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matsunoluvr · 2 months

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୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how I think the boys from love and deepspace would give a first kiss :3

warnings: suggestive content (obviously?), writing might be out of character, spoilers in general, i get carried away explaining everything because i'm afraid of being accused of mischaracterisation

[story spoiler] first kiss = first kiss where mc is a hunter/the timeline in game

authors notes: i have favourites and it will show CLEARLY in my writing… sorry (not sorry no1 rafayel stan) and i am a yapper

characters: rafayel, xavier, zayne and sylus

link to my master list here!!

more below the cut :3

sorry rafayel... but i feel like he's the most unskilled at kisses because - hear me out - you're his very first kiss. lemurians as a species seem to value bonds and loyalty, and as the literal sea god he wasn't able to nor wanted to just hook up or mess around - he's looking for devotion!!!

(okay, we ignore the kiss in forgotten sea myth story because like come on there was literally no romance mc was drowning)

definitely waits a while before kissing you, rayafel really takes his time to fall into place. after all, he needs to make sure his beloved bride/groom is well and truly his!!!

the type to wait for the ‘right moment’ - but doesn’t force or stage it ykwim? like the time comes naturally - e.g. watching the sunset, or you’re leaning close to him whilst he’s painting

he’s a romantic 100% like there’s a reason his 'floral promise' card was (imo) way fluffier compared to the others - like xavier's was tender-ish but rafayel was fucking melting

he's a sweet talker I just know it.

that charm he uses on his clients? he doesn't want to nor will he manipulate you with it but you know he's going to ramp up the charm to tease you a little

definitely knows his effect on you and uses it to his full advantage (cough cough fiery undercurrents secret times) like whispering in your ear, making excuses to touch you or get close to you

(i think he’d be more 'traditional' because of lemurian customs - the whole bonding + [forgotten sea spoilers] the sea god ceremony where the mc must devote themselves to rafayel displaying a strong level of devotion)

SUCH A GENTLE KISSER OMG like compared to his almost bratty and childish personality he’s a gentleman when it comes to kisses (also because he's kind of unsure what to do...)

the type to tuck strand of your hair behind your ear, fiddle with it a little maybe twirl it around his finger before trailing a finger along your jawline... i can see him like massaging your ear too? idk how to describe it he's a handsy man

first kiss was definitely more sweet than passionate ugawhriulgs he's such a cutie

right after the first kiss i think he’d be pretty affectionate, rather than bratty/tsundere since for him to kiss someone i believe he’d really need to love them (and therefore is more open to being vulnerable)

affectionate as in saying something cheesy probably, commenting on how you tasted or another one of his poetic, artistic quotes (dw raf we love it)

wouldn't be satisfied with just one after that, i can see him going in for a more passionate second and even a third (i mean look at his 'floral promise' memory OR 'fiery undercurrents') in the same few minutes

these follow up kisses would probably be longer and way less chaste, hands moving from tilting your chin up to your waist ahahahahahuwfa

you'd have to show him the appeal of tongue if that's your thing because he's seen it before but never really saw what was nice about it

"But... you're just drinking each other's saliva?" "Rafayel that's hot-"

definitely relived the moment in his head hundreds of times after that night - and you bet your ass he painted a piece inspired from your first kiss with him

any kisses after that i feel like they would follow this default pattern;

if he initiated the kiss i think he’d be more cocky and teasing, especially if he surprised you with one and he sees your flustered face

“Didn’t expect that huh, cutie?”

if you surprised him, however, get ready for typical rafayel childish behaviour, blushing and averting his eyes, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and a pout

“Hey- what was that for!!” Σ（・□・；）

either way rafayel is the worlds silliest man and would cave into literally anything with just a few kisses from you

ALSO KISS HIS COLLAR BONES AND YOU'VE GOT A WHOLE NEW SCENARIO TO UNFOLD

oh i just have a feeling this man is devouring you because puh-LEASEE?? sir we aren't forgetting your 'tender night' card i know that night was anything but tender

xavier is the definition of pent-up desire because this man has been waiting a LONG time and he's not going to be able to hold back very well

(taking heavy inspiration from his '21 days' memory because with his reaction it kind of feels like his first kiss with mc... but tbh i don't know much about xavi)

he's definitely not shy when it comes down to it, yeah he gets flustered if he thinks about it because of course imagining kissing the person he's pined over for centuries is going to fluster the shit out of him but he doesn't shy away form the idea or avoid the topic in conversation

i feel like he'd bring it up casually - like in the 'partner go go' event (aka heartbreaker-chasing-rhythm-game event) he was so insistent on the 'kissing page'

mc was like "apparently you can solve arguments with a kiss" and this mf straight up said "we can argue then" this man is STARVED

i feel like you'd need to initiate the kiss or give him very clear signs you'd be okay with a kiss for it to happen, i don't know why i just feel like he's that type of person

the first kiss is deep despite him trying his best to hold back - you can just feel his desire and longing oozing out of him and he's definitely on fucking cloud nine

xavier's holding your face and stroking his thumb along your cheek and god damn he's good at kissing where the fuck did he learn this from?

the type to break the kiss and then fucking bulldoze into the next one and my god his restraints have broken and he's actually kissing you as if it's the last thing he's able to do on earth

100% a tongue user he's biting at your bottom lip before slipping it in the sly minx

after the kiss he's more flustered than he expected to be - kissing the love of his life (literally) sends him into a flurry of emotions he's never really experienced before

given how possessive xavier is i wouldn't be surprised if halfway through making out he managed to leave a hickey or two in very. visible. places.

he isn't even pretending to feel guilty in the slightest, a smug grin as he shrugs out a half-assed apology.

"Sorry, I guess you'll have to try hide it. Or don't, that would be easier."

if you leave any marks on him he's not leaving you along that night. forget sleeping you two are recreating 'tender night' ALL night.

but seriously, if you leave hickeys over his neck (his canonical sensitive area and where he feels vulnerable) he's going to go crazy because what do you mean you want everyone to know he's yours??? what do you mean you want him as much as he wants you??

tldr; xavier is unusually talented with his mouth and is desperate to prove it to you.

i accidentally wrote way more for xavier than i expected i even cut out some bits holy crap maybe i’m more into xavi than i thought

oh no... zayne you beautiful man i am so sorry... (here comes the one character i have no idea how to characterise + no clue about his lore zayne fans pls bear with me)

okay - zayne looks like a gentleman and i'm sure he very much is even in intimate moments, but i cannot get rid of the idea that his first kiss w you was lowk spicyyyyy

like OH MY GOD I JUST WATCHED SNOWY SERENITY RN I FUCKIGN KNEW IT

that man was pouncing on you in a hospital bed, dishevelled, and kissing you deep my god like the type of kiss that literally as you forgetting where you are

i feel like zayne would be the one to initiate the kiss, again no idea why maybe i'm falling into the dominant zayne agenda

you're probably surprised when he kisses you because he's usually so composed, the 'cold unfeeling' dr zayne - then suddenly he's panting and pushing himself on top of you (consensually of course), pinning you down and going to town.

when he kisses you i don't think he's much of a lip biter, but if you bite his lips or lick at him or anything he's not opposed, as long as your lips are on his and vice versa

after the first kiss he's going straight into another one, his patience has thinned to the point of snapping and now he just needs you.

his hands what does he do with his hands? i'm thinking the typical otome face hold, gentle grasp juxtaposing his fervent kisses LOL

now, why does he kiss you?? how does this all build up? unfortunately all i can think of to match this scenario is something angsty or something along the lines of zayne has fucking had it and all he wants is you

"I need you... please."

this is the type of kiss where he wants to drown in you, breathe you in and just smother his being into yours to forget and erase whatever else is happening/happened

if he's kissing you and pinning you down and you bring up your hand to interlock fingers with him - your warm hands against his cool hands? wow his kissing is all of a sudden even more passionate.

after the little make out session he's going to go all mushy on you, physical affection of an embrace something uncharacteristic of him to match his dishevelled state

in kisses after the first i like the idea that he checks your pulse mid make-out and just silently smirks/chuckles when he notices it's faster and more erratic than usual

"Why are you nervous, this isn't our first time."

he also has this sneaky habit of whispering incredibly close to your ear, the reason why i choose to point this out it because i feel like sometimes he uses his evol to his advantage to like, breathe out cool air on your neck/ear and likes to watch you shiver

the ultimate dominant figure if you try to kiss him first and take control he somehow manages to overcome you and take the lead without using his strength, just good ol' sweet talking and technique

congratulations, you managed to snatch a kiss from the renown leader sylus!!!

i can see why people would think he's promiscuous or a fuck-boy because honestly i see it, but imo just because he is more flirtatious, assertive and... responsive (try tapping his... crotch... in the café LOL) does NOT = play boy

to me it just shows that - unlike the other LIs - sylus is just more forward with his approach, he has that devil-may-care like feel to him ykwim?

"Do I like you? What type of question is that, isn't it obvious? Or do I need to show you?" is much different to "Hey baby girl lemme rock your world tnite xx"

but just because he's got a 'fuck-all' attitude doesn't mean he fucks around with random people, he's 1. got standards and 2. living in the n109 zone?? do you THINK he can afford to let random people close just to fuck???

that being said i don't think he's a kiss virgin, just very selective and honest man when it comes to love and physical intimacy

now, when i say he isn't a fuckboy, that doesn't mean i don't believe in cocky-smugass-know-it-all sylus - he kisses well. and with PASSION. and probably the worst part is that he knows it.

first kiss with sylus? i can't imagine him making a large fuss about it like rafayel, nor it having to be some "i'm-at-deaths-door-and-need-to-kiss-you-atleast-once" situation like zayne, but no matter where or when you two share a first kiss he is making sure you remember

that being said, there was definitely a LOT of romantic and sexual tension between you and sylus for at least weeks before the kiss, i mean the air was thick with suggestive glances and denial

i think you two'd have to already be in close proximity which is very easy to achieve with sylus (touchiest man award goes to him) for the first kiss to initiate

he's grabbing your waist, or your face, makings sure your eyes are on. him. as you two kiss. watching with delight no matter what reactions you have, he admires you through surprised and flustered to confident and defiant

rather than a tender first kiss it’s probably a full blown make out session, just desire and lust flooding out of the both of you after having built up for over a month.

assertive does not mean he's going to force a kiss on you to clear this up, more that he likes to take the initiative and take control as you two kiss <3

yeah he's into biting (wow what a big shock) - likes biting your ear, or neck, or bottom lip, one time he tried nipping at your tongue too.

you can bite him back, he likes it.

"Hah, looks like someone is baring their claws tonight..." he’s really into that whole cat thing huh.

what does mr sylus do with his hands? waist, hips, ass, around your neck, pulling your face in by squeezing your cheeks, fingers threading through the hair on the back of your head, you name it he does it. again, i think sylus is a touchy man.

he doesn't mind if you try to take control, just dont expect to be successful. different to zayne - as in he will overcome your control with his evol and strength…

inappropriate use of his evol has occurred (he ‘tied’ you up and made out with you (CONSENSUALLY))

after his affinity 15 (i think) memory i can just tell he’s freaky with it bruhhh so yeah handcuffs are probably something he indulges in

if you’re persistent or physically overcome sylus you might get rewarded with a resigned, more submissive sylus

the idea or sight of someone man handling/overcoming his strength really sets him off.. i mean have you seen “no defence zone”?? but you’re really going to need to work to get him to this stage, and he’s going to have to love you

“No one’s ever seen me like this, lying on my back and begging for you.”

secretly finds out through you that he enjoys being dominated (BRAT SYLUS FOR 2024) so climb on top of him and kiss him until he’s blushing and panting hahahahahaha

tldr: sylus isn’t a fuck-boy but he sure kisses like one

AN; as an ao3 writer may say, no beta we die like caleb i wrote half of this when i was half asleep LMAOO anyways i hope this was okay please dont attack me BYE

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zhongrin · 2 years

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my archon

— you sit on the floor by his leg and lay your head on his lap; how does he react?

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, cyno, tighnari, xiao, ayato, childe, wanderer

◇ tags ◇ mostly fluff, slightly suggestive on some, petnames (dear, little one - zhongli | bunny, babe - childe | puppy - ayato)

◇ a/n ◇ is this an excuse for me to imagine getting into a position to worship zhongli? yes. yes it is-

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli, ever the gentleman, frowns at seeing you sit on the hard cold flooring and caresses your cheek gently, his other hand settling on your shoulder.

“that must be uncomfortable, dear. come rest on-”

he blinks, brows furrowing when you tell him that you want to stay down there by his feet. the protests die in his throat at the reverent gaze you give him, and something stirs in his chest. a nostalgic feeling that takes him millennia back; to the olden times when he was a feared deity of a more… disagreeable temperament.

“…. very well. but at least sit on a cushion, please,” a flutter of his long eyelashes, and for a moment you catch the shadow of his former self behind his amber eyes, “if you are so intent to worship me, who am i to refuse, little one? you already do look the part of a devoted worshipper….. hm... why don’t i teach you how to do this properly.”

al haitham glances away from his book to raise his eyebrows in amusement toward you.

“what are you doing?” he asks plainly; several possibilities pop up in his sharp-witted brain, but he would rather hear your intention from your own lips rather than blindly guess what your unexpectedly unique mind has concocted this time.

you hum nonchalantly and grab the free hand that isn’t holding his book, insistently tugging on it when he doesn’t budge. with a sigh, he lets you maneuver the appendage so it rests against the top of your head. with a roll of his eyes and a slight redness to his ears, he starts to tend to your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp every now and then in a way that you always praise him for doing.

“you’re a strange one, [name].”

hey, they do say birds of a feather flock together, right?

tighnari gives you a look. you know. that sassy side eye and a crooked smile threatening to lift one corner of his lips?

“am i not the one who’s supposed to be given headpats and pampering?” he asks teasingly, slightly moving his feet to nudge on your sides.

your boyfriend laughs at the playful glare you give him, and he releases the pen from his fingers to give you your much-needed pats. his eyes soften at the way you lean onto his touch, and he slumps backward onto his seat, exhaustion starting to settle in after hours of working on those reports and manuals.

“ten more minutes, and then it’s my turn.”

childe blinks owlishly at first, lips parted in surprise when you just decide to do this while he was just chilling on the sofa after a long day at work. his expression quickly turns into a teasing boyish grin, however, and he opts to squish your cheeks with his fingers.

“awww, seems like someone really missed me, hmm?” he leans down to place a quick kiss on your puckered lips, “why don’t you climb onto my lap, bunny? i can give you all the attention you’ve missed~”

he frowns when you refuse, and his clear blue eyes darken when you insistently hug one of his legs, your cheek pressing onto his thigh.

“be careful there, babe. you might start something if you keep that up.”

“what…. is the meaning of this, if i may ask?” cyno asks, flustered, the cards in his hands forgotten.

just seconds ago, you had pushed away the album containing his tcg cards from his lap and replaced it with your pretty head. while he doesn’t mind the sudden change at all - he can always sort out his cards later, you always come first, of course - he’s both befuddled and unsure of what you wish for him to do when you give him those pair of puppy eyes with this unfamiliar arrangement.

he follows your gaze that is locked onto his hand, which prompts him to discard his cards on top of the album and place them on your cheek, calloused thumb slowly drawing circles as he gives you a silent questioning gaze.

when you close your eyes in bliss, he chuckles, and he moves his other hand to settle on your other cheek before leaning down to kiss you on your forehead.

“how is it that you get more and more adorable the more we spend time with each other?”

kaeya raises his eyebrows, the hand swirling the glass of wine stopping its movements completely as he feels you hug his leg and place your head on his lap. instinctively, his free hand brushes against your cheek.

mischief colors the tone of his voice as you lovingly kiss his knuckles and give him those doe eyes he adores.

“my, a free leg warmer? how kind of you.”

he laughs in response to the playful slap you delivered to his thigh.

“so, are you planning to climb onto my lap anytime soon, or?”

another slap, another laugh, and kaeya leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

“i have to ask - does this leg warmer come with the service of a wine glass holder? hmm? how about a-” [lines redacted to keep this sfw]

“wha- g-get up! you shouldn’t-” xiao splutters in embarrassment, trying to grab onto your shoulders to pull you into a standing position.

his shock is quickly overwritten by utter confusion when you protest and insist on staying where you are. he ceases trying to move you from the spot, but he decides to ask, “-i… don’t understand. isn’t it uncomfortable? what are you hoping to gain from this?”

the yaksha is still at a loss even after you answer. it’s illogical, he thinks. if his attention is what he wants, why would you choose to have this discomfort when you can just sit beside him and achieve the same thing? does this position have a special meaning to mortals? he’s only seen it on the illustration of that silly romance novel written by an apparently famous mortal from inazuma that you were reading about a week ago, telling a story about a deity and his favored subject- oh.

“…. you’re so weird,” he grumbles, suddenly avoiding your eyes as redness begins to creep onto his cheeks. he is most definitely not a being worthy of worship….. but he supposes if it’s you… he can indulge, right? just for a little….

“oh dear, it seems like someone’s bored,” ayato chuckles, not even looking down from his paperwork as he repositions his legs on his plush armchair, “unfortunately, puppy, i am currently working and unable to tend to your whims.”

his smile only gets wider when he hears you whine and tug on the sleeves of his kimono. what a greedy little thing; your adorableness truly knows no bounds, he muses in amusement. but it is true that he might have been quite neglectful of your needs the past few days…

but it’s no fun to just give in that easily.

ayato gives you a glance and two short pats that are far too brief to your liking, before he returns his attention to his papers, but not before saying with a teasing edge to his tone, “stay like that for an hour while i finish my work, and i’ll give you all my attention after, alright?”

wanderer smirks and crosses his arms before leaning back on his chair, clearly amused and pleased at the sight. he attempts to move his leg away, and when you whine and chase after the limb, the puppet barks out an amused laugh, mirth dancing like electric sparks within his eyes.

“look at you, so needy and desperate for my attention,” he rolls his eyes in fake exasperation, though he doesn’t bother hiding the pleased toothy grin on his expression, “what? what do you want?”

he parries your hand away when you reach out for him, a disbelieving huff of breath escaping the ex-harbinger. the flick on your forehead is playful, and the same tone carries to his next words, like a fleeting wisp of breeze cheekily grazing your skin.

“you think you can order me around as you please? think again,” his voice lowers into a darker and softer drawl, “aren’t you already in the correct position? beg, and then, maybe i’ll consider fulfilling your request.”

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zayne-li · 9 days

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Zayne and Siming

First of all, if you’re unfamiliar with the lore of Love and Deepspace, and don’t want to be majorly spoiled for just about everything (mainly Zayne’s lore), then I suggest you skip for now until you learn more. Unless you don’t care about spoilers, then go ahead.

I think that to all of us, so far, other than Sylus(who can blame him, he’s new), Zayne is the most confusing character to the Western audience. Rafayel tells us he’s a mermaid every other sentence, and Xavier has more than a few clues pointing to the fact that he’s a time traveler from another planet and possibly immortal?

Zayne’s main thing that seems to be talked about frequently in his cards and events are more so things related to Gods, fate, and fortune telling. And for me, for a while, this didn’t make a ton of sense to me, because I felt like I didn’t really have anything super specific to compare it to, but clearly he’s not just based off of anything random, you’re meant to recognize him as some specific God of Fate/reader of fate. And then Infold released this video when they released Master of Fates, and I realized that in Chinese, the myth was called Da Siming, which is a real Chinese god. So I got to work. Welcome to my Ted Talk on why Zayne’s entire story, mainly focusing on his main story counterpart, is still Siming in modern day Linkon City.

Disclaimer: I am no Chinese mythology expert, this is simply what I’ve learned from Google and what that video Infold released tells us.

Who is Siming?

Siming is a Chinese deity or deified functionary of that title(meaning this title can pass from person to person) who makes fine adjustments to human fate (meaning you can pray to him for things as small as a chest cold etc)

He is referred to in Chinese as almost a secretary, his job in allocating human lifespans is almost a bureaucratic one. Think a guy in an insurance office.

Siming's main duty/power is the balancing of yin and yang, specifically in regards to human health/lifespans. He has the power to either shorten or lengthen life essentially as he sees fit (as long as it doesn't fuck things up too badly).

There can be more than one Siming at a time, who take on slightly different roles. Such as Da Siming(Greater Siming) acting as a Priest of Death, and a Shao Siming(Lesser Siming) acting as a Priest of Birth (this is just an example taken from a movie)

other titles (aside from Master of Fate) include Director of Allotted Life Spans, and Director of Destinies

While the 'job' of Siming can be passed down to multiple different people, the length of time they end up serving as Siming can result in different qualifying titles being added to them. 'Da Siming' (which is the one Infold told the story of when they released Shifu in that video apparently no one watched) would be more revered. "Da" means big, or greater, meaning he held that title for a great period of time. Bitch was tenured.

The 3 deathbringers

Essentially 3 spirits who take residence in the 3 energy centers of the human body. (head, chest, abdomen. probably only the chest would be relevant to us, given that Zayne is a cardiac surgeon)

these spirits enter the human body at birth, and seek to hasten the death of their hosts.

Siming controls the process of these deathbringers killing their hosts, he may or may not permit it.

to regulate this process, Siming relies on reports given to him by the deathbringers, which are brought to him on specific dates. Based on what he learns he may or may not use that information (and possibly other information) to decide whether or not to shorten or lengthen that specific persons lifespan.

This bitch is not making sweeping decisions, he's looking at every individual person.

humans are believed to have various things available to alter the judgment of Siming regarding their fates, such as interfering with the reporting process, praying to Siming or his superiors, or following treatment from a doctor to improve the yin-yang balance, and thus extend their lifespan.

Other things:

There's a story about an ancient man who finds a skull on the ground, and mourns the fact that this person never had a proper burial. He lays down on the skull and uses it as a pillow, then has a dream where the skull comes to him and tells him about the tranquility and happiness found in death. The man tells the skull that he could petition Siming to bring him back to life, and then he would be able to return to his family. The skull denies he would want that, asking rhetorically to the man, 'why would anyone in such a peaceful and happy place as death ever want to return to the suffering of living?'

Where do we see these elements pop up in Zayne’s story?

Now, we already know that at the very least Zayne’s Master of Fate myth is heavily based on this deity, and you can see some elements of Siming in Foreseer as well. Foreseer most likely takes place in the far future from Master of Fates given that he resides on Philos, and we know that Philos is the planet humanity started inhabiting only after Earth was destroyed. Philos is also where both Xavier and Sylus are from. This is no Xavier lore post, but if you know anything about his lore, you know that he’s come back in time from the future. There will be a section on Foreseer below, but for now I want to focus on why I believe Zayne is still Siming in present day Linkon City.

The story of the man and the skull immediately brought me back to the World Underneath: Snowy Stairs, where Carter is actively trying to recruit Zayne to Xander Sciences for the purpose of bringing people back from the dead.

Snowy Stairs

First, we see Carter come across (well he’s kind of stalking him actually) Zayne who is consoling a child about the death of their dog, Pilot. The child is asking him to do something to save the dog, and Zayne simply tells him that he’s already dead, while Carter pulls out a Protocore and tells the child that he can bring the dog back to life with it.

Carter and Zayne then have a mostly one sided conversation about the morals and ethics of using Protocores to bring people and animals back to life. Carter asks Zayne if the natural law is an unshakable moral boundary, or if it’s a comfort people use.

I see two things here: As Siming, the ability for humans to bring themselves back to life despite the natural law would be a great disruption to the balance of fate, or yin and yang, which would explain why Zayne is so against this process, even though he himself was clearly interested in it at one point for the sole and selfish reason of keeping MC from dying. It seems to me that although Zayne is Siming, MC has some sort of destined death associated with her that is outside of his jurisdiction. Possibly because he has shirked his duties in order to keep her safe in the past (shielding her with umbrellas instead of killing her like he was supposed to as the Master of Fates.)

Carter then tells Zayne of a patient who is on the verge of death and asks him to come take a look and help them at Xander Sciences. Zayne does not appear, and though they seemingly have all the tools to save the man, they still fail. Is it maybe because as Siming, Zayne truly does alone have the power to control life and death?

Carter then shouts as Zayne gets up to leave: “Our job is to save people. If we can control life and death, why shouldn’t we?!” Which is another clear reference to the job of Siming and the delicate balance he maintains.

Side note, something else they’re referring to in this part is possibly this procedure of bringing life back has something to do with the creation of Wanderers? Unsure.

Then, Zayne oversees a couple essentially praying to have their son back. Siming controls life and death, and may respond to prayers if he so chooses to. He doesn’t bring the man back to life, but instead cleans the body so that the parents may properly say goodbye to their son.

In this anecdote what we learn is that Zayne alone is seen as capable of controlling life and death, and it is implied that in whatever research he did on this subject, he found a solution. One that he rejects, possibly because it is a process that can and will result in creating Abominations, as seen in the Dawnbreaker anecdote. Wanderers/Abominations may be like the undead, resulting in these people not finding the proper peace in death.

Other main story things

Mainly what I’m seeing in main story/event stories is that we are talking about Siming a lot with our present day Zayne, in terms of Gods of fate, and etc(Spceifically I’m thinking about the silk balls event, where that was the main focus of the conversation with him).

Foreseer/Master of Fates

Like I said, I don’t want to go into too much detail on Foreseer, but the fact that he has the power to see into Fate, and has superiors (Astra) tells me that he at least has some of the same powers as he did when he was the Master of Fates. Master of Fates seems to be a more peaceful era of his life as Siming, where I am assuming that all of the slips and scrolls MC is helping him record are indeed related to his ‘reporting’ as Siming, going back to the idea that Siming is more or less a sort of secretary, a record keeper. I believe he fell out of favor with the Gods when he chose to protect MC instead of killing her as he was told by either one of his deathbringers, or one of his superiors(I’m inclined to think it’s the latter).

I believe that after the moment when he chooses to protect MC rather than kill her as he said he would, he went on the run. We later find him as Dr. Zayne, and something happens in the story(we don't know yet) which results in him becoming the Foreseer.

Foreseer was supposed to let her die as well, or possibly never even meet her, but he instead chooses to finally accept the consequences of his actions as Master of Fates and possibly Dr. Zayne and instead sacrifices himself so that she can live as a sort of. Equal exchange.

That's uh… that's all I got right now! Will possibly add more to this post later we shall see. Basically I feel like I’m just seeing a lot of parallels between all of Zayne’s major character beats/themes and this specific Chinese deity, and by the Rafayel Precedent(telling us he’s a mermaid and then turning out to be a mermaid), I would not be surprised at all if Dr. Zayne in the main story ends up just being Siming.

#lads zayne #love and deepspace #zayne #lnds zayne #zayne love and deepspace #this took forever and tbh i could probably add more but this post is already so long #welcome to my brainrot #its just all zayne all the time #247 folks

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burnthoneydrops · 5 months

Text

The Sun and the Moon II (e.b. x original character)

synopsis: the first ball for two recently debuted girls reveals a familiar feeling for one.

requested: no

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k

a/n: heyyyy, anyone remember this from over a year ago? im so sorry for the delay, i really ran out of long writing motivation there for a hot second, but hopefully i'm back at it? i make absolutely no promises though

My right glove sags unceremoniously from my arm and as I go to adjust it for the millionth time, Aunt Moore tugs at the back of my dress. I quickly retract my arm back to my side as we step through the double doors of the conservatory Lady Danbury had secured for the evening. She seemed a most formidable lady indeed, from what Aunt Moore’s staff had told me, but the gorgeous flowers hanging from the walls were not overtly intimidating. Hearing that she was sponsoring two girls also foreign to the ton had put me at ease this afternoon, as I hoped I might find some comfort in a group of those trying to learn. I would never suggest admitting that I am an outsider to Aunt Moore, but I fear my accent has already done that for me.

“Lord Cabernathy, the oldest of his mother’s five children, hardly objectionable,” Aunt Moore has spotted her first victim standing against a floral column.

“Being the eldest is the only requirement making one suitable for a wife? The bar seems incredibly low,” I reply, much to my aunt’s dismay.

“Must you be difficult when we have only just walked in the room?” She mutters through gritted teeth as another mama and her daughter walk past us with odd looks in their eyes. She smiles and waves at them, looking at my sideways to ensure that I heard her.

“Is there anyone else, with at least more admirable qualifications?” I offer.

“Lord Landry, a fine young man whose family owns a renowned horse breeding farm in the country. Good standing, only child so due to inherit a large fortune when his parents pass”.

“Ah yes, wishing death upon people your age, my favourite pastime”.

“I am merely stating that he would have a sizable income to take care of you,” Aunt Moore sighs.

“I suppose the horse farm would not be the most impossible thing,” I try to sympathise with her efforts, thinking back to my family at home.

Aunt Moore turns to me, and for a second I think she is stooping to an apology, when there is suddenly one voice ringing above them. “This is the season the Viscount intends to find a wife!”

As if someone had thrown a pile of breadcrumbs in front of some incredibly competitive pigeons, a flock of young ladies swarm the location of the voice. Standing on the tops of my feet, I see a rather uncomfortable looking man with his mother at the other set of doors. I recognize the mother from the presentation, Lady Bridgerton. Before I have time to recount this thought to Aunt Moore, she is pushing me towards the flock. I attempt to delay the process by dragging my heels into the ground, but her will is stronger than my calves, so I lose the battle quite quickly. I am stuck at the back of the half circle, watching girls fling their dance cards in the Viscount’s face, hoping he would sign his name. I would believe that half of these girls even felt blessed that he breathed in their direction, but I have slightly more hope for humanity than that thought would allow.

As the circle of girls starts to diminish, thanks to those who realise that nothing productive will come of this swarm, I am left standing in front of the Viscount with Aunt Moore watching me from her seemingly perched position against the column. “Lord Bridgerton, it is an honour,” I state, curtseying as best I could despite the slight wobble in my ankles.

“It is an honour to meet you as well,” he replies, though I can tell he is looking to get away as quickly as possible. His mother seems to pick up on my identity quicker than her son, as I catch her eyeing me in my peripheral, followed by her mouth forming a soft ‘oh’ of recognition.

“You must be Lady Moore’s charge for the season,” she verbalises her thoughts, and it is then that Lord Bridgerton actually looks at me.

“Indeed I am Miss,” I nod.

“Lovely to be formally introduced. I noticed you at the modiste and the presentation, but it’s wonderful to properly make your acquaintance,” Lady Bridgerton smiles at me as I stand back up, finally being able to look both of them in the eye.

“Perhaps a dance, Miss Moore?” Lord Bridgerton proposes as his mother wraps a gentle arm around his elbow.

“I would be delighted my Lord,” I reply, extending my dance card forward so he may sign it.

“I shall see you then,” he gives a curt smile before departing, leaving his mother and I by the double doors. I look back over at Aunt Moore, who is smiling like I have never seen before, and I excuse myself to head back over to her.

“Very good start, I must say,” she says and I cannot tell if she is more proud of me or herself.

It is soon after this that Aunt Moore goes to fetch herself a refreshment, and I make my way to a more secluded corner of the dance floor, hoping to watch and possibly learn the dances I had to forgo in my training. Though Father was keen on teaching me all the dances he remembered from his days in the ton, there is only so much dancing one can do while also running a family business. There appears another single young lady standing among the crowd, so I try to make my way towards her. It is clear she is watching someone else on the dance floor, and by the looks of it, it is Lord Bridgerton and the not-so-spectacular dance he is currently leading.

“That young lady will soon be marked off his list I fear,” I comment, partially out in the open and partially hoping she will hear me.

“Lord Bridgerton indeed seems rather frustrated,” she replies, keeping her gaze forward. “Would you prefer it to be you on that dance floor instead?” she continues.

“Oh, not notably so. Though my Aunt would have you believe I do, she'll tell anyone just about anything to have me wed before the end of the season”. I pause for laughter, and when I am the only one who partakes, I continue, “do you wish for his name to be on your dance card?”

“I am merely observing for my sister. She seemed most interested in him from afar, so I decided I would watch from the sidelines”.

“What a fulfilment of sisterly duty,” I reply as Lord Bridgerton drops the girl’s hands, nodding curtly before heading outside.

“Excuse me,” the dark skinned girl departs from my side and I suddenly feel alone once again.

I stand off to the side for as long as I can stand, letting a few songs play through, before I realise that the next song is in fact my dance with Lord Bridgerton. I suddenly feel guilty, as if I am betraying the conversation I had previously with the mysterious other girl, but quickly depart from the crowd nonetheless so I can find my forced dance partner. He enters back in from the double doors and I am about to turn back around on account of how aggravated he looks, but Aunt Moore has somehow found me before I am able to do it. With a few words of aggressive encouragement, I am back on my trail, stopping right before the Lord and reminding him of our dance.

The ensemble begins playing once again as the Viscount takes my hands, leading me to the right side of the dance floor. I do not dare start the conversation, both in fear of his current emotional state and that I might run my mouth and have my aunt dragging me out of the ballroom by my earlobe.

“Your aunt is watching you for the season?” The Viscount starts.

“Yes, my Lord, my aunt has been gracious enough to sponsor my debut this season”.

“And your family, did they accompany you?”

“Unfortunately not, the rest of them stayed back home”.

“And home is…” he trails off.

“The Irish countryside my Lord,” I reply, looking between him and my feet to make sure I do not trample his.

“You must miss them,” he supplies more to the conversation, though looks displeased at my inability to multitask.

“Terribly,” I add as he spins me outwards.

At that moment, I feel as though all time has stopped. No longer with the fear that I might step on the Viscount’s toes, I am spinning around the highly decorated room, attempting to keep my gaze locked on a stationary object. It is her. My stationary object is the girl I saw at the modiste and the presentation. Eloise Bridgerton. She stands at the edge of the dance floor, actively avoiding her mother I assume, fiddling with her dance card. I do not know what has happened between when I saw her last and now, but I cannot help but notice how radiant she looks. My vision becomes hazy surrounding anything that is not her, as if I can focus on nothing else. She cannot possibly know she is having this effect on me, as she is simply standing there. I fear I might lose all the saliva in my mouth with the way my heart rate spikes, and just as quickly as the moment started, it is ending.

The Viscount is grabbing my hand once again, spinning back into him before we resume our normal facing positions. I glance quickly over his shoulder as we rotate clockwise to see if I can catch Eloise again, but alas she has run off. He nods at me once our dance has finished and hurries off to find the next young lady he promised a dance to and I am left there stunned.

All I know, Aunt Moore’s pushing might have been more helpful than I previously imagined.

#bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #elosie bridgerton x original character #eloise bridgerton x reader #fanfiction #bridgerton fan fiction #eloise bridgerton x you #wlw bridgerton

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Silver Lining 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You watch through the window, frosted at the corners like a Hallmark Christmas card. You can’t deny that the snow is beautiful as it gleams beneath the streetlights but can it slow down? You feel yourself buried deeper with each spiraling flake.

It’s almost eight and there’s no sign of a stop coming. The plows passed an hour ago but barely made a dent in the thick blankets. You check your app, the buses are all delayed, some routes are even out of service.

“I got snow tires but not sure they can handle this,” Bucky comes up beside you, “car’s not heavy enough. Best case scenario, we get stuck not far from here. Worst…”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Sorry? I didn’t know you controlled the weather,” he scoffs.

“N-no, but I-I’m stuck here,” you blow out a long breath, “sorry to s-spoil your night.”

“Stuck?” He clucks, “never said that. It’s fine. Shit happens. You get to my age and it hardly even bothers you.”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“You calmed down,” he puts his hand on the window frame as he glances over at you.

You push your shoulders even higher. He’s not wrong. Your adrenaline fizzled out and now you’re just exhausted. Still, you can’t say you’re okay. Every shadow startles you as Mr. Rogers’ voice tickles the back of your mind. You’re back to watching over your shoulder.

“You’re not stuttering as bad,” he sniffs, “that’s all…”

“Sometimes it’s n-not as bad,” you agree, “s-still there though.”

“Getting cold in here,” he pulls his grip from the window frame and hugs himself, “how’re you doing? I got some extra slippers. A sweater?”

“Good,” you wave him off, “n-not that bad.”

He doesn’t say anything. You feel him watching you. He exhales through his nostrils and steps back on his heel.

“You’re damn stubborn,” he mutters.

“I–” you stop yourself. Arguing would just prove his point. And you are stubborn.

If only he knew how long you’ve stayed in a bad situation, thinking you could outpace it, that you could overcome it. Again and again. You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.

“So are y-you,” you say.

His response is unexpected. He laughs. He backs up, leaving you to watch the incessant snowfall.

“Yeah, I am,” he confesses.

You don’t answer. No comment is better than any that pops into your head. You continue to stare out hopelessly.

“You should let your parents know you won’t be home,” he suggests as pages flutter.

“I’m an a-adult,” you spin and lean on the window ledge, “they…”

…won’t care. You don’t say that out loud either.

“Never said you weren’t. Only figured,” he clicks on the tiny book light again.

“Uh, th-thanks,” you shuffle to the couch, well away from him and sit. You pull your phone, ignoring how the temperature nips at your fingers. You texted your mom an hour ago. She left you on read. Not even a thumbs up. “This should c-clear up s-soon.”

He snorts and looks over his book, “you really believe that?”

You meet his gaze and shake your head. He smirks and closes his book. He puts it on the armrest and stands.

“Come on, let me get you settled in,” he turns his palms out.

“Wh-what?”

“Sure, got a guest room upstairs. No point in you taking the couch. It’s stiff,” he explains, “I should have enough wood in the garage to get the fireplace going. Never really bother with it, too much work.”

“Uh, oh, o-okay,” you stand, “th-thanks.”

“You know, I am a nice guy. Or can be,” he leads you through the doorway. “If you’d just moved over a tiny bit–”

“W-what? I… the b-bookstore? You c-could’ve asked. You d-didn’t say e-excuse me,” you counter.

He grips the railing as he starts up the staircase ahead of you. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right. I forgot my manners. Thank you, Miss Etiquette.”

“N-no, th-thank you,” you return tritely, “finally, y-you apologised.”

“Me?” He exclaims as he climbs, peeking over his shoulder, “you called me an old man.”

“I d-did.”

He’s quiet as he continues to the top. He stops on the landing and turns back to you. You step up level to him, well, not quite.

“Hm,” his lips thin, “I guess you weren’t wrong.”

“I w-wasn’t,” you proclaim proudly.

“Watch yourself,” he warns with a wag of his finger.

“S-sorry, I wouldn’t w-want to raise y-your b-blood pressure,” you tease.

He hesitates, almost flinching.

“Are you calling me old again?” He tilts his head.

You smile and shrug. His eyes narrow and his brow drops. He waves you off and turns on his heel.

“Right, your room is this way.” He directs you down the short hallway and taps a closed door, “I’ll grab you an extra blanket and something to sleep in.”

“You g-go to bed th-this early?”

He glowers as he faces you again, “no.”

“S-sorry, I-I’ll stop,” you put your hands up, “I ap-ap-appreciate it.”

“So,” he turns the knob without look and nudges the door open, “I’ll just go get that fire goaded and then we can figure out dinner. You hungry? I’m starving.”

“Er, yeah,” you say sheepishly, “but I… you d-don't need t-to.”

“Come on, don't,” he dismisses your protest, “you can pay me back.”

“Ah, I g-guess.”

“Stay for the recording,” he insists, “please. Let's get through episode one before you tuck tail.”

“T-tuck tail?” You blink.

“Not to say… I only,” he stops himself, “I'm asking nicely. I'm not used to begging, you know?”

You press your lips tight and look away, “I'll th-think about it.”

“Right, well you got a whole night to think,” he says, “so, uh, yeah, the fire.”

He spins and before you can react, he's halfway to the stairs. You watch him go as you blindly reach for the door, letting your hand rest on the wood lightly as he disappears below.

Mercurial, that's the word for it. You always wanted to fit that in somewhere. It's almost poetic but in the flesh, it's entirely confounding.

#series #au #marvel #mcu #drabble #captain america #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #silver lining #silverfox au #winter soldier #avengers

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obae-me · 6 months

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Hello, and welcome to another installment of niche content containing another mash of my two special interests. Written out of boredom at the airport. Today's edition, fueled with my excitement of being able to go to none other than Miku Expo 2024, I give:

The Brothers As My Favorite Vocaloid Songs!

Yes, I know, please, quell your excitement. I know everyone was waiting for this one. I will take no criticisms or judgments, only enthusiastic additions.

Warning: While nothing stated in this post needs a full content warning, if anyone decides to look up these songs, many songs themselves have plenty of individual warnings, so please search with caution.

Lucifer:

Now, the song I think he'd actually enjoy listening to is Daughter of Evil. It's got tragedy behind it, the song is a bit more classical/waltzy, exactly the kind of thing he likes. However based off his vibes alone, I'm gonna say Honey I'm Home. Mostly because I love Ghost and Pals but also because religious trauma. And I know other people agree with me because I've seen fanart of it.

Mammon:

I think Mammon would listen to Sand Planet. Oo, or Bring it On. Do I have a detailed explanation as to why? Not really in so many words, but it just seems like something he'd listen to, I feel it in my bones. I will not be taking any questions. Now the song I think he embodies? Wildcard. I mean, the whole motif is about playing cards, it's upbeat and fast paced and I love it and I love Kasane Teto even more.

Levi:

I will physically fight anyone who doesn't think Levi listens to Rolling Girl at least once a day (I won't actually fight anyone but I feel very strongly on this matter). It helps him get through hard times but it also makes him cry. Which...same, Levi, same. But if Leviathan were to be a song itself, I'd have to pass it over to Volt Tackle by Deco*27. Pokémon, talking about fighting and struggling at first to capture someone's love? Oo, or Digital Girl. It's got him written all over it. (Or if I want to be sad, give him Anthropophobia)

Satan:

See, Satan is hard because I never know if I envision him listening to heavy metal or if he prefers soft melodies. And, I mean, I know he can like more than one genre at once, but picking THE song I think he'd listen to is hard... but if I'm going off of what I like as well as gut instinct... Abstract Nonsense. Now, selected off his character, I'd have to pick Hikari Yo. It's just very emotional and desperate and the poor demon boi is like that on the inside quite a lot. WAIT or Pathalogical Facade! Oo, lots of options for Good Ol Satan.

Asmo:

Easy, he'd love Gimmie×Gimmie and I don't think I need any further explanation on this opinion. I actually think Asmo would unironically like a lot of vocaloid songs, personally. And as for his songification, I handpick Aishite, Aishite, Aishite. And I know there's a lot of different people's interpretations to this song and everything and people get very... I guess territorial when it comes to this song (at least from specific corners I've seen) but it makes sense to me. It's a really popular song and it's hauntingly beautiful and it's about wanting to be loved and adored and this is MY post so I can say whatever I want about it.

Beel:

Beel is another one that's hard for me to pin down... I think his music taste (joke not intended) is rather eclectic. He probably actually has no real preference other than more upbeat songs to make it easier to work out to. In which case I get to pick whatever I wish. For him I would make him listen to Happy Halloween. I don't care what time of year it is, it's cute and upbeat and about getting treats and it's one of my favorite songs ever. Now one to embody him?... Goodness that's even harder. I would love to say Appetite of a People Pleaser, but Beel's not a people pleaser... I actually don't know! Maybe I am a sham of a fan. I am open to suggestions for my baby Beel.

Belphie:

You know I have to pick Tokyo Teddy Bear. This mans is too edgy not to listen to it all too often. Plus, it's a classic. And, you know I have to make this all even sadder by giving him the song Error. Because I like to make myself cry. And Belphie needs a good cry, let's be honest with ourselves.

I'm also going to add the Distortanist as an honorable mention for unhinged Lesson 16 Belphie.

#legitimately so worried about posting this for some reason #oh my god #but im gonna do it anyway #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons

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williaml0ver · 8 months

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☆ <3 Naib Subedar Taking Care of Robbie ☆ <3

[🖇️] word count: 1437

[🖇️] warnings: g/n reader, not proofread - as if i ever did that before

[🖇️] author's note: this was supposed to be a multiple characters post but i realized that i am NOT made for this, at least for now lmao. I will just post the other two separately soon because it's easier for me this way. 🫨

[🖇️] Maybe this would make more sense with Memory but Robbie is like my favourite hunter of course i had to take the opportunity omg... ROBBIENATION RISE

-Ever since the past week you managed to get closer to little Robbie. Whether it happened because he was fond of your kindness or you seemed like a perfect playmate he was soon all over you - he'd share candy with you and even make cards with drawings for special occasions. One day when it was already very late you've suddenly heard a few knocks on the old fashioned door of your dorm. You've slowly gotten up, trying not to wake up your lover and opened the door. It was no one else than Robbie himself holding a small plushie. Long past his bedtime. He started explaining he's got nightmares and is scared to sleep alone today, later asking if he could join you two. If you didn't share your room you'd immediately agree, however, in this case you need to ask your boyfriend for consent.

-Naib is suddenly awoken by you, asking what's so important at this ungodly hour? Once the question's finally asked he feels confused, noticing the little boy standing behind with a "mom i just throw up" face.

-Has a hesitant stance at first. Sure, he's noticed you two started spending more time lately, but for you to be babying the boy already? He would be suggesting bringing him back to Michiko or Luchino, but the stone hearted mercenery eventually gives in after you convince him.

-When the three of you finally lay together, you are in between them since Naib prefered to be next to you, he holds you by your waist and meanwhile you hold Robbie. Naib also stays up a little longer to see both of you fall asleep, both because he just wants to look at you and make sure no tricks are being pulled. Seems like the axe boy really enjoyed sleeping together, as he loves visiting for little sleepovers from time to time. This doesn't bug the merc as much, but he still may feel a little, just a little jealous.

-Why would a man slowly pushing thirty be jealous of a small child you ask? Naib thought so as well, but when he saw you both drawing silly stuff on paper he felt somewhat envious. Just when you thought the most secretive, independent, straightforward person under this roof would never loose his cool around you, he sits next to you and starts drawing a wacky stickman.

-Ever since his sleepovers became a frequent thing, Naib is often choosen to be on babysitting duty. Sometimes with you, sometimes alone.

-I can see them having bit of a rough start at some point? Like Naib wanting to distance himself rather than be around Robbie, yet making sure he is around. He'd eye him to make sure you're not being hurt. This small boy, on the other hand, would be ecstatic to finally crack the mercernary's tough shell, the one who's making sure his playmate is safe in bed. With your help, Robbie would like to get closer to Naib, he quickly develops a big fascination with the green hooded man.

-You'd have to start slow and be patient, maybe ask Robbie to help you make lunch for the three of you and later eat together? Naib would begin recognizing the child's good intentions and eventually lets his guard down around.

-Once the adaptation is done, Naib definitely would receive the Cool Uncle™️ title without much effort and be constantly bugged by Robbie pleading him to show some cool tricks he does with his weapons. And well, Naib could be a hesitant one. You may as well step in to beg too, because how can he resist those four cute eyes? (Okay not quite if we think of Robbie but let's go on) The look in Robbie's eyes? Priceless. As if someone put diamonds in his eyes. Seeing the boy being so excited about something so ordinary to him actually boosts his ego and show some dangerous-leaning stuff, you may want to step in. Naib will soon realize that being the Cool Uncle™️ is not an easy task.

-They soon become some kind of partners in crime. Robbie discovers Naib from a totally diffrent side, he's mature, but he can also be a huge tease. He is certainly not the most talkative man, though is providing a lot of security. Naib is even willing to share some of his food of it and sometimee sneaks candies in Robbie's pocket when you're not looking.

-You'd often have to be the voice of reasons between them, as Naib's ego sometimes raises over the roof when showing off to Robbie.

-Eventually, they start spending so much time together that whenever someone spots either of them alone, they ask where the other one is. Naib feels secretly very proud of Robbie.

-One day, to your surprise, he even allowed him to wear his cape. You have a photo of him as mini Naib holding a toy knife standing on your bedroom desk.

-Robbie's personal favourite drawing is the one where he and Naib are in knight armors rescuing you from a dragon.

-Robbie's a curious child. You can't call it a day if you haven't seen him pulling the Merc by his hood and asking for yet another cool story. Naib would either make them up or just slightly modify his stories from the military.

-A lot of field trips! Naib would like to show Robbie some useful tricks, like what to do when you get lost. You, at first, thought that was a cute idea, until Robbie began climbing up random furniture. Robbie once showed you some usefk knife defence tricks that he was taught by your boyfriend, much to your horror. That man is raising a little monster.

-You once decided to go with them for one of those trips. Just out of curiosity. When you went to the toilet alone for a few minutes, Naib started teaching Robbie some fighting moves. Let's say you were terrified when you came back.

-Robbie enjoys when he is picked up by the older man. He likes to put on oversized coats he borrowed from Luchino and go to him, pretending to trick him into thinking that he has grown so quickly.

-They DO enjoy pulling pranks. And when think they would spare you and do it to others, you're actually their main victim.

-Naib specifically learnt a few "magic tricks" to show Robbie. Boy he was shocked.

-They both get overcompetitive when playing hide and seek. You always pray you're the one hiding because when it's the other way around it may take up to an HOUR, after the merc taught Robbie how to discretly switch hiding spots, much to your annoyance.

-Robbie picks up some of Naib's behaviour. Robbie seldom answer with a very sarcastic and ironic tone. You and Naib had a talk that day.

-As much as Robbie doesn't mean anything bad, he can sometimes get too brave and say something mildly offensive to you. Naib wouldn't hesitate to confront him about it and command to apologize.

-Robbie's very hyperactive, so whether Naib is reading a book or working out with Eli, he would constantly have a pair of small legs following him and asking what he's up to.

-They both like bonding over making food. If Robbie finds anything intriguing him in a cookbook it's only a matter of time until you see them picking up the indegredients together to surprise you. Naib let's him pick anything he wants for the dessert.

-Naib would teach Robbie how to prepare some easy and safe to make meals so he could feed himself on his own <3.

-During his solo babysitting duty, although caring, Naib can be strict. He secretly worries a lot and would not hesitate to send him back to the hunters' part of the manor as temporary punishment. Michiko learned to take advantage of that and would allow him to go back if he helped the butlers and maids do the cleaning.

-I can see Naib being the "go ask your mother" kind of person 😭. Also not very adequate to the era, but he would totally ask the kid if he has any cool games on his phone, just so he could get distracted and Naib could spend some time with you.

-As much as the mercenary likes Robbie, it does annoy him sometimes how he now has less private time just with you.

-Ultimately, while at first seeming closed off, Naib actually becomes very fond of him and is ready to protect him. Robbie meanwhile likes to show Naib how much he loves both of you.

I don't know what to put here... i'm posting this while listening to Shakira songs... besides the Robbie mini series with Ganji and William (half finished!) i will soon start working on date scenerios with Luchino and Kevin for valentine day yay!!!! If any of my loyal and beloved eight followers is reading this i love you guys i'm swinging my feet goodnight

#idv #idv x reader #identity v #idv hcs #naib subedar #naib subedar x reader #naib subedar headcanons #idv headcanons #idv axe boy #idv robbie #idv robbie white

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kybercrystals94 · 8 months

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They All Fall Down

Read there on AO3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 8 | Prompt 8: “Why won’t it stop?”

Rated: G | Words: 1572 | Summary: Stuck in their barracks on Kamino, the cadet Batch try to survive the slow, painful death of boredom. [Character Focus: Cadet Batch]

ADVISEMENT: All training simulations have been canceled for the day, and training rooms are closed. All cadets are ordered to stay in their designated living quarters until further notice. Any and all disturbances during this mandated down time will be dealt with swiftly and with the utmost severity.

Tech reads through the message for the dozenth time, searching for any loophole that he and his brothers might be able to wiggle through to get out of their barracks. They are only scheduled to be cadets for one more standard week. It seemed unfair that they would be held to the same limitations as cadets freshly released from their tubes.

However, the mandate still stands, and Tech’s messages for further clarification have been ignored. It seems they are trapped.

“Hunter,” Wrecker whines, drawing out the last syllable in Hunter’s name to a ridiculous length. “Crosshair won’t stop staring at me.”

Having managed to develop a migraine within the first hour of their imprisonment, Hunter says something from under the pillow he’s sequestered himself to, but his words are suffocated into senseless mumbling.

Crosshair sighs lazily from where he is laying sideways on his bunk, head dropped over the side so that he is looking out at the room upside down. “Stop being such a tubie, Wrecker.”

“I don’t like you staring at me.”

“I’m not staring at you. I’m staring straight ahead.”

“Yeah! Which is at me!”

“If you are sitting in my line of sight, then yes, I’m staring at you. If it bothers you, move.”

“You move! I was sitting here first!”

“No.”

“If you won’t move yourself, I’ll help you,” Wrecker decides, standing up threateningly.

Crosshair smiles. “You just try. Let’s see what happens.”

“May I remind you that disturbances during this time will probably result in lockup,” says Tech.

“Lockup would be better than being stuck in here with him,” Wrecker says, jabbing a finger in Crosshair’s direction.

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“That’s it!” Wrecker yells.

“Hey!” Hunter barks, sitting up and throwing his pillow at Wrecker. His squinting against the light of the room effectively makes him look angrier. “Knock it off, or I’ll turn you both in myself to get some peace and quiet.”

Crosshair huffs and rolls his eyes while Wrecker has the decency to look properly chastised.

Wrecker picks up the weaponized pillow. “Want this back?” he asks Hunter meekly.

Hunter glares at him for several long moments. “No,” he growls before falling back on his bunk and pulling the covers over his head.

A laden hush follows the outburst for approximately five standard minutes.

“You’re still staring at me.”

Tech jumps up and courageously puts himself between his feuding brothers. “We should do a quiet, group activity.”

“Like what?” Crosshair asks dubiously, rolling over and pushing himself up.

“We could play sabaac!” Wrecker suggests excitedly.

Tech casts a weary glance at Hunter’s bunk. “I don’t believe that game would qualify as quiet,” he says.

“What then?” Crosshair stands up and stretches his limbs.

Tech goes and gets the deck of cards. “I’ve been researching some other card games that are more appropriate to quiet environments. Allow me to teach you.”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“Tech, do you have any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Wrecker groans and picks up a card from the draw pile. He looks at the card and grins wildly. “Ha! This is the card I wanted. Take that, Tech!” He puts down the set of twos in front of him triumphantly.

“While we are playing individually, I am not actively seeking your demise, Wrecker. If I’d had a two, you would have received it with no argument,” Tech mutters.

Crosshair chuckles. “That’s not how I’ve been playing.”

Tech throws the nearly graduated sniper a look. “Yes, I know that you’ve been actively cheating. Despite the simplicity of the game.”

“It’s not cheating, it’s house rules,” Crosshair says.

“They can only be house rules if the whole house agrees, which Wrecker and I have not.”

“Yeah, Cross! Play right or we’ll kick you out of the game,” Wrecker scolds far too loudly, then claps a hand over his mouth.

The three cadets look apprehensively over at Hunter’s bunk and breathe a sigh of relief when the lump that is their sleeping brother doesn’t move.

Crosshair hisses, “Fine. I’ll play by the dumb rules.”

“Thank you, and your opinion is noted.”

They play three more rounds of the game before they become bored. Wrecker suggests some house rules to change up the game; however, his idea is immediately shot down when Tech and Crosshair realize he is basically describing sabaac.

“If you didn’t get so loud whenever we played, maybe Tech wouldn’t have banned it,” Crosshair says irritably.

“I did not ban it, I just recommend we not play it…” Cutting a glance to Hunter’s bunk, Tech lowers his voice to add, “under the circumstances.”

Wrecker fusses with the cards. “How much longer will we be stuck in our barracks?”

“I’m estimating until late meal,” says Tech.

“That’s not for hours!”

“Shh!”

Hunter shifts and sighs, but seems to remain asleep.

“Maker, Wrecker, why do you have to be so loud all the time?” Crosshair mutters.

Wrecker frowns. “I’m being as quiet as I can.”

“I believe that is accurate,” Tech agrees. “He has been several decibels quieter than his average levels.”

“See?” Wrecker crows.

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “We’re so proud of you.”

“What should we do now?” Wrecker asks. He takes two of the cards and leans them against each other, making a triangular structure.

Tech watches with interest, then smiles. “I have an idea.”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter wakes to the soft chirp of a notification on his data pad. He blinks his eyes open, surprised by the quiet in the barracks. It is never this quiet unless his brothers are gone. Maybe he had slept through the mandatory lockdown, and they had gone to late meal without him. He wouldn’t put it past them, especially after threatening to send them to lockup. Not his finest moment of leadership.

He sits up, rolling his shoulders back to alleviate the stiffness. His migraine is mostly gone, just a lingering ache behind his left eye. He can live with that. Turning to swing his legs over the side of the bunk, Hunter freezes when he sees it: a tower of cards.

And he’s not alone after all.

Crosshair is sitting on Wrecker’s shoulders, reaching up with a card in each hand, poised to place them at the very top of the card palace that nearly reaches the ceiling. It is intricate in its design, with levels and pillars. Hunter is impressed.

“Just a little to the left, Wrecker,” Crosshair says, almost under his breath.

“Carefully,” Tech adds from where he stands across the table from them.

Wrecker shuffles to the left.

“There, good,” Crosshair whispers.

Hunter finds himself holding his breath as Crosshair reaches out and places the cards with the delicate care of an artist.

Hunter grins, reaching for his data pad and taking a holopic. This will be evidence the next time his brothers claim they can’t figure out how to play nice long enough to get anything done.

“That’s it, we did it,” Tech says, “We’ve used every card in our possession to make this structure.”

“We should take a holopic of it,” Wrecker says, almost softly.

“I did,” Hunter says.

He honestly didn’t mean to startle them. He thought that the trained soldiers had seen him sitting up, known they were being observed – even if they hadn’t acknowledged him. He supposes, in hindsight, he shouldn’t have made any such assumptions.

Wrecker nearly jumps out of his skin, which sends Crosshair, still perched on the giant’s shoulders, flailing to keep his balance. Tech whirls around to face Hunter, eyes wide. And all the sudden, combined, swift movements are the house of cards’ demise.

They all watch in devastated anguish as the cards tumble and flutter in soundless destruction. The silence continues long after the last card lands.

Hunter has never felt so small in his entire life.

Tech recovers first. “We knew it was a short-lived endeavor when we undertook the challenge,” he says bravely, but the assurance is thin.

“Would’ve been nice if it lasted longer than two seconds after we finished it though,” Crosshair grumbles, finally slipping down from Wrecker’s shoulders to loom over the carnage.

“I am so sorry,” Hunter says, standing up. “I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

Three sets of eyes look at him, conflicting emotions dancing across their faces.

“We weren’t scared!” Wrecker protests.

Tech averts his gaze. “Correct. We just thought we had inadvertently woken you. We were…surprised.”

Crosshair folds his arms over his chest. “I knew you were awake.”

“Right,” Hunter says, shifting uncomfortably. He holds up the data pad. “I really did get a holopic though.” He looks down at the screen, a notification symbol in the corner. He clicks on it. “And hey, the mandate has been lifted! We can leave the barracks now!”

“Yes, it was lifted two hours ago,” Tech says dismissively, kneeling to begin picking up the scattered remains of what might as well have been their hopes and dreams.

Hunter puts his data pad aside and begins to help gather the cards. “Maybe we can build another one?”

His brothers sigh in unison.

“It will simply not be the same,” Tech verbalizes.

END

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A/N: If you squint, you can see where I sprinkled the whump in this story XD If you need specifics, I'll just say this: migraine & devastation over lost card tower.

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday8 #prompt 8: why won’t it stop?#star wars #the bad batch #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #cadet batch #dash of Whump #fluff #humor #bratty siblings

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n3xii · 11 months

Text

POV: Twilight character answers your Y/N question while you're bleeding out on the cold floor (PAC)

you're bleeding out onto a cold, granite surface in an unidentified ballet studio, you were attacked by a group of wild boars. in your precious last moments, you have a question that you just need a simple yes or no answer to, and thankfully, the cast of twilight is there to answer them. Close your eyes and use the fear pumping through your veins to select your oracle, you have Alice, Bella and Carlisle.

Alice's Answer

cards: ten of swords reversed and the two of cups

considering i'm the psychic of the family, I feel as though I am the most qualified to answer your question. My visions show a recent struggle or challenge fading away. There's a sense of relief and a turning point in the relationship. While there might be some bumps in the road, especially in understanding each other, the overall energy is moving towards reconciliation and healing. It's a reminder that relationships take effort and understanding, and with patience, the connection or bond can be restored and even strengthened. My answer to question is YES.

Bella's Answer

cards: 8 of wands reversed, queen of cups

erm, ok.

It feels like the cards are advising caution. The reversed 8 of Wands suggests a delay or a need to slow down, and the Queen of Cups upright emphasizes the importance of balancing emotions.

In terms of a yes or no, I would say no. erm, no but there is possibility for this situation to change. I mean, alice's visions change all the time. so it's possible. the cards indicate that while the situation might be moving slower than desired, the key lies in maintaining emotional balance and patience. So, it's a no for now, but it's more about navigating through the complexities of your situation with a careful and emotionally attuned approach. be patient, and trust your intuition, get in touch with what your emotions are trying to communicate to you

Carlisle's answer

cards: the world, 7 of pentacles

I may be a doctor, an immortal, supernatural one to be exact- however I am not hear to cure you of your ailments. I'm here to otherwise help you figure out the answer to your questions.

the cards I pulled for you was the the world and the 7 of pentacles. to get specific, the World card signifies completion, achievement, and a sense of fulfillment. It often suggests that a cycle has reached its conclusion, and there's a sense of accomplishment. Now, the 7 of Pentacles indicates a period of assessment and patience. It's about looking at the results of your efforts and deciding the next steps based on that evaluation. perhaps based on the results of a recent cycle you have completed, a recent achievement.

The answer is yes, but there needs to be careful patience and consideration involved.

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peachesvanilla · 3 months

Text

Dancing with the stranger

description: A red string binds soulmates together, it never breaks or cut or dies down. In a world of pure love and hookups, what if your soulmate turns out to be the person you least expected? What if that person is your professor? Amidst desperation and constant reminder of the red string tying them together, will it get its happy ending or ends up in chaos or worst, with a hook up.

characters: Baekhyun, reader, Chanyeol

genres: angst, soulmate au, professor!Baekhyun, student!reader, age gap

warnings: unedited

taglist: @archernarbeta @andimoon @blue-rainydays @redxbloom

part - 1 part - 2

“ID.” The bouncer extends his hand.

I dig my wallet for my ID and hand him it. He eyes my shaky hands, his head tilting to the right a little, doubts clouding his head. He grabs my ID, checks the card and looks up at me three times to make sure I’m not carrying a fake ID. I grip my wallet tightly with my sweaty hands, and look around the dimly lit area.

Hyejin suggested this club, saying it is the most happening place right now. Hot place to people looking for hookups.

The man behind me is breathing up my neck, crowding all over my personal space. I take a step forward to get away from him but he does the same. I snap back at him, glaring with all my might to scare him off.

He gives a sleek smile, his eyes dropping to my bare shoulders, and the deep cut of my neckline.

“Go in.” The bouncer hands me my ID back, “stay safe.” He shakes his head as I pass by him and join Hyejin inside the club, “kids these days. Can’t wait a little longer.”

I scoff. What does he know?

“Don’t mind them.” Hyejin grabs my hand, “you are smoky hot.” She giggles giving me a once over. “I bet finding a hookup will be easy.” She drags me inside the club, sudden loud music blasting my ears.

The dance floor is crowded. Men and women are occupied in dancing, but with seconds passing I can see their hands disappearing under their partner’s clothes. My neck is hot in embarrassment and fear. What am I doing here?

I’m not one of them. I can’t let anyone other than my soulmate lay a finger on me. How can I even think I can hookup? This is a bad idea. A very bad one.

“I don’t think—” my words fell out to find Hyejin disappeared from my side. Where did she go now? Do I have to go deeper into the club to find her?

My eyes sweep around the loud crowd, the drinks at the counter kept on coming. Dark corners are occupied with couples making out, sometimes I can see three of them. My heart sinks to my stomach, as everything slowly registers in my brain.

No, no, no. I don’t belong here. Shall I go back home and beg Mr.Byun again? Maybe this time if I can show him something new, something… something what? What will make him want me?

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” People’s chant crashes through my thoughts of despair. Few of them push me while making their way around the dance floor joining others in cheering.

Why are they cheering for others to kiss? It’s not even like they are soulmates? A scoff escapes me. All this for a hookup? I turn my back to the crowd, ready to search for Hyejin. Hookups are for losers. Why would they invest so much time in something that will break you apart in the end?

The hickey on Mr.Byun’s neck flashes across my mind. Is it something worthier than having your soulmate?

The crowd cheers, clapping and hooting. Maybe it is. Maybe it is better than burying yourself under a blanket and counting days. I step on the dance floor, pushing myself into the boisterous people.

A couple is kissing. The woman’s back is facing towards me, tipping on her toes to reach her man. His smile is so wide that it can split his face into half, his hand on her neck fingers disappearing into her hair and another one holding her waist. He slowly pulls her towards him, peppering kisses around her lips. Girls beside me coos with a bittersweet smile. Others hold their partner’s hand giving shy smiles to each other.

The man breaks the kiss, tucks her head under his neck, burying her in between his arms. His entire being beaming with happiness.

“Ah, first kiss.” The girl beside me says, holding her hand on her barely covered chest. “Innocent days.” She turns to the man beside her and winks.

“We can do it too.” He shouts in her ear, biting the shell of her ear before trailing kisses from her cheek to her lips.

I gulp. Why is everyone kissing so openly? Isn’t that for behind the bedroom doors. The girl moans so loud, earning hoots from others, and raising chills on my skin. From the corner of my eye I see her skirt is pulled up slightly as he rubs circles on her bare skin. God, no.

I start toward the exit, I can meet Hyejin at home. Spending one more minute in this hideous, lustful place will make me explode. The search for cabs on my phone is unsuccessful.

I knock into someone, my phone drops onto the sticky dirty floor. I gasp when someone who entered the club kicked it somewhere.

“One thing. At least one thing can go right in my life.” I utter to myself. “Why can’t—”

“What are we searching for?”

I scream feeling a stranger’s breath on my neck. I ram my elbow into his stomach, pushing him off of me. He kneels over howling in pain, holding his chest. A smile spreads across me realizing I haven't lost my strength yet.

He holds my hand for support, still ducking down. His long strands hanging down, his eyes are closed. I narrow my eyes, noticing his lip corner is tilted up, I lean in closer to make sure he isn’t smiling. How can he smile when I hit him hard?

He tilts his chin towards me, eyes brimming with mischief. He narrows the space between our faces, his eyes running across my face. I stand rooted in my place, my breath stuck in my throat. This stranger, this boy, no, this man, is handsome.

“That was a good hit.” He stands straight. I tilt my head up to maintain our eye contact. He runs his hand through his hair, “new?”

Tattoos are all over his hand. He grabs my arm, dragging me away before I can even reply or register where he is taking us. We are sitting on a table in some part of the club that’s less crowded and low music playing in the background. This kind of place exist in clubs?

He drags a chair out for me, smiling patiently for me to sit while holding the chair. Once I’m all settled, he slowly pushes the chair closer to the table and occupies the other one opposite to mine.

What’s happening? Before I can even come back to my senses and demand what the heck he is doing, he smiles again but this time his dimple pops out. God.

“You didn’t answer me. First time?” He rests his chin on his hand propped up on the table.

“I don’t see why I need to answer you.” I frown, unsurely. I was looking for Hyejin ten minutes ago and now I’m with a stranger..?

“Oh, come on. We are at the club for broken hearts.” The table couldn’t house his long legs, his knees bumping into mine every time he shifts in his chair. “Everyone has a story, a sad one at least.”

I clasp my fingers on my lap, digging my nails into my skin, should I be here? What am I doing? He is a complete stranger. What if he is a psycho? Or a pervert?

“I’m not this kind of girl.” The words slip through before I can take them back. I look in his eyes for any kind of disbelief or mockery. Everyone starts with I’m not this type. But in the end they end up being that girl.

He patiently waits for me to continue.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Coming here out of all the places. But I can’t stay in my room crying day and night, right?”

I look at him again to get confirmation or am I seeking his approval? He nods.

“Why will anyone come here? Of course their soulmate rejected them.” I drag my hands across my face, “worst possible case. He sees me as a child. A kid. Borderline like an embarrassment in his life.”

“That's an asshole of him to make you feel.” He frowns, the twinkle in his eyes missing. Was there twinkle in his eyes all this time?

“Yeah, no, I don’t know.” I lick my lips, my fingers shaking a little as I prepare myself to say, “he is older, older than me. Maybe like nine years older?”

“Ah,” he hums.

“And he is my professor.”

“Fuck.” His mouth hangs open a little, “that’s craziest shit he has ever written.” He points his finger towards the sky. “Forbidden kind. Interesting.”

I kick his shin. He grins lopsidedly, caging my legs between his humongous ones. I glare at him, trying to free myself from him. He chuckles at my efforts, he leans in closer and presses my nose, “boop.”

My hair stands behind my neck, warmth spreading all over me. “You can’t just… you can’t just do that…” I rub my nose trying to not feel anything.

He chuckles and rubs my head. “Cute. Do you wanna go hit the dance floor?”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m Chanyeol by the way.” He grabs my hand and shakes it.

#baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun drabble #byun baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fanfic #drabble #angst #exo #exo fanfic #exo drabble #chanyeol #park chanyeol

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mar3ggiata · 30 days

Text

professional help, c15. The Viper.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Don Raffaè, Fabrizio de Andrè

abstract: it's Simon. here I am talking to Jude again, this time it gets too far, the police are involved… no just kidding (I wish someone would just take her away, believe me). also is anyone gonna tell her to stop using this bloody dialect of hers? it sound stupid anyways and I can't understand a word she says. bye.

T'agg ditt Salvo, è venuto a trovarmi a danza, io dovevo mangiare e gli ho chiesto se voleva cenare. Poi avrei portato fuori il cane e mi ha detto che era pericoloso da sola e mi ha accompagnato'. She was in her bathroom in her underwear, painting her toenails while on the phone with Salvo. She usually did this to make her feet seem more normal, she hated the blisters and calluses from wearing pointe shoes. If she didn't hurry up she would be late for work. She told him the Lieutenant had visited her after ballet class and since she needed to eat, she invited him out. Then, he suggested they'd walk the dog together since it was getting late. 'Fra, te non hai capito questo chi è', Salvo insisted. He was very surprised to hear that Lieutenant Riley, the one he briefly met years ago was going out and having dinner with his friend. Going out in general, really. 'Non ha famiglia, glieli hanno uccisi tutti, è una macchina da guerra, io e i colleghi avevam paura.' He told her back before he even met her, he heard stories about him. That a mission had gone sideways for him and his whole family had been killed (she felt terribly bad for asking about it). He told her that he was a killing machine, that him and his teammates feared him. She put away her nail polish. 'Salvo agg capit…Jinx lascia!' She said while trying to get a hold of her dog who stole her slippers. She sensed she was about to leave and decided to make it impossible for her to get ready in peace. She told her friend Simon had been actually nice the night before, she had to give him that. He kept going on saying few ever saw him without his mask on, that it was some kind of unspoken rule and he would get annoyed if someone tried to take it off, that he had survived hell and so on. She didn't tell him he ate a burger in front of her.

She asked if he was married, he said he had never saw him even speak with a woman that wasn't a coworker, that he probably lived a quite secluded life. She said she believed him. It's not a big deal, she said, but he got my fake name. Salvo paused. He won't know about… the other stuff, Alba. You're fine, he can't possibly know. She finished getting ready, and got to the base. She had an easy day ahead, she would start many of her appointments on zoom, some of her patients were deployed all over the world. Christmas is in a few weeks as well, she thought. It made her sad. She remembered Christmas dinners and parties very well in Italy, they had lots of traditions, they used to play board games and drink and eat together… She still did that by herself, unfortunately Jinx didn't know how to play cards. Salvo was still in Korea and she didn't think he would be back in time to see her. He would visit Italy and celebrate there, she thought. She sent him a message on the way to the car, to tell her about his plans for New Years.

She got to the base and when she turned the corner to get to the office she stopped. Simon. In front of her door. Except, she didn't smile this time. One time, I appreciate, two times, you're kind and caring, what's up now? To confirm her thought that something wasn't right, as soon as he saw her, Simon started walking towards her. What did I do now, do I need to run? He was wearing a black tight shirt and cameo trousers, his boots heavy on the ground. He looked scary, she even took a step back when she saw him coming towards her. He was as scary as an avalanche. It was so weird, now he saw him as he really was. A soldier, a man of war. He killed for a living, he wasn't her new little friend. Are you gonna kill me as well?

'Let's go' he said when he approached her. 'What? I have patients', she replied, he went past her at this point and turned the corner. I'm not following you Simon. What is he on about? He stopped when he noticed she wasn't behind him. 'Alba, let's go, you're not working today.' He insisted, and she just got more annoyed. 'No.' She kept a straight face and crossed her arms. 'And don't fucking call me that.' She hissed. She was confused, to say the least. He scoffed and took a step towards her. Why do you have to make things difficult now, I'm just trying to do my job. And yes, I am calling you by your pretty name since I can't get it out of my head. She took a step back, away from him. Was she afraid of him? He felt a burning pressure in his chest. He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders to seem less intimidating. Does she think he would hurt her like that other soldier did a year ago? If she only knew how much he thought about her, last night. She couldn't imagine how much time he lied awake, one arm between his head and the pillow, thinking so hard about her he felt his brain melting. Her lashes. Her voice. Her nails, the rosy colour of her cheeks.

'Laswell ordered me to come get you. She wants to see you.' He spoke with his voice soft, gently scrunching down to make up for those 30 centimetres that divided their eyes. Just come with me. He saw her relax, her expression softening. Still, she was frowning in confusion. 'My patients…', she looked like a confused little kid, she looked like when you do your maths homework with your dad at the kitchen table and you're tired and heartbroken and you're not getting any of the maths. He figured bossing her around wasn't really the way to win her heart. 'Already taken care of.' She had a white turtleneck on. With that, her blonde, silky hair, her translucent eyes piercing through his soul, she looked like an angel. She looked like a cloud, like an elf, the Lord of the Rings ones. 'You could have fucking told me earlier.' There she was.

He sighed and took off with her trough the corridor. 'What's going on?' she asked, and he didn't reply. 'If you don't answer I'm gonna fucking scream', she was nearly running, to keep up with him and he quite liked seeing her mad. 'She's gonna tell you.' He quickly glanced down at her. Her makeup looked different but he could not really pinpoint why. It made her whole face look brighter. They walked to Laswell's office, took the lift in silence. She smelled nice. Tangerines, flowers. It was a fresh smell. He opened the door of the office for her. Inside, Captain Price, Laswell, Calvin Klein Handsome Boy and Scotland were in the room staring at her. Her and the Lieutenant behind her. They looked like they were about to yell 'Surprise!' and balloons would appear and they would eat cake. Or they were just waiting for her and Simon to arrive cause they were invited for dinner. Or maybe they were going to play hide and seek until one of them found her and had the pleasure to kill her while the others watched. She felt Simon's presence behind her, she was too concentrated scanning the room but she could swear he gently pushed her back to make her get inside the room. 'Jude, thanks for coming, I'm sorry for making you skip your appointments.' Kate smiled and indicated she sat down at her desk. She was not gonna sit down. She took a step foreword and waited her to speak, her arms stiff at her sides, back straight. What's going on. Why the meeting, why this many people.

'Jude, Ghost told me about your theory. The crater.' Her eyes shot up at the captain, how spoke from beside the window. She looked at him 'Did he?' She whispered, then she looked at Simon, or better in the situation, Ghost, who was standing at her right. He was standing legs spread and arms crossed. Traitor. I told you not to say anything. She was ready to apologise for interfering. She shouldn't have trusted him. She had to change her job for sure, she had to leave again. She messed up too bad this time, she managed to mess up the only good thing about her life… Now this really wasn't a comfortable situation for Simon either. He had some explaining to do. He went to see the captain the night before and told him everything. 'I don't know if she's right to be honest. The crater is there and it's a good natural hiding spot for sure. I don't know if it's good enough intel', he had said. Price had thought for a few seconds. 'Listen Simon, I trust your judgement. I don't want to know where and when you talked to her, but we have a job to do…' he tried to interrupt, but he kept going. 'No, no don't worry, I don't want to know about your personal life, to be honest it would be nice to see you settle down and she really is a nice girl…'

'Sir, I-'

'The thing is, if she's wrong and this was all a little game we could waste time, lose our target and put our men at risk.' He managed to investigate further and found out Jude was right, again. Jude 2 - Ghost 0. He briefed his teammates that morning, who asked how he got that information and in which setting he spoke to Jude, which he replied was classified. They looked at him and they knew he was hiding something. He didn't even want to know what they thought. 'Yes, you see, we have a camp, headquarters near Al-Jareena, a few soldiers are still there. Yesterday night, after I was informed about what you found I sent them in the desert, they stopped…' he got close to the table and indicated the map that was placed in the middle '…about here.' She moved closer to the table. 'I sent two drones ahead. They found the crater, about two miles from where the cars had stopped.' He was typing on the keyboard of a laptop. He showed her the screen, she could see the video tape that the drones had recorded. It was in night vision, she couldn't see well, but the image was mostly clear. He spoke again while the video played. 'You see, there are snipers here… and all the way here…and when they got close to the centre…' he stopped, but she understood.

She could see buildings, tents. A camp. She could see people moving around, she could see a campfire. Guns. Then she spotted it. On the side of a tent. She looked up at the captain, her eyes bright with excitement. She could fucking cry in that moment. The viper print on the tent, eyes bright red. Khorram's troops were inside the crater.

notes: translation: 'Ti ho detto, è venuto a trovarmi a danza, io dovevo mangiare e gli ho chiesto se voleva cenare. Poi avrei portato fuori il cane e mi ha detto che era pericoloso da sola e mi ha accompagnato'. means 'I told you, he came to see me at ballet, i needed to eat and i asked him if he wanted to have dinner. Then I would have walked the dog and he said it was dangerous to go alone and he came with me.' 'Fra, te non hai capito questo chi è' means 'Bro, you don't understand who this is'. Fra is the abbreviated version of 'fratello' which means brother. When two are really close is common to call each other fra, boy of girl we don't care, even because it's a funny word, it's fake gangsta slang. I call my girlfriends fra all the time. 'Salvo agg capit…Jinx lascia!' means 'Salvo, I got it…Jinx let it go'.

notes: one of alba's perfumes is disumano by morph. (disumano means non human).

notes: can you tell I'm back at uni, I'm posting again lol

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

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bumblebugwrites · 8 months

Text

chapter 5: killer

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: Your very first Hunger Games as a mentor comes to an end, and you are forced to reckon with the aftermath.

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Weapons, Violence.

Word Count: 9.3k

Taglist: @nekee-lilac02, @mr-panda357, @yourfavmiki, @blackoutdays13, @dialuvsbangtan

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Bee has disappeared, but the alarm remains silent, and the girl from 2 is still swinging. You force yourself to blink past the tears rapidly welling in your eyes; you will have to save them for later. As of right now, you still have a tribute in the Games. But where is she?

From his place before the camera, Lucky Flickerman cries out in excitement at the feat.

“And Little Bee from 10 pulls off a miraculous disappearing act!” He displays an array of cards, waving them back and forth before making them vanish in one smooth movement, punctuating the end of his sentence. To your left, Treech sinks further into his seat, frustration palpable. You are still standing, heart beating at the erratic pace of a jackrabbit, and time moves unbearably slow as you continue to scan the screen for some sign of life.

And then it comes, and really, you aren’t sure what to say. The boy from 11 appears first, crawling out the shrub’s other side before Bee joins him, her hand tightly clasped in his own. They are careful, making little noise as they emerge, but the quiet does not last. The moment they are on their feet, they are moving with a speed that can not help but be loud, feet pounding against the forest floor. The girl from 2 makes no effort to chase, seemingly accepting the defeat of the moment, and you note, with a sinking feeling in your chest, that Bee turns back, for just a second, to eye Colt’s unmoving form, sprawled across the ground. Still, she does not stop running.

It catches you off guard, the nudge from Teff, but you follow his finger as he indicates the television with Bee’s face spinning in a slow circle. Her sponsorships. They are increasing. You want to scream, to admonish the people of the Capitol for their pity money. She had no worth to them before, and now here was her grief, a commodity to them. You say nothing but give a curt nod in thanks to the District 11 mentor for pointing it out.

When the boy tugging Bee along eventually pulls her to a stop, it is in a clearing already occupied by another: Trawl’s girl, Mags. She spins on her heel, clearly readying a speech of some sort, but stops herself when her eyes settle on Bee.

“What the fuck is this?” Her voice is tense, not like you expected from the girl who put her life on the line to hold her District partner as he lay dying and took in the alliless boy from 11.

“She needed help; I saved her,” he says.

“We don’t need another person. She’s gonna slow us down.” And you know it is not her intent to be cruel, only logical, but her words sting.

“She’s smart. And she’s small; she can hide like me.”

“Jadam– I am barely taking care of us; what made you think I could handle someone else?” Mags’s arms fly out in exasperation.

“I just thought that–”

“No. Okay? I won’t kill her, but she has to go.” The panic in your chest begins to rise. You have to do something, and quickly, too. Your eyes flit to Bee’s mounting donations, beginning to dwindle at the 430 mark before traveling down to your screen and the price of bread. A single loaf would cost you 400. All her sponsorships out the window in a single move. Still, it is a risk you have to take, your chest constricting with the knowledge that if she loses this alliance, she will have no one. You slam down on the button.

On the screen, Jadam turns to Bee, an apologetic look painting his features. Mags only eyes the forest floor behind him, arms crossed and clearly set in her decision. In the distance, there is a noise.

All three heads dart up in seeming unison as a drone comes into view just above the canopy of leaves before beginning to lower itself slowly to the ground. There is a tin attached at the bottom, but the trio of tributes remain frozen with fear. It is Mags who eventually moves, after several moments of silence, to inspect the device. Slowly, she pulls the tin from the drone, before opening the small container. A note tumbles out from inside, and she dips to collect it, but her eyes do not leave the contents of the metal box. She is hungry; this much you know from having watched her closely the past two days. She has yet to eat.

“It’s for you,” she says, her jaw growing tight as her eyes travel up to meet Bee’s gaze. The smaller girl moves forward with caution and, after noting the bread, pulls it from the container and begins to tear it into separate parts, handing one to Mags and tossing a second to Jadam before squaring her shoulders and making towards the large expanse of woods ahead, her section of the loaf clutched tightly in her hand. Come on. Don’t let her leave.

She is almost out of sight when Mags calls out after her.

“Wait.”

Bee whips around, features unreadable as she pauses, allowing Mags to continue. The older girl only sighs, the sound dripping with defeat.

“You can stay.”

The sentiment has barely left her lips when your shoulders sag in relief, and you are off, headed for the doors.

“Bathroom,” you hiss at the Peacekeeper who moves to block your path, and he shifts to let you pass.

It is all you can do to halt the muffled sob that threatens to escape your lips the minute you set foot in the hallway. The heels of your boots make a distinct echoing sound as they come in contact with the cold marble floor, and succession of clicks is so loud you almost miss the second pair of footsteps ringing out behind you.

You whip around, prepared to warn whichever victor has just followed you out to stop tailing you. To plaster a blank look across your features and tell them you are fine. It is not a victor. You recognize Dr. Gaul from the beginning of the Games, clearly on her way in as you make your way out. She has made several appearances over the last two days, though none too prolonged, mostly spent at the back of the large room, whispering to the man with the white hair. To Snow, you correct again subconsciously.

“Ms. L/N,” she says, nodding in acknowledgment. “I saw what happened to that boy of yours. Pity, really.”

“I’m not really sure why you’re concerned. What’s one more kid when you’ve already killed so many?” You grit out, unsure where the courage to do so has emerged from, but holding firm. Refusing to look away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you must be confused. I was talking about the boy from 7. That’s too bad about his tribute. Although I must admit, it was disappointing to see the other one go. He truly would have made a strong contender. Much better, I’m afraid, than the little girl.” Fear, cold and sharp, travels down your spine at her words, and you fight the urge to flinch away from the woman, instead fumbling to defend yourself.

“Treech is not–” The doors to the lecture hall bang open, and the very man on your lips appears in the doorway.

“Interesting,” she notes with a dangerous grin before turning on her heel to enter the room. Treech eyes you with concern, one brow raised in confusion.

“What was–”

“Fuck off. You have to fuck off,” you cry out, and it almost sounds as though you are pleading with him as you swerve, avoiding his touch and making for the bathroom once more. All you wanted was a minute to cry in peace.

“What the hell? What is your problem?” He demands, anger creeping into his tone, but don’t respond, reaching the bathroom door and giving it a harsh tug. He slams it shut, planting a firm hand over your head.

“You. You are my problem!” You are inches apart, and your chest is heaving. Treech only looks lost, features plainly read for once. His lips are parted, body warm. The smell of cedar invades your personal space once more. You give him a shove, hard and meaningful, before darting inside the bathroom. He follows.

You want to scream in frustration, and the tears you have been fighting begin to wet your cheeks as he turns to lock the door, his eyes doing a quick scan of the walls. No cameras. At least as far as you’re aware.

“What is going on with you?” He hisses, and a wretched sob wracks your body. Treech takes a step forward, and you inch back.

“Don’t act so concerned now. You’re the one who said this had to be nothing,” you spit, knowing it is undeserved, but you are angry, and with rage wrapping its thick hands around your throat, it is difficult to see straight. To see who should truly bear the burden of your wrath.

“You said it first!” Treech looks exasperated at best, but he does not approach again, treating you like a wild animal of some sort as though afraid you might spook and disappear.

“You didn’t answer my letter!” Unfair. You are being unfair. But you will do anything to get him out of here. To make him leave you alone. Because at least alone, you are not a threat to his life.

“Don’t do that. Don’t put this on me.” He shakes his head, frustration lighting his features once more.

“So it’s my fault?” And by your third attempt to corral him out the door, you can feel your resolve weakening. Can see it in the mirror too.

“No! So it’s no one’s fault! You think I don’t– Every day I spend with you, I think about this. Us. And every day, I have to remind myself that it would get us both killed. But fuck, I–” His words feel heavy where they should fill you with excitement. With joy. And suddenly, awareness of your situation burdens you again. And he looks so earnest, the words tumbling from his lips in a regrettable stream. So vulnerable.

“Gaul knows.”

“Knows what?” He is taken aback, and you know it is not the response he wanted.

“She was calling you my boy from 7. She knows about whatever this is.” And once you have begun the words come pouring out in quick succession.

“She knows, and Teff and Trawl know. And at this point, I’d be surprised if Lucky fucking Flickerman hasn’t been made aware. And I am exhausted. And scared. And Colt is–” But you don’t finish, as all the emotions from earlier make their way back in, and the weight is unbearable, forcing you to your knees. Treech rushes forward, and this time, you do not stop him as he catches you halfway to the ground, pulling you close as he had two nights ago. And really, today’s frustration all comes back to that. Colt is dead, and no amount of screaming and crying will make it not so. Maybe that’s why you let it happen. Allow Treech to gently rock you on that bathroom floor and whisper soft words in your ear. Maybe that is why you turn to curl into his chest. To pretend, in spite of the lurking anxiety just beneath your skin, that this is alright. That there will be no consequences. No one to answer to. Just for a moment.

Treech reenters first, and by the time you step through the archaic double doors, it has been thirty minutes, and the girl from 6 is dead. You make for the back table, eyes fixed straight ahead, and pour yourself another coffee. Eight kids left. Something has to happen, and soon.

The walk back to your chair feels eternal, and you slump in your seat upon arrival, fixing the screen with your gaze. The sun has set, and Bee sits crosslegged beside Mags, who watches over the sleeping form of Jadam, his head in her lap.

“There’s no food out here. No water except for that fucking hellscape of a river. We can hide all we want, but we’re never gonna survive if we keep going down this route,” Mags sighs, her shoulders slumping.

“At this rate, we’ll all just starve to death,” she laments, eyes softening on their path over Jadam’s features.

“They can send us bread from the outside. Like today–” Bee supplies, a hint of desperation creeping into her tone. Your own gaze flits down to her sponsorships, measly and non-existent after your splurge on her peace offering.

“They need money for sponsorships. Money that no one is gonna send if we’re just sitting around doing nothing,” Mags reasons, and a sick feeling in your stomach tells you she is right.

“There’s food in the cornucopia,” Jadam mumbles, and you realize with a start he was only feigning sleep.

“What?” Bee asks, head turning to consider him and his words more carefully.

“There’s a whole box of it in there. I saw it on the first day, during the countdown. There’s apples, bread probably–” Mags cuts him off.

“Yeah, there’s also the boy from 1. The girl from 2. Or are you forgetting that?”

“I’m just saying–” Jadam tries once more, but the older girl will not let him finish.

“Well, don’t. It’s not safe. We’d be walking into an ambush. Completely weaponless. It’s not happening.”

Bee stands from her place beside the pair, brushing the dirt from her clothes before turning to make her way out into the woods.

“Where are you going?” And it is more of a demand than a true question, sharp and cold though tinged with worry as Mags asks it.

“Bathroom,” Bee explains easily, though her eyes do not meet the older girl’s before she spins on her heel and disappears. Your shoulders tense, gaze fixed on her departing form. Jadam rolls onto his back, eyes trained upwards on the twisted expression of concern on Mags’s face.

“She’ll be alright,” Jadam whispers, and Mags almost appears to flinch at the words of comfort.

“We’ll have to split from her soon,” she states, clearing her throat, and your own heart sinks deeper into your chest. It is true. They cannot stay together forever without eventually needing to kill one another. Still, Jadam asks the question you have already found the answer to.

“Why?”

“There can’t be many of us left, and I don’t want to have to kill her when it comes down to it.”

“What about me?” His words echo out across the room, quiet now from the lack of academy students, and you feel your gaze being tugged toward Teff, his brow creased into an unreadable emotion as he watches the screen.

“What about you?”

“Won’t you have to kill me? If we stay together?” There is a look that passes over Mags’s face, one you recognize from Colt. From the way he looked at Bee. From the way you look at Fawn. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. The truth hangs in the air with a heavy silence, broken only when Bee reappears. She thrusts something onto the ground. An object, heavy in weight. A trident. Not just any trident, the one that killed Colt.

“Where did you get that?” Mags demands, shock evident in her voice.

“Found it.” You know she is lying. And you thank God they have no fire lit because you are sure her face would appear blotchy and swollen.

“What–” Mags begins.

“You said we were weaponless. Now we aren’t.” And a wave of pride passes through your system, at little underestimated Bee and her bravery. It is quickly smothered, though, by disgust with yourself, thick and rampant at the realization that she should not have to make this stand in the first place.

“Bee–”

“Look, there’s two of them and three of us, and now we can fight. We need food. So let’s go get food.”

Something big is coming; you can feel it in the way your hands shake, gripping the fine china of your mug. Only it feels sinister, and with each second that creeps by it settles into certainty. The 11th Games is coming to an end. All there is to do is sit and wait.

The girl from 3 dies in the night, along with the boy from 6, which brings the number of remaining tributes to six. Neither gone of natural causes though, you note, with a worrisome lurch of your stomach. The fierce duo from 1 and 2 is on the hunt, and they show no signs of stopping.

You feel uneasy as you fix the screen with a watchful eye, camera trained on three small backs, lying in wait. It is Bee who speaks first, turning to Mags with a hushed whisper.

“I’m telling you, they’re not there. They must be out looking for other tributes. This is our chance.” Mags appears hesitant but eventually gives a nod, and the three creep out from their place in the tree line.

They make the jump across the river separately, and though Jadam nearly slips, both girls lunge forward, pulling him to safety. A soft yelp passes his lips, but Mags is quick to shush him, jutting her head in the direction of the cornucopia. Her implication is clear: they could still be inside.

As they get closer, the three take care to press themselves against the wall, with the District 4 girl in the lead, taking a shaky breath before readjusting her grip on the trident in her possession and peeking her head around the corner. Her shoulders drop in relief, and she delivers a curt nod in the direction of the others. They are safe to move forward.

The trio creeps inside, splitting up to peel the lids off of several boxes and fish around their contents. There are several long beats of shuffling and silence before Jadam clears his throat, lifting his head with a sly grin on his face and producing from the confines of the plastic container, a bag of apples.

And you can’t help it, really, your own slow smile at the small victory, especially as glee and relief plaster themselves across Bee and Mags’s faces. Finally. A win.

And then there is screaming. Distant at first, but quickly approaching. And the camera view changes and the girl from 7, Treech’s girl. Hazel is making a mad dash from the woods towards the center of the arena, the pair from 1 and 2 hot on her tail.

“Fuck.”

The trio has barely made it to the mouth of the cornucopia when she makes it over the river, hurtling herself with a violent force, the remains of the pack just behind her.

“We’ve gotta go,” Mags begins to rush, ushering the pair of younger tributes ahead of her and making toward the bank. It’s then the ground seems to begin shaking, all six remaining tributes hitting the ground, and suddenly, the center of the arena begins to shrink, pieces breaking off into the river as the water continues to engulf the chunks of land indiscriminatley.

The girl from 2 is up again, a twisted growl darkening her features as she lunges Hazel, still splayed out from the fall. It is quick and merciful, the sword passing through her chest, and before you can truly process it, she has gone limp, and the buzzer signals her death. Beside you, Treech flinches.

On the screen, Mags’s head whips around in several wild motions, trying to calculate an escape route. The trio edges closer to the river, and the pair from 1 and 2 notes their presence for the first time, the girl turning her mean scowl on Bee, the mark of Colt’s attack stretched across her face in a jagged scar. She starts to run, and the ground begins to shake once more.

A piece breaks off, this time not unpopulated. Jadam hits the water with a splash. Mags lets out a cry of concern, lunging forward to pull him from the river. Her free hand connects with his, but there is a clear tug at his figure, and he screams in pain, accidentally pulling her in with him. The girl from 2 is nearly on Bee when both of them disappear beneath the surface.

One half of the pack takes Bee to the ground, and you resist the urge to reach for her. Beneath the water, there is movement. Both heads resurface, but Jadam’s lulls awkwardly to the side, and his eyes are unblinking. You feel like throwing up as the buzzer sounds again.

Mags seems to notice as well, her eyes welling up and a strangled sob escaping her lips. And then she is lifting the trident, stabbing down and something seems to give as she moves through the water towards the shore, gripping at the dirt and pulling herself up. Her eyes are cold, and she barely seems to notice as she turns, as though on instinct and impales the oncoming boy from 1 with her weapon before discarding him into the river.

The girl is next and, from behind, poses less of a threat. Beneath her, Bee has stopped struggling so much. Something is wrong. The trident pierces the girl from 2’s throat, and with several wretched choking sounds, she falls to the side, revealing Bee, drained of color beneath her. She is still breathing, though barely, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths and a large gash painting her stomach. She looks up at Mags with eyes filled with tears, and you wonder if the older girl will deliver the final blow just to get it over with. She seems to consider it for a moment, and Bee’s eyes squeeze shut, awaiting the impact.

The trident hits the ground, cast aside in one harsh movement, and Mags sinks slowly to her knees, pulling the younger girl into her lap. Her features grow tired, though admittedly warmer, and she begins to stroke Bee’s hair. You choke back a sob.

The careful braid you had pleated into her chestnut locks is almost completely undone, and Mags runs her fingers through the strands, undoing your work and then beginning to work at the knots that had formed in the Games. There is no need for the braid anymore. There will be no more fighting, no more days spent working in the slaughterhouse. Instead, her hair falls loose around her shoulders in the way a little girl’s hair should, wild and free. Uncontained.

“I’m so sorry,” Mags whispers, the words croaked and wet.

“Don’t be. I was never gonna win.” The response comes, weak and small.

“Could you do me a favor?” Mags only manages a nod, and Bee flashes her with a half-smile.

“If you ever make it over to 10, tell my mom not to worry about me. And that I love her.”

“I will. Of course, I will,” Mags promises, tears falling atop Bee’s fragile form. She is quiet for a time before speaking again, moving her hand to lay over Mags’s.

“Do you think there’s another world where we could have been friends?” The older girl’s lip shakes as she takes a minute before responding.

“I’d like to think we don’t need another world. That I can tell people we were friends in this one.” Bee smiles, real and bright, though fading by the second.

“That’s nice. Friends. I’m sorry it wasn’t for longer. I think I really would’ve liked getting to know you.” When she finally stills, Mags lets out a final shuddering sob before loosing a scream, angry like no other you’ve heard before. She does not hear as they announce her the victor, barely seeming to notice the Peacekeepers entering the arena through some passage in the cornucopia. Instead, she leans forward to press a kiss to Bee’s head and clings, shuddering to her form until they pry her from it, pulling her towards the exit.

The first thing you do upon arrival at the victor’s suite is take a shower. It has been days, and you scrub at your skin with a ferocity previously unknown to you, but the ghost of the Games does not wash away.

Trawl has been called elsewhere, likely to meet with Mags, but the rest of you have been told you will remain in the hotel until called upon for further ceremonies, and so you do. Wait, that is, as the hours tick by in a vile silence. Several of the other victors depart towards their rooms to rest or perhaps escape the group and the constant reminder they provide of the events that have just occurred. And really, you should sleep. In the last five days, you’ve probably only managed to crash for a grand total of two hours, and even that time had been dispersed in fifteen-minute chunks. But closing your eyes means seeing them. Colt sprawled out, his eyes still open and the ghost of a smile on his face in spite of his leaking chest, and Bee, whispering her final words to the girl from 4, her hair a messy halo in the grass. You wonder what will become of what is left of them.

It is a thought that has plagued you since your own Games, what the Capitol does with the remains of the District children. The first few years, they had shipped them home in boxes, though little had been done in the way of embalming, and often, the children arrived in a condition so bad that parents were denied the privilege of even seeing them. One year, the Capitol sent patches torn from the clothing of the deceased as a means of commemoration. But eventually, they ceased pretending to care about the families of fallen tributes, and in the last few years, when your child died, you were left with nothing but the memory of them and an empty grave.

Your hands shake as you enter the kitchen, barely noting the other mentors in the room. You haven’t eaten much in the last few days; the Games made you feel sick, and keeping anything down felt difficult. Still, the lack of care seems to be catching up with your body, so you force down some toast from the plater on the counter as well as a piece of bacon before turning to observe the suite.

You note Treech’s absence almost immediately, and though a good part of you longs for his presence, you know that after the events of yesterday, you should keep your distance. Teff is seated alone at the dining room table, hunched over and scribbling something. Probably a letter you note. Probably to Jadam’s parents or Olive’s. You shake the thought as it brings in a torrent of others. Should you be writing letters? What do you even say to the mothers of two children who will never see their homes again? Nothing. At least nothing they haven’t heard before, and certainly nothing that makes the absence feel any less cruel.

On the couch, Octavian sits, stiff as a board, his eyes glued straight ahead. The television plays something you don’t recognize and, therefore, must not be the news, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him. He stares blankly past the screen, gaze fixed on something you’re certain isn’t there.

Beside him, Antonia has begun to nod off, though she jerks awake every few seconds, eyes doing a desperate search of the room before landing on Octavian and, noting that he is safe, closing once more. Further down, several feet away from the pair, Lux sits, feet tucked primly beneath her and a magazine in her hands. You note that the pages turn too quickly for her to possibly be reading the text, but the movement seems to calm her, apart from the occasional fidget. You make your way over, taking the seat beside hers.

“What are you doing?” She asks without so much as looking up from the task before her.

“Sitting down?” You snark in return, sinking further into your seat.

“You can’t sit somewhere else? Further away?” She turns to face you now, nose crinkling in mock disgust, but you ignore the twisting of her features, hoping mostly for a moment of normalcy.

“Lux–”

“We aren’t friends,” she says plainly. And bickering with Lux feels normal, but her statement still strikes at an odd place between your ribs.

“Jesus, I know–” You begin once more.

“I’m not gonna sit here and play patty-cake and braid your hair.” This has you rolling your eyes, a soft snort escaping you.

“Would you calm down? I’m sitting next to you, not asking you to marry me.”

“Well, I would hope not; I’ve seen the wedding customs you have in 10; frankly, they’re a bit barbaric,” she taunts, flipping a long strand of hair over her shoulder and just barely missing your face. Still, there is something about the conversation that feels better than sitting catatonic like Octavian and staring at the wall.

“I’m sorry we can’t afford to be quite as gaudy with our ceremonies as–”

“Gaudy? We are very tasteful– I suppose you’d just have us walking down the aisle in work boots?” She sputters at the notion, and you know you are under her skin. Still, you do not stop, pushing forward with the jest.

“You know honey, maybe it would be better if we just eloped. I never really got the whole fuss around weddings anyways.” And suddenly, Lux breaks off in a laugh, though her brow remains raised in surprise as though she hadn’t been expecting to enjoy your company.

“I wanted a big wedding,” she admits after a long beat, turning to face you as though telling some sort of secret.

“When I was a girl, I would dream about falling in love and getting married. Perfect dress. Perfect venue. But nobody wants to lie in bed next to a killer. At least not back home. Not now. And by the time this Capitol plan kicks in and changes their minds, I won’t be me anymore, and that little girl will be long gone.” Her face has gone sour by the end of her confession, and you feel your own heart sinking in your chest at the turn in conversation. You want to say sorry. To reach out and comfort her. But she is Lux, and to do so would only encourage scorn, so you nod, trading a secret of your own.

“I always thought I would never marry. I wanted to work on the ranch like my dad; I thought that was what freedom looked like. And then it turned out all the ranchers ever really talk about is home. Their wives and husbands and how much they missed them. And I realized freedom doesn’t have to mean being alone. We don’t wear boots to our weddings. At least, not all of us do. It’s a ranching tradition. The whole bunkhouse saves up for a pair, and then the night before the wedding, you gift them to the person marrying into the ranch life. Like the things that are important to you become more important because they’re sharing them with you. And even though I didn’t believe in weddings or marriage, I started dreaming up those boots, what they would look like, and who would be wearing them. And then it didn’t seem so bad, falling in love.” Lux snorts at the notion, but when she dips her head to take in her magazine once more, there is a soft smile spread across her lips.

“You’re not so bad,” you say, quiet so only she can hear.

“I guess I’ve had worse company,” she replies, and you feel a piece of the weight chip away, just for a second.

For two days, the Capitol seems to forget entirely that you exist. Mags makes several television appearances accompanied by Trawl, but neither so much as enters the hotel. As for the rest of you, the space feels suffocating. At night, you escape to the lobby, seeking a change of environment and anything strong enough to drown out the Games that haunt you from every screen in the Capitol. The day proves to be more difficult, and you pass the hours making strained conversation with the other victors.

Several times, you consider writing Bee and Colt’s families, but the thought continues to bring bile to your throat, and you decide you will visit with them instead upon your return.

On the third day, there is a knock at the door. Several people enter all at once, including a pair of Peacekeepers led by a man you’ve never seen before. He has a sharp nose and eyes that remain guarded, almost appearing glassed over as he speaks. In addition, they bring Trawl and Mags, the former drawing you into an embrace upon arrival.

His companion shows signs of obvious discomfort, keeping close to her mentor as he makes his way to the couch. The man takes his place before the television, and you note he is likely here to pass on information regarding the next steps in this process, though you feel surprise creep into your system, wondering what has happened to Coriolanus Snow. Probably basking in the glory of his successful undertaking. It is a sour thought, but you have no doubt it is mostly true.

“Hello there, we haven’t met before. My name is Hilarius Heavensbee, and going forward, I’ll be working with Coriolanus Snow to oversee the mentorship program.” He is met with silence, but you all file in, aware there is likely a speech in store. He squares his shoulders before continuing.

“I’m here to let you know we’ll be keeping you here a little longer, mostly to get you prepped on what the first-ever Victory Tour will look like. Additionally, as part of our campaign to endear you to the public, each of you must pick a talent to cultivate and integrate into your personality.”

“Talent?” Antonia asks, a sneer decorating her features.

“Some sort of interesting skill. Drawing, poetry, dance, frankly, I don’t really care what you pick, as long as it’s something,” he says dismissively, though his posture conveys that there is a layer of deception to the aloof nature he presents.

“I’m good at chopping down trees. Can that be my talent?” Treech speaks up from beside you. Lux snorts, and he shoots her a glare.

“No. No, your talent needs to be something that distinguishes you from your district. Remember, on your new victor’s earnings, you will no longer be a part of the working class. This should be something you do for fun. A hobby,” Heavensbee prompts.

There is a wave of muttering that passes through the room, and you hear as several times the words fun and hobby are tossed around in a tone that indicates little more than confusion.

“Right, well, you’ll have until the end of the day to decide on something. And try not to pick the same talents; we don’t need nine victors who can knit,” he says, clapping his hands together before moving to depart and leaving the suite buzzing with confusion.

“What are you doing for this stupid talent thing?” Treech does not knock before entering your room; only thrusts himself down across the end of your bed and waits expectantly for your answer after closing the door behind him.

“Well, I already know how to draw, so probably just sketching,” you shrug, though it isn’t really a question; you’ve already decided.

“Urgh, this is so dumb,” he groans, burying his face in the duvet.

“C’mon, there has to be something you’re good at besides using an axe,” you tease, your lips twisting into a smile when he lifts his head to send you an indignant expression before the emotion on his face melts into something more contemplative.

“Sometimes I make little… things out of wood. For my sisters,” he says, slow as though weighing the option.

“There you go,” you encourage, pleased to have solved the predicament so quickly.

“No.” He shakes his head, setting it back down with another sigh.

“What do you mean, no? It’s right there. And you already know how to do it.”

“I don’t want them to have that. It’s– I want that to be for me.” And you cannot blame him for that, though the thought had not occurred to you before, and you think of your own talent. Of how the sole surviving symbol of your teenage dreams to become a veterinarian was the skill you would now hand on a silver platter to the Capitol.

“Okay,” you nod, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Do you know how to play any instruments?”

“Do I look like I know how to play any instruments?” He quips, voice muffled by the bed.

“Maybe you could try the guitar,” you say, and it is mostly a joke.

“As if. Do you know how ridiculous I would look trying to play the guitar?” You resist a laugh at the thought.

“Please, the women of the Capitol are already practically falling at your feet; just imagine if you could serenade them.”

“Shut up,” he says, looking up at you with a pout plastered across his face. Still, you don’t stop.

“Play me your guitar, oh Capitol loverboy. Is it true? Are you really a tortured dark soul, like they say?”

“Shut up,” Treech exclaims, louder this time, and as the words leave his mouth, he lunges forward to muffle your remarks with his hand. You struggle to break free, laughter slipping from your lips as he pulls you closer in his attempts to silence you, but it is of little use as you continue to pester him with your remarks until you gain enough traction to whip around and face him.

You are inches apart when your eyes meet his, and the words seem to die on your tongue as you note the distance, or lack thereof, between you. And for a moment, the world seems to stop. And his lips are so close, his eyes so soft. You recall the feeling of his curls between your fingers. You think you will never forget that feeling. His nose brushes yours, and your eyes flutter closed, cheek leaning into the open palm inches from your face. But you cannot. You know you cannot. So you pull away.

“Treech–”

“I know,” he cuts you off, allowing his hand to remain outstretched for a moment before dropping it to his side. His eyes linger though, tracing each crevice of your face with a look you cannot quite dissect.

“I should–”

“I’ll go,” he interrupts you once more and stands to depart. And your heart feels as though it is heavy enough to crash through all your vital organs, sinking into the bottom of your stomach. “I think maybe it’s better if I stop staying in your room.” He doesn’t turn around, his words projecting out towards the door, and you feel the biting sting of tears forming in your eyes. You want to speak, but you’re afraid your voice will break and betray you. He is gone before you can even manage a shaky breath.

You do not speak with Treech the next day, silence providing a strain between you, though you spare him a glance upon Hilarius’s return when he announces he will, in fact, be learning to play the guitar.

Before his departure, the new hire announces that you are all set to return tomorrow, but not prior to engaging in one final festivity, a celebration set to be held at the President’s mansion. Lux nearly squeals with excitement, though the decision seems to breed more questions than answers among others. “They won’t even let you come in here without a security detail, and now we’re invited to a ball?” Teff demands, brow furrowed in concern. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“This is all part of the larger plan in reconstructing your image as victors. We want the people of the Capitol to regard you as favorites. That starts with getting you in the same rooms with them.”

“This is gonna be fucking miserable,” mutters Treech, and you cannot help but agree. You can hardly imagine a world where, upon being faced with you, the Capitol citizens can manage anything other than sheer horror. Still, if some party is all that’s standing between you and returning home, you’ll find a way to get through it, even if you have to grit your teeth and bite your tongue until it bleeds.

Your stylists arrive hot on the tail of Hilarius’s departure, and by 9:00 pm, you are all ready to depart. You find yourself standing by Mags in the center of the suite’s common space as you wait for the cars meant to transport the lot of you to arrive, and upon noting a fallen eyelash on her cheek, you reach out on instinct before stopping yourself and clearing your throat.

“Sorry, it’s just you have an eyelash,” you start, indicating its location with an outstretched finger. Her eyebrows lift and she quickly moves to dust off her cheek, but to no avail.

“Here, let me.” You reach out once more, this time making contact with her skin and brushing it from her face.

“It’s good luck, you know. They say you’re supposed to put it on your knuckle and then blow it off and make a wish,” you smile, offering it back.

“Thanks, but I don’t think any of my wishes have a chance of coming true.” You nod, quiet understanding passing over your face before moving the piece of her to your own knuckle.

“Well then, I’ll wish for both of us that tonight goes decently well.” You shut your eyes tight and huff the eyelash out into the room.

“You’re not supposed to say it out loud.” And there is the ghost of a smile on her face at your mistake.

“What are the chances it comes true anyway?”

That was two hours ago, and as it turns out, the answer is zero to none. In fact, so far, the night had proved to be a disaster. No self-respecting Capitol citizen wanted to be seen talking to someone from the Districts, and so, as expected, no one spoke with you at all. Picking at the abundance of food lining the tables that fill the garden had only earned you several hard stares, and there came a point where even talking to Teff felt frustrating under the weight of so many watchful eyes, and so, about thirty minutes ago, you had pressed yourself into a corner, brimming with the hope that you might get lucky and simply disappear.

At present, your gaze is fixed on Treech, locked in conversation with a woman you recognize as his mentor from the 10th Hunger Games. She is a pretty girl; hair twisted back and away from her face and a visage like a cherub’s. Not that you really take notice. Not that you’re jealous or anything.

“May I have this dance?” Your thoughts are interrupted by the sudden presence at your side, and with a jolt, you turn to meet Hilarius Heavensbee, looking slightly more preened than he had several hours ago in your hotel room. You cast another glance in Treech’s direction, though it reveals nothing new. He is still wrapt in his conversation with Vispania and you are still standing in the corner, only not quite so alone.

“Shouldn’t you be sneering at me with disgust from thirty feet away?” And really, he’s done nothing to deserve it, but you are not exactly in the mood to be extending courtesies, and his offer seems to you more like an attempt to get under your skin than anything else.

“Well, I would, but then you’d be stuck standing in this corner, and I cannot think of a worse way to waste a perfectly beautiful dress.” You only snort in response, but the words seem genuine enough, and he extends you a careful hand, which, after several moments of consideration, you take. He leads you with ease, you note, as you settle into the pattern of his practiced steps, and you begin to relax in spite of your newfound position thrusting you into the limelight. Your eyes flit back to Treech, who, having noted your presence on the dance floor, appears distracted from his conversation with his former mentor, expression unreadable.

“How’s your night been so far?” Hilarius asks low and quiet in your ear. This conversation is just for you, meaning your biting tone from before feels at liberty to return.

“Is that a joke?” You scoff, meeting his gaze with a single eyebrow arched in question.

“They’re warming up to you,” he reassures, gathering the implication of your words, and you mull over his comment.

“Yeah, to Lux and Beau. And Octavian, I guess.” This much is true. The three had been the most successful in engaging with the other partygoers, with Lux in particular managing to charm a group of Capitol citizens who have yet to depart from her side. Hilarius only sighs before seeming to make a quick shift in conversation.

“Do you know the real reason I’m dancing with you?”

“Well, given that I saw the ring on your finger the minute you walked up, I’m assuming it's not an attempt to get in my pants,” you chuckle, eyes traveling to the golden band on his left hand. He grants you a smile, though his head shakes in tandem with the action.

“Look around. Look at the way they’re looking at you.” And you do. And he’s right, you note, not even having heard his reason, because the people of the Capitol have stopped glaring, fixing you instead with looks of curiosity and interest. It’s working.

As the music comes to a stop, he steps back, taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the skin. You nearly jerk back in surprise.

“Was that really necessary?”

“No. But you should see the look on your face.” You roll your eyes, casting your head around to gauge the reaction of your audience. The place beside Vispania is empty, and all that’s left of Treech is a retreating form headed for the house.

“I have to go, sorry,” you whisper, barely looking back as you set off after him.

It is not for lack of trying that you come up empty in your search for Treech, doing the rounds of both the gardens and the house for the remainder of the party to no avail. By the time you return to the hotel, it is nearly 3:00 am, and Treech is nowhere to be found. You crash into the soft padding of your duvet, not even bothering to wipe the makeup from your face, and the hem of your dress spills over the side of the bed, brushing against your ankles.

You think of Hilarius, of the dance you’d shared and the seeming sympathy he had lent you in his attempt to garner you even a modicum of support and respect. Your brain picks at his possible motivations: advancement within Snow’s ranks, better support for their sadistic project, a false sense of trust instilled in you as a mentor. Genuine kindness. You keep coming back to that answer, but it feels ignorant to let yourself believe, so you move on to other musings. To Treech.

It is incredible, you think, the amount of time he spends occupying your thoughts. You run your hands down your face, resisting the urge to curl in on yourself as you picture once more his retreating form. Was it something Vispania said? Or maybe, just maybe, was it you? Your dance with Hilarius? The thought feels indulgent, and your mind travels to earlier today. To your almost kiss. To the awkward battle, the two of you seem locked in, both wanting to give in but refusing for the other. Your mind begins to drift over the what-ifs.

There is a knock at the door. You are on your feet in an instant, though upon reaching it, your hand hovers over the handle. What if it’s not Treech? Or worse, what if it is? What do you even say? That this is doomed. That the two of you are doomed. You twist it open, and he doesn’t even look up as the light of your room floods the hallway, soft curls hanging down in his face and his frame draped against the entrance.

“I–” You begin.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He does not look up as he speaks, and his voice is strained as it travels in your direction.

“What?”

“When I’m with you, I can’t have you. When I’m ignoring you, you’re all I can think about. This is driving me insane. I feel like I’m insane and like no matter what I do, I’m losing. And I can’t just push it down anymore– Trust me, I tried. And I just knew I had to tell you. Well, technically, I’ve already told you, but this is the last time I’ll say it and–” And he is looking at you now, eyes wild.

“Treech–”

“When I saw you with him tonight, it felt like I was– Like I couldn’t– I’m not good at–” His struggle is palpable, but even as you move to interrupt him, you sense he has more to say.

“Treech,” you begin again.

“Like I was drowning.”

“Treech.” And this time, he doesn’t interrupt you as you move forward, placing a hand on his chest to still his breathing, which has become a bit erratic. He freezes, and for once, every emotion on his face is clear. Fear. Frustration. Adoration. It pools at the corners of his eyes as he looks at you. You are inches apart. Your mind flits to several days ago in the bathroom. To yesterday in your room. To all the nights you’d shared your bed. To that very first trip out to the Capitol, his pinky twisting around yours moments before you stepped out on stage. You take a shaky breath, and he leans in closer. Your noses are brushing. Now is the time to pull back. You can stop this here. But you can’t, not really. You don’t think an oncoming train could pull you away. Your lips brush over his, and his eyes begin to flutter closed before opening once more, fixing you with a questioning regard.

You only need to nod once, and it is as though time, which had stopped, has started again. And the kiss, which is soft at first, becomes frenzied, his hands pulling desperately at your waist, your own traveling up into his hair. And you pull each other closer, impossibly closer, appearing for a moment to devour one another. Completely undivided. Completely unaware.

It is early the next morning when the call comes; it sets the phone beside your bed ringing, and in your haze, you reach towards the sound only to discover Treech, who is closer, has released his hold on you to answer it. His voice is heavy with sleep, and you decide later that it was sleep that rendered you too dumb to perceive the danger of allowing him to pick up the phone. The phone in your room. Your room in which he was not meant to reside. But he continues speaking, in short, snippy phrases, before hanging up and turning to press a chaste kiss against your cheek.

“I’ll be right back.” And again, it should have scared you, his getting up so suddenly to depart, but all you can manage is a nod before you curl back into the warmth of the bed, unplagued by concern.

Snow’s office is much smaller than Treech expected, though that does not prevent the cold from seeping in. He had been quick to dress himself after receiving the call to your room, a mistake he had only recognized after speaking. Not that it would have saved him the grief. It was him Snow was asking for, not you. That thought alone is enough to send a shiver down his spine. How had Snow known to reach him there? He pushes the thought away, toying with his hands nervously while the other man finishes shuffling through a stack of papers before turning to him with a nonchalance that should have almost lowered his guard. It does not. Treech only clenches his hands into two tight fists while waiting for the man in the pressed suit to begin.

“No need to look so nervous. As long as this conversation goes well, you have nothing to worry about.” Snow smiles, face contorting into the expression as though unsure how to proceed.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you here, though at this point, given your numerous indiscretions, I feel it should be a bit obvious.” Treech does not share the expressed sentiment and sets about wracking his brain for anything he might have done.

“Oh, come on, don’t look so confused. Your relationship? With the girl from 10? You didn’t seriously think I was that stupid, did you? And I mean, it was fine, all those sad puppy dog looks and missed glances, but then you had to go and do something about it, didn’t you?” Anything he might have done that didn’t involve you, his single gross oversight. And suddenly, it all falls into place. The call placed to your room, the teasing glint in Snow’s eye.

“How–” He begins.

“You’re in the Capitol, Mr. Elmore, my domain. There isn’t a single place in this city I don’t have eyes on.” And he’s not sure Snow even has to say it. But he does. And the words sink like a stone within his gut.

“Anyways, you’re in luck. It’s a simple fix, really. You cut ties with the girl, and I overlook this mistake.” Cut ties? He has only just gotten you within his grasp, and now he is supposed to, what? Throw you away?

“I can’t–”

“Oh, you can. And you will. I understand you have a family, several sisters? A mother? Not to worry, though. I wouldn’t start with them. You see, Miss. L/N happens to have a family as well. One that is very dear to her, as I’m sure you know. And wouldn’t it be a shame if that little sister of hers was reaped for next year's Games? A tragedy, I assure you, though it would make good press.” There it is. A threat strong enough to stop him in his tracks. A promise that his actions would result before all else in consequences for you and you alone.

“So what? I just stop talking to her? What if she won’t leave me alone?” It occurs to him that try as he might, it isn’t exactly in your nature to just let things go.

“Well, then you make her. Frankly, that’s not my concern. Just make it happen.” And just like that, you are gone. No longer within reach. No longer within reason.

“You can go now.” And Treech is nearly at the door before he speaks again.

“But Mr. Elmore? We’ll be in contact. See, there are a few other things I’d like to run by you at some point, and now that we’ve gotten to know one another on this personal level, I feel I can trust you to make the right decisions.” Treech’s gut twists at the dismissal, but he says nothing, thinking only of you. Of what he is going to say. Do. How he is going to push you away with all his unspoken confessions pressing at the backs of his teeth. He makes it to the end of the hall before throwing up.

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