shirt and black tie. Similar to what Chuuya wore on a day to day basis.

Speaking of Chuuya, he would not be in attendance for the event. Despite it being mandatory to do so, he'd taken a mission that meant he wouldn't be able to attend.

“You know, you could order him off it” Atsushi refused to do so, even without the importance of the mission. The idea of giving Chuuya any kind of order made Atsushi's skin crawl.

Though Atsushi couldn't help but feel saddened. He had hoped Chuuya would have simply attended the event and ignored him.

Glasses were raised and everyone drank to the former Boss. Kouyou nodded approvingly from the corner of his eye. Atsushi thought she would, given he'd said what he thought Dazai would in such a event.

Atsushi allowed himself to breathe for just a moment. “Isn't that sweet, a toast to my life huh?” Atsushi froze as a familiar voice reached his ears. He turned and found standing in the corner of the room, was Dazai.

He looked just like he had when Atsushi found him. Blood stained bandages and a frozen smile.

The only difference was that Dazai wasn't wearing his scarf. Atsushi felt ill when he realised it was wrapped around his neck. The soft fabric felt like it was burning him from the inside out from where it sat against his neck.

Against his collar.

The collar that marked Atsushi as Atsushi Nakajima. The collar that gave him his life and purpose.

The collar that Dazai had placed on him. The collar that Atsushi hid behind his dead mentors scarf just to act like he belonged here.

“I just find it funny, seeing as my death was entirely your fault.” Said Dazai, a gleeful smile on his face that stole all of Atsushi's strenght.

Hearing it from himself was one thing. Hearing it from Chuuya was another. But hearing from Dazai himself that his blood was on Atsushi's hands. “Atsushi” called Kyouka, suddenly at his side.

Atsushi wasn't sure why she seemed so concerned. That was until he noticed the glass he was holding had shattered in his hands.

Red wine running down his hand…the same shade as Dazai's blood. He shakily smiled, wiping down his hands and apologised with a line that sounded faker than he was.

He let Kyouka lead him away, watched as the glass was removed and his ability removed all traces of his actions.

Would his ability have saved him if he jumped after Dazai? Would it even have mattered if it hadn't? If Dazai had lived while Atsushi had died.

Can I hug you?”

Atsushi nodded, slumping into Kyouka's arms. He felt so tired but he couldn't rest now. He needed to go back in there. He had to go back and play the part he'd put himself into. “I don't know what's going on up there” she said, gently poking his head.

The sadness in her eyes bloomed guilt in his heart.

“But… Please dont go down a path I can't follow.”

Atsushi smiled, it was gentle and warm. And he hated it, he hated that Kyouka relaxed at the sight of it. Because it was fake, just like everything about Atsushi was. From his smile to his coverstory to his name.

“I won't, I promise.”

A lie. Because Atsushi had long since begun his walk into darkness. And no matter how close he was to the shadows, no one could reach him now. Not even Kyouka could follow him where he'd gone now.

Atsushi had lived while Dazai had died. This was his punishment, this was the penance for his crimes. To wander alone in a maze of his own creation. Atsushi smiled at Kyouka, feeling the scarf around his neck tighten.

The only real thing about him were his lies.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

wait omg can i request joshua for the praise thing?? it's so cute i think i'm gonna pass out /pos (gn!six please)

Joshua Graham Reacts to g/n! Six Giving him Praise

Ahh yes! I'm so glad you enjoyed it, that piece was just too darn sweet to write, honestly.

Sorry it took so long to come out, but here it is! I hope you like it! 😁

Also, here's the original ask as well:

"I just have to ask you for a few characters 👉👈 Porter Gage, Hancock, Raul, Charon and Gob ack don't call me out for my ghoul loving ass just getting showered in praise. I just feel the ghouls don't GET enough lovin', they are all wonderful, handsome and great men."

And here is the link to the full post!

I'm gonna add Joshua to the full post as well, btw :3

“Joshua?” Your voice carried smoothly over the sand, through the hot, dry air. But Joshua didn’t stir, he didn’t even seem to register his name. 

“You okay?” You pressed forward, craning your neck as you took a couple steps in his direction, trying to see what it was in the creek that had caught his attention so fully. 

“Did you… find something?” You bent down as you reached Joshua’s side, noting the way his unblinking eyes seemed glued to… nothing. Nothing, but his own reflection, staring back with the same intensity. 

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled by Joshua’s side. He noticed you, out of the corner of his eye, but remained silent. 

What could he say? 

How could he speak all that he was thinking, as he peered down at his scarred and bandaged face? Could he voice the way that he feels? So unworthy of your devotion to him, so confused as to why you stay by his side, so appreciative that you care for him the way you do, but so wholly afraid that if he speaks his fears, that they will come true. That, as soon as you come to your senses, as soon as the novelty of being with him fades, you will leave…

Who could love a face like mine? And more… Who could love the man that this face belongs to? A man who has done so much wrong, that his sins could only be absolved through the most violent forms of suffering? And even still… Am I truly free of them? 

He did not feel it. 

“I... am not worthy…” The missionary began quietly, and saw your head snap towards him as the words met your ears. “I am not worthy of even the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness you have shown me.”

“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing as you shifted your body to face him, rather than the stream of water below. 

“It’s a line from Genesis." He attempted to clarify, "Jacob is speaking to God, speaking to him of his own humility in response to the devotion that the Lord has shown him.”

Your brows didn’t unfurrow. 

“And that… That has to do with…?” 

“I’m not…” Joshua’s jaw clenched as his eyes finally left his own watery visage in favor of hiding behind his downed lids. 

“I’m not sure why I said it. The quote just… came over me.” He lied, knowing full-well that the words had everything to do with you. 

If I tell you that I feel unworthy of you, will that start something? Will that plant the idea in your mind that I don’t deserve you? Will you then act on that idea?

“Hey.” 

He felt your touch upon his shoulder as your voice met his ears, it was light, but unyielding as your fingers clenched at the bandages insistently. 

“You can talk to me.” You smiled as Joshua’s eyes opened and his gaze landed upon your face, and he wasn’t immune to it. Nor your words, and all that they promised. 

Love rejoices with the truth.

“I’m humbled by you, Six. Humbled by the love you show me every day, and I feel… As Jacob did with the love of God. I feel unworthy of you.”

He felt your grip tighten upon his shoulder as sadness flooded your expression. It pained him to know he was the source of the strife he saw in your eyes.

“Sometimes it’s easy to forget who I am, what I’ve done… What I look like, when I’m beside you, but then, my reflection finds me. Then as I look upon your face, as I remember your deeds and your devotion to me, your kindness to others... I cannot help but feel confused.”

“Joshua, I–” 

He continued insistently, his scarred brow hardening over the intense blue of his eyes as you saw them spark with fire from within.

“I have erred more times than I could possibly count, and yet, each is written upon me, like a shouted word, etched into my very skin for all the world to see. For all who gaze upon me to pity me and my failures, to hate my deeds and to agree that I am unworthy of compassion and repentance. That I am unworthy of happiness, and certainly, of love. They see you beside me, and they know, simply by seeing me, that I am unworthy of you.” 

Joshua’s hand traveled slowly up to grasp at yours. Your eyes were wide and glistening as he gently took hold of you, and removed your touch from him. 

The air was utterly caught in your throat as your partner released your hand from his grip and stood beside you, his gaze resting back on the reflection in the running water that marred his covered features even further with each ripple over the small, jagged river stones that weren’t yet smoothed over by the current. 

“But it seems that you’ve failed to note this. Whether by choice, or simply because you are too righteous to see such things, you’ve still stood by me, even despite all that I’ve done, and that I am... I had to be sure you know the truth, Six. So that you can make your own decision about me, about our relationship… And you can find the words and inspiration you need to leave me behind, and to move on to better things. To be with someone who deserves you.” 

And truth will set you free.

The thought sprung unbidden into Joshua's mind.

I don't feel free.

But perhaps... Perhaps, now, Six can.

Still, you sat in the sand, in shock at everything that had just left your partner, the man you love, and have loved happily for the months you’ve been together.

Where had it all come from?

One moment you’re making camp, waiting for Joshua to collect water, dusting off the fabric of your tent, laying out the bedrolls close enough to later rest in his embrace all through the night, and now he… what? Wants you to leave him?

What changed?

Joshua made a move to step away from you, to leave you kneeling there, alone, beside the river that had apparently inspired these harsh words that encouraged even harsher actions, but you would not stand for it.

You could not. 

“I won’t leave you, Joshua.” You got to your feet as he paused his steps, and he tilted his head towards you, to better hear your words. To hear the justification that he was sure would be well-meant, but ultimately, unfounded. 

“Why?” He whispered, and you got the sense that he was going to speak more, that he would continue monologuing until he convinced himself further that you do not belong with him, even when you know that, beyond all reason, you do.

“Because Joshua, because..." You took a breath as righteous words filled your mind, "'You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and… I love you.' That quote comes from the book of Isaiah. And it’s God speaking to Jacob, telling him that this is why men are worthy of him, and why, even if they’re not, they’re still deserving of unconditional love, even by one as divine and perfect as God.” 

Joshua’s eyes were the ones widening now, and his body turned so that he could face you fully once again. 

“Now, I’m not saying that I’m perfect, but… If God can stand to love you, if he can keep you here, after all you’ve been through, if he can promise you life, even after going through what should’ve meant your death tenfold, then can’t I do the same? Can’t I promise you a life with me, can’t I love and accept you for who you are, no matter what anyone else thinks?” 

Joshua’s light eyes were glistening as they fixed on the sand below him, and you couldn’t help but step forward to try and draw his attention back to you. 

I had to sit through your monologue of self-hatred. Now it’s your turn to listen to all the reasons your words were wrong.

I won’t have you tuning me out.

“After living a life so devoid of it, there’s no one I can think of who’s more worthy of love and compassion than you.” 

You placed both hands on either side of his face, gently urging his eyes to meet yours. 

“Everything you’ve done, Joshua… You’ve been made to pay for. Just as you said, it’s all written upon your body, but it’s here too.” You dragged one palm down to rest over his chest. It was warm to the touch, even through the layers of his bandages and clothes. 

“And here.” The fingers of your other hand brushed over his temple, then his forehead. 

“You’ve paid for it enough. With these horrible thoughts, these feelings of unworthiness plaguing you, every mark upon your skin, all the pain you feel every day. Trust me, my love, you've paid for it. Now… I think God and I both just want you to know peace.” 

Joshua’s hands rose to delicately collect yours, to pull them down in between your bodies. But he didn’t release them from his grasp this time, only held them there, embracing you as much as he could allow himself as his mind still swirled with turmoil. 

“But why?" He asked, "You don’t have to be with me. No one is requiring it of you; and with another, everything would be so much easier. You could be happy… Happier than I can make you.”

“Why you?” You almost laughed at him, it seemed so obvious within the confines of your own mind, the mind that was almost always occupied with thoughts of him only. “I love you, Joshua. I love how you speak to me, how you respect me and want me in your life. I love that I’m able to help you, but you… You’ve helped me more than I think you know.” 

“How?” His voice was so desperate for an answer, it was almost demanding.

“Ever since I woke up from that grave… I didn’t really have a purpose. I didn’t know who I was, didn’t have anyone in my life to turn to, I didn’t have a path... but you gave me one. With you, I could help people in ways I never imagined. You were always so sure of your own path, that it inspired me to be sure of it too. To become a part of your path.”

You could feel your hands shaking where he held them between you. Your whole body was trembling with insistence, begging him to take your words to heart.

Everything about this night that the two of you were sharing once pointed to normalcy. Making camp, divvying out duties, feeling the warmth of the fire against the cool desert air, hearing the wind sweep over the dunes of sand; it was like so many other nights spent with one another. You hadn’t expected to have this conversation, hadn’t thought you’d be fighting tooth and nail to get your partner to understand how deeply you cared for him, how much you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him, let alone ever consider it without his knowledge. But it was happening, and now this night was so much more important than all those others, because if you fail… It could be the end of all of this. This bliss that you’ve taken for granted. 

You’d survived without him for months before you ever met him, you could find happiness without Joshua, you knew that, but… With him, you didn’t have to look for happiness. With him, it surrounded you. 

“You have made my heart beat faster with a single glance of your eyes,” You said quietly, and even with the linen wraps covering Joshua's visage, you could see the way he softened at your words. “You made me love you more with every word you spoke. I can’t imagine who I’d be now without you, and I don’t want to.” 

Your hands tightened within his grasp, and you pulled his body closer to yours as your eyes stayed locked to his mesmerizing gaze.

 “Darling… in all my life, I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. Believe me.” 

You insisted, and then you leaned forward even further, and kissed him. 

The thin linen obstructed you a bit, but it didn’t matter. You could feel the heat of him through it, sense the shape of his lips as they moved against yours, as they relented to your touch, and to your words. As he let you love him. 

Joshua’s hands released yours, allowing you to press yourself closer to him as you felt his touch upon your hip, and around the nape of your neck. In the same movement, your arms smoothed over his chest to grasp at his shoulders. He took a deep breath in through his nose, as though he’d been devoid of oxygen until you pressed yourself to him, and you felt the warm puff of air pass through his bandages and caress your face as he exhaled. Subtly, you could taste him through the barrier, the sweetness of cactus fruit, and the tartness of the healing powder he mixed into the water he drank. You sighed into him at the familiarity of it all. His touch, his taste, his burning warmth that sometimes felt unnaturally hot. Enough so, even, that it could scar you in return. 

And though it never had, Joshua hadn’t ever left any physical blemishes upon your skin from his touch, from his love of you, you were certain that you hadn’t gone completely unmarked by him. Like the words he spoke, like the thoughts and actions he inspired, like the emotions that surrounded him in your mind, his mark was within you. And all of that, all of his influence, his own love for you in return, that you felt was as permanent as any scar left upon his own skin. 

“Thank you,” You felt Joshua whisper against you as you parted, but remained pressed to one another. “Thank you, Six, for all that you have given me. I… I still do not feel worthy of it, but, I will do what I can to change that. No matter how long it takes.” 

“Mm.” You hummed, a grin touching your lips as you pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes, soaking in the simple feel of him. “And I’ll be right here. Right beside you, all the way.” 

You felt the outline of his own smile as Joshua leaned forward, and captured your lips with his once again.

[seraphiism]

hello! congrats on 1k kay! you really do deserve it~ as for your dreamscape event (if it’s still open), how about dusk with lavender & ⭐️ xiao? thank you vv much! i hope i did not forget anything else ehe~

- blue

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

( you are the only people i'd surrender my softness to )

chara : xiao fandom : genshin impact quote cr : noor hindi a/n : HELLO BLUEEEE thank you sm hehe !!! <3 late xiao birthday fic !!

・❥・[ dreamscape event ] ༊*·˚ ⌛fluff • ⭐️ xiao • 💐 lavender : serenity

xiao has always found birthdays to fall in line with human tradition, the many years in his life turned blur and haze in the depths of a life filled with chaos forevermore. he does not pay any mind to the special day, finds it to be as ordinary as any other time in his life : a moment in passing , a fleeting memory that will soon be lost in translation.

the yaksha does not quite remember when he started looking forward to his birthday: was it two years ago-- three, even? his brows furrow ever so slightly in recollection of your first encounter. you were so incredibly stubborn, relentless in attempt to become acquaintances with someone who had almost forgotten what it meant to cherish another-- and how incredibly determined you were in declaration of confessions, anxiety dissipating the moment you noticed the pink hues settle on his cheeks.

xiao sighs, eyes closed as he feels the cool winds blessing his skin. time is such a very strange thing-- the way it feels like he has known you for a lifetime despite the few years it has been. to speak of love is something that brings him into a state of embarrassment, but there is a strange gentleness that resides in the heart, dulls the pain of karmic debt unleashed.

another inhale , a heaviness that settles in his limbs. xiao feels himself losing the battle against sleep, head resting so comfortably on your lap. seldom does he sleep, but in your presence, he is much more prone to it. he doesn't like to admit it, but there is a calm in your existence and it quells the pain, allows tranquility to slip into his life. he cannot fall asleep here, not now, not when you're--

"don't open your eyes. i'm not done yet!"

he frowns at the panicked tone yet doesn't move a single inch despite the way your hand covers his eyes instinctively. he wasn't going to-- not when you had asked so politely earlier, telling him that it was a surprise for his birthday. it was just a mere thought after all, yet somehow you had picked up on it. it is almost frightening how well you have learned to read him.

"i'll fall asleep soon."

"okay, well, don't do that. give me five minutes."

a quiet hum of acknowledgement. he listens, fights back the smile that threatens to grace his lips at your mumbles here and there. five minutes turns into ten, then--

"xiao," you begin, voice quiet and curious, "are you awake?"

he opens his eyes to the sight of your bright gaze, and this time, he does not fight the smile. you blink once, twice, almost caught off-guard at the tenderness in his gaze, but you lean down, kiss his forehead, laughing when that all too familiar blush surfaces.

he sits up, turns to face you, and watches in silent question at the way you hide something behind your back. there is a hint of nervousness that adorns your visage; you know he isn't one for huge celebrations, especially if they revolve around him, but with everything he has ever endured, you wish to celebrate the joy of his existence, the joy of your friendship, and the joy of a love beyond.

with slight reluctance and a timidness xiao is not at all used to, you bring your hands forth ; in your grasp lies a delicately crafted floral crown, brilliant hues of white and green from qingxin flowers. there's a bashfulness in the curl of your lips, and the yaksha wonders if your face is as warm as his right now. he swallows hard, eyes wide, and wonders if he is worth of such kindness.

"may i?"

he snaps from his train of thought, a sight panic surfacing in amber hues, and nods. with the gentle bow of his head, you place the crown on him, find yourself almost breathless when he looks up at you. you have always found xiao to be beautiful, but there is something so incredibly soft about this moment -- the gentle breeze, the sway of the trees that shield you from the orange glow of the sun, the way he looks at you like you have always been the one thing his heart has been searching for all these years.

it is all so overwhelming, the beauty in catharsis. you feel that familiar sting in your eyes, but you don't dare make him fuss over you, not on his birthday-- so instead, your hands cup his cheeks, devotion lingering beneath your fingertips, and you kiss him, ever so gentle, fall into the feeling of veneration.

"happy birthday, xiao." you murmur against his lips, and in the way he pulls you closer, you know that this will be one of many birthdays you will spend with him in a blissful future.

[miss-tc-nova]

Obsession - Vil Schoenheit x Reader

I’ve been dragging my feet a bit on this one, but I really do love the concept. It would just be so easy for him. Anyway, this has a mix of yandere I think and I guess what could be misconstrued as a backwards hanahaki kind of thing...It’ll make sense when you read it. 

Premise: Vil can take no for an answer, at least for now.

Words: 2,086

Trigger warning: blood, choking, pain, yandere, toxic relationship

Music Inspiration: Baby One More Time (Cover) by Annapatsu

~~~~~

              How I ended up in this situation, I will never understand.

              Feet beat against the stone floor as the world flies by. Lungs blaze with pain, panic overwhelming my thoughts. With each exhale, the agony spikes. The walls in my chest tighten, causing the squirming that instigates the stabbing. It’s a vicious cycle that cannibalizes itself, bringing tears to my eyes as heavy liquid bubbles in each breath.

              I have to find him. I need him.

              I can’t live without him.

~~~~~

              Sunlight seeps between the leaves, dappling my shade with warmth that makes it the perfect spot to catch up on homework. At the moment, I’m on my own, Ace and Duece doing club activities and Grim off wandering like a cat does. There are still students passing by, filling the air with white noise, but it’s the film research club not far from me that provide most of it.

              From where I sit, I have the perfect view of the scene which is quiet well done.

              But what else could be expected with Vil Schoenhiet in the director’s seat.

              As if he knew I was watching, the young celebrity glances over. When we make eye contact, he flashes me a dazzling smile. Nobody can deny that Vil is gorgeous, but many may not have seen his softer side. I’ve caught glimpses of it on a few occasions. I can barely begin to recount the number of times the Pomfiore housewarden has saved my hide. Between teaching me and Grim how to use magic and tutoring me through homework, I owe the young man quite a bit. He also has a tendency to fix up my uniform or appearance should something be out of place. I can’t say we’re best friends, but surely we’re comfortable enough to have a friendly conversation and joke around.

              I hear my name. My gaze starts at the thirteen centimeters heals before climbing to those amethyst eyes. I’d spaced out; rehearsal is over.

              “Oh, hey Vil.”

              He takes my outreached hand to help me up.

              “Enjoy the performance?” he asks.

              “Oh, yeah. I can’t say I paid attention to all of it, but what I saw was really good.” His smile flickers. “I can’t wait to see the whole thing when it’s done.”

              His voice remains even. “Well I hope I can put on a show that takes your breath away.”

              “You always do,” I say brightly.

              Vil’s mouth opens to say something, but he hesitates. I’ve never seen that before. He’s always so confident in his every move that I was sure he had the answer to everything. Whatever’s on his mind must be incredibly imposing for him to second guess himself.

              And if I can, I want to be of help. “What’s wrong?”

              What miniscule anxiety plaguing him vanishes with smile that off balances my heart. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?”

              That’s not what I expected. Fire surges into my ears. “Wh-What?!”

              His laugh feels like tendrils sneaking around my heart and yet it’s the most genuine I’ve ever seen on him. “Of course you don’t. Perhaps that’s what makes you refreshing. No, that’s not quite right.” Eyes drink in my visage with the hunger of a man starving. “Intoxicating—that’s a better term for you.”

              “Um…Thank you?” I murmur.

              My body freezes up when he reaches forward. A hand takes mine with pure reverence. Those coils snap tight in my chest as his lips ghost my fingers, lingering, before his gaze finds mine once again.

              This is a problem.

              “I would be honored to take you on a date.”

              Oh, this is a very big problem.

              Anxiety bubbles inside, wavering in my voice. “O-Oh uh…I’m sorry but I’m not interested in dating right now.”

              His face blanks as if I’d spoken gibberish. I can see the gears behind his eyes working, struggling to understand my decline. Granted, I can’t imagine Vil’s had many rejections in his life, let alone from someone he was interested in.

              “Is there someone else?” That voice holds even, but denial belies it.

              “N-No. I just—”

              He doesn’t accept that. “Is it something I said? Is it my work schedule? Surely it’s something I can work on.”

              “No. Vil.” I hold up my hands before he can fire off another question. “Look, seriously, it’s nothing against you. In fact, I’m beyond flattered you asked. But I’m not from this world and I’m still trying to adjust. Between bumbling my way through magic classes without magic, learning an entirely new history, floundering through various magical scandals, and reining in my new dormmate-slash-partner, I’m just not ready to be in a relationship right now. I’m sorry.”

              “Oh. I see.” And yet that desire never falters. “I…apologize for my behavior.”

              Frantic hands wave before me. I just want this to end and I’m sure he does too. “No, that’s okay. Like I said, I’m flattered. But I hope we can still be friends?”

              To anyone on the outside, Vil’s smile is perfect and not at all out of the ordinary. To me, it’s a red flag. “Of course. Please excuse me; I need to help the film club clean up.”

              So Vil leaves and the awful, awkward situation ends. Still, something in the back of my mind whispers warnings. I do my best to ignore them though. Surely this ordeal is done and dusted—an embarrassment we’d both prefer to let die. So that’s what I strive for. In our following interactions, I do my best to pretend nothing happened, though as a professional actor, Vil does better than I do. At least we seem to be on the same page. He even proves there are no hard feelings by treating me to lunch the next day with the best frozen yogurt I’ve ever had for dessert.

              A few days after, however, I begin to feel a little strange. There’s a feeling of squirming in my chest. Initially I brush it off as a lack of sleep or water or something, but when I start to struggle breathing, I consider that maybe I’m sick and take a long weekend from classes.

              It doesn’t get better. No, it gets much worse.

              Constricted lung capacity only continues to wither, as if something heavy is infesting my rib cage. I can’t even climb a single flight of stairs without winding myself. What aching I had initially chalked up to coughing now sears like being stabbed from the inside. When another fit ends with blood in the sink, I finally admit that I need to see the school nurse.

              Though it’s the weekend, there should still be staff at the infirmary. Just as I pull open the front door, however, I’m met with a visitor.

              “Vil?” I rasp with a ragged throat.

              Immediately his brows rise in pity. “Oh you poor thing. You look miserable.”

              I nod, preferring not to aggravate the pain.

              A hand attempts to coax me back inside. “Come. Let me take care of you.”

              Breaking free, I shake my head. “No, I don’t want you to catch it.”

              “Don’t worry about me. You should lie down and rest.” Again, Vil attempts to redirect me back into my dorm.

              “No. St—”

              The writhing in my chest instigates another bought of choking.

              “Are you okay? I can—”

              Holding my hand up, I fight against the spasm in my chest that pricks tears in my eyes.

              “I’m okay.” Purely, a lie. “I’m gonna go see the nurse, but you should go before you get sick too.”

              “Hold on. Just let me—"

              Another cough sneaks up on me. I do my best to back away from the young man, but his grip takes my jacket. Wracked with pain and suffocating, I’m unable to resist his pull. Then, without warning, Vil’s fingers snag my chin, forcing my face to his. Velvet-soft lips descend upon mine, hungry, greedy.

              Instinctively, my fists snag his jacket to shove him off, but I notice it. Whatever squirms in my chest settles and recedes. I can breathe clear again.

              The kiss breaks with a soft click, my breath quaking. Prying my eyes open, I’m met with the horrific, utter delight in Vil’s eyes.

              “I was beginning to think it wouldn’t work.”  

              The blood drains from my face, blurring my vision and tempering my hearing. I can’t bring my voice louder than a whisper. “What did you do?”

              He smiles as if he’s entirely innocent. “I simply added a little incentive to choose me when you’re ready to start dating.”

              Appalled barely begins to describe how I feel. “How could you? I thought you cared about me.”

              That gets a frighting rise out of him. “Don’t you see? I care so much I had to do this.” As Vil closes the gap, I back into the wall behind me. He truly believes every word he says. “No one will take care of you like I can. No one is better for you than I am.”

              “Y-You’re insane!” I slip around him, heading for the door. “I have to find a teacher or the headmage or—”

              The unbothered reply is unnerving. “And tell them what?”

              I freeze. I have a retort; it’s clear. I would tell everyone what Vil did. I don’t care if it would ruin his image or reputation or whatever. This is sheer delusion and it’s putting me in danger.

              But not a sound leaves my mouth.

              It wasn’t just one curse.

              His caress is so soft. “Don’t fret, my gem.” A tremor racks my spine as he pushes his fingers through my hair. “I just needed some peace of mind. I promise this pain will go away—”

              The smile that pulls at his lips is riddled with obsession.

              “—when you’re ready to return my love.”

~~~~~

              The doorknob rattles violently without budging. Fists pound against the door, fear beginning to consume me—I don’t even know if he’s inside. Filled with torment and terror, I fall to my knees. Thoughts begin to race with the possibility that this might be how I die.

              The click sounds of tainted mercy. Gentle fingers tilt my gaze. Lavender eyes glimmer with adoration. A smile of pure love graces his lips. Vil is absolutely elated.

              It makes my skin crawl.

              “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.” There’s nothing in his voice but tenderness. “It took you much longer to seek me out this time.” He’s not even upset; he knew this would be the outcome.

              Another bout of coughing stabs my lungs with thorns, the pain so agonizing that I nearly pass out. Into my hand sprays crimson, but among the blood, something flutters past my lips. Ivory petals are stained by ruby droplets: a symptom I haven’t come across before.

              Vil, however, sounds pleased. “Why am I not surprised that something so pure would come from you even as you hurt so. Though I must admit—” A decisive thumb smears blood along my lips. Desire spreads across his face. “—that color looks breathtaking on you.”

              A hand reaches out, clenching at his jacket. I can’t speak past the thorns, so I beg him wordlessly.

              “Of course. Let me take away the pain.” His lips draw closer, but I have no strength left to take them. “Let me indulge you.”

              His kiss tastes of the cruelest salvation. He speaks and acts as my savior, but only because I’m here for his transgression—his obsession. This is the “love” I’m trapped in.

              Piercing thorns recede, the vines crawling back down my throat to free up my airway. A gasping cough breaks the kiss, spilling more blood across the carpet. Though there’s relief, the weakness washes over me and I collapse.

              “Oh sweetheart. Look at you, exhausted after fighting for so long.”

              Everything in me wants to writhe beneath his touch, but I can’t even lift a finger. With ease, I’m lifted from the floor, carried deeper into the villain’s den.

              “Don’t you worry, my darling. Just rest.”

              This is my life now: to be at Vil’s mercy while suffering this parasitic foliage in my lungs. I can only guess at how long he’ll put up with my resistance before letting me succumb to my curse. Until then, I can only struggle on, resisting the pain until it becomes too much to bear.

              Because this curse will only end when I love him.

              But could I ever love him?

              “You’re in my care now.”

[latent-sense-of-loyalty]

Ch. V

Word Count: 4826

Masterlist ¤ AO3 ¤ Ko-Fi

~

AN: If you want to be updated for new chapters, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! Enjoy!

October 7th 1893

He did not expect what would actually happen, agreeing to accompany her on this… excursion? He had known about her extracurriculars for some time, nearly impossible to hide broken bones and cuts from his gaze. Plus explaining anything like that to the nurse would have her permanently grounded here. Lenore trusted Aesop enough to keep the secret, and she knew the only way it would break is if it went too far. 

They were very close to that line. 

He saw her emerge from the bridge, fixing her black gloves. He deduced that her school uniform was not exactly the best attire for such a task, instead opting for a simple black shirt, vest, and trousers. Her overcoat bellowed in the fall twilight breeze, Aesop for a moment unable to form a thought. She looked like an Auror, she reminded him of his prior co-workers, strong and down to business. She looked powerful, beautiful. For the moment, Aesop forgot she was his student.

Immediately Aesop banished the thought, shaking his head and collecting himself as Lenore approached. She looked him up and down, a small smile appearing in her face. "Just… going to wear the same thing you usually do?" He was taken aback, looking down at his usual attire. 

"I'll have you know that I wore almost this exact attire while I was an Auror." Aesop did his best to sound stern, but even he could not hide his growing amusement. "I think it works quite well. You can never go wrong with perfection" 

Lenore couldn't argue, he did wear the robes and suit well. Very well. Well enough that she found herself admiring how well he wore them recently. For someone out of the Auror career for some time, he found a way to keep himself fit. It made her indulge in a dangerous curiosity. 

"Well, anyways," She cleared her throat, approaching him more as they both stared out into the night sky. "I'd say we best get a move on. I received an owl that they plan to move the cargo tonight from the Clagmar Coast." As she began to walk, something came to her head, a very large something that filled her with concern. 

"Professor Sharp… pardon me for asking, because I don't mean to question your abilities whatsoever," Judging by the expression in his eyes, Lenore was already treading on dangerous ground. "But…. Your leg… I dont want you getting hurt." 

Aesop chuckled at her concern. "You do not need to worry about me." He reached inside his jacket, visiting out a flask. 

Lenore almost choked. "Drinking?" 

"No! Merlin’s beard, do you think I'm a drunk Miss Arkanos?" He was half offended by the statement, but something about her shock made him try his best to hide the smile fighting its way through. “Something I have made myself to help with the pain. It will not heal it per say, just give me some relief for a short while.” 

“You still haven't found anything.” He could hear the concern in Lenore’s tone, her eyes deeply sympathetic. “I’m sorry professor.” 

“No need,” He waved his hand dismissively. He recalled a few times she had stayed behind to see if she could be of some help finding a cure with him, both of their efforts still in vain. But it was one of the few things he could keep some kind of false hope for. “All you need to know is that I can still be just as agile as you.” 

Something about the smile appearing on Lenore’s lips made his stomach flutter. 

“We shall see.'' Before he could get in a rebuttal, she made a loud whistle into the night air, the sound echoing through the valley beneath them. For a moment, Aesop just stood there, confused in the silence. 

“Why would you whistle for the broom-” before he could finish a large gust of wind nearly pushed him over, the visage of a large white hippogriff, flying directly above of the pair, softly landing beside Lenore before nuzzling into her neck. Only then did he notice the carcase of a weasel in her coat pocket, Lenore feeding the Hippogriff before scratching its neck. When she looked back to Aesop, she could not help herself, giggling at his shocked expression. 

“What, I'm sure back in your days at Hogwarts they also had Hippogriffs.” She could almost hear the sound of his eyes rolling as he walked towards the creature, dipping into a low bow. Lenore stepped away, giving the chance for Highwing to inspect the man before giving him a bow. Seeing Aesop bow like that, she could not help but have a blush grace her cheeks. Quickly she turned away, doing her best to regain some composure before she heard the man clear his throat. She could see the shit eating smirk on his face. 

“For your information, miss,” he leaned in, giving her a nudge as his hand ran over the snow white feathers, “I was actually quite good in Care of Magical Creatures.” 

“Oh really! Based on your charm and general demeanor, I would think you were the post popular among all the Jobberknolls.” Aesop was shocked to see Highwing let out a huff, stomping its talons into the dirt. For a moment, he let her words sink in before letting out a laugh. 

Not only had this been the first time she had ever heard any kind of laugh like this from the man, it was the first Lenore had seen a look of pure joy on his face. His laugh was strong, nearly like a bark, yet contagious. She could not help but join in herself. As he calmed, Lenore could suddenly feel herself be lifted from the ground, Aesop helping her onto Highwing. When she looked down, she could see another look in his eyes she had never seen, and this time she could not tell exactly what it was. But it made her body light up like a candle. 

“Be good, girl.” his voice rumbled with a low timbre, one that shook Lenore to her core. Aesop hoisted himself onto the creature, Lenore feeling his chest now flush against her back. Her brain was falling apart, barely able to form a coherent thought other than ‘him’. 

“Shall we go?” his breath fell against her neck, Lenore thanking the stars that she was mostly covered, her skin now covered in goosebumps. 

With a simple command and direction, Highwing had taken flight, soaring high above the loch as they made their way towards the coast. 

For most of the flight, the two remained in a blissful silence. It had been years since Aesop had seen anything like this, the countryside and hamlets all around him. It all took his breath away, his eyes wide with wonderment. A part of him could not help but let out a breathless laugh at the spectacle of it all. Only when the ocean started getting closer in their sights, did Aesop realize how he was holding himself around Lenore. 

For the entire flight, Lenore had been in some kind of delirious haze, thankful Highwing knew where she was going. Aesop’s scent, even with the wind against them, completely surrounded her. Lenore could barely be able to remind herself not to grip onto Highwing’s feathers too tightly. Never had the professor been this close to her, the closest being him looking over her shoulder in the potions classroom. Lenore knew it was wrong, but the whole situation felt so strangely intimate to her. That thought alone is what she assumed compelled her to say one of the stupidest things to ever grace her brain. 

“U-Uh…. You know… It was my eighteenth birthday on the third of September.” 

Aesop swore he nearly fell off of the Hippogriff, the jerking motion of his body jumping making the creature squawk in protest, the professor steadying himself. Her comment had come completely out of nowhere, and he then realized exactly what their proximity was, his body lighting like fire on gasoline. His response started with a choked cough, trying to regain some control in this situation. 

“Well… um… a good belated birthday to you,  Miss Arkanos.” he cursed himself on such a weak response. He sounded like an utter fool. 

Thankfully for the both of them they were nearly at their destination, Highwing lowering herself towards the beach ahead, sharp rocks poking out form the sides of the mountain, giving them some kind of cover. As they galloped along the beach, Lenore could feel herself starting to tense, her mind now settling into her fighting headspace. Aesop could feel it too, a feeling he had not felt since helping the woman and Professor Fig. the potion had done its work, his leg feeling like it had before the injury, just a little lamer. 

Soon enough, they could see an orange glow ahead, the distant sound of muffled voices making the hippogriff slow. They could hear the sound of crates being moved, animal whimpers, and waves breaking against something on the shore. Lenore could see a way into the ocean, a large galleon bobbing on the water. Slowly the two dismounted, sneaking up to the outcropping of rocks. With hushed voices, both cloaked themselves in Disillusionment, climbing the outcrop and peering over into the camp. 

Quickly, Lenore noticed it seemed to be a camp of about fifteen, tents just finished being packed as they loaded their supplies onto the boats waiting at shore. Cages seemed to be on the far side of the camp, loaded with what seemed to be an infant thestral and six Kneazle. From how they were organized, it seemed they were to be the last loaded onto the boats. Silently, Lenore pointed to the cages, then to a few barrels still hanging around the dismembered camp. Grabbing his sleeve gently, they both slipped behind the stone. 

“I can take the way around to unlock them. On my signal, draw them to those barrels in the back. We can blast once they are close enough and provide cover for them to escape.” Aesop immediately wanted to debate the plan, thinking the risk would be far too great. She would be out in the open while he stayed in cover. 

“I'm not about to be tucked away and hidden with this. Besides, I can apparate. Let me take the riskier job. I'm not about to put you in any line of fire.” She knew from his tone he was not about to back down, Lenore just letting out a sigh as she nodded in agreement to his plan. Before she could climb over, Aesop grabbed her hand firmly, pulling her towards him until their faces were merely an inch apart. 

“If anything goes the wrong way, you will get out. Even if it means leaving me behind. Don't take any unnecessary risks, understand?” Lenore could hardly breath, only nodding in response. He squeezed her hand, finally letting her go as they made their move. 

Aesop made his way on the outskirts of the camp, thankful his leg was not in pain as he kept to his crouch. He inspected the faces of the poachers, trying his best to memorize them all in case he had the opportunity to take them in. He could just make out the blurred form of Lenore climbing over some of the rocks, sliding down to hide behind some crates. The tumbling pebbles had made a few turn their heads towards the noise, Aesop taking the opportunity to move himself faster towards the cages. Two guards were in front, more interested in their own conversation than the animals themselves. He was thankful, as he inspected the cage and animals, that the locks were simple enough to break open. The only problem was, the sound of the metal rubbing together as they unlocked would definitely alert the two younger men before him. Looking around, Aesop saw a pile of rocks to his left by the water, slowly moving to pick one up, throwing it into the water gently. 

Immediately their attention was grabbed, one of the men making his way to the water's edge. Taking the advantage, first making sure the coast was clear, Aesop grabbed the other in a choke hold, quickly incapacitating him silently. He moved the body behind the cages, taking the advantage to unlock the first cage, the baby thestral quickly taking flight. 

Just as he was about to get to the second lock, he had heard one of the witches in the distance yell out, a red barrel flying through the air and the night being erupted into an explosive flame. ‘Shit!’ was the only thought crossing Aesop’s mind as the night erupted into spells flying. As fast as he possibly could he unlocked the other cage, Kneazles scattering into the frenzy. Frantically he looked for Lenore, spotting her as she rolled out of the way of a bombarda, sending a poacher flying into the ocean. Without thinking, muscle memory took over for Aesop, joining in the fray. A few wizards he quickly incapacitated, his wand quickly freezing them. Lenore noticed straight away where Aesop was located, taking the chance to flipendo, the wizards flying into the cages behind, Aesop locking them in. 

He knew they were completely outnumbered, even if the fight was turning in their favour. They both could see the other wizards trying their best to flank the two, boxing them in as best as they could to bombard them with attacks. Taking the chance, Lenore let burst a ring of fire around her, buying them the chance to try and run, the whistle coming from Lenore breaking through the screams of the ignited poachers. Aesop did his best to keep stunning the others, needing to buy them as much time as it took for Highwing to appear. His fear only kept growing as he saw Lenore get knocked back into a boulder, head colliding and breaking the skin. Aesop could feel something take over him, sending a flurry of confringo spells to knock the man out. He rushed over to Lenore, moving her to the other side of the boulder as more spells were thrown their way. 

“Are you alright?” his voice was desperate, peering over to send more attacks. Lenore just nodded, shaking her head as she grabbed Aesop’s shoulder. 

“I have an idea! I need you to lure them to that large outcrop we came over!” Aesop wanted to shake her, tell her they weren't going to win this if they stayed, that this was far too dangerous for the both of them. But the look in her eyes, the sheer determination, was enough to sway him. With a squeeze of her shoulders, she saw Aesop apparate towards the outcropping, most of the wizards going after him. Lenore came out to try her best to corral them towards the wall, flames erupting around her as they were driven back enough. Before they could realise her plan, Lenore began to fling the last of the red barrels towards them, the explosion making the wall break away and collapse. Some were caught in the stone, others trying to apparate towards the ship, sustaining enough damage from the two. 

 As if by luck Highwing had made it, landing by the cages as she cried out. The two made eye contact as they began to run towards the hippogriff, knowing this was their chance. But something caught Lenore’s peripheral. One of the wizards stepped out from behind the boat, locking his sights on Aesop. His limp had gotten worse, the potion clearly wearing down as he nearly made it to the cages. 

It only took a split second after seeing the glow of red from his wand to steer Lenore away from Highwing, heading directly to Aesop himself. She could hear him yell out in pained confusion, but as he saw her sprinting, she could see the glow now across her face. Before he had any time to react, Lenore barreled into the professor, taking his coat by the lapels and using all of her strength to throw him behind her, her eyes locking with the wizard just as the crutiatus curse hit her. 

Lenore could only take the second to remember the attacker, quickly apperating away before her body erupted into unimaginable torture. Aesop heard the scream shatter the night around them. Without hesitating, he grabbed the woman, carrying and hoisting her onto Highwing as she writhed and screamed out in terrible pain. He was barely on the creature when it broke into flight, trying to get away from the chaos as soon as possible. Lenore writhed against him, tears soaking through his jacket as he cradled her to his chest. It killed him seeing her like this, all he wanted was to take the pain and make it his own. Her beauty was painfully distorted, body now seizing as the red aura of the curse surrounded her. 

Aesop just held her, whispering soothing words in her ear as he rocked her, Highwing trying her best to fly as fast as possible back to the castle. It was not much of a relief, but at a point halfway through their flight, he could feel Lenore go limp in his arms, most likely blacking out from the pain. It was the only relief he could give for now, his heart pounding in his chest. For the second time, he felt as if it was his fault someone he truly cared for got hurt by something that was meant for him. The only reprieve was that, by sheer luck, it had not been the killing curse. Now, Aesop could only wait. 

Lenore did not know if she was lucky or not, to have felt the effects of the curse before. This time however, it felt far worse. She wasn't sure if Sebastian had cast it wrong before, but this time, she had thought she was going to die. When she went unconscious, Lenore thought for a very brief moment that there would be relief. She was very wrong. But at one point, she felt it disappear, the ice cold fingers of slumber dragging her down. 

The first thing she noticed as she began to come to again, was that Aesop’s scent surrounded her, the warmth of bedsheets weighing on her body blissfully. For a moment, Lenore thought she had died. If this was her afterlife, she would take it. But slowly she started to feel the aching bones in her body, especially the pulsing pain on her head. She wanted to move, to get up and see what happened, but her body felt as if it had been replaced with lead. For now, she opened her eyes. 

The first thing she noticed was the firelight dancing off the wooden ceiling. The room was warm, the smell of earl grey mixing now with Professor Sharp. Professor Sharp….

“Shit!” she gasped out, bolting upwards until a pain caused her to double over in pain, moaning out. It was then she saw the Professor himself, sitting in a large armchair in front of the fire. At the sound of her getting up, she could see his concerned expression landing on her, quickly standing. He commanded her to lay back down, limping over to a desk with a potion kit, grabbing a vial before limping to sit on the end of the bed. He reached to the side table, Lenore only now noticing the porcelain cup. He poured the vial inside, swirling it around before lifting the cup to her lips. 

“Drink.” 

Lenore did as she was told, the sound of his voice filled with his own pain and concern. As she felt the earl grey tea run down her throat, she felt her whole body go into a blissful numbness, all aching dissipating the more she drank. It only took a minute before the contents of the cup were gone. After he placed it beside her again, she wished for it to be brought back, the tension now piqued as they sat together. Lenore did not know what to say, and she knew the Professor was just as lost for words. But she had to try. 

“Professor… I`” 

“Do you know what could have happened? What… What kind of extremely dangerous risk you took doing this? You’re lucky it was merely a cruciatus curse that hit you.” He was not about to mention how it was meant for him, how he was supposed to be the one defending her. “Miss Arkanos…. If you had died…” Aesop felt himself getting choked up, the thought nearly making him sick. He did everything to try and keep some composure, but without thinking, he looked to Lenore, his hand reaching to trace the cut on her head. 

Lenore felt her heart tear seeing the pain in his eyes, hating that she caused this. But she would not change the outcome. Lenore knew, if the situation happened again, she would take the curse for him a thousand times. Her hand slowly reached up to touch his. His hand was rough, calloused from years of work. The hairs were a peppered grey, matching his beard. She could feel him tense from her touch, but he didn't make any kind of move to retract it, both of them just looking at each other. When he spoke again, she could hear the fear laced in his words, the desperation as he pleaded with her. 

“Please…. Lenore. Do not ever put yourself at risk like this again.” her chest tightened with guilt, her hand squeezing his own. 

“I won't sir…” 

Aesop took that as enough of an answer for now, his hand falling away. He could feel his chest fluttering again, heart racing. He created some distance to regain his thoughts, pouring the both of them another cup of tea. Helping her sit up, he placed the warm porcelain in her hand, moving a char to sit beside her. 

“You know, I will say, your fighting skills are amazing. You can hold your own better than some Aurors I worked with in my day.” Lenore felt her chest swell with pride, his praise almost euphoric to her ears. 

“But…” 

“But?” Lenore’s head snapped towards the man, brows knit in confusion. 

“Your skill in stealth is horrid. Like I said, you were lucky things panned out mostly in our favour, but you need to work on trying to be as silent and hidden as possible. Not every situation can take such a bombastic approach. You will put not just your life, but others at risk.” His voice was hard and stern, just like how he would reprimand and scold anyone in class. It made Lenore shrink down into his bed more. Only then realizing where she was. 

“Professor is this your… room?” 

Aesop nodded, sipping more of his tea. “I could not just bring you to the Hospital Wing after everything. Both of us would have had hell to pay. I'm lucky nobody saw me carrying you here.” Lenore felt her cheeks warm, the thought of her being carried by him making her feel lighter. 

“Thank you sir… for everything.” Her eyes met his again, her hand reaching to squeeze his own. This time, he tensed at her touch, her skin leaving a beautiful patch of warmth. For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes in silence, Aesop not noticing that they had gotten closer together, their faces again just inches apart. 

What broke them from their trance was a knock at the door. 

—

Aesop had not realized he had fallen asleep in his chair until he heard the knocking across the room. Trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, he took notice that the fire was now reduced to burning embers, the private room mostly dark save for the lamp beside him. Papers scattered everywhere on the table before him, haphazard notes taken from the recent development in the case from Ominis. He was lucky Sirona had let him use the room for the past while. 

Speaking of which. 

“Sir? Just checking in to see if you needed anything.” Sirona’s voice was heard on the other side, a slight bit of concern tinging her words. She also must have come to realize how much time Aesop had spent here. A sudden clap of thunder outside shook the rest of the dreariness from his mind, Aesop clearing his throat. 

“No, I am fine, Sirona, thank you.” He tried his best to sound as awake as possible, but even he couldn't hide all of his exhaustion . 

“Alright, I am just serving the last few stragglers before closing up, will you be staying the night?” Shit, Aesop did not realize exactly how late it was. Staring through the window, he could see the night had indeed descended, Aesop letting out a sigh in frustration. He had not meant to fall asleep, but he knew he would be too tired now to go anywhere. 

“Yes sorry, just give me a moment, I'll be right downstairs to pay!” he called through the door, scrambling to find his coin purse. He heard Sirona call and say to take his time as her footsteps retreated back down into the tavern, The Auror now letting a groan out in frustration. He had been pouring over these notes for two days, sending owls to Ominis to see if he would have any other clue to where Lenore could have gone. Ominis could only assume she would want to be as far away from any loved one as possible, hence making sure her tracks were covered. The only tip off was that they both knew that Lenore had a hard time keeping away from comfort places, which to the two of them, gave the hope she was somewhere in the Hogwarts vicinity. He and Ominis both remembered how much she stated that she adored the area, how it was a second home to her. On an investigative side, it did make some sense to him about her hiding in plain sight. But since Ranrok and Rookwood, Auror presence had gone up exponentially. 

And that was the problem he faced with this whole scenario now. Anything that would have made some kind of sense, made little sense at all once it had some holes poked through. 

Just as he was picking up the coin purse, his body was thrown to the floor, the building shaking beneath him as he heard Sirona yelling out, mixed with furniture breaking. It took him a moment to understand the situation, quickly making his way to the door. He could see a confringo blast outside through the doors, a figure racing out into the downpour, a few wizards running after them. Aesop didn't waste any time, taking his flask out for a swig as he raced down the stairs, veering to the side door that let him out into the alley. The pounding rain muffled most sounds but he could hear the shouting of the attackers run right past, Aesop on their heels. Quickly, he incapacitated one, the others now realizing they were being flanked. Aesop was lucky enough for a couple Auror’s who were stationed in Hogsmeade to be coming from their sides, most scattering. He called out orders to them as he continued to run forward, more concerned about the figure those wizards were chasing. It had taken a moment to catch up, just seeing the first figure turn around to wave their wand, a piece of stone from a wall flying through the hair to collide with the wizard's face. Aesop could hear the skull crushing on impact, knowing the wizard was probably killed instantly. 

“Shit!” the other wizard cried out, turning back to the figure. “I'll get you for that bitch!” As the wizard raised his wand, Aesop felt time go still for a moment, his heart dropping. 

He had seen magic like that before, seen someone wield their wand like that, and as the thunder clapped above them, he saw the figure, now on the hill, raise their wand to the sky. Aesop tried to run towards her as fast as he could, but just as he was about to pass the attacker, the figure's wand shone a brilliant blue, illuminating their face as a lightning bolt was brought down from the sky, almost incinerating the attacker. The force of the blast throwing Aesop back, his body colliding with a wooden cart. In his blurred vision, he could see the figure hesitate for a moment before they aparated, Aurors now descending on the scene. As they tended to Aesop, others checking the bodies to confirm death, he felt his chest light up again, and hope flooded through him. 

The figure, as their magic illuminated their face, had been one of an old woman. Yet their eyes. Eyes of blue with vibrant green flecks.

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TAGS:@4everflowercore @marine-captain-deku @ryehoneyandinkstains @doom-n-gloomgal @shygurl123456 @handon-h-art @misswildfire @nightless @dagiweh @anmactireaonai@liadamerondjarin@amatchinwater @mellocado @imaginaryismyescape@v1cv1c @disassociation-daydreams

[runelocked]

PERHAPS  IT’S  NOT  THE  NAME  THAT  RATTLES  WILLIAM,  THEN:  PERHAPS  IT’S  JUST  A  SIGN  OF  HOW  AGITATED  HE  IS  IN  GENERAL.  Really,  if  the  man  had  said  anything  as  a  name,  he’d  have  reacted  the  same;  just  as  violent,  just  as  explosive.  Andrew  is  right.  Angry,  betrayed,  hurt  –  William  has  gone  so  long  without  needing  to  control  or  limit  his  reactions  that  he’s  almost  forgotten  how  difficult  it  had  been.  In  death,  as  Springtrap,  what  use  had  there  been  in  hiding  aggression,  cruelty,  rage ?  It  had  only  been  in  life  he’d  attempted  to  hide  those  emotions  behind  clever  words  and  charming  smiles.  And  now,  human  once  more,  hiding  anything  in  this  place  feels  impossible . . .  But  no  less  vulnerable.  It  makes  him  want  to  snarl.  It  kind  of  makes  him  want  to  cry.

He  does  the  former.  Inches  away  from  Andrew’s  face,  William  doesn’t  let  up;  staggers  backwards,  pulling  the  other  man  with  him.  “ I  don’t  need  your  help, ”  he  spits,  and,  really,  he’s  beyond  the  point  of  being  reasoned  with,  “ what  I  need  is  a  way  out  of  here.  I need  –  What  I  need  – ”

God,  what  does  he  need ?  The  urge  to  sink  to  the  floor  and  bury  his  head  in  his  hands  is  strong,  wild.  He's never been good with regulating himself. He  wonders,  briefly,  if  he’s  dreaming:  though  writes  that  off  immediately,  because  he  has  not  dreamt  in  a  very  long  time.  Other  than  during  death  -  when  he’d  been  given  nightmare  beyond  nightmare,  trapped  helplessly  in  a  dream  he  had  no  power  over . . .  Though  the  lack  of  power  then  feels  all  too  similar  to  this.  Only  here,  there  is  no  pain,  there  is  no  nightmare.  There  is  only  fear.  That,  at  least,  is  something  William  knows  well.

Maybe  he’s  still  dying.  He  drops  Andrew  then,  takes  another  step  back,  and  another,  chest  heaving  for  breath.  Maybe  he’s  still  stuck  in  a  decaying  dying  body  and  this  is  what  his  mind  has  chosen  to  console  him:  if  that’s  true,  he  thinks  hysterically,  then  it’s  doing  a  piss - poor  job.  “ I need, ”  he  mumbles  again,  a  long - broken  record, turning  to  the  lake.  If  his  mind  had  influenced  the  visage,  it  might  have  been  a  puddle  outside  the  diner,  or  perhaps  the  pond  at  his  old  family  home.  For  the  first  time  in a very long time,  he  wants  to  see  his  mother.  His  voice,  though  just  as  aggressive,  is  splintered;  lost,  just  like  Andrew  had  been.  “ You  don’t  understand.  I’m  not  done  yet.  I  didn’t  –  There  are  things  I’ve  to  do,  people  I  need to –  How  can  you  just  accept  this ? ”  William  demands,  but  he’s  unable  to  look  at  Andrew  at  all,  “ You’re  lying.  Of  course  you’re  lying.  Don’t  you  see ?  There  must  be  a  way  out.  There  always  is. ”

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[asc3nts]

tag  dump  ♡

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

[blzzrdstryr]

Midnight chatter

Yandere Diluc x gn!knight!reader

Wordcount: 2385

CW: Yandere, drugging, kidnapping

This was a third week after his return and fifth day of the tireless fight with winery work, when Diluc received an unexpected guest. During his travels across the world, the winery business fell into disrepair and almost collapsed, so once he learnt the state of the wine industry he decided to settle in his office and try to battle the endless reports about necessary expenses and small profits all on his own.

He started to work with the first rays of sunlight well into the night, squeezing every bit of energy his body had, not only because financial issues could affect him personally, but also because of the night vigilante of Mondstadt title he took upon himself.Due to the increased workload he couldn’t find time to patrol the dark streets and alleys of the city, while experience and conscience didn’t allow him to thrust the safety of ordinary citizens into the hands of bumbling, cowardly and lazy knights.

The day soon turned into the late evening, and dawn winery workers started to go home, when someone knocked on his door. It was Adelinde.

Her steps were faster than usual, her stoic face shadowed by the note of concern. Diluc wanted to say that no, he won’t go and have a rest, but she spoke first.

“Master Diluc”, she stopped before his desk: “we have a guest, a knight”.

He lifted his head shifting the eyes from the report to the head maid and pondered - despite his long absence, a lot of people in the city had a general idea how much he dislikes the Favonius Order and so a rare knight would actually dare to bother him, unless… Unless, they were acting out an order from someone high-ranking, like Jean or Varka for example.

Apprehension that his former colleague somehow learned of his nightly escapades sent an unexpected wave of shivers and vague feeling of unease, but he didn’t let it get to him.

“Ask why this knight is here and if it’s something unofficial tell them to leave”, he ordered, at which Adelinde blinked, slowly and tiredly, as if she was looking for the strength to tell something incredibly upsetting or scary.

“The thing is, master Diluc, that I already let them in”.

“Without my permission?”, his eyes widened at that, and the heart started to pick up the pace. What if this knight was really sent here by Varka or Jean? If it was true, Adelinde, unknowingly set him up to fail.

She was looking after him from his earliest childhood, so she was allowed to do and say more than any other of his staff, yet this perceived audacity was unheard of before.

“They were badly injured and said that they needed to stop for the night and once it’s over they will travel to the city with the first sun rays. We helped them to patch up their injuries and offered a room for guests, yet they declined and remained to sit on sofa”, the maid explained absolutely unfazed, after noticing Diluc’s dissatisfaction and then added : “If you are that displeased, master Diluc, I can tell this tired and battered knight to get out from here into the dark night”.

Her voice remained even and emotionless as usual, but even like that young Ragnvindr could hear a light mocking in her words. And to think about it - he got so freaked out over some silly coincidence - the knight stopped here because of the injuries, not some insidious scheme.

“Alright”, Diluc admitted defeat: “they can stay… and offer them some food and tea”, he added just as Adelinde’s hand touched the doorknob.

“Will be done”, she replied before exiting the office. The corners of her mouth slightly moved and crept upwards.

***

Despite his earlier goal of finishing as much work as he can, Diluc couldn’t do anything. Small digits and letters started to float and dance before his eyes while the long lines fused together, when he tried to analyze the state of wine business in naught. But the worst thing was the fact that his thoughts strayed to the topic of mystery knight again and again and Diluc lost count how many times he caught himself thinking who this person is.

He sat like that for a while, until the cinnabar of dying sky got replaced by the darkness and pleasant chill of the night.

Diluc scolded himself for his uncharacteristic indecisiveness, standing up from the desk and locking the office, when this thought, loud and persisting, knocked into his head again. Wouldn’t it be nice, he wondered, to learn who this night is, and finally decided. After all the thoughts about them pestered him for a long time.

Quietly and carefully walking through the unlit corridor of the winery, he confirmed that all servants and workers had already left for sleep, some into the rooms of the main building designated for them, some into the cabins around it. All in all, he was confident that there’s no one except him, the knight, Adelinde and a couple of other maids.

His steps were quiet and slow and not even a single board in the wooden floor creaked under his weight as he knew the winery like the back of his hand. With a bated breath he made his way downstairs, making out vague shapes of the familiar objects. Moonlight pouring out through the windows illuminated only the silhouettes, but even with that he quickly noticed the unknown frame.

The person was half-sitting half-lying on the sofa, and their sword and armor were placed nearby the furniture, reflecting the pale light of the moon. They weren’t moving, seemingly asleep. Diluc couldn’t make out their face even after making a coming closer, so he decided to take the risk and summoned a small wisp of flame.

The dancing light illuminated everything in a small radius and what he saw made him jolt and take a step back. You were the mystery knight.

Why are you still a knight? Where were you? Who injured you?

Still shocked by the previous revelation, Diluc accidentally knocked over the breastplate with his foot and it fell on it’s side with a loud thump.

You woke up.

“What… Who?”, you stirred and half sat on the elbow: “Ah, it’s you” and saw him :”What are you doing here?”.

Caught red handed, Diluc didn’t find any words - it was so sudden and unusual to be caught unaware, and because of that doubly unpleasant.

“This is my winery and I am free to do whatever I want”, he decided to hide the awkwardness behind the faux annoyance.

“Easy, easy” you half smiled, half yawned: “I just managed to fall asleep”. You yawned again and blinked at him with sleepy tired eyes.

“I have sleep medicine if you want some”

You got surprised and touched by his sudden responsiveness: “Thank you, but I think painkillers would be better. My body is aching and that’s the main problem”.

Maybe because of the trembling, dancing light or maybe because of the recent sleep you imagined worry and pity twisting his facial features.

“I have it too. Wait here”, he quickly replied and vanished into the dim darkness of the winery, not giving you any time to answer, as you were left to sit and wait for him. Diluc, to your own surprise, happened to be extremely stealthy, able to move without producing a single sound.

“Here”, you first heard and then saw him,as Diluc used pyro vision to light the nearby candlestick and then opened the medicine vial he brought and handed it to you: “Drink it all”.

“Thank you”, you whispered to him, taking the painkiller before making a big gulp. The taste was horrible, so horrible in fact that you almost immediately started to violently cough. Well, if it’s as effective as foul, then I will be good as new in no time, you thought to yourself, suppressing the urge to throw up.

Diluc stood nearby and observed your reaction, his hand extended on his own when the coughing started as he awkwardly tried to pat your back in the gesture of comfort. “I will be here with you until you fall asleep”, he stated once the fit stopped and then, seeing your highly raised brows explained further: “Painkiller takes time to work. Tell me if you won’t feel better”.

You nodded in response, and closed eyes, listening to the sensations of your body. Your injuries still burned and screamed and throbbed, yet a strange numb sensation started to slowly surround you. Just like Diluc said, medicine would need time to fully settle in.

“If you're here can you talk with me?”, you decided to shorten the time in conversation: “Ijust wanted to talk with you. For a really long time”.

“About what?”, he allowed himself a shadow of the smile, Diluc that you used to know peeking through the gloomy facade, like a long awaited sun or it’s reflection on the tranquil mirror of the water surface. Next words stuck in your throat, bitter and acidic and totally unfit, and you had to force them out through your own hesitance to destroy this calm.

“What happened that day? The day before you left. I asked Jean and Kaeya and other knights who were present with you, yet no one said anything”, the water surface bubbled and the visage of that old, sunny Ragnvindr shattered into thousand pieces. The person before you adopted the same cold facade of annoyance and indifference.

“Why do you need to know it?”, he answered the question with another question and you sensed barely buried hurt and grief.

“You leaving hurt. A lot”

“That’s why you are still a knight?”, you quickly nodded at that.

A minute passed by and he still stood, without saying a single word, thinking what to do. On one hand, he didn;t want to open up, the story of his eighteenth birthday was incredibly painful and personal experience to be shared so freely, on the other hand he yearned for your understanding.

"Alright", he broke the silence:"Let's make a deal, you answer my questions and I'll tell you the whole story after. Deal?"

"Deal".

Diluc looked at you again, looked at the bruises and cuts, still peeking through the bandages and for a second his mind lit up with one thought alone: what disgusting bastard did that to you. He suppressed the rapidly rising rage, deciding to start from the most important.

"Is my leave the only reason why you decided to stay?" his heart picks up the pace again, he needs to know the answer.

"Basically yes, you knownI didn’t do it for my parents… I just.. That tragedy, I know it's not my place, but… I always wanted what happened to you. I asked this question to myself everyday and night, and I missed you terribly".

His breath hitched and he lowered his gaze. For some reason you always managed to fluster him with the words alone, even if it wasn't your intention.

"Your parents must be happy", h e changed the topic, stifling the heat in his heart.

"Yeah, they're ecstatic that I stopped being difficult and made their aspirations real. Hm, do you have any other questions?"

"What happened to you? ",he pointed at the bandages covering most of your body.

"Ah, catching treasure hoarders does that to you, usual stuff", you dismissed his concerns and Diluc started seeing red from the way your voice remained so calm and unbothered. Usual stuff? Usual stuff?!

"Grandmaster could send anyone else", he snapped:"Favonius Order has more than plenty of vision holders, they should've sent one, instead of you! You could die!".

Diluc’s sudden explosion left you speechless, but soon your own weaved words of irritation:"Ordo Favonius doesn't consist of Jean and Kaeya only. We can't let them handle all the hard and dangerous business all the time. Ordinary people like me can still help, even if the gods didn’t favour us. Don't think of me as some helpless idiot just because I have no shiny vision to show off"

Your heated response seemed to work and Diluc turned red from embarrassment, realizing how annoyed you got, despite the worry for your health and still present anger at the other knights for letting you get hurt. He also didn’t like how you looked at him, reprimanding and disappointed.

"Alright, sorry", he cleared his throat:"where were you before? I haven't seen you anywhere"

"City gates aren't the only thing that needs guarding. I was sent to the Liyue border, to make sure that no treasure gang crosses it. I think I will get sent there again, once I fully recover".

Diluc got angry at that too, yet this time he suppressed unpleasant feelings, already knowing how you will rebuke and reprimand him again. There's no convincing to be done, as you won't change your opinion. You left him no choice for what he was going to do.

"Alright, you answered all my questions", he said before changing topic again:"Did painkillers start working? I have another".

Being so engrossed in the conversation you forgot about the ache, yet once he mentioned it your body started to hurt with a renewed strength.

"Yes, I would like one", you decided and Diluc vanished in the unlit hall yet again.

"Here", he handed the small bottle to you already opened. The new substance was different, sweet and viscous. You managed to take two sips before your eyelids started to feel up with lead, and soon even lifting a hand seemed like a highly arduous task. Whatever the thing that Diluc gave you wasn't a painkiller.

"What…", you uttered, before your body relaxed and you fell asleep once again. Diluc bent over, looming over your unconscious form, as his hands carefully took the bottle away. He didn’t want it to somehow fall and injure you

This is a necessary measure, Diluc assured himself, before making a plan of actions. He would need to fake your disappearance and forge enough leads to direct investigation into the completely opposite direction, but now he needed to wake Adelinde up and ask her to prepare the room in the basement. He didn't want you to be uncomfortable in your new home.

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Diluc, Childe, Kaeya & Zhongli / Darling Saying “I hate you.”

Warnings: Suggestive themes and typical unhealthy yandere behavior. Note: sometimes in life we just gotta suffer,

Diluc had told himself that this was for your own good.

That’s what gave him the ability to rest at night -- while holding the knowledge of all the freedoms he’s taken from you -- that you are safe. There’s air in your lungs, healthy color to your cheeks, and life shining brightly in your eyes. It’d be selfish to ask for anything more, he would reason. This is good enough, is what he’d think, not fully sure if he believed the creed himself. 

Now he knows those words were but a lie to cover a gaping wound in his heart.

He gazes at you now, his hand reaching out, only to stop when you flinch away. The reality that he tried so desperately to push down has risen to the surface, your turmoil not easily ignored. Diluc needs to remain steadfast as he considers hesitation an insult. Certainly, he is low for holding you here against your will, but it’d be that much worse if he started questioning himself. 

“I know,” is the strained answer he arrives at. You hear the pain in his voice, how the words were all but pried from him. “I’ve always known.” 

“Then why?” You plead, exasperation pushing you past the limit. His head is hung low for once, unable to meet your scrutinizing gaze, instead taking an acute interest in the wooden floorboard beneath his feet. 

It brings him back to his childhood, like a kid being scolded for an illogical grievance against their sibling. Your question strikes deep and close to the heart. His answer comes fast, almost robotic, as if he’s practiced it in the mirror countless times.

“For your safety.”

And so you won’t leave like everyone else has.

Exchanging thinly veiled antagonism behind the guise of banter has always thrilled Childe. This game the two of you play, he wouldn’t change it for the world, deriving too much satisfaction in your flustered reactions. Every day is spent thinking about when he’ll get to see you next, what words might bring out the cutest expressions. 

The manner you deliver the line is frigid and he can’t help but be reminded of  Snezhnaya’s climate. For a fleeting moment, it stings, like snowflakes against bare skin. If there’s anything Childe excels at, it’s warding off the cold. He laughs, once, twice, face illuminated with uncanny elation. 

You watch in disbelief as he treats your honest admission as nothing but a joke. There’s nothing you can think to say to describe the frustration that grows in the depths of your soul, Childe’s response encapsulating exactly why you said it in the first place. Half of you considers leaving him where he stands, but you know better, he’d follow after you relentlessly. A Fatui Harbinger’s ability to spot and track their prey cannot be understated.

When his laughter starts to settle down, he speaks. “So the truth comes out, hm?” 

Childe stalks towards you, sporting a wolf-like grin that sends shivers down your spine, every step you take back not enough to increase the space between you two. Eventually, your back hits the wall. Childe takes advantage of your lack of escape, taking your chin in his hand and placing his arm by your head. At that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the looming height difference, though he leans down to look at you closer.

“Hate me all you want,” he hums, his voice dipping lower with each syllable. “But I’m not going anywhere, ever, so keep that in mind. And who knows?”

Childe winks at you.

“Maybe I have a thing for being degraded.”

To be looked at with suspicion is nothing new to Kaeya. Everyone has their own reasons for doing so, whether it be to his cunning nature creating suspicion, or his country of origin. Though, he admits, your reasoning is far more personal than that. After all, his schemes have sent you into a whirlwind of misfortune. 

Kaeya moves back, observing how your chest rises and falls with each labored breath, the way you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s quietly grateful that your former entangled position didn’t grant you the ability to see his face, as shock undoubtedly must’ve crossed over it. Moment’s later, he’s collected, in control of every twitch and crease of his expression. 

“Hm, while I never excelled in my linguistics tutoring, I think I’m familiar enough with the word hate to draw a different conclusion,” Kaeya nods to your discarded clothes on the floor, to which you flush even brighter than before. “Is that what you’d call this? You were throwing yourself at me just a few seconds ago, y’know.” 

He’s getting under your skin on purpose. You know this, seeing the trap he’s laid out without even trying to hide it, yet still fall for it to defend yourself.

“Where else am I supposed to go, when no one even looks me in the eye anymore?” You challenge, wiping the saliva from your lips with the back of your hand. Kaeya hums, considering your inquiry, fingers rubbing circles into your skin as he does so. The contact makes your mind hazy, being deprived of physical contact having done a toll on you. To come to him for comfort is a blow to your pride.

“Your hand could’ve always helped with that, but you still chose mine.” Kaeya smiles, ducking down to press open-mouthed kisses against your neck. You decide not to honor him with any further response. It feeds into his ego and that’s the last thing you want, so you close your eyes and sigh. 

He pauses for a brief moment, not willing to let it go. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I’ll always find a way to make time for you.” 

Zhongli places his cup of tea down onto the table, outward reaction schooled and giving nothing away. It’s a pathetic, last-ditch attempt to earn an emotional response, even you know this. From how he whispers archaic prose into your ear about his love and adoration for you, you were expecting at least... something. A frown, furrowed eyebrows, pain in his amber eyes. Anything. 

His visage remains unchanging. You drum your fingers against the table, narrowing your eyes and jutting your bottom lip out. It took you weeks to work up the courage to tell him this! Indignation and embarrassment blossom inside your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Any other time he’s talkative, but for some reason, he’s decided to take some vow of silence now. 

You perk up expectantly when he clears his throat. 

“It was never in the terms of our contract for you to have positive feelings towards me,” Zhongli decides, raising the cup to his lips and blowing. “Though, if I might add, I would personally like it if you did.” 

Maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed silent after all. There’s no validation to be found in his taciturn response, no substance to appease your burning frustration. The word contract sticks out like a sore thumb. Petty as it might be to continue this exchange, you feel vindicated enough to do just that.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the correct term would be marriage, not contract.”

“Are the two not one and the same? You’ve pledged yourself eternally to be my significant other, in the same way a contract binds two parties together.” Zhongli watches how you slide down into your seat dejectedly. Attempting to start an argument with Zhongli was akin to yelling at a brick wall, you decide.

“Don’t act so proud of yourself for swindling my parents into believing you’re an upstanding person.” 

His lips quirk up for the briefest of moments.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the term would be negotiating, not swindling.” 

You leave him to eat his breakfast alone. 

[aminiatureworld]

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

 Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

 Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing  to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

 Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.  

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

[bridgetserdocksketches]

We're suffering tonight, boys

Lena isn’t avoiding Kara, okay? She’s just very busy. That’s all. What with being the CEO of her own company, running her own experiments, and this new little passion project she has a lot going on. Her absence in Kara’s life these past few days has absolutely nothing to do with the black eye she’s currently sporting. Don’t be ridiculous.

Though, in hindsight, she really should’ve known she’d only be able to bail on lunch with Kara so many times before she came knocking.

Lena’s knee deep in some complex coding, trying to figure out what went wrong with this last test and fix it, when she gets the call. She barely even looks at her phone screen before answering. Not that she needs to.

“Kara, hi,” she says warmly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Well, shit. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Are you sick? You know if you’re sick you can just tell me, right?”

“Yes, I-- no, Kara. I’m not sick.”

Lena can practically see the pinch in her brow. The confusion painted all over her face as she tries to puzzle out what’s going on with Lena.

“Okay, well you skipped lunch three times this week. Is everything alright?” Kara asks.

“Yes, everything’s perfectly fine. I’ve just been busy,” Lena assures her.

“So you’re not avoiding me?”

Lena breathes out a sigh that borders on a laugh. “No.”

“Alright, then can you come let me in?”

Before Lena can even ask where she is or what she means (as if she doesn’t already know), there’s a knocking at the door. Not the front door, of course. No, that would be far too mundane. It’s at the back door. The balcony door. The one that Lena always leaves unlocked, but Kara refuses to open without being welcomed in.

Her immediate reaction is to get up and open the door for Kara. But then Kara would see the black eye that much sooner. And if she can stall for even a few seconds longer, she will. So instead, she simply turns over her shoulder (careful to keep her left eye obscured) and calls out to Kara.

“It’s open.”

Still wearing the Supergirl suit and wielding a takeout bag, Kara strides into Lena’s apartment with a little spring in her step. Because as far as she’s concerned, Lena hasn’t been avoiding her. Lena isn’t hiding a few secrets from her and has nothing out of the ordinary going on. She’s just a little extra busy with that passion project she has outright refused to share any information about with anyone. There is absolutely nothing for her - or Lena, for that matter - to worry about.

“I figured you didn’t eat anything since you skipped lunch, again,” Kara drawls, the barest hint of disappointment in her words. “So I brought you dinner.” She walks around to get in front of Lena, finally, and plops the greasy bag of Big Belly Burger down on the counter. “Voila!”

There’s a five second gap after the delectable diabetic nightmare is presented before Lena. Five charged seconds where Lena simply waits for Kara to finally notice. At first, she’s a little too proud of herself. A grin so broad and brilliant and downright beautiful it could be considered blinding spread across her face. But then those blue eyes of hers track a little to the left and they go wide. Her mouth falls open. Her brow pinches. And several emotions flicker over her visage all at once.

Her lips work around a few words, spluttering on air briefly, before she finally settles on “Lena!”

And Lena can’t help herself. “Kara?”

Kara blinks. “What-- When-- Who did this to you?”

Lena exhales deeply and leans back in her chair. “No one did this to me.”

Kara’s around on Lena’s side of the counter in the space of a heartbeat. Her hands cradling Lena’s face like it’ll break under the slightest amount of pressure as she examines her.

“What happened?” She demands.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Lena insists.

It’s almost believable, too. But then Kara’s thumb chances a little too close to her left eye. With a hiss of pain, Lena flinches from her hand. Kara’s brow furrows further and her frown deepens.

“Lena--”

“I’m fine, Kara. Really,” Lena says. She takes both of Kara’s hands in her own and pulls them down from her face. “It was just an experiment gone wrong.”

“What sort of experiment gives people black eyes?”

Lena breathes out an indignant little huff of air. “It’ll be easier to just show you.”

Kara’s gaze narrows. “Alright.”

Kara is right on Lena’s heels as they walk to the spare room. The room Lena has taken to calling the nursery, where Baymax is lying in wait. At this stage in his development, he’s pretty infantile at best. He knows a few key phrases and can identify a person as long as they’re standing in front of him. But he can’t hold a conversation and his object permanence is severely lacking. So, yeah. Lena’s gonna call his room a nursery.

Baymax is in his charging pod where she’d left him a few days ago (when their most recent test run failed spectacularly, leaving Lena with a shiner). There isn’t anything else in the room, though. Lena had removed a lot of it to make space for his assembly. Once that was done, she decided to keep the room empty after he broke her last laptop after a particularly nasty glitch. So the only thing in here, as far as Kara’s concerned, is some weird red luggage tucked against the back wall.

“What am I looking at?” Kara asks, the worry from before replaced with confusion and curiosity.

“Hopefully something that’ll help a lot of people,” Lena says.

It’s cryptic, she’ll admit. But it’s hard to explain exactly what Baymax is at this point. Because he’s not simply a robot anymore. He’s taken on so much more personality and life in just the few weeks since his first test run. He’s learning. Growing. Like a person.

So instead of explaining, Lena crosses the length of the room, kneels down in front of the charging pod, and activates the robot.

Later, Kara would say that Lena leapt away from the charging station as it booted up. Like she’d gotten zapped or something. Lena, however, would vehemently insist that she simply hurried away in case something went wrong. Either way, she now stands alongside Kara, watching with bated breath as Baymax comes back to life.

She counts the seconds it takes him to inflate. 23. They need to get that down. He needs to be faster. If someone is really hurt, he has to be able to help. It takes another 4 seconds for Baymax to fully boot up. His eyes blink to signify that he’s fully functional and ready to assist. A total of 27 seconds. They can do better.

Not that Kara notices. She’s staring open mouthed and wide eyed as Baymax awkwardly stumbles out of his charging pod. His steps are heavy, almost as if he thinks the floor is further down (just another thing to iron out). He stops moving about two feet away from them both. Lifts his hand limply into the air (the fingers not fully inflated or opposable yet).

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

And then he freezes. Standing right there. Unmoving and, to be frank, a little terrifying.

“Wow,” Kara breathes.

“Yeah,” Lena agrees. “He’s still got a lot of bugs to work out. Hence the black eye.” She gestures at her left eye vaguely. “But when he’s finished, he’s going to help a lot of people.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kara asks.

Lena turns to her now. Her brow arched and a playful little smirk on her lips. “What? Is being Supergirl not enough for you?”

“Don't get me wrong. I love being Supergirl, but this.” She points at Baymax’s frozen form. “This will be able to do something I never could.”

Lena’s smirk falls into something softer. Something kinder. Kara finally looks at her now.

“Now, I’m not great with coding and all that… stuff. But I can help you test him out. No matter how hard he tries, he’s not going to be able to give me a black eye.”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Do I… do I start now?” Kara asks hesitantly. She fidgets uncomfortably with the sign Lena handed her, then adjusts her glasses.

Lena smiles at her from behind her computer. “You can start whenever you like. But I do want to be done by dinner, darling.”

“Right.” Kara nods.

She looks away from Lena, her eyes landing on Baymax. And then she grins. That unfairly perfect grin. The one that is so infectious it’s a wonder the CDC aren’t investigating it yet.

“This is Kara Danvers,” She says, carefully enunciating each word. “And this is the first test of mine and Lena Luthor’s Baymax Project.”

She reaches forward, just like Lena showed her, and turns Baymax on. She grins again, up at the robot, and waits. Watches as he blinks, tilts his head down, and lifts his hand.

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

“Hello, Baymax!” She answers cheerily. “Would you please scan me?”

“Beginning scan now,” Baymax announces.

But that’s not what happens. No, it would be too simple if that’s what happens next. Instead, the entire system glitches. And both his arms start vibrating rapidly.

Kara’s face pales. “Uh, Lena,” she calls, not daring to look away from another rogue robot. “Is he supposed to be doing that?”

“No,” Lena says quickly. She looks between the two screens in front of her, trying to search for the error in his code to stop this from happening next time. “You gotta shut him down, Kara.”

“Uh-oh!” Kara exclaims.

Lena’s head snaps up. “Uh-oh?”

“Sorry about your laptop,” Kara says, as if it’s her fault Baymax broke yet another computer. Lena really needs to stick to her no-computers-in-the-nursery rule.

“It’s alright.” Lena waves her off, dutifully working away at the code from her tablet. “I’ll just get another one.”

“Next time I’ll stand between the two of you. That way I can better stop his renegade flying arms.”

Lena's gaze snaps to where Kara sits, finishing off the last of their fries (Lena’s fries, really. But they always share). “Next time? You still want to help after that disaster?”

“Of course,” Kara says earnestly. Then her face screws up. “But do you think we could make him look a little friendlier? A bit rounder? You know. Friend-shaped?”

Lena snickers. “Friend-shaped?”

“Yeah. Friend-shaped.”

Lena laughs lightly, and start typing again. “I think I can make that work.”

Wow. That got away from me

So this is how Kara ends up being the one to test Baymax. It's also part of what Baymax shows to Lena after telling her "Kara is here."

This scene (as in the video, not the ficlet) would serve as an emotional low point, if you couldn't tell. And it would be the moment where Lena decides she's going to let the Superfriends use Baymax to save Kara (instead of his actual purpose which is, you know, healthcare)

[kodzumie-archived]

Komaeda eating out a shy fem reader for her first time? She’s nervous but really wants to do this 😔😔

❝PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE❞

Synopsis; Going down on you had always been a fantasy of Nagito’s, and—if you were being honest—yours as well. But will your anxieties allow you to pursue your mutual desire?

Featuring; Nagito Komaeda x Fem! Reader

Warning(s); (N)SFW and cunnilingus (oral sex).

Kodzumie’s Note; Of course I will! I apologize for the delay of your request! Thank you so much for requesting and your support. Take care! Muah <3

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ Truth be told, going down on you had always been a thought situated at the back of his mind when engaging in such erotic intimacy with you.

⤷ It’s a sexual fantasy of his; to swipe his tongue along your slit, collecting your dew and suffocating his senses in your clenching cunt. He dreams to taste you; to indulge in you.

⤷ Though despite how much he yearns to please you, and even follow your wishes of indulging in his own fantasies and pleasuring himself as well, he understood to respect your hesitancy to that particular act.

⤷ Nagito was one of many things, but he wasn’t going to force you into something he knew full well you weren’t comfortable with just yet.

⤷ He knew such a position was one that brought flourishes of vulnerability, and an uncomfortable exposure that you wished to ease into rather than dive in head-first.

⤷ You wanted time, and Nagito was more than willing to let you take as long as you need. Because honestly, he assumed you’d reject the idea without hesitancy, so he was more than willing to be patient.

⤷ At first, Nagito had assumed that you didn’t want him to go down on you. His mindset spiraling into the oh-so-familiar state of degradation that he put upon himself. He assumed that he was the problem, but thankfully, you relentlessly reassured him of otherwise.

⤷ Truthfully, you wanted to do it and, of all people, you’d prefer Nagito to be the one you’d allow to see you so vulnerable. You trusted him, you truly did. But there seemingly was always an inkling of fear; insecurity. What if you didn’t live up to the expectations of his fantasy? What if it didn’t feel as good as you assumed? What if something went wrong?

⤷ It was this seed of worry that lead you to avoid such ministrations. Guiding his head back up to press kissed against your neck rather than any lower.

⤷ Months after the first time he’d proposed the idea, and you’ve yet to engage. Postponing further and further as the urge grows suffocatingly tempting. You want to, you truly do, but...to this point, you begin to wonder; what’s holding you back?

⤷ You question this as you find yourself laid atop the blanketed mattress within your shared bedroom, bare and exposed to Nagito’s eyes as he looms above you with a tantalizing hunger in his eyes.

⤷ As his eyes interlock with yours, they soften for a moment before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, capturing a patch of skin between his lips as he licks and suckles. He marks your skin, staking his claim as he continues to travel farther down.

⤷ But once his lips reach between the valley of your breasts, peppering your chest in fleeting kisses before moving to take your right, hardened nipple within his mouth, he doesn’t dare travel further. Even as he loses himself in the curves of your body, he firmly ingrains your comfort with each fervent kiss.

⤷ You notice this. You’ve always noticed this; the way he puts your comfort and wishes as his priority, even when dazed by his craving to ravish you.

⤷ So that’s why, as you reluctantly swallowed back the anxious lump in your throat, you cup his cheeks and direct have a gaze back to you. Confusion sparks within his ghostly green hues as you refer to him with a shaky grin. “I think I’m ready.”

⤷ It took a moment or two before he managed to muster out some sort of reaction. His eyes widened as his mouth gaped open; his visage was composed of pure surprise. Yet there were tracings of ill-disguised happiness as the corners of his lips twitched into a smile.

⤷ “Are you sure?” He questions. His eyes fixated on your expression of bashfulness, attempting to decipher any traces of possible regret. But you nodded with a smile that seemed much less restless, putting forth faith in your decision; faith in your trust within Nagito.

⤷ At your confirmation, his lips begin to explore realms of your frame that he restrained himself from setting upon before. Kissing and sucking on the plush skin that his mouth had yet to discover. The sensation of his moist mouth clasping over your thighs was electrifying.

⤷ Yet even as his tongue drags over your thighs with such zeal, you couldn’t help the anxieties that bubbled within you, tearing your gaze away from him, muffling your whines.

⤷ And after a few moments of teasing bites and particularly harsh sucks, he noticed your lack of audible moans.

⤷ His first thought was that what he was doing wasn’t what you enjoyed, hence your silence. But as he lifted his quizzical gaze to meet yours, he discovered that your hand had been firmly placed over your mouth; stifling all your harmonious cries.

⤷ Not only that, but your eyes were cast to the side, avoiding his countenance. As much as the sight caused Nagito’s heart to flutter—having always been a sucker for your shy nature—he wanted you to gaze upon him as he devoured you; he wanted to hear you as he pushed you to unravel from the sole use of his mouth.

⤷ Thus, he pushes himself up from between your legs and gently wraps his fingers around your wrists. This causes you to momentarily meet his eyes before hurriedly clenching yours shut, attempting to hide your flustered face behind your hands.

⤷ But Nagito pries them away before you could; his grip gentle yet firm, to assure that you don’t try to hide your beloved face from him.

⤷ “Love,” He begins, waiting for you to open your eyes. But you don’t. Chewing on your bottom lip in nervousness as you try your utmost best to not look at him. Everything in that moment felt so overwhelming, and your poor little heart was struggling to handle it.

⤷ “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You know I only want what you’d enjoy most, right?” He reassures you. His hands atop both of yours as he cradles them so gently. And there it is, again.

⤷ Once more, you wonder what you continuously allow to hold you back from fulfilling your mutual desires; you want this just as much as him.

⤷ And even so, he’s respected every denial and even the current temporary false hope you’d provided. He’s been so patient with you, he’s been so good to you. It’s truly ludicrous that someone as considerate as him even exists. Much less that he also degrades himself constantly; degrading the person you truly believed to be the most respectful significant other to ever exist.

⤷ “No, no. I want to, I promise! It’s just...I’m just—“ You stumble over your words in an attempt to piece together why you keep prolonging this. But you couldn’t formulate the words. Even as you stuttered and tries to come forth with a decent explanation, you couldn’t. Did you even know why?

⤷ Upon your silence, Nagito leaned forward to meet his lips with yours, drawing you in for a kiss. Finally, you open your eyes to meet his softened pair as he pulled away. Time seemed to still as you accepted that you didn’t truly have a reason other than the turmoil of emotions within you.

⤷ “I’m just nervous.” The words that fell from your lips were like mist, so subtle you almost assumed he didn’t hear you. But he did, and a breathy chuckle escaped him as he pecked your lips once more.

⤷ “Is that so?” He hums. You nod, tempted to break eye contact as embarrassment seeps into you. Your mind pacing with a flurry of anxieties. What kind of excuse is that? Nervous? Surely he sees you as pathetic now. What did you have to be nervous of? You trust him, don’t you?

⤷ Wallowing in remorse and self-pity as you suffocated within your shame, you tear your gaze away. But a sigh of relief forces your head to whirl back to gaze upon Nagito; the bearer of that sigh of relief.

⤷ “My hope, it’s okay to be nervous. Honestly, I’d be more alarmed if you weren’t nervous.” He admits. You’re thrown into a state of disbelief; confusion.

⤷ Over and over, he reassures you and promises that your feelings are valid and normal. He promises that it’s okay to be nervous, you’re trying something new, after all.

⤷ His delicate words and consideration cause your heart to swell as your worries have relatively eased up. The fears—the anxiety—that seemed to cage you were eased, almost as though they were never there. It’s almost terrifying how easily he could calm you.

⤷ Nagito allowed his words to hang in the air as you processed it all. He respectively awaited your answer, pleased, regardless of what it’d be. Because Nagito’s relief had stemmed from your ability to confide in him, and that means more than any form of sexual pleasure.

⤷ As you exhale, sighing out the last of your contemplation, you meet his eyes with a much more confident visage.

⤷ “I want to do this. I really do.” A voiced affirmation, and one that you felt assured of. You wanted this and, even through your nervousness, you genuinely wanted this.

⤷ Once again, he trails kisses along your body; from your jaw all the way to your thighs. Each kiss brushed over with a swipe of his tongue, teasingly stimulating you.

⤷ With each peck, he lowers. Closer and closer as you begin to anxiously squirm. It’s still so nervewracking, but you’ve culminated a determination to follow through. Despite your bashfulness causing you to tear your gaze away from Nagito.

⤷ This time, he’s not so forgiving as his teeth gently clamp down onto your thigh. You yelp, moaning out in slight pain and surprise as you turn your head back towards him; gazing as his head was tucked between your thighs, breath fanning over your pussy whilst his green orbs pierced into yours.

⤷ “Keep your eyes on me.” He ordered before tentatively rubbing his tongue over the bite mark as an unspoken apology. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as arousal overcomes you at his unnaturally assertive nature.

⤷ You oblige; keeping your eyes trained on his face as he returns to his ministrations. Heart thumping and ringing in your ears, you gasp as a Nagito dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit.

⤷ He hums, a serene chuckle resonating from the back of his throat before he circles his tongue around your clit. Soon enough, his lips curl around the bud, suckling gently as to avoid hurting you, yet stimulating you enough to release a small shriek.

⤷ After the initial slurp—the testing of new water—Nagito found himself encapsulated within a trance; his lips popping off of your bundle of nerves before plunging his tongue into your tight, drooling cunt repeatedly. Over and over, he continuously yearned for more of you; more of your flavor. You tasted heavenly.

⤷ Restlessly circling his tongue from within you, familiarizing himself with your walls as he douses himself in your juices; his senses engulfed with you in your entirety. And he adored every second of it.

⤷ Just like he adored the squeals of euphoria followed by your alluringly baritone moans that eagerly shot blood to his erection, straining against his pants with full intent to be sheathed within you. But he, too, wanted to savor your tastes.

⤷ With each slurp, you found yourself edging towards your release. Your toes curling, spurts of shock stunning your legs as you twitch and squirm, attempting to make some distance between the nearly unbearable waves of pleasure.

⤷ But Nagito kept a firm grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin. His mouth relentless upon his ravishing; he wanted to taste you as you reach your high, and he wants you to ride it out as his tongue swirls within you.

⤷ It only took a mere few seconds before you let out a particularly loud whine, tremors wracking through your body as your cunt squirts your juices; your cum drizzling down Nagito’s chin as he hungrily laps it up.

⤷ “Nagi—Ah!” You attempt to speak—voice hoarse and raspy—but the aftershock of your orgasm causing your pussy to be far more sensitive. Every kitten lick Nagito takes is intensified as you pant.

⤷ And soon enough, everything stills. Your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as Nagito finally arises from between your thighs, his bottom lip and chin drizzled with your cum.

⤷ The sight flusters you as you gaped. His tongue dragged over your nectar, eagerly relishing in the remains of your orgasm as he grinned.

⤷ “So, how was it?” He asks, curious to your perspective; after all, you were very hesitant prior. It warms your heart how, even after everything, your well-being is the main thing on his mind.

⤷ With an exhausted sigh, you wrap your arms around your lover’s neck, tugging him down onto the bed with you. His clothed chest pressed against your bare one as you held him close, the delicate pulsating of your hearts sloppily synchronize. “It was amazing. Thank you, ”