#I would applaud that audacity!

[pitchsidestories]

Secrets II Patri Guijarro x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1877

a/n: inspired by this adorable request. Let us know what you thought of it. <3

Champions League nights were always something special. Especially when your team just secured their spot in the semi finals. You were still on the pitch, applauding the fans and taking in the amazing atmosphere while most of your team mates slowly retreated back into the dressing room.

The cool chill of the night send a shiver down your spine. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to enjoy the moment and not think about anything else. But you could not stop yourself from glancing over to the other side of the pitch where Patri was doing her post-match interview.

You decided to go back and wait for her in the tunnel, in hopes that could spend a few minutes alone with her between leaving the pitch and entering the dressing room.

Patri smiled brightly as she saw you leaning on the wall.

“You love a champions league goal, don’t you, Patri?“, you smirked, hinting at the goal she scored shortly before the game ended.

She laughed: “I really do.“

You playfully pulled her closer to you, tugging on her sleeve: “That was admittedly kinda hot. Especially with the captains armband tonight.“

Your girlfriend winked: “Oh, you think so?“

“Yes, I do.“, you confirmed teasingly.

“Come here.“ Patri wrapped her arms around you.

You giggled: “What if someone sees us?“

The midfielder shrugged in the dim light: “It’s fine. We can go inside in a second.“

“Sure.“

“Come on.“, Patri said, now gently pushing you against the wall.

You raised your eyebrow: “A kiss from the goal scorer?“

Your girlfriend had the audacity to blush, making you want to kiss her even more. “Just a quick one, okay?“

“Okay.“, you agreed reluctantly.

Patris lips felt soft against yours. You wished you could stay in this moment for longer.

“My favourite secret.“, Patri winked at you when she pulled away.

You rolled your eyes and nodded into the direction of the dressing room: “I think our team is waiting for us.“

“Hey, what are you two waiting for?“, Marionas voice interrupted the two of you.

She stuck her head out of the dressing room. You looked for a sign in her face that would tell you if she had seen you. But you found nothing, so you innocently replied: “We’re coming. The captains interview took so long.“

Mariona shook her head as you walked past her into the dressing room.

“Once Patri’s talking, she can’t be stopped.“, Claudia snorted.

Patri grimaced: “Hey!“

“It’s true.“, you added casually, walking over to your locker.

“Rude.“, your girlfriend feigned outrage.

You were in the middle of pulling your shirt over your head when Ingrid turned to you: “Y/n?“

“Yes?“

“Why were you outside the whole time when you should have celebrated with us?“, the Norwegian asked.

You tilted your head: “Missed me?“

“Yes.“, she nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’m here now.“, you laughed.

Caroline joined the conversation: “Yeah. Now.“

Impatiently you asked your Norwegian team mates: “So what did I miss?“

“The usual chaos.”, the forward shrugged her shoulders.

Curious Ingrid looked at you:” You’ll join the team dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I’ll be there. What about you, Caro? Will you come too?”, you asked her with a teasing smile on your lips.

“I have no choice.”, she sighed, pointing into the direction where Marta was standing. The Norwegian midfielder and you found it adorable that the usual shy and reserved Caroline would literally say yes to everything her girlfriend was asking her to do even if it was team meetings she usually tried to avoid.

The location the club chose to have the team dinner at was beautiful. From where you and Patri were sitting you had the perfect view on the city’s pretty sight. Although you had to secretly admit that you spend more time-sharing stolen glances between you and your girlfriend when staring at the Catalonian scenery.

Your fellow teammates didn’t seem to notice that Patri was holding your hand hidden under the table:” The food is delicious, right?”

“It’s.”, you nodded.

Clearing her throat Ingrid tried to get your attention, she and Mapi were seated opposite of you:” Y/n, Mapi has found someone who could be a perfect fit for you.”

“You guys are trying to set me up again? Do I’ve to remind you what happened the last time?”, you gasped dramatically.

For a second the Spanish defender seemed guilty before returning to her usual self, sounding confidently:” Yeah, that didn’t work out well. But this time we’re sure that she’s perfect for you.”

“That’s sweet of you two but..”, you begun.

“This time it will go great. Just trust us.”, Mapi interrupted you quickly.

“Exactly.”, Ingrid continued in a reassuring tone.

Meanwhile Patri who listened the conversation quietly couldn’t watch it any longer and intervened frustrated: “Why are you even trying to set her up? I’m sure she could have anyone she wanted.”

“Patri.”, the defender rolled her eyes annoyed at her.

“What? Not everyone needs to be in a relationship.”, she countered.

“We only want the best for her.”, Mapi tried to reassure the Spanish midfielder.

“Pretty sure she knows that better than you.”, Patri grumbled.

Before your girlfriend was able to accidentally reveal your relationship, you asked your teammates in an overly cheerful tone:” What do you guys choose for dessert? I can’t decide.” 

“I’m taking the chocolate cake.”, the defender replied too surprised to ask why you changed the topic so suddenly.

You felt relived when you said:” Guess, I’ll pick that too.”

Later at your place, you could feel Patri was still tense from the talk you had with Ingrid and Mapi earlier, softly you lifted her chin, so she had to look into your eyes:” Patri? You know that I don’t want anyone else but you, right?”

“I do.”, your girlfriend hummed, pressing a kiss to your wrist.

“Good.”

“It’s just annoying.”, she added grumpily.

“I agree.”, you said to her while stroking her open hair gently.

Patri let out a sigh: “It’s okay.“

“I love you, Patri.“ You locked eyes with her until a small smile appeared on her face.

“I know. I love you too.“, she replied.

You smirked: “Oh, I know.“

Patri pulled you close to her: “I hope so!“

“Trust me.“

She tilted her head: “Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.“

“Excuse me?“, you asked, playfully pushing her away from you.

You girlfriend shrugged: “You might go on that set-up date.“

“No, I won’t.“, you laughed.

“Are you sure?“, Patri curiously raised her eyebrow.

You nodded firmly: “Very sure.“

“Reassuring.“, she commented before kissing you quickly.

“See?“

“Yeah, sure.“, Patri just said, too distracted by you to continue the conversation.

When you met the rest of the team for training the next morning, Ingrid was in a great mood. She was beaming as she walked on to the training pitch: “What a beautiful day for training.“

“Oh yes, the sun is so nice.“, you agreed, turning towards the sunlight and closing your eyes to soak up the Vitamin D.

Caroline shrugged: “Yeah, could be worse.“

You opened your eyes again, grinning at your team mate: “There is our grumpy sunshine.“

“Ugh.“, she groaned in response, obviously not a fan of your nickname for her.

“Come on, Caro.“, you tried to motivate her and played a ball in her direction for the next exercises.

“No.“, Caroline rolled her eyes in response but still continued the pass the ball.

You were right in the middle of a scrimmage, trying to win the ball back from Keira when you felt a sharp pain in your knee. Immediately, your leg gave out and you found yourself on the grass, holding your knee.

“No!“, Ingrid gasped.

You were too focused on trying to calm your breathing and to stop your thoughts from racing to notice that your team mates gathered around you.

“Y/n!“, Patri yelled and was quickly kneeling by your side.

Caroline looked down at you, worry reflecting in her eyes: “Are you okay?“

“No… it hurts.“, you cried breathlessly.

“Shit!“, you heard Patri curse under her breath next to you while she gently stroked your hair.

“She’s going to be okay…“, Ingrid tried to stay cheerful but the tone of her voice was not convincing.

You carefully tried to sit up and extend your knee but the pain was still there. You flinched.

Patri squeezed your hand tightly: “Love, don’t move. I’m here.“

You tried to focus on your girlfriends touch, you even failed to notice what she said.

Mapi and Claudia exchanged surprised looks: “Love?!“

“I knew it.”, Caroline exclaimed.

“What?”, Ingrid turned to the fellow Norwegian, looking shocked.

Serious the forward stated: “It isn’t that surprising.”

“Right, not when one thinks about it for a bit longer.”, the midfielder agreed after a short moment, playing the recent encounters between you and your girlfriend inside her head, seeing now all the little clues which showed that you were more than just friends.

Much later you were resting your leg on the sofa, looking up to Patri :” The doctor said that I’ll be out for a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?”, she lifted an eyebrow in response.

“Yes.”

A relived sigh escaped the Spanish midfielder’s lips:” Okay, that’s better than what I expected.”

“Sorry, it felt worse than it was.”, you apologized to her, feeling your cheeks turn hot.

She happily told you:” Hey, don’t worry about that. I’m just glad to share the pitch with you in a few weeks.”

“Maybe just in time for the champions league finale. Wait, are those sunflowers, how did you know that they are my favourite.”, you glanced at your girlfriend in awe.

“Oh please. I know what your favourite flowers are by now.” , Patri chuckled.

“Thank you.”, you whispered gratefully as the Spanish woman gave you your flowers.

She softly pressed a kiss on the top of your head: “You’re welcome, love.”  

“Caro claims that she knew about us the whole time.”, you told her grinning.

“I don’t believe that we were so careful”, the Spanish player shook her head laughing.

You agreed with her:” That’s true except for today.”

“Yeah, I guess they all know now.”, Patri nervously went through her hair with one hand.

“It’s okay.”, you reassured her.

In an earnest tone the midfielder thought out loud:” Maybe it was time to tell them anyway.”

With a crooked smile on her face, she added:” They’ll never shut up about it, right?”

“Never.”, you smirked at her.

“Do you think we’ll survive?”, the Spanish woman asked you half seriously and half half-jokingly.

“Yeah, if the other couples in the team can do it so can we.”, you concluded.

“But first, you have to make sure that your knee heals properly.”, Patri reminded you.

“I’ve the best nurse right here.”, you winked at her cheekily.

“Don’t worry. I will take care of you.”, your girlfriend promised you earnestly and the midfielder meant every word she said. Carefully she put the sunflowers into a vase and placed them on the table in the living room.

Secretly Patri hoped that your favourite flowers would remind you during the tough rehab days which were laying ahead of you that after rain the sun would always return, no matter how worse the weather seemed.

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

CW: SA, Child abuse.

Quiet on Set is one of the most horrifically depressing documentaries I've seen in a while. I remember having to take a long extended break between each episode, because trying to binge watch the entire series in one sitting would have legitimately broken me.

If ever there was a documentary that perfectly sums up how awful the entertainment industry is when it comes to SA and abuse, it's this one.

What's fucked up about the Brian Peck situation is how quickly it got swept under the rug, everyone just went back to work like nothing ever happened. And the fact that Dan Schneider had the audacity to try and act like a friend towards Drake Bell after everything that Bell went through is downright sickening.

It's like "Yeah, I may be an abusive asshole who keeps exposing children to sexual content at a young age, but at least I didn't SA anyone!"

Fuck you, Schneider.

What Drake Bell went through was pretty horrific and I do applaud him for speaking out about his experience on camera, however, that shouldn't take away from the fact that he took advantage of an underage girl.

But I think what this documentary does well is that it shows you first hand why so many SA victims take years to speak out, it's because the entertainment industry will go out of its way to protect predators and abusers.

The fact that only one celebrity denounced her defense of Brian Peck during the documentary's production is very telling.

If you want to know why so many predators and abusers end up working in the entertainment industry, it's because they know they can get away with acting like complete monsters behind the scenes and that nobody will ever hold them accountable until it's too late.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

a certain type of (typically white lower support needs speaking) autistic people: autism is not a disorder because there’s nothing wrong with me and a disorder implies there’s something wrong with me that needs to be cured😫😫people treat me bad because they see it as a disorder instead of the correct thing of difference or a neurotype!!!

half of this type of people: autism is not a disability because there’s nothing wrong with autism i’m not disabled i can do everything just like a nondisabled person and disability is Bad and i’m not bad

(which. disability is not a bad word and all but i at least applaud you for the consistency??)

other half of this group, somehow: autism is a disability because autism is disabling and there’s nothing wrong with disability! disability isn’t inherently bad it’s how society treat us that disables us!!! —but autism is still not a disorder! it’s not a disorder it’s a disability and a neurotype!

(disability isn’t bad but this group also perpetuated a lot of misinformation about the social model. i only have to fight them on one subject (autism as disorder) instead of two (autism as disability and disorder) but somehow this group is even more frustrating to deal with because the sheer cognitive dissonance is going to explode my brains. like so you can separate disability from societal ableism but you can’t separate disorder from societal ableism???)

bonus. all of them: *will come onto the post of a higher support needs autistic person talking about why autism is a disability AND a disorder and half complain half dissecting why some (lower support needs) autistic people are so fucking keen on speaking over higher support needs autistic experience. and then have the fucking audacity to say “well i don’t think autism is a disorder because” and then performatively say “if i misunderstand you’re welcome to educate me” as if the entire fucking original post isn’t an education and as if i owe explaining my entire experience to you*

for the record and for the last fucking time (narrator: it would not be the last time). disorder is not a bad word it’s not an inherently wrong thing it’s not a bad thing and if you think it is please for the love of god work on your internalized ableism instead of externalizing it to a more marginalized person. yes the construction of disorders especially in the realm of psychiatry is shit and a mess but that doesn’t mean what you think it means please. a disability a disorder an impairment is limiting by definition it’s a fact it can be neutral it doesn’t have to inherently mean the societal stigma associated with it is true. a disorder and how society and ableist people treat that disorder is heavily intertwined but the second is not inherent to the first.

if you don’t see your autism as a disorder i’m not going to argue over your own experience but stop fucking implying or straight up saying all autism is not a disorder. stop trying to erase the disorder part of autism spectrum disorder. please get out of your tunnel vision and actually shut up and listen to higher support needs / nonspeaking autistics for once in your life without adding any of your comments please.

disability is not an inherently bad thing. disorder is not an inherently bad thing. impairment is not an inherently bad thing.

[grugruel]

The Game

Pairing: Silco x f!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You and Silco like to keep things interesting by playing a game. Its your turn now, heat flares and tempers rise.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Established relationship, hints of smut, brief choking, mentioned degrading, tension? Elutions to sub!dom!silco towards the end.

I throw the doors to The Last Drop open, making my grand entrance.

Smoke billows out through the opening, it curls around my vision as it mixes with the impure air of Zaun and all heads in the club turn toward me.

An uscher of whispers rumble through the crowd and the music suddenly halts. A mans low whistle can be heard ringing out through the crowd, aswell as the consequent "ow" and "hush" as the man next to him elbows him in the side, giving him a stern look in warning.

I was off limits to everyone but one man, and that was considered common knowledge in Zaun.

I take a step inside, smiling devilishly, approving of the general public reaction.

I let the doors slam shut behind me, welcoming the familiar embrace of the murky, green tinted darkness of the club as it envelopes me. I gaze around the room, searching for him.

I am counting on him to be in his office already, as It was a crucial part of my plan for dramatic effect. And when married to a man like him, one couldnt help but look for him in every room you enter.

All that im met with though, is an array of mixed emotions, smiles, glances and a bunch of wide eyed men and women. The crowd was divided between those who, had they not know was good for them, would hollar and applaud my confidence or those who would be scared half to death and couldnt even dare throw a glance my way.

Most bastards, however. Had already let their slack-jawed chins hit the floor at the first sight of me, and oh . . . was I a vision to behold.

Everyone already knew who I was of course, my antics were not news to them, neither were the fact that I am wife to the infamouse Eye of Zaun.

So to explain the situation, Silco and I ha'd been playing a fun little game for some time, just to spice things up. We set two rules of outmost importance, no matter what, we had to follow them.

1. Prizes asked for must be given.

2. Revenge is always permitted.

Meaning whoever manages to outdo the others previous actions in boldness, audacity, mischief etc, wins whatever prize they desire from the other and whatever we did to challenge the other, we could always retaliate however we wanted and those asks had to be met

Usually when it was Silcos turn, he'd experiment, try something new, take me in the hall, in an alley, where anyone could see. Just for the thrill if it, because we can, because who would question him?

But as of late, work has been stressing him and hes been using me. He makes a public display out of me, showing everyone just who I belong to. A power play, of course, reinforcing his claim on me and putting on a show of his brazen nature as for Zaun not to forget who he is.

And he'd do it all with a ravenous gleam in his eye, enjoying every second of my embaressment. But god help any man who makes a remark or even looks at you the wrong way.

And since he has a reputation to uphold, an image to keep clean, being the crimeboss that he is, I had never been allowed to play our game in any type of crowded setting. He needed to be respected and more imporantly, feared. Meaning he could not be put into conpromising positions publicly. Privately was a whole nother situation.

But today, that would be coming to an end. I'd been forced to accept the situation since this whole thing came about, but he needed a reminder of who he married. Although I do not have as important of a position as him, my life did not begin when we married. I was someone before him and I am my own person still.

Blinded by love, and lust. I've let him do whatever he wants to me and although that can be a welcome notion betwix the sheets, it is not when he needs to make an example of someone, not anymore.

Sevika stood leaned against the stairrailings, watching my plan unfold, eyes wide. She sprung into action, ripping the jacket off the shoulders from the unsuspecting man next to her and rushes to cover me up.

She knows you're not the kind of woman who listens to anyone who tells you what to do, with the exception being Silco. And knowing she'd get hell from the man himself if she did anything else than try, she tries.

I reject the jacket of course, gently pushing her away from me. I clasp my hands behind me back and walk slowly towards the bar with her shadowing closely behind me in hope of hiding something from the crowd.

She lowers her head to my height, leaning closer to my ear, a shudder runs through me "He wont be happy" she snarles.

"I know" I answer nonchalantly. And a ghost of a smile flashes over her lips as she shakes her head and turns around, sighing.

I sit down on one of the stools by the bar, watching her as she makes her way upstairs. I order a whiskey and take a look around the room once again, noting all the stares.

"Cmon folks, he'll be down in a minute and you know better than to stare. Get back to it." I say in a low chuckle and they do just that, knowing the truth of my words.

Minutes later Sevika comes back down, she throws me a warning glance that tells me "not in the mood" and a new feeling begins to fester within me, uncertainty. I already knew he'd be cross when I schemed my little plan up, that was foreseen. But now?

I had no time to think of the consequences, because another set of footsteps could be heard a few paces behind her, slow and deliberate. He was already punishing me and I've yet to lay my eyes on him. My stumache flitters despite myself, longing to see how this plays out. Turbulence was to be excpected, but the rewards would be gratifying.

The crowd seems to have heard the destinctive sounds of Silcos footsteps aswell, as their attention turn toward the stairs.

Through the gloom of the lowly lit, smoke filled room, the glowing red of his cigar lights up his features, giving an earie glow to his eye. He looks mightly unimpressed, inhaling a puff of smoke his eyes scan the crowd, eventually settling on my form. Clad in nothing more than the crimson red lingerie that he bought me. He was already incredibly annoyed that you would compromise him like this, but seeing you in the set that he stressed were for his eyes only truly set him ablaze on the inside.

I swiwel the barstool so that I face him completley, the bartender slides my drink toward me and I grab it as I lean back against the bar, forearms supporting me. A pleased expressions washes over my face, this was a serious matter. But I should gloat whilst I still can.

He glares at me for a minute, the club is so silent you could hear peoples breathing, very shallow, careful breaths as they try to avoid catching his attention and possibly turning his displeasure onto themselves.

He takes in my appearance, looking me up and down. Sevika had not known the ordeal of this specific set of lingerie, so she had not conveyed its importance to him.

His patience usually wears thin, but seeing me in the lingerie he clearly told me were for him makes his blood boil.

Turbulence stirs within him, feeling incredible annoyance at your clear disobediance, but also a tinge of impatience to punish you especially since you did look brutally ravishing.

And as if his hair sences his stress, a greying strand of his magnificent hair falls over his eye. He sighs deeply, gathering himself before taking action, he catches the runaway strand by combing his free hand through his hair, placing it perfectly back with the rest.

He moves the hand holding his cigar, wafting it back and forth dismissively as he turns toward the people, adressing them "Avert you eyes ladies and gentlemen, that is my wife." he orders.

"Go ahead, leave, scram, flee." He makes a dramatic shooing gesture and announciates the last word, then taking another drag of his cigar.

He turns to Sevika "Make sure they understand that they did not see anything, then leave you too. No one is to be let in." she nods and posts herself by the door.

The people flock toward the exit, creating a bottleneck effect. Carefully, eagerly even, they follow Silcos directions reinforced by Sevika. They did not need to be told twice, they had already forcibly forgotten the incident and had no intention on stickning around to challenge his temper.

As the last of the crowd have left and the doors slam shut behind Sevika, its only the two of us left, so I stand to make my way to him.

"Stay." Silco says coldly, eyes snapping to me. A shiver runs through my body, I sit back down, crossing my legs, anticipation lining my senses as I smile at him.

We hold eachothers gaze "I missed you" I say.

"So I see" he responds, striding closer, one painstakingly slow step at a time and when hes finally close enough to touch I reach out to him, taking the lining of his tie between my fingers, softly tracing it down his chest, stopping at his vest button to undo it.

He snatches my wrist, holding it closer to him, inhaling the scent of my perfume, loving the way it mixes with the cigar smoke. He kisses my wrist before pinning it to the bar-counter behind me.

Not so easily discouraged, I lean closer to him in an atempt to steal a kiss off of those ruthless lips. I let my eyes fall shut and lean further in until I feel his breath on my skin as I've done so many times before. Heat flashes through me as I imagine the taste of him being less than a mere second away, but my expectations fall short as im met by the the savour of his cigar instead.

"Tsk tsk tsk" he shakes his head "Surely you wouldnt dream it to be this easy my dear?" His tone mocking.

I scoff in pretend defeat as I take the cigar from him, taking a drag and leaning back against the counter again. "I was only teaching you a lesson, husband." I sigh.

"Oh" he exclaims, his demeanor unclear. A mix of entertainment and frustration evidens in his voice "You're teaching me a lesson hmm?" His gaze hardens and an frustrated smile forms on his lips as he awaits my response.

"Naturally."

A gleam of irritation lights in his eye, he takes the whiskey from my hand, studying it carefully as if planning his next move. He takes a slow sip, "So.." he begins, carefully phrasing his words, "Would you like to tell me how come? Because frankly, my dear. Im at a loss here." Agitation evident in his tone.

"Truly?" I question, not sure if he actually wants me to answer that. "I love this little game of ours, it can be... Oh so thrilling" I sigh in reminiscence, thinking back to past adventurez when we've enjoyed eachothers rueful challenges.

"But I do not enjoy to be used as someones puppet, not even yours. You've turned this wonderful game of ours into a show of your power, using me. So, I wanted to teach you a lesson." I repeated myself, nonchalantly.

His gaze bores into my own, furious at your choice of handling the situation, but even more so because theres truth in your words. "I have a reputation." He spits the last word, "How will I be respected if I cannot controll my own woman?" He asks, frustrated.

I sneer, "You forget yourself Silco." Theres venom in my tone, "I may not be known as "The Industrialist" but I have a reputation of my own and it is time I reminded you of it. Zaun will not respect you more for treating me like shit, and your blatant audacity to feel bad for yourself is sickening." I state coldly, and he knows your right, yet he cannot help how your words irk him. His face burns hot with shame.

"Ive let you degrade me in front of thousands of people, just for you to earn your power." I spit back.

"But truth be told, husband. Youre not a king, nor a god, and people will understand that you cannot control me. Ive never been know as conceded woman and I believe I have made that clear today." I fix my gaze sternly on his, making sure hes understood. He glares back, nodding.

Certain hes seen my point, I ease up. Work has taken a toll on him as of late, thats not his fault, but how he chose to counteract it is.

I lean forward again, softening my gaze as I carefully stroke his scar and whisper "You might have chosen me as your bride, but I also chose you, you know."

He sighs, closing his eyes, the anger melting away from him as he remebers you when you first met, and thinks of the woman before him now. Hes loved every version of you that hes had to pleasure to know and hes been incredibly stupid to put you in such positions for his own gain, he will simply find others to make examples of. He meets your gaze again, defeated "Im afraid my dear girl, that you're right, my behavior towards you have been appaling. You win, this time." A releaved expression covers my face as I've gotten my point across.

"However," he says soflty placing both hands on either side of my face, cupping it "That wont stop me from earning my retribution, game rules." He points out, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as a hand slides one hand to the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair, earning him a moan from me.

He strokes my cheek gently with the back of his free hand, then tracing his index finger along my jaw and ending it with a tap at the sharpest point under my ear, "Everything." He says concurrently with the tap.

He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear before continuing to trace his finger down my neck, following it with his gaze, he grabs my throat, squeezing lightly as he carefully yamks me closer to him, making me gasp, "Has." he punctuates, finger tapping again, this time on my artery.

He lets go of my throat an continues to trace his finger outward along my collarbone, stopping at my shoulder, "A." He taps again. Silent anticipation linger between us, as I wonder where this'll end.

He takes the crimson brastrap between his fingers, slowly sliding it off my shoulder as he traces it down to the cup, "Price." He ends, the tension between us culminating, as he taps one last time at the soft flesh of my breast.%I shiver runs along my spine, I lean into again, his lips a ghost on mine.

"Naturally" I whisper against his lips, feeling him smile.

His hands continue downward, coming to a stop at my hips, holding me in place as if I'd ever wish to be anywhere else and melting me completely with his sudden tenderness. But his grip hardens, ready to take what is his. And as much as I would love just that, I was not done and he knew it.

"But, I've yet to claim my price. Game rules." I state, he steps back, knowing that he has to abide by the rules. His eyes shift to mine, pleading and lust battling for controll. "Cruel, cruel woman" he whimpers.

One side of him is itching to do whatever he wants to you and the other begging for you to let him touch you. And you're about to make him beg for it.

[fortycumber]

so I'm finally watching till the end of the moon since I couldn't before (life got in the way and I didn't want to skim through it like I usually do with some dramas. I mean, it's rather on the heavier side and it made me quite the emotional wreck the last time I sat down and decided to watch it, I need to mentally prepare to devote myself to it k? 😂😂😂)

and I genuinely have the same thoughts I had then

Like

What do these people expect from Tantai Jin? He's been used, abused, neglected, despised, thrown about, beaten, battered, hungry, thirsty, cold, sick (dunno what more honestly, this guy's been through it all) and they're expecting him to just take it like a champ and die honourably? Because defending himself and literally biting and fighting to survive isn't honorable for them, he should've just remained their puppet to maim and torture forever and thus gain their favor. Yeah OK he's no saint, but the sole reason he became like that was because PEOPLE LITERALLY DIDN'T GIVE HIM A BREAK, back when he hadn't done a single bad thing he was blamed for all sorts of atrocities and then it was expected from him to just I don't know, not be mentally damaged by all of that. It's amazing he had that much patience to take it all in and not retaliate.

The audacity these people have, like, if it were me, I would have applauded him and genuinely supported him through his path to destruction, I mean good for you, go King destroy and look good while you do it!

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Err on The Side of Awesome

(Not my gif)

Kol Mikaelson's Daughter Headcanons

Requested by: @katherinereilly19

Here lies my Masterlist

You were adopted by Kol and Davina Claire-Mikaelson at age six from a Catholic orphanage run by nuns who all thought you were some sort of demon child.

See, like your adopted father, you were a witch and had come into your power rather early. Davina had been sensing some odd power flares in the area and, when she and Kol had gone to investigate, there you were - a sweet, little bundle of mischief with more power than you knew what to do with.

To say that you had Kol wrapped around your little finger from the first second he saw you would be no exaggeration. Seriously. 

Kol had never thought himself fit to be a husband, let alone a parent. It still baffles him some days that Davina agreed to marry him - most days in fact - it just seemed too good to be true. They traveled the world for a while and then… Well, Davina, she…

She said she wanted kids.

She didn't say that she used to want kids or that she would have wanted them had she married someone else. Davina said she wanted to be a mom. With him. She said she wanted to have a kid with him and she wanted Kol to be that kid's dad.

At first, he almost thought it was a joke. Who in their right mind would trust him with a child? But no, Davina was serious. 

And it terrified him.

Kol is well aware of just how miserably his parents screwed up their job and he's pretty sure he couldn't do any worse but that doesn't mean he'd do well.

But the guy took just one look at you and he knew without a doubt that there was no alternative realm, no obscure future, and no minuscule probability in which he could cause you any harm.

For the first little while, you were convinced (thanks to the nuns) that you would have to be an absolute angel of a child in order to be wanted by your new parents. You helped clean things, refrain from using your magic, made your bed, brushed your teeth, and never asked for anything.

Three months in, you dropped a plate and broke down crying, begging Mr. and Mrs. Claire-Mikaelson (because you wouldn't dare call them mom and dad) not to send you back.

What began as your average Tuesday afternoon turned into a deeply formative experience when Kol sat you on his knee, looked you in the eyes, and said:

"Y/N, darling, I want you to listen to me very closely, alright? There is absolutely nothing on this earth you can do or say that will make your mother and I love you any less. There is no such thing as good enough - there is no bar you have to meet - only what you are. Now, a plate is infinitely replaceable, but you are our daughter and I will love you until the end of time. That makes you infinitely more valuable than a plate. Okay?"

"O-okay… dad?"

That was a day you never forgot as you grew older. 

Speaking of growing, no matter how old you get, Kol can and will pick you up by the ankle and hold you upside down. It never gets old.

Also, piggy-back rides.

You did go through a phase where you were convinced there was a monster in your closet.

"Dad! There's a monster in my closet and it wants to eat my toes!"

"Really? Well, I must applaud the audacity."

There were quite a few nights you spent cuddled up between them as Davina braided your hair and Kol told you a story until you fell asleep. 

Kol always refers to you and Davina as "his girls".

He's always willing to play with you, whether it be a game of tag or a complex drama plot with your dolls. (His personal favorite was when you decided to reenact the French Revolution in Barbie form.)

Daddy-Daughter Days are 100% a thing. The two of you are huge movie and arcade goers. Not to mention huge fantasy nerds. From Deltora Quest to Harry Potter to the freaking Wheel of Time - your fascination with the fantastical never fades as you grow. You never thought yourself too old to be read to at night, so Kol never stopped the tradition.

You're a little (a lot) spoiled. But not in a bad way. You're not ungrateful but let's just say you have quite a few pets.

Auntie Bex is always more than willing to babysit when your parents want some time to themselves. You remind her of Kol when he was a kid and she adores that.

Play-Dates with your cousin Hope mean quite a few headaches for your uncles Klaus and Elijah. Aunt Hayley thinks you're absolutely hilarious while Aunt Cami is convinced you're like 4 different varieties of insane. She might have a point there.

When you're old enough to be in school, you can always count on your parents to help you with your homework. You never would have made it through middle or high school without your dad, Kol is insanely good at math and chemistry. However, when it comes to anything to do with history or government, he passes the torch to Davina because even though he lived through it, he literally never paid enough attention to remember anything.

Parent-Teacher conferences are always interesting. 

"Y/N is so intelligent. Truly a joy to have in class."

"Is she now?"

Neither of them buys it for a second. You have a mischievous streak a mile long, the teacher just doesn't know that you're the one putting tacks on her chair. Kol is honestly proud and Davina may try to be the voice of reason but she can't help laughing at just how alike father and daughter turned out to be.

Now, if Hope is "miraculously well adjusted" then you're probably something like a thirty-year-old in an eight-year-old body. You're like the most chill child perhaps ever. However, just like your father, your maturity level varies with the situation.

For example, Klaus once decided it would be a good idea to whip out the "You're not even a real Mikaelson" card at a family reunion. It wasn't long before Davina had thrown Klaus into a wall and Kol and Marcel were at each other's throats. 

You honestly weren't even bothered. You knew your parents loved you and that was enough so you simply said:

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

And went back to eating your dinosaur chicken nuggets.

Marcel - apparently still a little touchy on that subject - was the last to sit down again. Little did he know just how proficient you had become with teleporting objects. Naturally, you were smirking when the whoopie cushion did its noble work.

Kol is terrified that he'll lose touch with you as you grow older.

This fear never comes to fruition.

The trust between you and your parents is something every other child ever would envy. They trust your judgment and, in turn, you trust the very few restrictions they put in place for you. It's crazy because they honestly never get mad. Like ever.

However, their disappointment is the worst thing you'll ever endure. 

 They told you not to go out one night because an old enemy of Klaus' was wandering around town. You went out anyway and you were attacked. Now, you were powerful enough to fight off your assailant and kill him, but you didn't come out of that fight unscathed. You had to limp home and tell your dad what had happened. 

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. I've done much worse in my life, for much dumber reasons. To be mad at you would make me a hypocrite. I just know you're better than this - Y/N, you've shown me that you're better than this. I'm not angry with you. I'm just extraordinarily disappointed."

It happens only once and never again.

Growing up with those two for parents ensured that you quickly mastered your magic and became one of the most powerful and skilled witches of all time. But don't think for a second that you would ever be used. They would never allow that to happen.

As you reach middle and high school, a rumor begins going around that your dad is a vampire. You just snort really loud and make no further comment. It leaves everyone wondering.

First boyfriend?

Heaven help the poor sod. 

"If you ever lay your hands on my daughter against her will, you will find that you no longer have hands. I will use the bones of them to fashion myself a new pen, with which I shall write your death certificate. Do I make myself clear?"

Once you're old enough, the basement becomes something of a witchy lab space.

Explosions are… frequent.

*Coughing* "Thank goodness your mother wasn't home for that one."

"Think again, Mikaelson."

"Oh shi-"

"Uh… Hi mom!"

You're probably the healthiest Mikaelson.

When the time comes for you to graduate, it's a hard dose of reality for Kol. He understands he has to let you live your life and he would never dream of taking that away as it was taken from him, but it's just hard.

You'll never stop being his little girl.

Special thanks to: @her-violent-delights

[katy-l1988]

Chapater IV: The child

Zestial was momentarily paralyzed as he saw Carmilla standing, illuminated by the spotlight, her figure shining amidst the dimness of the venue. Their eyes met, and in that instant, everything seemed to stop around them. Buried feelings and forgotten memories resurfaced in his mind, reminding him of how much he missed her. Araziel, noticing Carmilla's intense gaze and reaction to seeing Zestial, felt a flash of jealousy ignite within him. His fingers slightly tightened on the edge of the table, and a cold, defiant gaze settled on the angel who had interrupted his night.

Meanwhile, Carmilla, standing in the middle of the restaurant, struggled internally, her heart torn between illusion and commitment. On one hand, she longed for the lost connection with Zestial, a spark of nostalgia and desire burning in her chest, something Araziel could no longer awaken in her. Asmodeo seized the opportunity for his own entertainment. Without hesitation, he took to the stage.

For him, it was all comedy, entertainment for his drama-hungry audience. However, behind his mask, there was a disdain for love he had never managed to feel, a belief that darker desires were superior to any romantic feelings.

"Listen up, everyone! Today, three great celebrities from Hell visit us!" Asmodeo exclaimed sarcastically, with a mischievous smile, relishing in the audience's attention. "Come here, Araziel!"

The angel combed his pink hair, which shimmered under the spotlights he loved so much. Among the Infernal Rings, he was known as the "Father of Titans," the first angel to break one of God's sacred rules by conceiving hundreds of Nephilim with human women. These giants were violent beings who wreaked havoc in ancient times, wiping out many human settlements. Upon their death, they became demons of great strength but little intelligence. Araziel gathered them all, turning them into thugs whose services would be offered to sinners and other renowned beings, including, of course, Asmodeo.

"This demon is a legend! The very embodiment of desire and rebellion!"

"If Sin of Lust says so, I'll take it as a compliment," he smiled, delighted that the audience praised him. "Remember, my friends. If you need protection, don't hesitate to call."

"Oh, Carmilla, how did you manage to snag such a stud?"

"Come on, Asmodeo, who could resist my charms?" Araziel continued, addressing his wife and inappropriately groping her breasts.

"Don't touch me!" Carmilla shouted, pushing Araziel away. "Is this why you brought me here? To humiliate me?"

"Look at that! You have a real firecracker, Araziel. These kinds of jewels are too valuable and desired. You should take better care of her," he declared, pausing dramatically before continuing his biting comment. "After all, a 'relationship' of so many years isn't maintained solely by good manners."

"Don't you know any other way to attract your customers?" Carmilla interjected, trying to camouflage her distress with anger, though the pain and shame were evident in her voice. "Or are you so miserable that you only feel powerful by playing with others' lives?"

"Carmilla, enough," Araziel warned, grabbing her arm, but she pushed him away.

The audience, surprised by the woman's audacity, murmured among themselves, some even discreetly applauding her bravery. However, Asmodeo, accustomed to being the center of attention and having absolute control over his stage, felt increasingly uncomfortable for being challenged in that way.

"Touché, Madame," he muttered under his breath, trying to regain his composure in front of the audience watching the tense interaction. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But don't forget who owns this place."

"Oh, I know who you are, Asmodeo. The question is, do you really know who I am?"

Asmodeo, momentarily taken aback by the firmness of her response, quickly regained his composure, though his eyes flashed with a mix of disbelief and resentment.

"Mmm, a purposeless soul? Araziel's doll? A caged bird?" Asmodeo said, his tone sarcastic and contemptuous, echoing Carmilla's doubts and insecurities.

Araziel watched with a mix of amusement and arrogance, relishing in his wife's submission. For him, that moment was like punishment, punishment for always preferring an old man from heaven over him. Shame consumed her, as she struggled to maintain composure under Asmodeo's ruthless gaze and the scrutiny of the audience. Zestial, consumed by anger, chose to use his monstrous form, an imposing and threatening creature. With a quick movement, he moved toward Carmilla to shield her. His eyes gleamed with fierce intensity as he looked at Asmodeo, warning him in a grave and severe tone.

"Don't ever stick your venomous tongue where you're not called, Asmodeo. I won't allow you to dare insult Carmilla again," growled Zestial, his voice resonating with authority and determination.

Asmodeo, surprised by Zestial's intervention and the fury emanating from him, instinctively recoiled, though his expression remained defiant.

"Who do you think you are to give me orders? This is my house, and I do as I please here," Asmodeo responded disdainfully, though it was evident that Zestial's imposing presence made him uncomfortable.

Carmilla, sensing the tension in the air, gestured for Zestial to calm down and return to his normal form.

"It's not worth it," she said, giving Zestial a smile. "Come on, anyway, I don't like this place. It's just trash."

She and Zestial left, leaving the two demons behind. However, they had barely taken a few steps outside the establishment when Araziel quickly caught up to them. Blinded by fury, he pounced on Carmilla ferociously, his hands gripping her hair tightly, and with a swift motion, he pulled her back, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud.

Zestial, witnessing the violence against the woman, could no longer contain himself. With a wild roar, he lunged at Araziel, and in an instant, the scene turned into a whirlwind of blows, grunts, and the dull sound of bodies violently colliding with the ground and alley walls. Their fists danced in a deadly ballet, each blow laden with fury and desperation. The golden blood splattered on the pavement, reflecting their true nature. The rage in Zestial's eyes was so intense it seemed to glow with its own light, while Araziel fought with fierce determination, fueled by indignation and wounded pride.

Carmilla, still dazed from the fall and the blow to her head, tried to get up from the ground, but a sudden sharp pain pierced her stomach, paralyzing her completely. The spasms of pain shook her as she clutched her abdomen with her left hand, feeling as if something was tearing her apart from the inside. Desperate and in tears, she screamed with all her might, begging them to stop the fight. As expected, Zestial was the first to react. He pushed Araziel away with a shove, freeing him from his tight grip, and turned to Carmilla. Without hesitation, he reached out his hand to her, offering assistance to help her up.

Carmilla clung to Zestial's arm, trying to alleviate the discomfort in vain.

"Stop pretending already!" Araziel exclaimed, visibly frustrated. "We're not fighting anymore."

"She's not pretending, Araziel," Zestial responded firmly, as he lifted Carmilla in his arms. "She's in a lot of pain. She urgently needs medical help."

Upon Zestial's words, Araziel nodded somberly. Without saying another word, he opened a portal to the Ring of Sloth and rushed Carmilla to the hospital. There, both Zestial and Araziel remained by her side as the doctor examined her. With a peculiar mask reminiscent of the plague era, the doctor asked them what had happened, but none of those present could offer a clear answer. They explained that they were in the middle of a fight, and suddenly she started screaming.

The doctor, with expert gestures, examined the affected area in Carmilla's stomach, causing her to cling tightly to the top of the stretcher, with Zestial holding her to prevent her from moving too much. The doctor didn't offer immediate explanations, instead, he positioned Carmilla in a specific way and ordered the nurse to prepare some additional supplies. He also requested that they call obstetrics, which further puzzled Zestial and Araziel.

Carmilla, feeling great pressure on her back and hips, spread her legs trying to relieve the discomfort. The doctor, observing the woman's unusual position, instantly understood what was happening. Without wasting time, he pulled out a pair of scissors and skillfully cut the pants she was wearing, revealing what was causing her pain.

"Do you want me to prepare her for the delivery room?" the nurse asked.

"It won't be necessary. The baby is already coming, and she won't let herself be moved," the doctor responded calmly, assessing the situation.

"A baby?" Carmilla, Zestial, and Araziel said simultaneously.

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?!" Araziel exclaimed, his tone filled with anger and frustration.

"How could I tell you something I didn't know? ¡Carajo!" Carmilla responded, her voice trembling and on the verge of tears.

"Don't give me that! You should have known!" Araziel insisted, his anger growing with each word.

"Enough!" Zestial intervened, his voice resonating with authority. "Now is not the time."

The seraph fought to hold back tears as she clung to the edge of the stretcher, trying to endure the pain. She was aware that God, her father, had designed her with the ability to conceive, but she never thought she would face this situation so suddenly and overwhelmingly.

As Carmilla struggled to stay awake, Zestial approached her with tenderness. His presence was comforting, and his warm hand on hers offered silent support amidst the enveloping agony. Although Araziel was the father of her child and her husband, at that moment, it was Zestial who could help her. Their eyes met, seeking comfort. Despite everything that had happened between them, at that moment, Zestial was her rock, her refuge in the storm.

Araziel, feeling once again displaced by the presence of an elder, stepped away frustrated. Without saying a word, he headed towards the hospital exit, needing a moment alone to process everything he had just discovered. The cool night air greeted him, and with trembling hands, he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his coat pocket. He lit the cigarette with brisk gestures, letting the smoke slip between his lips as he sank into his thoughts. On one hand, he felt hurt and angry by Carmilla's sudden revelation of her pregnancy and the apparent emotional bond between her and Zestial. On the other hand, a part of him knew he had no right to feel that way, given the state of his relationship with Carmilla.

As he took a deep drag, a wave of understanding suddenly washed over him. That woman he so desired was having his child. The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, momentarily clearing his mind of all worries and fears. He extinguished the butt, letting the night breeze dissipate the remaining smoke. With firm and determined steps, Araziel returned to the hospital with a clear resolution in his mind: that creature was his, and he would not allow Zestial to take his place as a father, having stolen his wife's heart.

With a quick gesture, the doctor turned back and exclaimed excitedly:

"There you are! Come, do you want to see?"

Araziel approached cautiously, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as he watched attentively. As he leaned in to get a better look, he could distinguish how the baby's head began to emerge, with strands of white hair identical to her mother's.

With a gleam of excitement in his eyes, Araziel turned to Carmilla, his voice full of enthusiasm and astonishment.

"It's our baby, Milla!"

But Carmilla, still overwhelmed by the pain and surprise, looked away. With one final gentle push, the baby emerged completely. A beautiful girl with silver hair and a tan complexion, identical to her mother. She had no wings, but that was beside the point, as there was a precedent that Nephilim, and even the Princess of Hell herself, did not possess them. Araziel, momentarily forgetting his resentment, cut the cord with the doctor's guidance, and with the baby wrapped in a towel, he approached his wife. However, Carmilla, overwhelmed by confusion, was not ready to face reality. She shook her head, refusing to take the baby into her arms.

"No, I don't want to see it," she murmured, looking away and feeling a lump in her throat. Zestial, sensing Carmilla's distress, tried to reassure her by gently caressing her arm.

"Milla, it's a girl…our daughter," he insisted, his voice soft but firm.

"That's exactly why. What can I expect from her if you're her father? Will she inherit your lies and deceit?" Carmilla responded, with a hint of bitterness in her voice, as she diverted her gaze from the baby towards Araziel.

Zestial knew the child shouldn't bear the brunt of their issues, so he sided with Araziel, and after a few moments, Carmilla relented. With his large hands, she held the baby against her chest, while the little one instinctively sought her source of nourishment. Araziel watched in silence, while Zestial stepped back.

"I can't believe you want to name her that," commented Araziel, furrowing his brow.

"Why not? It's a beautiful and unique name," Carmilla replied, defending her choice with determination, though a hint of doubt lingered in her voice.

"But…Velvette? Don't you think it's a bit…extravagant?" Araziel persisted, not hiding his disapproval.

"What's wrong with that? I like it, and that should be enough," Carmilla retorted, maintaining her stance.

"Fine, I won't argue with you."

Five years passed since that event, when Carmilla and Araziel made the difficult decision to officially divorce. They agreed, of course, on a shared custody arrangement that allowed them both to spend time with their daughter. According to the agreement, from Monday to Friday, Velvette would be with Carmilla, while on weekends, namely Saturday and Sunday, it would be Araziel's turn.

However, Velvette still grew up under the predominant influence of her father. He was her idol, her role model, although let's say he wasn't the best. Under his rule-free upbringing, Velvette became a passionate young woman, with great energy that could sometimes turn into a problem. Araziel, though he loved his daughter, was not the conventional father figure. His approach to parenting was more relaxed, allowing Velvette almost total freedom to explore the world around her. This resulted in a close relationship between father and daughter, but also in the lack of boundaries and structure in Velvette's life.

On the other hand, her relationship with her mother was more distant. Although she lived with her and spent time together, Carmilla was immersed in her career and other responsibilities outside the home. This caused a gap in their relationship, and the girl began to resent her mother for what she perceived as a lack of attention and commitment to her. Arguments between the two were frequent, and the young girl openly expressed her dissatisfaction with the situation.

"I'm home!" Carmilla announced, placing her keys on the bedside table near the door. "Velvette?"

Carmilla went straight to Velvette's room, and upon entering, she was met with a dense cloud of smoke that made her nose twitch slightly. However, before opening the window to ventilate the room, she noticed the surprise on her daughter's face, who had obviously been startled by her sudden entrance.

"Mom! You have to knock," Velvette scolded.

"Not when you live in my house," Carmilla replied, looking at her, noticing the cigarette in her hand. "I've told you not to smoke inside the house; you should go out to the terrace."

"But it's cold outside," Carmilla picked up some things to throw away, then came across a blue pill.

"It doesn't matter, there are rules in this house," she insisted, while picking up some things to throw away, then came across a blue pill among the objects. "What's this?"

"A pill?"

"Don't play dumb, pendeja. Tell me, where did you get this?"

Carmilla, unable to contain her frustration at not receiving an answer, grabbed Velvette's face tightly, her hand covering almost her entire head.

"Mírame, mírame..." Carmilla insisted, shaking Velvette harder. "I'm talking to you!"

Velvette, annoyed by her mother's treatment, looked at her with defiant eyes.

"Since when are you involved in this, Velvette? Since when are you taking drugs?"

Velvette forcefully released herself from Carmilla's grip, turning her face away with fury. Her eyes sparkled with a defiant gleam as she faced her mother.

"Since when?" she repeated sarcastically. "For months now, what did you expect, Mom? We're in damn Hell."

"I don't care where we are. I didn't raise you like this!" Carmilla exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and anguish.

"You? Raise me?" Velvette scoffed, with a look of contempt on her face. "Dad was right about you being a proud, selfish bitch."

Carmilla felt as if a dagger pierced her heart upon hearing her daughter's words. Anger and sadness mixed in a whirlwind of emotions within her. However, Velvette wasn't finished.

"You don't even bother to leave your office to see what's happening with me," Velvette continued, not stopping. "Do you think I don't notice how you hide behind your work to avoid dealing with your own problems?"

Carmilla was overwhelmed by Velvette's barrage of accusations. The tension in the room was palpable as mother and daughter faced off in a battle of wills.

"¡Ya basta!" Carmilla shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I won't allow you to talk to me like that, do you hear me? I'm your mother, and I deserve respect."

Velvette let out a bitter laugh, her eyes filled with disdain.

"Respect. Do you think you deserve respect after everything you've done? You know nothing about me, Mom. You never have."

A heavy silence filled the room as Carmilla's words hung in the air. Tears of helplessness began to well up in her eyes as she looked at her daughter with a mixture of pain and resignation.

"If that's what you think of me, then there's nothing more to say," she said firmly, though her heart was breaking in her chest.

Velvette looked at her with disdain, no hint of remorse in her gaze.

"Fine by me. I don't need anything from you anyway. I've always been self-sufficient, remember?"

Her daughter's words were like a direct blow to Carmilla's soul. She turned away, unable to bear the pressure of the moment. With heavy steps, she left the room, heading to hers. Velvette stayed in the room, feeling a strange mix of anger and sadness for what had just happened. She knew that things between her and her mother would never be the same again, but for some reason, that didn't matter to her as much as she thought it would.

On Friday afternoon, when Araziel came for his daughter, Carmilla led him to her room to discuss in private. Velvette knew that her mother's anger wouldn't last long, as every time those two were together, their instincts took over. Anger turned into desire, into bites, and scratches. The teenager, aware of the situation, sought refuge in her headphones, trying to block out the noise emanating from the next room. The muffled sound of

music flooded her ears, providing her with a barrier of isolation against the intensity of the encounter between her parents. With closed eyes and a heavy heart, she swallowed a pill, letting herself be carried away by the sweet promise of oblivion it offered. The enveloping melodies of her music intertwined with the passionate whispers filtering in from the adjoining room, creating a separate world where she could temporarily lose herself. However, even in her self-destructive retreat, a thread of concern persisted within her.

Once her parents left, leaving behind a charged and messy atmosphere, Velvette felt a momentary relief. She sighed deeply as she removed her headphones, allowing the silence to fill the room, if only for a moment. The tranquility was interrupted by Araziel's voice.

"We're ready to go," Araziel announced, his tone firm and decisive. "But I need to talk to you seriously once we get home."

Velvette followed her father with quick steps, feeling Carmilla's gaze boring into her back. Though she tried not to look directly at her, she could sense the anger emanating from her mother like a stifling wave of heat. For the first time in a long time, Velvette realized that she had crossed a line, had hurt her mother in a way she hadn't anticipated.

Carmilla watched her with a mixture of pain and disappointment in her eyes. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her expression was cold and distant. Though Velvette tried to read her thoughts in her face, Carmilla's gaze was impenetrable, hiding her true feelings behind her mask. For a moment, Velvette wished she could turn back time and undo her words, but she knew it was already too late. She had made a grave mistake, one that had angered her mother to a new level.

[taylors-fourth-cat-meow]

Answering this ask because my clumsy ass deleted the draft of the ans as well as the ask idek how that happened

HERE'S THE COMMENTARY ON ACOFAS CHAPTER 11: THE ONE WHERE RHYISE VISITS A SUICIDAL TAMLIN AND TELLS HIM TO ROT IN HELL 🥰

A tomb.

This place was a tomb.

How can someone be proud of doing something cruel to someone? If they are the saints they claim to be why do this to Tamlin bro? Istg i will NEVER to this understand how on earth did the editors agree to the plotline of the destruction of Spring Court?

Lucien had not come here to make amends during Solstice, I realized as Tamlin opened the door to the dark library.

Lucien had come here out of pity. Mercy.

Bruh why? why? wud he underestimate their bond like that? he speaks as if they hadnt been each others only family for centuries

Tamlin claiming an ornate cushioned chair on one side of it. The only thing he had that was close to a throne these days.

oh fck u little shit atleast tamlin doesnt OPPRESS his people!!

“If you’ve come to gloat, you can spare yourself the effort.”

Tamlin is so non-combative here and people still have the audacity to say Rhysie is the bigger male????

“Do you see any sentries around to do it?”

Even they had abandoned him. Interesting. “Feyre did her work

thoroughly, didn’t she.”

THATS NOT SOMETHING TO BE FUCKING PROUD OF RHYSIE

ISTG this asshole someone needs to kick him in the balls. HARD.

I smiled. “Oh, no. That was all her. Clever, isn’t she.”

No sir she is a dumb teenage girl who taught to destroy a court DURING WARTIME?

tbh if Spring wouldn't have fallen the war would have never gone down i said what i said.

I didn’t smile as I countered with, “I suppose you think I should be

thanking you, for stepping up to assist in reviving me.”

“I have no illusions that the day you thank me for anything, Rhysand, is the day the burning fires of hell go cold.”

my boi tamlin is so savage like??

SLAY

Tamlin deserved what he’d brought upon himself, this husk of a life.

He deserved every empty room, every snarl of thorns, every meal he had to hunt for himself.

Seriously? Tamlin, sweetheart, for the love of good kick this man and his bat dick pls.

Tamlin had burned them long ago, Feyre had told me. It made no

difference. He’d been there that day.

I really want to emphasize that Tamlin DID NOT take part in their death.

Had given his father and brothers the information on where my sister and mother would be waiting for me to meet them. And done nothing to help them as they were butchered.

BRO????

U expect a boy to go against his evil, physically abusive father? NO, strike that.

U WANT A BOY TO GO AGAINT A HIGH LORD?

No tell me? how was Tamlin supposed to fight a HIGH LORD and his brother??? Three against one??

And even if he tried to help them? we will never know? we get only rhysie's side of the story never tamlin's pov

“You brought every bit of this upon yourself,”

Yes yes lets go tell a suicidal person he brought every bit of his misery on himself

Yeh lets all applaud him

“You won,” he spat, sitting forward. “You got your mate. Is that not

enough?”

"No."

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???

MANNNNNNNNNNNNNN

I WANT TO SCRATCH MY EYEBALLS RHYSIE'S EYEBALLS OUT AT THIS POINT

"You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don’t care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don’t care if you still love my mate. I don’t care that you saved her from Hybern, or a thousand enemies before that.”

THIS UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH?!?!?!?!?

PLSSSSSSSSS

Why doesnt he care that tamlin has saved BOTH their lives on MULTIPLE occasions???

at this point 50% of the IC owe their life to tamlin

“I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It’s a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.”

well he isnt even strong enough to keep his people in line and not a hair's breath away from rebellion, i doubt he'll be able to slaughter the HL who tore apart Amarantha, who fought a hundred of Hybern's monsters and soldiers in their camp ALONE, at the same time helping feyre escape AND was able to "drag" another highlord to war

*Drops mike*

But Tamlin only stared. And after a heartbeat, his eyes lowered to the

desk. “Get out.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the bigger male

Tamlin didn’t have shields around the house. None to prevent anyone from winnowing in, to guard against enemies appearing in his bedroom and

slitting his throat.

It was almost as if he was waiting for someone to do it.

This breaks my heart so much. No, Tamlimn doesnt deserve this. NO ONE deserves this. Imagine being OKAY with someone being suicidal?!

[mochie85]

Creature Comfort - Chapter 1

Creature Comforts Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki is enamored by you, and you can’t understand why. He tries to get your attention until a disastrous accident occurs pushing you to rely on him. Will his charm finally win you over? Or will you continue to stay in your comfort zone? Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character Word Count: 2631 Warnings: Fluff. Flirtatious Loki. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

“Excuse me. But that’s my spot.” You cleared your throat. You looked at Loki expectantly. Willing him to move away with just the deep stare of your eyes. You only got up mere seconds ago to use the bathroom. Your Kindle still lying on the armrest where you left it.

Loki just continued to read his book. Even so much as having the audacity to turn the page. “I quite like this spot. I can see why you center yourself here every time you come out.” He said as he crossed his legs. His right ankle over his left knee. Indicating to you that he will not move. Not even with you shooting daggers at his head.

“The seat is relatively close to the window, giving you ample sunlight to read but far enough that you don’t get hot from its rays. The angle makes it so you could see out to the foyer of the elevator and the lab, allowing you to gather who’s around you at all times. And the location itself is reasonably close to the kitchen, allowing you access to sustenance if need be.” Loki proceeded to point out to you. “I don’t know whether to applaud you on the fortunate happenstance that you have found or whether you are as calculating and cunning as I’d like to imagine you are.” He said finally looking up at you with a sly smirk.

You narrowed your eyes and took a deep breath as you snatched your Kindle from the armrest. “Fine. That’s fine.” You settled slightly aggrieved. “I’ll just…sit here instead.” You gritted as you sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Loki looked back down at his book, trying to hide his slight chuckle.

You started your Kindle and glided over the hot leather of the couch. It singed where your skin had made contact with the sun-exposed leather. The sun beat down ferociously on your neck, making you uncomfortable in the heat.  A refreshing glass of iced tea should fix this. But you were already settled on the couch and you would have to maneuver your way through the entire room and past the other furniture to get to the kitchen itself. It might make you sound lazy. Sure, but you’re a creature of comfort. You decided that it wasn’t worth it.

Annoyed, you continued to read on your Kindle. But every time there was a rustle of sound or the bell of the lift, your attention was stolen. It irked you that you couldn’t just look up quickly to see who came in and out of the doorways.  You felt so cut off. So annoyed. So very hot.

You stood up with a growl and gave up. With one final murderous look to Loki, you stomped back into your room.

Seven minutes and fifty-two seconds. She lasted longer than I thought.  He thought to himself as he turned the page.

The next day, you were relieved to find your favorite reading spot available. Looking around, you couldn’t see the trickster in sight. You happily sunk into the cool leather, tucked your feet under yourself, and fired up your Kindle. You were smart to get yourself a drink before you sat down. You happily sipped on the cup savoring the ease and relaxation you sought out yesterday but were denied.

Thinking about it made you huff. “I don’t know whether to applaud you on the fortunate happenstance that you have found or whether you are as calculating and cunning as I’d like to imagine you are.”

Wait.

Does he think about me? A sultry heat traveled throughout your body, making your insides flutter. He couldn’t. Not in that way. He meant it as a passing comment on how clever I could be. Not that he imagines or thinks about me in any way. You rolled your eyes at yourself, chuckling. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear Loki shuffle in as he sat next to you on the sofa.

You were taken aback as he proceeded to lie down with his head on your lap. He crossed his legs and started to read his book.

“Excuse me.” You said with a slight bristle. Loki looked up at you with his blue-green eyes, glistening with playfulness. His smile grew from ear to ear.

“You’re my pillow now.” He simply stated. He continued to read his book and you wanted to scrub that devilish smile off that beguiling face of his.

“Your what?!”

“Well, you’re sitting at the prime location for reading. And I can’t very well take it from you, that would be extremely uncouth of me.” A jab, no doubt, at you for trying to reclaim your spot yesterday. “So, you’re my pillow now.” He ended his explanation with a smile and continued with his book.

You stared.

Just stared at him. Unable to process what just happened. Other than yesterday, this was the most contact the two of you ever had. These were the most words the two of you had ever exchanged. You hadn’t even been on a mission together. Now he’s lying on your lap?!

You sucked your lips thin. Fine. I can play this game too. You thought. You took in a deep breath and tried to ignore the enticing smell of his cologne mingling with the warm air and you continued to read your book. 

You must’ve read the same sentence twice - three times before he said something. “You’re not usually this still when you’re reading. Are you not enjoying your book? Would you like to trade?” He offered.

“Um, no,” you said with restraint.

“Just as well. I’m getting to a really interesting part in my story.” He turned the page and continued. Usually? What does he mean ‘usually?’ Does he ‘usually’ watch me while I read?

You were saved from thinking on it further when Sam passed through the door. “Come on you two. Emergency meeting. Steve just got back with Tony. They want a quick get-together.” Sam said as he passed through on his way to the conference room. If Sam noticed the too-familiar state that you and Loki were in, he didn’t reveal it.

A few weeks later, after just coming back from your mission, you decided to unwind. You gathered your Kindle, and a nice cup of tea and headed to your favorite spot on the sofa. It didn’t surprise you to smell that all-too enticing cologne. Then feel his head rest on your thighs as he let out a contented sigh.

“Should I just expect this from you whenever I’m here?” you asked not bothering to look down at him.

“I like using you as my pillow. Does it bother you? Would you like me to use you as something else?” he crooned. Not bothering to look up at you either. You couldn’t help the tingling heat that radiated from the tips of your toes to the strands of your hair. You cleared your throat, trying not to let the statement affect you.

You took a big sigh and gave in. You sat there, reading line after line of your book. You stayed quiet at first, listening to the rustle of his book. The swaying of his foot on the couch. You noted how he had one foot on the couch resting. The other one bent to the floor, supporting himself. It was almost as if he was ready and willing to get off of you the moment you tired of the silly little game that he was playing.

That alone made you relax. You concluded that he was just being playful. Overly flirtatious, sure. But innocent, nonetheless.

You started reading your book. Really reading it. Immersing yourself in the story, in the words. You were reading a key dialogue from the main character when Loki suddenly professed, “You can’t possibly imagine how good that feels.”

You looked down to see his eyes closed in serene enjoyment. A smirk on his pink lips and your fingers running through his soft black hair. His book, resting on his chest, splayed open like it was discarded after you started stroking his head. Both of his feet now crisscrossed on top of the sofa.

You stood up abruptly, mortified at what you had just done. Loki grunted as his head fell onto the couch cushions without your support.

“I have to go.” You stammered.

“Do you really have to though?” He teased. “I was enjoying your hands on me.” You turned beet red as you walked away.

What is going on? Why is he affecting you so much?

You steered clear of the common area after that. Whenever the team was hanging out, you’d find yourself down at the gym instead, training. Or at the lab helping Bruce. You hadn’t picked up your Kindle since then either. The line you had bookmarked reminding you of the moment your fingers glided through his soft hair and felt…excitement?

Horrible embarrassment just engulfed you. You couldn’t shake the feeling. You couldn’t stop his words from running through your head.

‘Would you like me to use you as something else?’

‘I was enjoying your hands on me.’

And every time you would think of him, you could faintly smell a hint of his cologne, making you delve deeper into thoughts of him.

That’s it! He’s just trying to get inside my head! But why?

You spent most of your time training now. You avoided the common room altogether. As you were punching and kicking your way around the sandbag, you continued thinking about all the reasons why the god of mischief suddenly has an interest in you. Each punch, each kick, you offered a reason.

Maybe he wants to annoy me. Maybe it’s a prank. It’s a cruel prank. Maybe he just really likes me. If he really likes me, I’ll probably be just a notch on his belt and nothing more. I’ve seen the way he flirts with people at the parties. The way they all flock to his charm and allure. He could have a pick of any one of them. Maybe…maybe he just wants my spot on the couch.

“I’ve missed you.” Came his smooth voice from behind you. You turned around startled, almost punching him in the face. He caught your fist, inches away from pummeling his nose. You stood there, stunned. He continued to hold your hand, mirth dancing in his eyes.

He caressed your hand gently. “You’re not wearing gloves.” He observed. You tried to jerk your hand back, away from his soft touch. His cool skin. But he held it firmly, unwrapping the bloody bandage that had started to tear and become loose.

When he finally unwrapped your hand, he lifted it up to his lips and softly laid kisses on your wounded knuckles. His cool lips felt curative on your heated skin. His eyes never strayed from yours as he placed a firm kiss on each wound. He did the same for your other hand. Neither of you saying a word.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked out of breath.

“Because you’re hurt. For such a cautious, logical person, you’d think you’d be better prepared.” He answered.

“No. I mean why…” You took a deep breath at his answering smile. He wanted you to say it. He wanted you to confront the issue.

“Why are you always around me, seeking my company.”

“Would you like me to stop?” he asked. Rejection blared inside his heart. There was a long pause before you spoke again.

“Why are you teasing me?” That wasn’t a ‘no,’ he noted.

“Because I like you,” he said plainly. As if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“No, you don’t,” you countered. Unable to believe that anyone in their right mind would be attracted to you.

You walked away, heading to your water bottle. You needed something in your hands. You needed something on your lips. All too soon, your body was restless. It craved to be touched.

“Very few people ever tell me what I can and can’t do, darling. Even fewer still have the audacity to tell me what I’m feeling.” He started circling you, holding his hands behind his back, like a predator sizing up its next meal.

“I have done nothing to lead you on.” You felt exposed. You felt unnerved as he orbited you. His yearning gaze concentrates on the exposed parts of your skin.

“And that is precisely why I’m attracted to you. From the very beginning, you resisted my charms. You don’t try to grab my attention. You simply exist. Like a star in the night sky, dancing so brightly, showing your light, but letting the moon outshine you. But I see what you really are.”

“And what is that?” you asked skeptically with a raised brow.

“What are all stars really, but a sun,” he said stopping behind you. “So bright and warm. Helping others thrive…” He came closer to you. You could smell his cologne mixing with the warm scent of your own body.

You turned your head slightly to watch him. But like any prey, you kept your body turned towards the exit, ready to run if he tried to pull something.

“You lure me in with the light in your eyes …” Step. “The gravity of your smile …” Step. “The heat of your lips…” Step. Loki whispered the last part so close to your ear, that you shivered down your spine.

He gently ran his finger down your arm, feeling the goosebumps that had formed. You jerked away from his touch, not expecting him. “What do you want. Loki?” You ground your teeth. Shaking your head as if you were put under a spell.

“You vexing woman. I just told you.” He laughed. But his smile was short-lived as he realized something about you. “Is it that you do not trust me? Or that you do not trust yourself?” He asked.

“Do I trust you?” You repeated his question. “In a fight. Absolutely. I trust you with my life.” It’s true. You know he wouldn’t hesitate to save you or protect you. And you would do the same for him.

“But you do not trust me - with your heart,” he finished. Your eyes glistened and burned. You walked away before he could say anymore. You ran like the helpless prey that you were, away from him.

He was mocking you. He had to be. There was no way his feelings were genuine. He was unattainable. A true god indeed compared to your humble origins. There was no way you had fallen for him so quickly. You’ve never even seen him that way until that significant day on the couch when he decided he wanted to sit on your spot.

Weeks went by and you avoided the common room and the training room altogether, opting to work out at your local gym instead. You started to retreat to the many laboratories that Tony and Bruce had. You were helping Tony strategize new uses for his arc reactors. Diverting most of your time away from the small comforts you had weeks ago.

A creature of comfort. That’s exactly what you were. If your contentment was disturbed in any way. You hid. You changed. You adapted to expel whatever, or whomever, it was that was giving you discomfort. Then absorb your new conditions till you were settled again.

“Be careful not to touch those two c…” Tony started to say pointing to an encased batch of palladium on the counter. But before he could finish his sentence, a small explosion happened in front of your workstation, propelling you backward. You knocked your head onto the table behind you, then…black.

⬅️Series Masterlist | Chapter 2➡️

Taglist:

@alexs1200 @britishserpent @huntress-artemiss @lokisgoodgirl @lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr

[teecupangel]

If the "Desmond is Jennifer's son during her time in TopKapi palace" route is further developed, won't people outside of Ziio's tribe start to think that Desmond is Ratonhnhaké:ton's real father? (I can see Desmond quite embarrassed but enjoying the mess with Ziio and Jenny after Haytham finds out about the rumours)

The idea of Desmond being reborn as Jennifer Scott’s son here.

Okay… So let’s see if this would work… math-wise.

Since Jennifer was sent to Topkapı in 1735 and Ratonhnhaké:ton is born in 1756 (with Haytham saving Jennifer in 1757), that means that Desmond would have to be born around 1736~1740 for people to think that, yeah, he could totally be Ratonhnhaké:ton’s father. It is also possible for 1741~1743 but that’s like the iffy questionable age group.

In other words, yes, this could work.

You know what would be funny?

If Desmond knew Haytham would be coming to save his mother but not when. So he’s been preparing, even has a failsafe in case Haytham took too long and he needed an exit strategy soon.

His plan?

To frame Haytham Kenway for murdering the sultan’s favorite son and that son’s mother.

Desmond needed to fake his and his mother’s death and, as much as Desmond knew that Haytham had a sucky childhood, and he was truly coming to save his mother, Haytham Kenway was still a dangerous Templar who willingly tried to kill his own son...

Said son is also one of the few people Desmond cared about, either out of his own freewill or because of the Bleeding Effect doesn’t matter to Desmond...

He embraced his Bleeding Effect and Haytham is a danger to Ratonhnhaké:ton regardless of what noble intentions he may have in saving his mother.

Also, Desmond was still annoyed by Haytham’s backseat sailing from that memory, and he knew that Haytham would be able to survive this.

… he might be forever hunted down by the Ottomans but Desmond sees that as a good thing. Gonna be hard to do Templar shit in Desmond’s territory now, right?

I’m just imagining that Desmond had his mother taken out by the Assassins already and is wearing a guard’s outfit. Two bodies that are quite similar to them, both Templars or allies of the Order, are staged into a bloody massacre and Desmond made sure that they would be indistinguishable even by modern means, and he looks Haytham dead in the eyes as he said, “Hello, uncle.”

With fake politeness he had learned as a son of a sultan, he said, “I am quite glad that you have come to save my mother. And, if you truly do care for her, then you must know what role you have to play.”

Haytham doesn’t get a chance to say anything as Desmond puts on the guard’s helmet and shouts, “Intruder! The intruder has killed the prince!!!”

And like the guards have been stationed to be near Desmond and his mother’s rooms, they all get there quickly and find Haytham standing in a bloody room while Desmond pretends to be injured, clutching his arm with bloody hands that were actually from the two fake bodies he had prepared, “He did this! He killed both the prince and his mother!”

And Haytham plays along because he has seen Desmond’s face, know that he is his nephew and everyone here knows how much he loves his mother. If he was being used to finally get away from this place then he will simply applaud his nephew’s audacity and play along.

Only to finally get a headache when it turned out that his nephew and sister has sailed back to the colonies, and he had to learn that from an Assassin who went, “On behalf of the Ottoman Brotherhood, we thank you, Grand Master Haytham Kenway, for becoming a pawn to our mentor’s escape plan.”

For a brief moment, he wondered if it was Jennifer. If Jennifer had managed to become an Assassin and a mentor while stuck in the harem but then the Assassin continues, “The mentor told us to let you go this time as a sign of his thanks to his mostly absent uncle. He did leave you a message: ‘See you in the colonies.’”

And Haytham realized that, if anyone was succeeding his father as the goddamn Kenway Assassin, it would be his devious nephew.

Sidebar: Holden was knocked out by the Assassins because he saw them taking Jennifer to safety but, because Desmond insisted there will be no deaths, they had to take Holden with them and gave him back to Haytham (unharmed other than the ropemarks on his wrists and the bump on his head) when the Assassin came to give Haytham Desmond's message.

Smashcut to Desmond unintentionally undermining Achilles’ mentorship and questioning the Colonial Brotherhood’s actions against Shay Cormac. By the time Haytham gets there, Desmond had already made contact with Shay and was trying to appear as a kind of Assassin inspector and that Achilles’ actions have come into scrutiny and the Brotherhood wishes to hear Shay’s side of the story.

So now, whatever kindness Monro showed to Shay (whether genuine or not) takes the backburn as this becomes a tug of war between Desmond and Haytham to sway Shay to their side with Haytham going for “you know how the Assassins are now, can you truly trust him?” while Desmond is going for “This is not what the Brotherhood is meant to do, Shay, you know that. Help me make this right.”

Then that’s when we smack Haytham with news that Desmond has a child (with a ‘savage’) and Haytham knows he couldn’t have one. The timeline doesn't fit.

He sees Desmond with Ratonhnhaké:ton and he grows suspicious…

Then he hears Ratonhnhaké:ton call Kaniehtí:io mother and…

Desmond raised his head to look at where he had been spying at them and waved at Haytham.

And Haytham just knew…

His nephew certainly got the audacity and the deviousness of a true Kenway.

(Meanwhile, Jennifer is enjoying her retirement in the homestead. She has nothing to add to whatever drama is happening in the Brotherhood but she’s not inclined to help Haytham as well because, as much as her heart warms at the thought that Haytham came to save her even though it was a bit too late, he still became one of them. One of the people who killed their father and Jennifer may not hate him for it because she understands the circumstances that led to it but, at the same time, she feels no desire to reunite with a Templar)

[pocket-lad]

CH 1- A Dying Man's Wish

Hey, we're back with a sequel! Join Adelaide and Ian in their adventure to Isla Sorna. All new characters and all new situations, but the same ol' g/t. Links to the prev story below.

Only a Couple Days: FIRST ; LAST

Adelaide woke up in a dark, soft, and confined space. A fast and rhythmic thumping pounded against the wall behind her. That’s what had woken her up. 

Curious and a little groggy from her unintentional nap, Adelaide started to pull herself to the top of Ian’s pocket. It was his heart that pounded behind her, but she wasn’t sure what he could possibly be nervous/excited/mad about. 

She had almost made it to the top when a gentle pressure pushed her into Ian’s chest, sending her back to the bottom. It was probably (hopefully) his hand, and he probably passed it off as an itch or something to the outside world, but this was his way of telling her not to come out. Just as quickly as the pressure appeared, it vanished. 

Instead of kicking him and stubbornly trying again, Adelaide decided to actually use her ears and figure out where they were before she moved. She chided herself for just assuming she was in the clear. 

There was a loud, ever-present clattering noise that she couldn’t identify, and the faint sound of people talking. Then, a much louder, much closer voice spoke. 

“You’re him, right?” 

Ian responded, and his voice reverberated throughout Adelaide’s body. It was louder than usual, as it often was when he spoke to other Beans. “Excuse me?” 

“The scientist? The guy? I saw you on TV.” 

Ian’s heart rate picked up even more, and Adelaide started to catch on. After they left the island, there was a ton of ‘legal drama’, though she didn’t understand much of it. What she did know was that someone or something powerful was mad at Ian because he spoke out about what happened. That earned him a lot of negative attention, and he frequently complained about it to her when he got home. 

Adelaide didn’t leave the house very often, so she never experienced this firsthand, but now, here they were. And he was right. It was annoying. 

Without a response from Ian, the guy kept pushing. “I believed you.” Again, Ian didn’t say anything. The guy then roared, imitating a dinosaur. 

Ian just shifted away, sending Adelaide to the other side of the pocket, but she didn’t even register the movement, too preoccupied with this guy’s audacity. She applauded Ian for his restraint because, if it were her, she would have already gone feral. Who did this guy think he was? What kind of asshole would act like that? Adelaide had to restrain herself from jumping out of the pocket and sticking him with her knife. The only thing holding her back was the fact that it sounded like more people were around. 

After that, the guy left them alone, but Adelaide stayed fuming for a long time, and she could not sit still. The pocket was cramped, and though it was cozy when she needed a nap, it was stifling when she was full of energy. 

Eventually, Ian stood up, and gravity forced Adelaide to the bottom of the pocket. As he started walking, she dared to peek her head out, but upon seeing a vast sea of people, ducked back down. Adelaide felt a little exhilarated. This was the longest trip she’d ever taken outside, excluding Jurassic Park, and the appeal of adventure was tantalizing. Sitting in Ian’s pocket, she was invincible, and she could go anywhere. 

Actually, not too long ago, Adelaide actively did not want to tag along when he went places, but on one particular day, Ian won her over, as he so often did.

*** 

“This sounds very familiar... Oh yeah, it sounds exactly like that time you begged me to come to Jurassic Park and we almost died,” Adelaide said. 

“Hey-” 

“No, I’m sorry. That was too far. I was joking. Not a good joke... I just don’t have any desire to see John Hammond ever again.” Adelaide had long since forgiven Ian for dragging her along. She never really blamed him in the first place. John Hammond, however...

“Neither do I, but he um, he insists. What am I supposed to do? Not honor a dying – a dying man’s wishes?” Ian protested. 

Adelaide stopped. “Woah, he’s dying?” 

“That’s what it sounded like.” 

She gave it some thought. The appeal of seeing new sights and feeling fresh air on her skin was strong, so half the battle was already won for him. And Ian was right – they couldn’t just ignore someone who was dying.

“Man...” Adelaide trailed off, unable to think of an argument she hadn’t used yet. 

“Please don’t make me do this by myself,” Ian complained. 

“Fine,” Adelaide conceded. “But no dinosaurs!” 

“No dinosaurs,” Ian agreed. 

*** 

Adelaide pounded her fists on Ian’s chest. 

He looked down, wondering what she was getting at, and checked around himself before he pinched the pocket open. “What?” 

“Is it clear? I’m dying,” Adelaide whined. 

Ian checked around again, just in case, then gave her the all clear. “Just be prepared to uh, duck back down. We’re almost – almost at the door.” 

Adelaide rushed to the top, hanging her arms dramatically over the edge of the pocket. Fresh air met her face, and she closed her eyes as she took a long, deep breath. This felt nice. 

The world around her was gorgeous. Lush green grass with all kinds of colorful flowers lined the walkway, which was impeccably clean itself. The sky was crystal clear, and an active, ornate fountain stood up ahead before a massive house. House? Castle? Adelaide didn’t know it was possible to have a house this big. Ian’s was big, but it was nothing compared to this. 

As they approached the door, Adelaide took one last breath, savoring the crisp fall air. Then, she retreated back into the pocket. Hammond knew about her, sure, but she didn’t know who else would be there and she didn’t want to chance anything. No way he lived in that big of a space by himself. That would just be greedy.

Ian checked to make sure Adelaide was in place before he rang the doorbell. 

They didn’t have to wait long before an old man hesitantly opened the door. “Who should I tell Mr. Hammond is calling?” he asked in a fancy accent. 

“Uh, Ian Malcolm,” Ian said. “I’ve been summoned.” He gave a light shrug. 

Adelaide hated not knowing what was going on. She trusted Ian completely, but she preferred to see where they were and who was around, just in case. The anticipation of literally anything happening was unbearable sometimes. 

As they entered the mansion, Adelaide heard faint music. It was almost immediately interrupted by a semi-familiar voice. 

“Dr. Malcolm!” 

Another familiar voice. “Hello, Dr. Malcolm!” 

Oh my god ! It was Lex and Tim! But like.... definitely older. They did all the “great to see you's” and such, and she felt them give Ian a hug. 

Adelaide was torn. Again, she didn’t know who was around, and she hadn’t seen these guys in forever. They were still kids, still dangerous, but they literally survived near-death experiences together. That had to count for something, right? 

“Is Adelaide with you?” Lex asked. It seemed Adelaide’s decision was made for her. 

“Oh yeah, she’s right here,” Ian said as he patted the pocket, knowing full well how much it would annoy Adelaide. 

“Dude!” Adelaide called after being repeatedly shoved into his chest. She was not amused, but it certainly sounded like the kids were, if their giggles were any indication. She guessed that meant she should come out and say hello. 

Adelaide stuck her head out, but almost fell back to the bottom of the pocket when she saw just how big they were. Lex was at eye level and Tim was fast approaching. 

“Hi,” Adelaide said after an awkward pause. “You got... tall.” What else should she say? 

“You didn’t,” Tim snickered. 

“Tim!” Lex chided, smacking him on the arm, but Adelaide laughed. 

“That was my bad. I uh… walked into that one,” she chuckled. The kids sobered up quickly and Adelaide noticed that they seemed.... stiff. 

“Is everything okay?” Ian asked, picking up on the tension in the air as well. 

“Well, not exactly,” Lex admitted. Not a second later, hordes of footsteps could be heard trampling down the stairs. Adelaide turned to look but was blocked by the wall that was Ian’s chest. Better safe than sorry. 

“That sounds like my cue.... Good to see you guys again,” Adelaide said. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but at the very least it was polite. She applauded herself on the normal social interaction as she ducked down just in time to hear someone call Ian.

“Here to share a few campfire stories with my uncle?” it said in a cold, pretentious, and accented voice. 

Ian’s heart rate picked up again. “You can convince the Washington Post and Skeptical Inquirer of what you want, but I was there. I know what happened and so do you,” he said. 

“Do you actually believe that everyone who chose discretion did so for a nefarious motive? Even Lex and Tim?” the man countered.

Oh. This felt different than the guy on the subway. This man sounded smart. He sounded like he was well aware of the situation and knew how to handle it. He sounded exactly like the guys Ian complained about. 

Adelaide felt herself get riled up all over again. She listened as they argued about stuff she already knew. Signing an agreement, misinforming the public, compensation for Ian's injuries (which he didn’t take, much to Adelaide’s protests), and the loss of his tenure. 

Her blood boiled as they continued to talk. Ian kept trying to defend himself, but it was a losing battle. She wished he would just punch the man square in the jaw instead. Ian wouldn’t win by talking – he was good at it, but it sounded like these guys were better. He could definitely win by brute force. Apparently Human Beans frowned upon that, though. 

Adelaide didn’t notice how much she was moving, frustrated that she couldn’t defend her friend, through words or fighting or otherwise, until Ian once again laid a hand over top of her. Entirely not in the mood, she kicked at it until it left. Maybe she should show herself. Maybe if the man saw her, she could use his momentary shock to attack. 

In fact, Adelaide almost did that when she heard him say, “Careful. This suit cost more than your education.”

Not long after, Ian pinched the pocket open as he approached Hammond’s room, annoyed. “Stop moving so much!” he said. His face took up the whole opening, making Adelaide feel like she was under a microscope. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t annoyed with her , it was just a shitty situation to be in and she probably wasn’t helping by wriggling around.

“I can’t help it! It’s cramped and I’m pissed off! He shouldn’t talk to you that way!” 

Ian laughed sadly. “That’s uh, just the way the world works.” 

“I need to move around,” Adelaide said. “I have too much energy and I might just channel it into stabbing that guy's eyeball.” 

“Okay,” Ian blinked. “That’s... maybe we need to take it down – take it down a skosh.” He knocked on a gorgeously carved wooden door, and a faint ‘come in’ was heard. 

Adelaide let out a frustrated noise as Ian opened the door. The appeal of adventure was wearing off by the second, and she regarded the pocket with distaste as she plopped down again . Maybe going outside was not her thing. There was enough adventure in the walls, anyway.

“You’re alright, it’s uh, just Hammond,” Ian said aloud. 

Adelaide didn’t like that he announced her presence, but Hammond probably already knew. Plus, she didn’t come all this way not to at least say hello. Tentatively, she peeked out. 

Ian stood near the doorway, and across the room, in a decorated wooden bed, lay John Hammond, looking worse than the last time they met. He was surrounded by medical equipment that Adelaide recognized from their week in the hospital after Jurassic Park. 

Adelaide didn’t even have time to wonder who was going to speak first, or what anyone was going to say. 

“You were right, and I was wrong. There! Did you ever expect to hear me say such a thing? Thank God for Site B.” Hammond spewed those words out as if he’d been rehearsing them. He was absolutely the same man, but his energy was a lot more subdued. 

Adelaide glanced up at Ian who was glancing down at her with the same confused expression.

“Site B?” Ian asked hesitantly, fearing an explanation would confirm what he thought might be true. 

“Isla Nublar was just a showroom, something for the tourists. Site B was the factory floor. That was on Isla Sorna, miles from Nublar. We bred the animals there and nurtured them for a few months, then moved them into the park,” Hammond elaborated. 

Ian slowly approached Hammond as he spoke. “Oh, really?” His tone was cautious, not wanting to give away exactly what he thought just yet.  

Adelaide didn’t know what she expected. At least a ‘hello’, right? Some form of introduction or ‘how are you doing’? But they just sort of jumped into business. At the end of the day, that’s what John Hammond was – a businessman – but the immediate gravity of the discussion was jarring. 

Hammond continued to explain that a storm wiped out the human facilities on that second island and the animals were somehow thriving, despite all the efforts to keep them from living without human involvement.

“How?” Adelaide blurted. 

Although his smile was warm, Hammond’s cold, blue eyes focused in on her for the first time since they arrived, and it made her uneasy. 

“That’s one of the thousand questions I want the team to answer,” he said. 

“Oh,” Adelaide muttered, dissatisfied. 

“Team?” Ian prompted calmly, also dissatisfied but knowing how to keep the conversation going. He still maintained his cool until he knew for sure what was happening and why exactly they were here. 

Hammond continued his explanation as he struggled to get up out of bed. Ian offered a hand, which Hammond took, but then he was off on his own to the other side of the room. Adelaide stayed frozen and tense the whole time. Ian followed. 

Apparently, Hammond gathered a team of people to study and document the dinosaurs. There were no fences on the island, but they’d stay away from the interior so as to avoid the ‘dangerous ones.’

As Hammond spoke, he addressed both Ian and Adelaide, so Adelaide had to pretend like she understood what he was talking about and nod along. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she climbed up to Ian’s shoulder, which was not easy when he wore his leather jacket. Even then, she dragged out the process to avoid engaging in the conversation. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not making the same mistakes again,” Hammond assured. Adelaide couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity. They sure sounded like the same mistakes. 

Maybe she should have been a bit more careful, but with the state Hammond was in, Adelaide doubted he posed any threat to her, especially up on Ian’s shoulder. So, she let herself laugh, but then almost immediately felt bad for thinking that. Jesus Christ, he’s dying. Be nice . 

Ian voiced her thoughts aloud. At least, the ones about ‘making mistakes.’ “No, you’re making – you're making all new ones. Who are the four lunatics you’re trying to con into this?” 

Oh no. Adelaide was fairly certain she knew why they were here now. Why else would Hammond invite them? 

“Ian-” Adelaide started to warn him, but Hammond interrupted. Her voice was quiet, so probably not intentionally, but it peeved her off nonetheless. 

“Nick Van Owen, a video documentarian.” Hammond handed Ian a stack of files as he spoke. “Eddie Carr, a field equipment expert. We have our paleontologist, and I was hoping you might be the fourth.” 

Unfortunately, Adelaide assumptions were correct. She also didn’t miss the way Hammond didn’t count her as a person. “Absolutely not,” she said immediately.

Hammond took Ian’s arm and Adelaide pressed herself against Ian’s neck, just in case, but he only used it to help him walk. 

Hammond tried for sympathy instead. Their company, InGen, was in legal trouble and there were some who wanted to exploit site B to bail them out. Apparently, a stupid rich family stopped on the island and their daughter obviously got hurt because it was full of dinosaurs, so that sped up the process. Essentially, Hammond no longer had control of the company. 

“Don’t care,” Adelaide shrugged. Hammond ignored her, turning his attention fully to Ian. 

“Public opinion is the one thing I can use to preserve the island, but to rally support, I need a complete photo record of those animals alive and in their natural habitats,” he said. 

“So, you went from capitalist to naturalist in just four years. That’s - that's something,” Ian mused, but Hammond pushed on. 

“It’s our last chance at redemption,” he pleaded. 

“Don’t. Care.” Adelaide repeated, actively hoping to draw his attention back to her, which was... new. She was getting bolder, and she didn’t care that Hammond was a giant. She wasn’t going back to any island, Ian wasn’t going back to any island, and neither of them were ever going to see dinosaurs ever again. There was no argument. And Hammond needed to know that. 

“Della,” Ian held up his hand, which meant ‘shut up’. Insulted, Adelaide was about to argue, but Ian continued, and it seemed like they were on the same page. Thank God. “John. No. Of course, uh, no. We’re not going. And I’m gonna contact the other three members of your team, and I’m gonna stop them, uh, from going. Who’s the paleontologist, by the way?” 

Ian turned to go grab the other file and Hammond suddenly got defensive. “She - she came to me. I want you to know this.” 

“Who did?” Ian asked. 

Once again, Adelaide was fairly certain she knew who Hammond was talking about. It wasn’t good. And Ian was going to be pissed. She wondered if she should break it to him, or if she should let Hammond do it, or if Ian would figure it out all on his own. None of the options seemed appealing. So, Adelaide braced herself. 

“Leave it to you, Ian, to have associations, affiliations, even liaisons, with the best people in so many fields.” Hammond intentionally avoided the question. 

That was all it took, though. Ian stopped moving completely, and Adelaide was worried he stopped breathing. “You didn’t contact Sarah,” he exhaled. It wasn’t a question, or even a statement, really. Ian was speaking that sentence into existence. Hammond could not have contacted Sarah because Ian said it was so.

Hammond defended himself and Sarah while Ian frantically searched for a phone. His breathing became shallow and quick, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Adelaide desperately wanted to do something, to be of literally any help, but she didn’t have the faintest idea what to say or where to start. 

“Ian, breathe. I can feel you shaking. You need to calm down. You know Sarah. You know how smart and how capable and-” Adelaide could tell the words she whispered into his ear were not making it through to his brain, or if they were, he was ignoring them. 

“It’s too late,” Hammond said. “She’s already there.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Adelaide yelled. “You didn’t have raptors chase you through a kitchen. You didn’t have your leg obliterated by a T-Rex. Why the hell aren’t you there, then? If you think it’s so safe?” Though she already had a couple small outbursts, this one took Hammond by surprise. He blinked, not expecting something so forceful to come out of such a small creature. Adelaide even surprised herself. It was a little harsh, but she stood by it. 

Ian continued her train of thought as if they were the same person. “If you want to leave your name on something, fine. But stop putting it on other people’s headstones.” With that, Ian got up to leave. Their visit was over. 

Hammond ignored the point they were making by diverting the conversation back to Sarah. “Oh, she’ll be fine. And believe me, the research team will-” 

“It’s not a research expedition anymore,” Ian interrupted, stopping in his tracks to look Hammond in the eye. “It’s a rescue operation, and it’s leaving right now.” And then they were on their way out. 

Adelaide exhaled as she let her body slide into the pocket from Ian’s shoulder, but she felt nothing. She felt numb. This was it. They were going back to Jurassic Park. 

.

Next

[throwaway-yandere]

The Capo's Soliloquy (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tighnari, and Alhaitham/Reader)

A/n: I see that none of you have any self-preservation when it comes some men and I respect that–

CW: hurt/comfort, yandere, mafia, and religious themes. Possible major character deaths. Mentions of human trafficking, su*cide & grief. Please avoid this fic if you're sensitive to the contents mentioned!!! SKIP TO CHAPTER 3 IF YOU NEED TO, THERE'S A BRIEF SUMMARY AT THE BEGINNING!!!

YOUR CHOICES MATTER. People, including both the reader and love interests, can die. Have fun voting!!!

"O Capo! My Capo!": a yandere!mafia au - Chapter 2

Previous || Next

—----

[Morning, 6 AM:]

You woke up at 4 AM, but only mustered up the willpower to get out of bed an hour later. 

Breakfast and utensils were left for you by Inquisitor Cyno (you presume). It's not unusual that a clean fork and knife to be on the table, but there's a note above that says "Not a weapon. It's not knife to harm a room's wallpaper."

The audacity to leave that note after confiscating your gun (that you stole, but that's not important.) Needless to say, the first thing you did was crumble that paper and dump it in the trash. That joke was garbage so you're not listening to his instructions.

You ate your fill, showered, got dressed (in poor quality clothing), and you waited till the clock struck 5:59 AM, and when it did–

The window opened a minute later, just like he said.

Alhaitham peeked from the window incredulously while you begrudgingly applauded his time management skills. The spy pointed at your hands.

"Why do you always have a knife each time we meet?"

"It's a premonition." You answered half-heartedly. It'd be nice if it was. You'd gladly dig a hole in his chest when the day comes.

Alhaitham hummed in amusement, shutting the window behind him. 

You'd believe him if he said he just rolled out of bed—he was dressed in the same clothing as the night before. Although that is most likely their standard uniform, you'd rather he be well-dressed than wear a basic black coat. In his current clothing, Alhaitham resembled a thinly wrapped-up rubbish bag. Candace would probably mistake him for garbage if you did kill him that night.

"What's your answer?"

"I don't like impatient men." You deadpanned.

Alhaitham began mentally preparing for his debate and points to argue about–

[CHOSE: RECRUIT ALHAITHAM]

"But I'll take the risk."

Alhaitham jerked up, not believing what he was hearing.

"You… don't want to look at my resume?–"

You recalled Inquisitor Cyno's words yesterday.

-----

'–I was instructed to look after you until they help you renovate your manor and the panetteria beside it. That is, of course, assuming you still pass the requirements of being Innamorati's Capo.'

-----

You scoffed.

You're dying. You don't have enough time to look for a sacrifice and you can't get the Church's permission unless you are still a Capo. Subsequently, you're not qualified to be a Capo unless you have an underboss.

He will suffice.

Time is a vital resource. And you barely have two years left. It doesn't matter if you just met him last night– his reputation precedes him and you'll do anything to maintain your position.

"You think I'd give you more chances to brag?" You eyed him too narrowly for the situation, making it known that you're not fond of how his mouth prattles. "Listen, do you want the job or not? Because I've received a letter from Beidou last night that she knows a new kid who would gladly take it off your hands–"

"I am honored, Capo."

Alhaitham hurriedly bowed down with a hand on his chest. You looked pleased. That's it. That's the reaction you're after. He clearly enjoys taking his sweet time.

You don't like Alhaitham. You've not spent much time interacting with him, but he reeks of academic pretentiousness.

"Good." You put your hand on top of his head.

"Don't fuck it up."

But you don't want to burden your men with a responsibility they are not prepared to shoulder.

You hired him so someone else would take the fall.

Alhaitham looks like the type who wouldn't take "no" for an answer, so you'll give him what he wants.

Unbeknownst to you, Alhaitham smiled gleefully.

[AFFECTION METER: 15.00%]

He looked up after you pulled your hand away and straightened his (awful) coat. 

"This is not just an afterthought, so tell me this: why did you decide to pursue this occupation?" You said. "Was the Akademiya's pay that low that you'd join the familia?"

He nodded slowly. Even his most minuscule of mannerisms looked annoying.

"I wanted to work with you."

Can't say the same. You want to carve his face off.

"I've been researching Eleazar for 3 years and twenty-six days. In my list, you are the oldest and longest-living patient of this disease."

And he'd join the familia because…?

"I assure you, I care more about your health than what meets the eye."

You don't care. What matters to you most is your familia. You don't want your underboss to be loyal to you– a leader must be loyal to their men.

"–Besides, I think you and I would make great partners–"

Again, has little to do with the actual Innamorati familia.

Your nose scrunched.

There's a word to succinctly describe him, and it's not "annoying."

"–I don't hide the fact that I find you aesthetically pleasing." He said. "You're quick-witted and a very capable leader–"

It's at the tip of your tongue– obnoxious? Troublesome? Obsses–

"–My coworker, Aryabhata also agrees that your face is an epitome of Divina Proportione, and he's always been a prompt mathematician–"

You raised your hand, halting him.

…

Hold on.

With this renewed silence, your grip on the butterknife tightened. 

Bile rose to your throat, and if you could vomit blood right now, you would just so he's aware of how you felt. 

You remember the word now. Tartaglia frequently uses it to allude to the bambinis who come to his manor. The term is nauseating and demeaning, but there is no other way to describe how the spy acts.

… It can't be, right?

Suddenly, your opinions about Alhaitham drastically plummeted. Your spirit left your body, and you hope a couple of shots will help drag it back down once you enter Tartaglia's manor.

Damn. You thought Tartaglia was joking when he said you have some very… unquenched and downright masochistic... admirers.

Not that it's confirmed, but with the way Alhaitham looks at you, you just had to know…

You cleared your throat, uncomfortable.

...

"In other words, you're doing all this because you're some sort of groupie?" 

Alhaitham froze.

Your face contorted into a perfect depiction of unbridled revulsion and intrigue, a look that screams you simultaneously want and don't want to learn more about what he does inside his bedchamber. 

In a way, you're awestruck that some men are THAT desperate to get laid– it's almost commendable– but to be so brazen enough to admit it is just…

"What– Of course not. Unlike some people, I'm not that far gone yet."

Yet???

Alhaitham stiffened, unsure how you ended up with a half-baked yet reasonable (reasonable because he knows the truth) conclusion. Despite his voice sounding cool and composed, his nonverbal behavior betrays him.

"Smettila di raccontarmi cazzate." You mumbled to yourself.

"Non sto mentendo." There was a faint edge in his voice as he argued back.

Your eyes widened. 

Alhaitham's eyebrows furrowed. "... What's so surprising, tesoro? Don't tell me you didn't expect an Akademiyan spy to not be fluent in Snezhnayan. We had to learn 20 languages before we could join the Akademiya."

There was something natural about the way "tesoro" rolls off his tongue, and you didn't question it the first time he called you that the first time. Now that you're hearing it again in this context, you wanted to spit on his face. 

You're not hearing any of this. 

You're not entertaining the idea that your new underboss applied just for a chance to warm his bed.

...

Sometimes, maybe ignorance is bliss.

Let's just conclude it with that life lesson and move on. You don't want to kill him yet.

"First command I'll give is that you will never address me as tesoro again. Ugh. I don't wanna know how many women and men you've beckoned with that name." You looked down, face wrinkled in absolute disappointment.

Alhaitham sighed. He can't refute if you pressed on asking similar questions. There's a high chance he would've told you right then and there that he did some questionable things with the tissues he picked up from your trash bin.

Not wanting to give him opportunities to defend himself, you digressed immediately. You don't want to dwell on your previous accusations.

You dropped something in his hands.

As per recruitment tradition in the Innamorati Familia, you gave him a piece of clothing. A single green scarf. 

A far cry in quality from the opera gloves Rosalyne gave you and the eyepatch you gave Dimitri.

Alhaitham graciously accepted it, but he's confused as to why you gifted him a scarf rather small; he might as well use it as a towel. He was expecting that you'd give him a hat similar to the ones you always wore. He's rather petty that this is what he received, but the answer is simple…

"You'll only be an underboss by name. I grant you no real authority." 

He gave you an unimpressed look before wrapping it around his neck. It barely covers him. Alhaitham was devastated that the scarf didn't feel like it was yours, but he'd never admit it. Instead, he asked you about his job in his normal snarky tone.

"I'm well aware you'd say something to that effect before I applied. Are there any other words of wisdom you'd like to share with your new underboss?"

"You only have one job and it's to sit still and look pretty. Other than that, I hope you change or die." You meant it.

"What an encouraging thing to say." Alhaitham chuckled. "Then again, thank you. Word on the streets is that you're usually friendly but reserved, I must be pretty interesting if you're talking this much."

He takes the phrase "word on the streets" quite literally. Alhaitham has a propensity of eavesdropping when he visits cafes near Morepesok square. And you happen to be his favorite subject. Every time someone mentions you, Alhaitham jots it down in his little notebook. You're too popular, and for a damn good reason. He can't help but join in on those chats knowing what it's about. Regulars now recognize him as the lunatic Eleazar researcher, but you don't need that information.

You rolled your eyes and twirled your knife.

Annoying.

You placed your knife down and extended your hand out. He stared at it, silently confused.

"Take my hand."

He quickly, and almost desperately, followed your command. "And? Your hands are warm… but what's your strategy?"

You're starting to lose your patience.

You sighed, waving your other hand dismissively. "At this point, maybe you do need to take lessons of when to shut the fuck up– you'll probably sound smarter if you talk less."

"How do you prefer for me to act? You already got Cyno, a brooding bodyguard, so what role should I take? My skills like more o–"

You can't take it anymore.

You yanked him by the collar. Your faces are only a hair apart, and as it stands, the proximity has made his legs wobbly. Alhaitham's breath hitched as you gazed at him menacingly, as though your pupils shrank in anger. Your fingernails messed up his ironed dress shirt and should he strike your nerve ONE MORE TIME you might just rip his throat out.

"Act like a fucking human being with brains instead of scarabs, maybe. Good riddance– I don't have time for this– do I have to train you like a DOG?" You growled.

He's your underboss, (Y/n).

You cringed. You've nearly forgotten it's you who mostly owe him a favor, not the other way around. You saw the almost perfectly hidden apprehension in his eyes and felt a twinge of guilt.

Don't forget, you're as terrifying as Rosalyne when you're angry.

Don't scare him away. Like it or not, you NEED him. Or else the Cardinals, Pierro, and maybe even Inquisitor Cyno won't recognize you as a Capo– Do you want that to happen? Do you want your men jobless and living on the streets? Are you that selfishly angry?

You breathed in. You breathed out.

Steel yourself, (Y/n).

... You used to be so in tune with your emotions. You were able to suppress most of it– not a lot of people can tell when you're angry. Your anger used to be silent.

What on earth happened to you? Are you still yourself? If so, why are you acting like a mess?

....

Supposed that influx of anger makes sense for someone who lost almost everything in one day. Your hands are trembling. You're homeless, your business is gone– and half of your friends are dead. 

But you're directing all that anger on the wrong person.

Alhaitham didn't burn your manor down. He can be a suspect, but there are no solid shreds of evidence against him. What is wrong with you?!

Snap out of it!

You can't mourn.

You don't have TIME for that!!!

You dropped your hold on him, shaking your head. For a moment, Alhaitham forgot how to breathe and his chest heaved for what felt like the first time. No one had pulled him that close before.

You're sane.

You're still sane.

You just have to keep believing that.

"... I was only asking to prepare myself for the inevitable culture shock." He said after collecting himself. "But whatever you did just now was enthralling."

You felt a nerve twitch.

This man.

"You're a researcher. It's high time you use your head." You grunted. "For now, you're coming with me– I'm introducing you to the familia."

"Understood. Lead the way."

The door creaked open.

"(Y/n) are you alright–"

The three of you froze.

Inquisitor Cyno and newly appointed Underboss Alhaitham exchanged calculating glances. You observed as they each attempted to fish something out of their pockets in slow, meticulous movements. Cyno peered hypocritically at the knife he claimed was "not a weapon."

You coughed, but neither flinched.

"Yes, I'm quite alright, Inquisitor." You smiled cheaply. "Please, allow me to introduce my temporary underboss. This is Dimit– Alhaitham, he'll be working for me starting today."

Dimitri.

Why did you almost say that name?

He's gone.

Accept it.

Cyno's eyes widened before he frowned intensely. He looked at Alhaitham, unsure where to start.

"Him?" His voice dripped in alarm and disappointment. "Are you sure? You do know who– of course, you do– but he's–"

"A high risk?" You said. "He is. But he's a risk I'm willing to take."

You grinned. "Besides, I know Alhaitham's reaction time– he wouldn't last a second against me if assassination is on the table."

Last night's rendezvous was a fine attestation for that claim. If you put in the effort, Candace would've found a dead body haphazardly thrown in the public trash can.

Cyno didn't say a word, he knows your skill. He nodded, yet his eyes said otherwise.

Why is he looking at you like that? Why is he looking at you like you're out of your mind? You're perfectly alright.

The inquisitor noticed that something was off about you and gazed at Alhaitham instead. His stare was laced with the kind of venom that can only be found between two men who already had a grudge against one another.

The air weighed heavy as you both walked past the inquisitor.

"Watch your back, Akademiyan spy."

Alhaitham smirked.

"Yours as well, Church assassin."

—----

As expected, your men had mixed feelings when you showed up with an Akademiyan spy, and their reactions heightened when you revealed and stressed that he'd be a TEMPORARY underboss until you found a suitable replacement.

You cannot emphasize enough that as an ally, he's only a band-aid solution and that you'll find someone more suitable in your ranks, but that doesn't quell any feelings of rivalry they may have. It's exhausting to count with both hands and feet just how many men announced that they'll take over Alhaitham's occupation soon enough and that they'll get rid of him "in our Capo's name!" They were rather noisy– it's a good thing Tartaglia's in another room drinking his sorrows away (apparently he got dumped.)

While that sounds sweet, what's sweeter is seeing the look of annoyance on Alhaitham's face. A room full of Snezhnayan men acting like frat boys is likely not what an introverted scholar expected when applying for the mafia. 

Other than Alhaitham's woes, you were so relieved a handful made it out alive.

Felix discreetly handed you a list of the survivors' names. You didn't order him to do anything, but he collected everyone's signature with encouraging remarks in 3 stacks of paper, back to back, all cheering you on. Some are brief, others were straight-up novel worthy– but the length didn't matter because these were borne of familial affection. Even Felix, who is normally gruff and reticent, informed you that the Innamorati Familia awaits your orders. To think that Felix used to be the disobedient one, too.

Everyone trusts and admires you. That never changed even after you lost almost everything. Not a lot of people are fortunate enough to say the same.

After some deliberation, you tucked those papers safely in your pocket along with your swayed heart, promising them that you will devise a strategy just like what you always do. 

But you can't stay much longer.

You should be happy to receive such heartfelt letters from your familia... But why didn't you feel anything?

Why do you feel so hollow?

You don't want your men to worry, so you left immediately after a small speech, and with Felix's help, you met up with the manor's Capo.

You already left the common room when someone threw a glove at Alhaitham's face– it was funny but an audience with your figurative "fratello" would be more spectacular. Since Tartaglia inherited everything the now-retired Capo Pantalone had, he keeps a surplus of alcohol in his minibar and cellars. It's enticing, but you'll go for a non-alcoholic drink. Can't get wasted when you have a business meeting later today. 

Not that you want to get drunk with Tartaglia. His voice has a certain bell-like quality to it when you're hungover.

Your fratello yawned, staring at the wall before you came in. When he noticed your presence, he patted the empty seat beside him.

"... Mind giving me a rundown of what happened at the Sumeru Church?" He sounded depressed. Just how beautiful was this boy or girl to make him look this sad?

You dismissed Felix and sat down.

"I suppose I should recount everything that happened, starting at around yesterday morning…"

It was a long story.

You tried to narrate everything in a detached perspective, viewing the fiasco as nothing short of a random story, and yet…

In a switch, Tartaglia busted into a fit of laughter.

Tartaglia couldn't stop laughing as he poured himself a shot of fire-water. His entire body was shaking in pure joy as you recounted the events. Your fellow Capo's spirits buoyed immediately as you got to the last part. He couldn't restrain himself and sure enough, some of his drink spilled. You stared at him bewildered as Tartaglia wiped it off with his sleeves. Where the hell is this boar's dignity? Uncultured swine.

"H-Hol-Hold on– hAHAHA!–" Tartaglia held his stomach while his other hand balled into a fist, shakily slamming the table. "You're telling me he joined ca-cause he wants to fuck?!"

You ignored him, furiously cutting a lime. Just earlier, Tartaglia was moping that he got rejected by a blonde traveler (who's his target), so he's experiencing a massive schadenfreude.

There are so many details he could've nitpicked, like how you metaphorically adopted another troubled girl or how you nearly shipped Alhaitham for Wednesday's garbage pickup, and he had to choose that one. He would have been moved by what Felix and the others had done for you if he had let you finish talking. But no. Tartaglia is Tartaglia. Tomato, to-ma-to.

"Do you have to put it so perversely? It's not as if it's confirmed." Leaning over to whisper to him, you pulled his ear. "It's just a hunch. I'm not sure if he sees me like that."

You kind of want to brag that at least you get admirers while he can't even get a foreigner's attention, but you're not that low.

"H-Holy shit my comrade! You're so fucking dense!"

"Stop speaking." You said, making darting motions with the knife.

Violence isn't out of the equation, though. 

Don't worry, you're sure physical wounds are easier to heal.

"I-I can't! This is gold." He cackled like a goose. Under normal circumstances, you would've chuckled over his dumb-sounding laughter, but you're the butt of his jokes. "You? A prude like you?– c'mon mio amico Alhaitham, you can do better than that, fratello!"

"When on earth did you start calling him your brother?–" Your voice was dangerously leaning towards platonic jealousy. 

"Since he started thinking about smashing my older sibling." Both his elbows rested on the counter, and his blue eyes hawked as if waiting for a moment to strike. 

"Oh, and for the record, I'm definitely Team Alhaitham on this one. Send my regards to Cyno. He put up a fight when he decided he'll help repair your manor but it ain't as great as a good fuck."

You twisted his ear, making him squirm and moan in pain loudly.

"Don't drag the Inquisitor into your whimsical fetishes. You are the scum of the earth and for the sake of Teyvat, I hope you will never reproduce. May the Tsaritsa forgive you, you lonely lonely man."

"Ow-ow-ouch!!! Hey! T-Take a breather with that knife, won't you? Might hurt yourself there, comrade."

You put it down. 

"... I've been pointing blades around excessively for a while now. Perhaps I should stray away from knives." Your eyes trailed down his waist.

"Exactly–"

"Tartaglia, lend me your double-action revolver."

His smile dropped.

"You've got to be kidding me." There was a high-pitch strain as he ended his sentence. Tartaglia protectively covered his gun. "I'm not giving you my babygirl."

"My hostler's been light lately; it's not for aesthetics. The least you can do is let this homeless person borrow a gun."

"Yeah but you're beautiful even without one, didn't Alhaitham call you the apple of his eye?"

"I will gouge yours out."

Tartaglia gulped.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. Here." The pressure in his tone deepened as he reluctantly passed his revolver.

You took it off his hands and just as you were about to inspect for bullets, you glanced at your watch.

You still have a meeting scheduled in half an hour.

"Cazzo– I have to go."

"Hey wait!–"

You stood up and left for the common room, leaving your heartbroken brother back alone as he listened to your call for Alhaitham.

Tartaglia sighed and went back to his drink, painfully aware of the deafening silence. He sipped his shot and stared sadly at the aisle of drinks in front of him. No one to share with. And most of all, his lucky gun isn't with him.

"Damn. I'm a fucking capo but why do I feel like I've been robbed?"

—--

[Morning, 11 AM:]

"Is this the Ogonptitsa district? But why?"

Alhaitham followed you about like a lost dog yearning for a home. You would normally have driven your car (which was parked in one of Tartaglia's garages), but you felt like torturing him. The Akademiyan agent is far too pale. Even if your destination was the desert, you'd trek merely to fry him in the sun.

He appears like a child wearing a bib with the scarf you gave him. You tried hard not to laugh at him.

Mental note: buy Alhaitham a collar next time.

"Don't you know? Aren't you supposed to be my underboss?" You shrugged. "We're going around town, and do use caution. After all… When in Snezhnaya, you do what the Snezhnayans do."

You stopped at a familiar red building, and Alhaitham nearly walked past you had you not called his name. 

This is the place you're looking for.

Three maids dropped their baskets and scrambled to usher you both inside. Alhaitham trailed behind as you thanked the hardworking staff, unconcerned about how easily you've been brought inside.

Before you know it, you and your underboss are on the 4th floor of the mansion, facing its owner. 

"Hmm, he looked just like the uploaded pictures in the Akasha Terminal," Alhaitham muttered, memorizing Diluc's face intensely. The earpiece he's wearing buzzed. "Interesting. He's 72 kilograms and 6'1" in height."

You raised an eyebrow.

Why the hell does Alhaitham need that information?

Fucking weirdo.

Too distracted by his mutterings, Alhaitham was the first to claim the empty sofa. Your new "underboss" crossed his legs like a man would in the comfort of his own home. You held back a long sigh as you took a seat beside him, making a mental note to lecture him about this. Underbosses shouldn't take a seat before the Capo themselves– and you're painfully reminded just how underqualified he is in areas that do not involve bookkeeping and information gathering. 

You summoned your patience so that you would refrain from kicking Alhaitham's leg while the host flipped through his papers. His eyes are twitching, and his small stifled yawns indicate that he didn't get much sleep either.

Mister "Darknight Hero" here must've been helping the citizens while you were away. 

[CHOSE: NEGOTIATE FUNDS WITH VISCONTI DILUC RAGNVINDR]

[NARROWLY AVOIDED BAD ENDING 1: "You're Collei's Friend, After All!" ]

"Buongiorno, Visconti Diluc. My apologies for this sudden appointment"

"Likewise, Capo." He was unable to catch himself from yawning out loud. The Visconti's shoulders sheepishly dropped as he lazily composed himself. "P-Pardon me, as well. I've been too busy as of late."

"Understandably so." Alhaitham suddenly said.

Diluc regarded bim with cool, disinterested eyes, before pretending he wasn't in the room. You're sure he's dying to ask some questions, but you both respect each other's time.

[ALHAITHAM IS PRESENT]

[MODERATE RISK -> VERY LOW RISK]

"Before we start, I'd like to extend my deepest condolences, (Y/n)." He muttered. "I know the anguish of being separated from family."

It's been years since his father died, but grief doesn't hit all at once; it comes in waves. Diluc's eyes softened, and if his hand had been near yours, he would have held it. You're difficult to read, but that doesn't mean you're uncaring. That is one characteristic you both share.

"Grazie, Signor."

Visconti Diluc was no syndicate and did not have the machinations to become one. His hands were clean until his father died– and he had a vendetta against the mafia ever since. 

Despite that, he is still your reluctant ally.

You import and export drinks between Mondstadt and Snezhnaya; cultivating an unfavorable connection would be unwise. As a result, you frequently invite him to stay for supper, in which the Visconti would chatter about how a person like you should change occupations while you still have the opportunity. Diluc's dissatisfaction is palpable whenever you demonstrate your legal business management abilities. You would have been a formidable competitor in the wine industry. Someone who will make running Dawn Winery less mundane.

However, his emotions do not prevent him from occasionally keeping you company in Angel's Share.

"I assume you're the one that sent that letter?" He asked.

"If you're referring to my pigeon Picus, then yes." You nearly ranted about how Tartaglia made a joke that your pet nearly became a crispy fried pigeon but you refrained from revealing that information.

"I see…"

"For the record, you don't need to state your case," Diluc said. "I'll let you loan the money."

He agreed without putting up a fight because his adopted brother was just like you in terms of negotiation. Frighteningly enough, both you and Kaeya have an uncanny ability to wrap everyone around your fingers…

So really, he'd give in either way. Might as well save everyone's time. Besides, Diluc could never say no to you.

You're not a bad person in his eyes.

You're just lost.

"Grazie again, Visconti. But I assume you'd need my men?" You gestured at his folders, which were all about festival wine.

Diluc laughed humorlessly. "Yes, if you would, please. I need extra hands for the next batch."

"Gladly."

"Thank you– but please don't leave yet. I need your council."

You shifted from your seat, relaxing slightly.

Meanwhile Alhaitham crossed his arms. His stare was cold and directly aimed at the Visconti. The Akademiyan Spy must've found some dirt on him by simply observing his room– or rather, his trashcan– but he can't tell you that information right now.

It'll be a bigger mess if Alhaitham revealed what Diluc had been doing to your picture. So he'll let you talk to him, for now.

Visconti, you are so terrible at hiding things.

Diluc cleared his throat. "Remember our previous discussion about the Rex Lapis-Morax theory?"

You snorted. "Why would I?"

Rex Lapis and Morax. There's a theory circulating that the Adepti's leader, Morax, is the Geo Archon, Rex Lapis. This spread like wildfire once Focalor claimed to be the unappreciated Hydro Archon. Akademiyan scholars beat this dead horse by spinning nonsense about how an Archon could take a human's shape. Even Tartaglia believed the same and insisted that he had seen Morax transform before his very eyes into a primordial dragon.

But was that what Diluc was actually talking about?

No. Of course not.

Your previous discussion ended with a certain green musician. That's WHO he was referring to. 

For now, Alhaitham observed his surroundings while eavesdropping on your conversation.

"There had been a new development," Diluc shared with a small grin. "News circulated that he was seen wearing cloaks, not unlike the depictions of Archons through the mouth of a blonde 'worker'."

You snorted.

"Was there any doubt? They should know by now that she won't be 'working' for them forever. Love for one's familia has more value than their petty greed. If they're not willing to listen, well, the Darknight Hero would be mad, wouldn't he?"

"Hah. Should I meet up to tell them just that? Give the papers something to write about?"

"Nah. You should just announce it by the grapevine. Make sure to invite my fratello if things start to get wild."

"Indeed I should, and I will. Maybe a taste test would do well in this line of business."

"Ah, but do you really need that?" You smiled. "You have the barrels you need."

"Fair enough. Nothing of value was lost when the storm died anyways. At least we have the wind in town."

"Hmm, hmm. A wind pretending to be human, how curious. Enough about him, are you going to help her?"

"There's no need. She's plenty capable handling herself. Haven't you heard? She even met your fratello."

"... She's the one that dumped him?"

"Who else?"

"Oh my God–" You laughed. "What a small world!"

Alhaitham's eyes sharpened. He's smart, but he is not a miracle worker. Your conversation did not make sense without any historical context. Those jargons were likely terms only the two of you knew.

But Alhaitham could tell you're not underestimating his competencies.

In fact, this was probably you testing him to see if he could catch up.

The only thing he understood was "grapevine."

That's what Mondstadters use when referring to a human trafficking ring.

But the rest of the conversation? Absolutely cryptic. But that doesn't matter.

Whoever this mystery woman is must've been a slave who broke free. As for her identity, however...

Alhaitham will figure it out soon enough.

Diluc signed the parchment.

His signature had severe angles and curves, somewhat hostile and prideful but conveyed in an elegant manner. You're no expert, but Diluc's handwriting aptly describes his personality. No matter how hard he tries to repress himself, bits and pieces will always leak into one's daily life.

And so, the deal is done.

—---------

"We'll be taking our leave. As always, it was a pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise, Capo."

You took a look behind you. Alhaitham was already a few meters away, his nose buried in a book. You made a mental note to chastise him later. Perhaps you do need to train him like a dog. You know that madman is all about liberty and self-government, but there is a hierarchy he must adhere to.

"Oh, and Capo?"

"Yes?" You turned to face him again.

Diluc looked away, a bit upset.

"Whenever you come to visit, would you mind not bringing your underboss along?" 

You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Why?"

"I prefer talking to people one-on-one."

He said it so quickly that you're convinced he practiced that lie in front of a mirror.

But you have an idea as to why that is, and it's likely not security related. At all. His brother told you the reason behind Diluc having so awkwardly when around you. That's because before Crepus adopted him, you were Kaeya's orphanage sibling first.

Visconti Diluc Ragnvindr harbors feelings for you for over three years now, and he does not know how he should to properly manage it. Kaeya had shown you proof of this before by leaking his unsent love letters and you thanked him for the heads-up. This is likely his half-assed admission that he doesn't want to see another man close to you.

You nodded, lying better than Diluc did.

Shame that the feeling isn't mutual.

"I'll see what I can do." You answered without conviction.

Diluc smiled. 

With his hair all messy and his clothes disheveled, Diluc looked truly at home. The view from in front of his porch felt personal as if you were coming home to see your husband waiting for you by the door. There's an unspoken intimacy in the way he smiled. If you're lucky enough, you might just figure out why.

But you don't want to.

You don't have time to indulge in a mere flight of fancy.

Anyone would hesitate to love a dead man.

"Thank you– be careful on your way back. I'd offer to walk you but…" His face soured as he quickly glanced at Alhaitham.

"I will. Buona giornata, Visconti Ragnvindr."

[CHANCE FOR SECRET ROUTE: "VISCONTI DILUC RAGNVINDR" UNLOCKED]

[AFFECTION METER: 29.25%]

Alhaitham yanked your hand, unamused. 

His akasha terminal was flickering red lights on and off as if he had received bad news. Alhaitham was staring at Diluc, and this time for sure you knew he was measuring something. 

A meter you couldn't see.

'Disgusting boar.' Alhaitham thought to himself.

"We'll leave. Now." He ordered slowly.

You nodded and waved Diluc goodbye one last time.

Whatever it is, you decided to trust your new underboss's judgement. And thank Tsaritsa you did.

With everything Alhaitham saw with his Akasha Terminal, he will never let you visit that man alone.

Because Visconti Diluc is the one guilty of what you accused Alhaitham of.

If Alhaitham wasn't there, Visconti goody-two-shoes Ragnvindr would've kidnapped you.

Alhaitham huffed, both angry and amused.

'Fucking pervert.'

Disgusting as that Visconti may be, he understands where he's coming from.

But that man doesn't know you're dying.

And Alhaitham would rather spend the last of your days doing what you want with him by your side than the confines of his basement.

—------

[Afternoon, 3 PM:]

[Chose: Visit Barbara]

You went to visit Barbara alone.

Alhaitham left for his accounting duties, but not before ordering that no additional business meetings will take place for the rest of the evening. Not that you had any. Whatever the case, the Visconti must've left a bad taste in his mouth despite his polite behavior. 

His mouth was always in motion, and none of his words were nice. Alhaitham suggested other organizations that would sponsor you instead but stopped mid-sentence when you started fidgeting with Tartaglia's gun. As he should. Someone as green as him in this scene shouldn't question his boss's judgement. 

"Be careful around Visconti Diluc. He's a lunatic."

"More than you?"

"Hah. You Fatuis seriously require better intel."

He was getting on your nerves. It's a good thing your last destination is the church. You would've left his body in an alleyway if it wasn't.

A familiar nun stood outside, horribly displeased. Sister Rosaria never finds morning lectures and hymns interesting, and that attitude is strictly how you figured out she's not a simple nun. She's a disciple and inquisitor, much like Cyno.

"Ciao, Sister Rosaria." You greeted. "Is Barbara around?'

"She told me that if I saw you I should apologize for her sake," Rosaria spoke in a near grumble. "And that I should help you out."

"Not that you would." You grinned and she chuckled.

"Not that I would normally." Rosaria corrected you. "But your people were good men. My condolences, Capo."

Your smile faltered, threatening to spill before you huffed and worked on your image. When those words come from people with burdens like Visconti Ragnvindr and Sister Rosaria, their sincerity weighs heavier than your pride.

"Thank you, Rosaria."

"The streets have become safer when they were around. The priest was glad when Dimitri taught the children how to defend themselves. It's a shame that he died–"

"Dimitri's not dead."

Those words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. Rosaria closed her mouth.

"He's... I'm sorry. You're right. He's dead. I'm... Thank you. I appreciate your kind words."

"(Y/n), you..." Rosaria's eyebrows furrowed. It looked like she contemplated on saying something blunt, but decided against it.

"Nevermind, if you ever need someone to do your dirty work, I'll wipe them off for you."

"I'd rather be the one to clean this mess, but I appreciate it… although if you could find where Tighnari is–"

"I have a lead. Consider it done."

"Grazie."

And that was the end of that.

"Good talk. Now, why don't you go inside?" She gestured at the cathedral. "Someone you know is there."

You raised an eyebrow. "Is it Tighnari?–"

"Would've dragged his ass out immediately after spotting you, so no."

"Cazzo." You snapped your fingers, comically emphasizing your dissatisfaction.

Rosaria replied nonchalantly. "I know. What a fucking shame."

You both snickered at your foul language. Had Barbara been there, she would've begged you both to stop.

Heretics.

"I better head in and pray for salvation."

"Don't bother praying for me."

"Wasn't planning to."

—-----

"Oh, so it's you." You muttered.

The last time you saw him was earlier this morning when he nearly stabbed Alhaitham with your butterknife– and there's a clear difference between that and him looking like a man of the Archons. Or maybe he just looks different in a white dress shirt rather than his violet Inquisitor getup.

Cyno knelt in front of the Lessor Lord Kusanali's stained glass image. It was her lone depiction inside the Tsaritsa's cathedral. You assumed he was deep in his prayers and you sat on the pews, but the inquisitor replied.

"In times of anguish, you can rely on the Archons and your will."

Khaenri'ah would censor the former.

Cyno looked up. "Care to join me?"

"I appreciate it, but I've already prayed."

"And thus, you'll forever see faith as a routine rather than hope."

Cyno had a point. A point you'll receive on deaf ears. He resumed.

"I lost my family as well." 

He let those heavy words hang in the air. Cyno gazed at the altar, a forlorn expression painting his features as his fingertips traced her image.

"For a time, I believed that I had no one left to keep me company but the Lesser Lord Kusanali." He muttered. His gentle touch didn't chip away the dry paint as he caressed the glass. "My family tore apart when I was at a young age... I can't recall much due to trauma."

Knowing that he cared for his relatives, you went straight to asking "How was your search for them? Any worthwhile discoveries?"

"Unfortunately futile, but there were some facts I've uncovered while investigating on my own." 

You nodded, signaling that you were listening. Cyno's probably just trying to connect with you. Dumping traumatic experiences isn't normally how you should console a grieving person, but you can understand his efforts.

Besides, what does he know about your pain? He didn't lose as much people as you did that nig–

You stopped thinking.

You knew that line of thought will lead you nowhere.

His hand seemed to reach for his chest before he faltered and pulled back. Cyno's hand turned into a fist.

"I have a brother. I found out when I read a letter addressed to a human trafficker. The handwriting was akin to wolf scratches, but his name was spelled like Usir." He mumbled. "I can't remember who he was or how he acted if he loved his older brother. All I knew was that he's still out there somewhere and–"

"That's why you resigned from the clergy and became an inquisitor? I understand. More freedom of movement, right?"

He sat beside you.

"Yes." Cyno nodded, smiling. "I'm glad you're skilled at inferences. I tire of explaining things repeatedly."

It's one of many things Cyno adores about you.

You two went silent. It was a peaceful and comfortable silence, signaling that the topic of conversation was finished until he spoke up again.

"I never thought I'd find a chance to talk to you like this." He said. "I've not been one for talking and you're always too busy."

"Can't be too busy when you're only handling the livelihood of 20 to 50 men nowadays."

"Still a high number."

"Too true."

Cyno laughed.

His laugh was soft, albeit muffled, yet its jovial innocence echoed on the empty cathedral. At first, listen, Cyno's chortles sound empty and forced, but after a while, you'll realize that's as genuine as it could get. 

In a way, his lack of emotional execution makes him charming.

[AFFECTION METER: 18.00%]

"You've always been so direct to the point." He said, not realizing that he spoke out loud.

Always, huh?

"So you've been stalking me for how long?" 

Cyno coughed awkwardly. "Less stalking and more monitoring."

Sure, whatever you say, pal.

"So you do know about me having Eleazar."

He contemplated for a while before answering.

"... Yes. Yes, I do. Tighnari, Alhaitham, and I know. We know who has Eleazar and those who have long died because of it."

Guess Alhaitham wasn't lying.

You looked in the direction he was facing. Barbara's tiny figure emerged from a distance, waving at you as she ran with her weekly grocery chores. You suspect this was because she spoiled most of what she bought last time when she fell. As small as she looked in your proximity, it's hard to miss her worried yet compassionate face. 

She's like a sister to you, but what does Cyno think of the two other men he mentioned?

"What's your opinion on my new underboss?" You asked while vaguely waving at Barbara.

Cyno's face hardened.

"Never liked him."

That also makes sense, given their morning exchange. You don't have to listen to his reasons. There's something innately strange about Alhaitham that makes him so dislikeable. But there's something more to this. There seems to be a rivalry between these three. Something they don't want you to find out.

"And Tigh–"

"I was close friends with Tighnari, and I never expected him to pull something like this. I haven't been able to hunt him down since then." He confessed immediately. "I'm sorry that he had done something this rash."

Close friends, huh?

You closed your eyes.

You'll kill everyone that fox ever loved.

You laughed, your throat unknowingly dry. This man is a church disciple and your challenged moral compass is at risk of toppling down. You're by no means faltering from your decision, and if Cyno meant something to Tighnari, then you'd gladly slit his throat right here and now. 

But if what the Inquisitor's saying is true, then it's possible that he didn't matter to Tighnari at all.

"... What made you think you're both close?" 

"He was the only one who could tolerate my jokes and listen to me ramble about cards."

... Are those his only qualifications for a close friend? That's rather sad. When Cyno put it so bluntly, he sounded pathetically asocial.

"I can sense your bloodlust. (Y/n), I am not your enemy." He frowned.

"Tighnari not only betrayed you, but he also betrayed my trust and declared himself an enemy of the church. As I mentioned, I was tasked with monitoring you– and he nearly put you in grave danger."

Cyno clicked his tongue. "Tch. Judgement will pass soon enough."

You didn't miss the devouring fire in his sunset eyes. An ignition you're all too familiar with and rely on completely.

It was spite.

That was enough for you to trust Cyno, for now.

But the way he talks about betrayal makes you question how he'll treat you if he finds out what you've done to Rosalyne. It would be out of character for him to already know but ignore your sins. This man used to be a priest. Cyno would put you on the same lowly pedestal as Tighnari for your actions.

"Inquisitor, I–"

"I know what you're planning. I understand your grief but don't."

"... What do you mean?"

"You can't kill him. You of all people shouldn't."

"And why is that?" 

Then Cyno turned around, dropping a fact you wish you didn't know.

"Because Tighnari has made the most progress. He's the closest we have to get the cure for Eleazar."

Your heart sank.

Suddenly, Barbara hugged you from behind before you could ask more. Cyno took it as a cue and swiftly left the room, much to your chagrin. Perhaps he departed because the conversation was confidential, or perhaps he left you to ponder your fate alone.

"(Y/n)! Are you alright?! Please tell me if there's anything I can do for you!!!"

You patted her head. Cyno escaped from your grasp but you can never be angry at Barbara. 

"Well, why don't you sing for me, sorella?"

There's nothing Barbara could truly help you with right now, but you do know this: you approached Cyno intending to clear your head, what you got instead was a myriad of new inquiries left unanswered but it all builds up into one final question.

Would you take revenge at the cost of a cure?

—-----

Cyno slithered out of the cathedral without anyone noticing him. Seeing the person he had been monitoring for years look this depressed was heartbreaking.

He will not lie: he wants to kill Tighnari too.

But he can't, since whatever Tighnari's doing, it's for the sake of your cure– but he can't accept that he did not adhere to their deal.

No one wasn't supposed to lay a single finger on you. 

That was the truce between the three of them. Now that Tighnari broke that rule, Alhaitham and he expectedly followed suit. Their friendship is gone. This is now a competition, and the professor is the wild card.

Tighnari can't be killed.

But that Alhaitham…

He's a threat to you. Unlike Cyno and Tighnari– his motivations are inherently selfish and only prove to benefit himself alone.

That Akademiyan shamelessly claims that he sees you as a subject of Eleazar for him to study. He doesn't deserve to be near you– if Cyno knew he'd pull something like this, he would've volunteered to be your underboss instead.

But this isn't where this game ends.

Cyno smiled.

If he could just convince the Cardinals and make it look like an accident…

—----

[Evening, ??? PM:]

[CHOSE: LEAVE FLOWERS]

A tranquil night makes an ideal atmosphere for you to collect your thoughts. In these hours, solitude proved to be the finest solution. Or at least, you're hoping that nobody's there. Because this is the night you plan to leave these feelings behind.

The soles of your shoes crushed heart-shaped leaves as you made your way to Dimitri's grave. You trailed a rich scent of fresh inteyvats, boxed Saghert and Cream, and whiskey as you walked past many familiar names in the cemetery. Some were your victims, others were old friends, but none mattered as much as Dimitri Blaiddyd.

That's because he was the only corpse they salvaged properly. Because he died in your arms. Unlike like Viktor, Teppei, and the others.

Not visiting their graves felt like a sin, but they had no graves to begin with.

Looking back, your friend never had a sense of taste, so you doubt he'd care for whatever you brought him. Truth be told, you've fed him spoiled food multiple times but Dimitri stomached it all without question. Perhaps your relationship had always been rocky and he had been incredibly tolerable of your "practical" jokes– but you wouldn't stoop low enough to offer spoiled treats as a tribute to the dead.

Perhaps you'd join him soon, too. You wouldn't mind if you were buried beside him.

"Happy 26th birthday, my beloved friend."

Silently, you set them down and lit the candles. As you observed the tiny flame adorning his headstone, you felt conflicted. Although you were positive that this is what he would have wanted, it didn't feel right to have his cause of death dance six feet above his corpse.

Life would be easier if you just forget about how the clock is always ticking. But neither of you could cover your ears at the ringing echoes of regret.

Dimitri had no family left, and you both reveled in that freedom when he was alive. He was your true partner-in-crime, reeling you in should you act too reckless– even when it cost him his left eye. Not once had Dimitri faltered from fulfilling his duties. You will never find a dog– a lion more tamed than he was, but a circus animal usually carries baggage of its own.

And fate loves to play jokes.

Coincidentally, his father also died in a fire years ago in the middle of a business meeting, making him an orphan. That's what led him to a life of crime. Dimitri behaved as if he'll forever be imprisoned by his past and couldn't bear to let go of his guilt. He often prayed to the Archons above for his end to come soon enough. Perhaps it's cruelly morbid for you to think this way, but maybe his death was ordained by fate in the grand scheme of things.

He got what he prayed for.

You don't care if he went to heaven or hell. What is hell for people like him? He never found real pleasures in life nor a sliver of hope. Dimitri would curse the earth before hell itself.

But damn it.

It fucking hurts.

You miss him.

It's only been a few days but you miss your best friend so damn much.

You sense another person behind you, but they're not a threat.

"This wouldn't be the first time you lost a partner-in-crime."

You turned around.

For a brief moment, you nearly fooled yourself into believing Dimitri's apparition manifested itself to give you a firm scolding whilst wearing a thick and dark trench coat. But this blonde and blue-eyed man wasn't your old underboss– the man before you is very much alive.

That may not be Dimitri, but that doesn't change that this man certainly was an old friend.

You grinned weakly. 

"Buona sera, Dainsleif."

There were no ghosts. It was just you, him, and the lonely hooting owl in the vicinity.

And yet you can't look at his face for long enough.

He looks too much like...

Dainsleif stood behind you, looking down at your old friend's grave. He had both hands empty, indicating that this encounter was not planned.

"Lost the ability to greet good evening in our native tongue?"

"I've long abandoned my patriotic ways."

"More accurately, you've long abandoned me." He laughed bitterly. "I don't recall you blaming the entirety of Khaenri'ah for La Signora's death."

"Maybe I did, maybe I did not." You bantered back. "Starting a propaganda can be pretty wild sometimes."

Dain replied with a teasing lilt. "Hmm, sure it is."

You laughed, genuinely this time. It's only been two days since you laughed from the heart, but it felt like an eternity ago considering everything that had happened.

Dainsleif was the man you framed for La Signora's murder. When you were both in your early twenties, you had nowhere else to go but up. As Khaenri'ahn immigrants, there was only one option left for you two: it was to compete. All is fair in love and war, and you dived head-first into the syndicate while he worked for the police. It didn't matter if he was a brother from the orphanage– a lust for power blinds all. 

But he never failed to treat you with unconditional positive regard.

Dainsleif took your betrayal indifferently, and you recalled how he took the dagger from you and lathered Rosalyne's blood in his hands. You recalled how he angrily told you to leave– and for once you were reluctant about continuing your schemes. 

Everyone from that orphanage has to stick together.

They're the first "familia" you've ever had. Even if you abandoned your country.

Six years passed since that day. After placing operations to search for the "Khaenri'ahn soldier", you heard that he's been running around Teyvat as a reputable informant. Visiting Dimitri's grave was his way of letting you know that he harbored no ill will against you. 

You're still siblings, no matter how disastrous of a monster you have and will become. And it's not a matter of if but when. 

"I heard your old underboss resembled me, now that I see his portrait, can't say they're wrong." Dainsleif droned on. "Blonde hair, blue eyes. Had a smile that longed for the sweet release of death. Can tolerate your insufferable demands. I think we would've been fast allies."

"You got all that from a single black and white portrait?"

"I'm an informant, take a guess."

You chuckled sadly. "I'm sure you both would have talked shit about me in Angel's Share."

"And it would've been more enjoyable if you'd listened in as well. I've traveled far and wide, I'm certain you'd learn a lesson or two should we go out for drinks again."

"Yeah, if we could…"

But that was a pipedream.

The path you both thread are separated, and neither of you would share your keeps. As easy as it would've been to ask Dainsleif if he could be your next underboss, the consequences of your actions run deep into the heart of the problem. You already blamed Dainsleif for everything, no one would trust you if you bring back Rosalyne's "murderer" back into the familia.

Besides, there's one major difference between Dimitri and Dainsleif. The former believes that Archons are real but we humans lack the means to grasp their hands, while the latter's convinced they're nothing but social constructs.

Dainsleif never truly belonged in Teyvat because of this. Chastised for his lack of religious beliefs, he searched for a reason to leave. Everything that happened between you two was ultimately for the best. That chapter in your lives had long been closed.

But you wouldn't mind if you welcomed him in this new one.

After all, the last time you hired an informant, the bastard burned your house down. Might as well hire someone you consider your real family.

You opened your arms, still not looking at his face.

"Would you hug me if I asked for one?" 

You're stepping your boundaries with this request, but if this was still the Dainsleif you knew…

Dain blinked laconically. 

"Only if it'll give me a chance to stab you in the back."

You smiled.

It's still him. The same bitter old Dain.

"Have at it, old friend."

He hugged you.

His hug was gentle and damn near brotherly. A rose like you rarely dulls its thorns for a second of soothing vulnerability– and this is a privilege only Dimitri, Dainsleif, and Tartaglia could afford. 

And yet...

With reasons you can't explain, the weight of the world suddenly sat on your shoulders.

And you know that you're about to collapse.

You croaked. "D-Dainsleif I–"

He hugged you tighter.

"Shhhh... It's okay. It's okay to be sad." He whispered, combing your hair with his fingers. "It's just me. And I will never judge you."

Finally, you cried.

Your bones were held together by the crushing pressure of managing a familia that you ignored what it means to be human.

You didn't allow yourself to grieve yesterday, and if Dainsleif wasn't here you would've done the same tonight.

You are tired.

You are so tired of everything.

For a brief moment, you didn't have to think about what was in store for you the next day. You pulled him closer, tearfully happy to know that he was there. That he was the one who found you that night–

Or else you don't know what you would've done with Tartaglia's gun.

'Dimitri, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I never got to say I'm so fucking sorry. I've been an awful friend. I should've appreciated you more when you were here with me.'

'Dimitri... I wish you were here. I'm so fucking stupid and ungrateful– I don't deserve you.'

You wept and clawed Dainsleif's shirt, wetting it with your large tears. He never complained. Dain cooed and repeatedly reassured you that he won't let you grieve alone.

'I'm so sorry.'

Dainsleif looks just like him. He's as tall as him.

And damn it– they almost sound the same.

You bit your lip, trying not to cry even harder but Dainsleif patted your back. And he's the only thing that's keeping you from reaching for your holster–

He grabbed your hands.

"(Y/n), don't hold it in. Cry. And we will never speak a word about tonight again if you want."

—---

Next Chapter

Note: There are two underlined phrases/words in this fic. The first one leads to a snippet of what the bad ending could've been and the last one is the voting poll! Vote wisely. Have fun!!!

Results from the last voting session here.

Voting closes at October 30, 2022!! CLOSED. Please wait for the next chapter!!! I have an extra treat there too 🥰

Taglist, thank you all for reading "OC!MC!": @scaranaris-lil-niko @ruru-senpai-is-an-infp @vienettacream @theglowfly @vermillionite @nasidibakar

[writercole]

Leaving

Summary: It's not what she thinks.

Squares: Unwanted @anyfandomangstbingo

Words: 2034

Warnings: Angst, misunderstandings

A/N: I'm kinda sorry for this part, actually. It hurt like hell to write.

Tag list is done. Please follow @coleslibrary and turn on notifications for story updates.

Jake was furious that Suze had had the audacity to show up. Her parents were friends with his, but still she had some nerve thinking she was welcome there too.  But when she started insulting Valkyrie, that was the last straw, and it took all his willpower not to let his ire explode from within.

“We aren’t together,” he told her calmly, pointing between himself and his ex for clarity., “There’s nothing between us, so you don’t need to be jealous. Hell, even when we were together, you were barely present. It was a mistake the first time and it’ll never happen again.”

Suze stood staring at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I didn’t mean -”

“I don’t care what you meant or didn’t mean,” he spat. “Y/N is my best friend, and we may not be official, but  I’ve found everything I was missing in her. She’s the one I want by my side, always has been.”

Suze’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, regret flashing over her features.

“Do me a favor and forget I exist. Forget my family exists. And if you’re ever invited to another party, respectfully decline. No one wants you here, it was a courtesy to your parents.”

Jake stormed off, forgetting the drinks the bartender had just finished making. He was on a mission to find Valkyrie and get out of there. Suze ruined the entire party for him but he knew it was a situation easily remedied by an impromptu road trip to their favorite lake with a bottle of whiskey. 

“Val?” he called as he searched the crowd, stopping to ask his siblings and his parents if they’d seen her, only to be grabbed by the party planner and dragged on stage for a speech. 

She was grateful that Admiral Simpson was sympathetic to her pleas. Maybe it’s because he heard the sniffles or the lump in her throat. Either way, he told her he would do his best to get her duty station changed sooner than the rest of the Dagger team. 

She packed her bags and ordered a car to take her to the airport. Waiting in the room until she got the notification of the cab's arrival she tried her hardest not to cry.  Her phone buzzed and she steeled her nerves as she set her suitcase down on the floor. The crowd outside applauded as if they agreed she was doing the right thing. One deep breath later and she was rolling it down the hallway towards the front door.

“You’re leaving?” Jake said from behind her as she reached for the knob.

“Fuck,” she whispered, straightening her shoulders and turning around. “Yeah, Simpson needs me back immediately. My flight’s already booked,” she lied, her hand still around the handle of her suitcase.

“Well, I’ll drive you to the airport,” he offered as he fished his keys from his pocket.

“No, you stay here with your family,” she declined, “I’ve already called an uber.”

“I really need to talk to you,” he implored, the desperation in his face breaking her heart.

“My car’s already here,” she announced before she spun on her heel and rushed out the front door, ignoring Jake calling her name. She was in the backseat telling the driver to just go before he could catch her.

Jake stood staring after the car, his heart shattered as he tried to figure out what just happened. He really needed to talk to her, for his best friend to know that his words had been true; that she had always been by his side and he wanted to make it official that she’d be there forever. But it was more than that.

He had never felt this way about anyone before. He’d watched people walk in and out of his life for years without this aching feeling in his chest, without feeling like the world had stopped spinning. When tears started falling down his face, he wiped his cheeks and stared at his glistening fingers with his head tilted and his brows furrowed, unsure how he even got to this point.

The one person who could help him figure it out had left. So what did he do now? He tried to call Val’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail. He couldn’t have this conversation with a robot so he hung up without leaving a message.

After standing in the road for what felt like hours, he walked back to the bar and swiped the first full bottle of whiskey he could find, taking it with him up to the garage loft where he used to hide when he was a kid. He had finished half of the bottle with his back against the wall, staring out the small window and watching the party dwindle. 

His vision started to blur as the light in the room waned. Jake didn’t know how long he'd been there, drinking his sorrows away, but he knew he’d be content to stay there for the rest of his life. A clicking sound began to echo closer and closer, the overhead light flipping on moments before his mother’s head peeked above the ladder.

“Twenty years later and you’re still using the loft to hide away when you’re upset,” she observed as she hoisted herself up across from him. 

“Good spot,” he slurred as he took another swing from the rapidly emptying bottle.

“Are you gonna talk to me about it?” she pressed as she settled back against a stack of boxes.

Jake sighed shakily as he put the bottle down next to him, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why don’t you tell me why your girlfriend left?” she prompted.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he scoffed.

“We’ll come back to that,” his mom smiled. “But why did she leave?”

“I don’t know why,” he admitted as tears started falling down his cheeks. “I came in after my speech and she was at the door with her suitcase. She said that the Admiral wanted her back but that’s a lie.” He swiped at his face angrily, a futile effort to dry the tears that were falling steadily from his eyes.

“How do you know it was a lie?”

“Because she was different. She wasn’t herself,” he told her, his voice raising as he spoke. “She was leaving without saying goodbye. She’s never done that.”

“So you just let her go?”

“I tried to stop her,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “I ran after her but…” He was cut off by a sob escaping his chest. He buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sat in his childhood hiding spot and cried quietly.

A pair of arms wrapped around him and his mother’s voice hummed the old lullaby she would sing when he was a boy. She pulled him close to her chest and he leaned into her, letting her warmth and her familiar scent wash over him. 

As he calmed, he sat straighter, his head clearer than when his mom found him. He wiped his face with his sleeve and looked at her. “Oh, Mom, I ruined your dress,” he said as he looked at the wetness on her shoulder.

“My son needed me. That’s more important than a swath of fabric.” She looked at him with a softness reserved for a child, the way a mother looks when she knows her child is hurting and is unable to take the pain away. “Now, you said she’s not your girlfriend. But I noticed her bed hasn’t been slept in.”

“I, uh, um…” he stuttered.

“Jake,” she sighed, taking his hands in her own. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’ve seen the way you look at that girl. I’ve seen it since you first brought her here for that physics project in 9th grade. And I don’t think you even realized it yet, but you’ve been in love with her since you were fourteen years old.

“I have watched you grow into probably the best man I’ve ever seen, and that includes your father. You’ve got the career you always dreamed of, son, but you’re not happy unless she’s with you. I have never seen you smile and laugh as much as you have in these last two days. 

“Whatever you have to do to prove that she’s it for you, do it. And fast. Because that girl,” she stressed, pointing in a random direction over his shoulder, “that girl is not going to be lonely for long.”

It wasn’t often that she missed her parents. They’d never had a great relationship and when she told them that she was joining the Navy, they lost it. She hadn’t spoken to them since that night. But it was taking every ounce of willpower she had not to call her momma. 

The one person she would normally call for motherly advice was busy at her anniversary party, probably congratulating her son on getting back with his supermodel girlfriend. She refused to take her away from an important day like that just to listen to someone - who wasn’t even family - whine about her broken heart.

She sat on the uncomfortable mattress and picked at the threadbare comforter and watched as her phone rang and rang, Jake’s photo on the screen. She couldn’t bear to talk to him right now. 

The ringing stopped and she began receiving texts, one after another, all from Jake. The ringing started again and she reached over to turn it off, pausing when she saw who was calling. She swiped to answer and quickly put the phone to her ear.

“Valkyrie,” she identified, her voice rough and ragged.

“Lieutenant, we have switched you back to your old squadron. You’ll be going back to New Orleans,” Admiral Simpson explained. “Transport will leave at 1200 tomorrow.”

“I can make that work,” she agreed, “thank you, sir.”

Jake landed in San Diego at 2 PM on Sunday afternoon, having switched to an earlier flight to try and fix whatever he had done to make her leave. He got back to Miramar and headed straight for the dorms, ignoring the calls of his friends.

He skidded to a stop in front of her door, finding it wide open, the room completely cleaned out. He checked the number and confirmed that it was her room, running his hand through his hair as he tried to figure out his next move. 

An idea came to him and he took off to the administrative offices. Admittedly, this was a hail mary of a long shot but maybe he’d be able to get some information.

“Admiral Simpson, sir, do you have a moment?” Jake asked as he stood in the doorway of the his superior’s office.

“What is it, Seresin?” he barked without looking up from his paperwork.

“I was just wondering if you could tell me where Valkyrie is,” he said as he stepped into the office.

Admiral Simpson sighed and set down his pen, turning his attention to the lieutenant standing before him. “Even if I were permitted by the Navy to give you that information, which I am not, I have been asked by your former team leader to keep all of you in the dark in regards to her whereabouts.”

“What are you,” Jake snapped but remembered his place quickly. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.” he corrected, hoping the Admiral would forgive the attitude, while his stomach flipped and threatened to jump out of his throat.

“She called me and asked to be reassigned immediately with the stipulation that I tell no one, including you, where that would be to. She mentioned you by name, Seresin. Care to take a guess at why that would be?” Admiral Simpson looked at him with raised eyebrows, folding his hands in his lap as he maintained eye contact.

“I don’t know, sir,” Jake replied quietly, “thank you for your time, sir.” He turned and walked out of the room, going to the only place he could think of that might take his mind off of his predicament.

Everything: @thelastpyle @deangirl93 @evergreencowboy @katelyn--renee @fictional-affairs @paintlavillered @buckys-zomdoll @polireader @b3autyfuldisast3r @welcometothefandommultiverse @mlovesstories @supraveng @xoxabs88xox

Top Gun: @princessmisery666 @evansrogerskitten @bradshaw-fanclub @saiyanprincessswanie @luckyladycreator2 @princessphilly @ahockeywrites @clints-lucky-arrow @wildbornsiren @shanimallina87 @fuckyeahhangman @blue-aconite @hope-love-equality2 @peachiicherries @marvelousmermaid @therebeccaw @green-socks @imjess-themess @jostystyles @callsignaries @a-reader-and-a-writer @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

[gaslightgirlsummer]

let's not forget carlos himself liking posts making fun of charles on instagram lmao

oh I’m never forgetting that and never letting it go. the audacity of him to mock charles after silverstone is astonishing and i truly applaud charles’ patience that he’s never called him out on it publicly because i would have been tipping the press the day of

[dearweirdme]

genuine question: do you guys not think it's incredibly unhealthy to sit online speculating about literal strangers' sexualities all day? do y'all not see how grossly disrespectful that is just as a general concept? these are people none of you have EVER met or spent ANY actual personal time with. they don't know you and therefore have never disclosed details about their romantic life bc it isn't your business??? what gives ANY OF YOU the right to hyper analyze everything they do to attribute it to their sexuality? i'm trying to understand how you all could possibly say you love them but don't have enough respect for any of them to simply be fans of their music and leave this weird ship at the door. y'all hyperanalyze all their body language to confirm they're in love but ignore them mentioning how the comments section is never fun to look at (bc it's ALWAYS just shippers being stupidly unhinged) and the very obvious discomfort the shipping shit brings them. most of you shippers are straight women fetishizing. most of you shippers are larries who jumped ship when 1d disbanded. most of you are grown adults who need to get offline and get real hobbies that don't involve breaking down the potentiality of sexuality for people you literally don't know personally. how do all of you have so much audacity and so much time to think half-critically but no time at all to introspect on the level of sheer delusion you have to willfully exist in to perpetuate this narrative shamelessly? this is so sick. how do y'all not feel awful about all the blatant, obvious, perceivable stress you shippers cause them? why can’t y'all behave like actual people with empathy and ethics?

Hi anon!

You are not sending me a genuine question. If that had been your aim you would’ve worded your ask differently. I also wonder if you send asks like this to blogs and accounts who talk and speculate about their relationships with women.. because if you are not actually being homophobic right now.. that would be the same.

I understand the delicacy in this. Except for the part of tour ask that seems homophobic (and plain rude and extremely biased on many accounts) I can even understand you wanting people to stay out of their private business to some level. You want to protect them from harm and I very much applaud that, even though I think your reasoning is faulty in some ways. It is for instance nothing new or weird for fans to care for and be interested in the private lives of artists. It’s something that the artists themselves and their labels/companies also know and at times even feed into. It’s basically inherent to the fan/artist situation. It’s just human nature to be interested in things like this.. is that bad? I don’t know if a word like bad or good applies here.. it’s just human to me.

You look at all shippers and their ways as the same. I think there’s many different kinds of shippers. There’s definitely those that go way too far. People should never confront members themselves with these things. Don’t go in their comments with Taekook or Jkk mentions. Don’t bring banners to concerts, just.. don’t. Not to blow my own horn.. but I would never! Also the constant searching for proof in the tiniest things… it’s so unnecessary and it makes people look crazy and (!) it takes away from the seriousness that this situation brings with it. Which brings me to my reason for talking about this.

Aside from thinking Tae and Jk are super cute and adorably in love, there’s the underlying issue of queerness still not being socially accepted in so many places all around the world. I think it’s important to talk about these things (even as a straight adult, because the more people talk about these things.. the more influence we have in making things better for the future). If no one was to ever talk about celebrities being closeted or closeting in general.. there would be no progress. I am fairly sure about what I have seen between Tae and Jk.. I am also fairly sure that they are not ashamed about their queerness. That is why I talk about this. I feel I am doing this in a respectful way. There’s things I do not discuss (sexual stuff) because I feel that’s in general not useful for the conversation.

I am not willing to take responsibility for other Tkkrs behavior though. I talk about things for myself and for my own reasons. I like to think everyone is able to think for themselves and be responsible for the way they interact in fandom. I am my own person though.. I do not rile up Tkkrs to go leave annoying comments anywhere.

Mostly though.. I am talking about love, anon. The difference between you and me is that to you them being straight is the default and to me it is not. Your ‘speculation about sexuality’ feels harmful to me.. because it’s love that we talk about.. I really hate the notion that there’s a difference between same sex love and straight love for you.

[lightlycareless]

I can't seem to get the idea of scorned ex-husband!naoya out of my brain. Doing every and anything just to spite his ex-wife (and get her back lol)

Heya anon!!!

Sorry this took a while to get at, I was a bit busy and kind of low-spirited when it came to writing. But I'm finally done with it! Thank you for your patience 🥰

Omg if his ex-wife managed to get a divorce out of him—wow, I applaud you. I don't think Naoya would let go of you so easily, because it can be interpreted as him being a failure to his marriage (not making it work) and allowing the woman to leave, you know?

I'm taking it as if you were the one to file for divorce.

Well, now that the process was done, and you're out of the Zen'in estate, you'd think both parties would be able to move on.

But if there's something that you've learned with your time married to Naoya, is that he's not one to give up easily—and you'll be reminded of that constantly.

You'll try to make the best of your new life as a single woman now. Try out the things that you were forced to put on hold as his housewife—you start by reconnecting with your friends.

You decide to meet up in one of your favorite cafés. As you wait for your friend, you decide to go to the counter and order something, there, you bump into Naoya.

You don't think much of it, after all, the establishment is located in a heavily frequented area of the city, so it would make sense that he would be there. However, it does become uncomfortable, more so when all he did was shoot you a quick glance and leave after you tried to amicably greet him.

Well, the divorce process was kind of messy, so it would make sense he wouldn't want to be involved with you anymore.

Or so you believe, because he always intended to be there. He knew you were going to meet up with someone—how so? Because he hired a private detective as soon as you moved out of his house.

Naoya hasn't moved on from you. At all. Because he still can't believe you actually separated from him.

He spends most of his day wondering what the actual cause of the divorce was. You say that you just didn't feel happy with him (And wanted to detach from the whole dating/marriage scene for a while soon after that, but let's be real, his expectations alongside his family was just... too much)

He thinks you (somehow) met someone else.

But before he can do anything, he has to be sure. Thus, the private detective comes into scene.

When he sees that your meeting is with a woman, he eases off a bit. That is, until the next time you meet up with someone and it's a man...

This is when he decides to take things to the next level—he'll start seeing you much more frequently, but in the company of another woman. He believes that this way, you'll start to see that you've messed up by divorcing him.

Naoya's the kind of person to spend like, allot of money when it comes to show off. And that's exactly what he's going to do.

If you're in the same place as him, he'll buy just about anything for his companion, causing the last to squeal about how much she loves him for spoiling her (bribery to act that way, perhaps?), in hopes of getting some kind of jealous reaction out of you.

But you don't. If anything, you glance at them a bit... confused. First, because why are you bumping into Naoya more frequently? Didn't he curse you the last day of the divorce process, saying that he no longer wanted to see you again? Second, why is his companion so dramatic? Is this... staged??

Anyways, you move on from this situation pretty quickly. However, just as stated before, Naoya does not.

He's getting desperate, he wants your attention—so I think he resorts to something even more dramatic, which is contacting your family with the most outrageous claim: before you moved out, you stole some prized family heirloom, and he's demanding to have it back (by meeting up) or file charges against you.

This finally gets your attention, but not in the good way. You don't even know where Naoya got the audacity to make such claim, your family obviously doesn't believe him, but it's not one you're letting slide. You simply limit yourself to meet up with him and tell him to stop whatever it is that he's doing, or you'll have to file your own charges against him.

The conversation is less heated than you expected, mainly because all that Naoya can do is just... stare at you. He's speechless when you're basically telling him that the relationship between the two is over, and never pull that stunt again. After all, he's the one that said that he never wanted to see you again after all the humiliations you put him through with his family, why is he changing his tune now?

Naoya leaves and that's the last you hear of him.

That is, until a week later, you receive a call in the early hours of the morning from him. You were very.... indecisive when it came to picking it up, however, because you grew up with the idea that nobody calls at 3AM in the morning unless there was an emergency, you decide to take the call, listening to a undeniably drunk Naoya (a shocking statement on his own because he never drinks, less to this state), which prompts you to continue with the call.

He's rambling about how he wanted to make sure it was your number, if this wasn't any one of your friends, if you were alone, then hinting it was a mistake to even call you in the first place, all things that are pushing you closer and closer to hanging up, until eventually his mind clears up just enough to finally confess what he's been wanting to tell you ever since you left the house.

He misses you.

He misses you greatly, and that there's not a single time you aren't in his mind. He only conceded to the divorce because his family was pestering him on letting you go, that a partner who gave him that much trouble wasn't worthy to keep around, but if it were to him, he would've fought even harder to keep you.

The reality is, he always wanted to make this marriage work. He wanted you to be with him, he knows he's not the best nor easiest to have around, so... to hear you say you wanted a divorce, well, let's say that his insecurities doubled and that sent him down to a spiraling pit of wrong decisions, one after the other, reflection of his frustrations and wanting to keep you around.

Listening to his side of the story is... surprising, to say the least. If there's one thing you know about drunk people, is that they often say the truth. However, it's not enough for you to look past his last actions, his attempts of contacting you. He's allowed to have his feelings, but not do whatever he wants with them, specially if it's hurting you.

But then, he apologizes. He wept about how he didn't like making your mom or dad angry, specially after all they done to him (let's say they treated him sooo much better than Naobito ever did) and more so when he got to taste your anger as well.

This is enough to have you reconsidering, if only for a second, your relationship with Naoya.

You end the call, telling him to stop drinking and go home, rest, and let things clear up a bit. He begrudgingly agrees, murmuring a quick "I love you" before hanging up.

Contact from there has somewhat... calmed down, but not finished. You'd still see him from time to time whenever you went out, which only made you ponder even more on your relationship.

And after days of ruminating on the matter, reflecting on the good and bad of your relationship with him... you approach him with a conclusion.

:> I'll leave that to you, dear anon.